La Familia

by Paradise Gomez

  “Yo, ma, let me holla at you fo’ a minute.”

  “Damn, can I roll wit’ y’all?”

  “Hey, sweetheart, what’s your name? You wit’ somebody? I ain’t tryin’ to intervene . . .”

  “Yo, y’all got a man?”

  Thirsty niggas, like they never saw pussy. Scratch that, like they never saw two beautiful women before. We weren’t interested at all. We came to do a show, and they were paying to watch. I started looking for Search. It was already nine-thirty and we weren’t about to start waiting in that line.

  “You see Search?” Mouse asked.

  “Nah, not yet.”

  The crowd outside the club was swelling like a bee sting. It was a good thing that it was nice outside, because we would have been looking stupid lingering outside in the cold. We walked toward the front entrance and security outside was tight. Two beefy bouncers who stood over six feet tall and weighed a ton each were making sure niggas weren’t getting in with any weapons and maintaining order outside. When they saw us approaching, they remained deadpan.

  “We’re performing tonight,” I said to them.

  “Who y’all?” the one with the Rick Ross beard asked. He looked us up and down and didn’t seem impressed at all.

  If I thought he was cute, he would have hurt my feelings.

  “Vixen Chaos,” I said.

  “Y’all with Search, right?” the second bouncer asked.

  Now he was a cutie, with dark skin like Wesley Snipes, and a bald head, tattoos like a thug, and built like the Rock. I loved big men with nice arms and a swelling chest. And he was my type. I locked eyes with him and replied with, “Yes, we with Search.” I couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t smile back or hinted that he was interested in me. Was these two niggas gay?

  “Sammy, Mouse,” I heard someone call out.

  I turned to where it came from and there he was, Search, smiling hard like a proud father seeing his daughter for the first time. Search came our way, moving through the thick crowd. Around his neck was a black and gold VIP pass. He had on a pair of old-school gazelle glasses and sported a black-and-white Adidas tracksuit; and his sneakers were nice, the black and white shell tops, talking about retro.

  He hugged us both, praised our outfits, and then sassed us for being a half hour late. I blamed it on Mouse. She refuted. But we didn’t have time for petty bickering. Search put two VIP passes around our necks and escorted us into the building. He was one of the sponsors for tonight’s show. He had pull and made sure we were taken care of.

  The crowd inside was thick and the lights dimmed. The rap music was blaring. The DJ was playing Kanye West and Jay-Z: “Otis.” I loved this song, and I loved these two rappers. Instantly I started dancing to it and reciting the lyrics. “‘Photo shoot fresh, looking like wealth I’m ’bout to call the paparazzi on myself.’”

  Jay-Z was my nigga. Already I had the boys’ attention in the club as I danced in my high heels, showing off like usual and spitting lyrics out like the beast on the mic that I was. We continued to follow Search. The club was mostly niggas, but you had a few bitches sprinkled around. It was rap night, and not too many fly bitches came out to catch the show. But the ladies were out and so were the sharks.

  Search led us behind the stage; it was off-limits to nonperformers and whatnot. You had to know somebody to be somebody. And I had to admit Search was definitely becoming somebody. He was hungry. He was ready to commit and tear into fame and success. I was the same way.

  “Hey, Craig,” Search said, tapping this tall and long-limbed man on his shoulder.

  He turned around and looked at Search. By his reaction he was excited to see our friend. The man Search called Craig wasn’t cute at all, but by his demeanor in the place I knew he was someone of importance, especially if Search was trying to introduce us to him.

  “Search, what’s happening, man?” he greeted him back.

  “These are the two ladies I wanted you to meet, Sammy and Mouse. They go by Vixen Chaos,” Search said.

  Craig smiled at us. By his expression he already liked what he saw. He fixated his eyes on me. I played it cool. He rocked a nappy afro, no facial hair at all, and was high yellow like butter—ugh! He definitely wasn’t my type at all. But it was about business. I wasn’t trying to fuck him.

  “Vixen Chaos, now that’s a unique name,” Craig said.

  “We’re two unique females,” I returned.

  “I can’t wait to see y’all perform. Search speaks very highly of y’all, saying y’all are the new Salt-n-Pepa duo.”

  To compare us to Salt-n-Pepa, wow. I was mostly doing all of the talking. Mouse was playing the background, looking cute, peeping the scenery. Craig was an A&R for Def Jam records and despite his whack looks, just shaking hands and talking to him made me tingle. He could make it happen for us. So far, I liked his personality, but would he like us after our performance?

  “We can’t wait to show you what we can do,” was the only thing I could say.

  Search started to do most of the talking for us. He was putting us on a pedestal. We weren’t going to make Search look bad. This was really our first big show. There was a crowd of about a hundred-plus ready to either cheer or boo us.

  The performances started around ten p.m. We were scheduled to perform fifth, which was good for us. We didn’t want to be first and you damn sure don’t want to be the last act on stage; by then, after so many acts, the crowd starts to dwindle and lose interest and then you start looking at a scattered crowd of drunks and tired people ready to leave.

  The first to go on was this group who called themselves Series. They were a trio from Brooklyn and their rapping was hardcore. They moved around on stage with their sagging jeans, dreadlocks, and Timberlands, screaming “Brooklyn! Brooklyn!”

  The next act was a duo from Newark, New Jersey who called themselves Poison DeVoe. Now these niggas was nice and cute—tall, fine, and black like night. Their style was on point and they rocked that stage like Kanye West and Jay-Z were on the stage themselves. They did this rhyme called “True Niggas.” I was truly impressed. I also noticed Search and Craig had their eye on them.

  The next two acts before us were mediocre; they really didn’t stand out too much. One was from Queens and the other, A Gangsta Story he liked to call himself, was from Brooklyn too. The only things I heard from these two were a lot of screaming on the mic and cursing. Their lyrics were whack to me and I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Their audience wasn’t feeling them either. Of course, their time on stage was cut short.

  When they were done, the host of the evening jumped on stage and clowned them. He was too funny. “I guess not everyone is meant to be rap stars. Hope they didn’t quit their day jobs for this shit.”

  I laughed. He was a funny dude. If a performer or group was whack then he would have something sly and foul to say about them. If they were nice he definitely let it be known. He was raw and a cute guy. The crowd was ready for some more, and we were next. I had butterflies in my stomach. Mouse and I weren’t new to performing, but when it came to trying to get a record deal and having an A&R present, it was nerve-racking.

  I looked at Mouse and she looked at me. We both were thinking the same thing: this is it.

  “Y’all ladies ready?” Search asked.

  Mouse and I nodded simultaneously. Here we were, two Dominican females from the Bronx projects trying to make big things happen. You could hear the crowd of over a hundred people behind the walls. The DJ was taking it back to the old school; he was playing Mobb Deep, “Shook Ones.” A classic.

  “A’ight! A’ight! Cut that, cut that. You keep playin’ that joint and some people might end up gettin’ shot tonight,” the host shouted humorously.

  The music came to an end. There was laughter. The host, who called himself True, was once again on stage and ready to announce the next act.

  “Yo, yo, we got our next group comin’ to the stage, and these ladies are somethin’ special. We got our first fem
ale rap group about to come on. Shit, I’ma keeps it real, my niggas, they are fine, and if they can rap as good as they look, shit . . . we in trouble,” he proclaimed spiritedly.

  I took a deep breath. Search was encouraging us. Like always, he was all smiles and there for us. Like a boxer before a fight, I started to warm up by punching the air, doing a few combinations like I was Floyd Mayweather about to get into the ring.

  “Yo, yo, here they are, Vixen Chaos!” the host shouted out.

  I emerged first. Mouse was right behind me. Instantly, from our looks and attire alone, we had the crowd’s attention, especially the men’s. Yeah, we were eye candy, but being beautiful and luscious just wasn’t enough. They expected talent from us.

  The DJ began to play our beat. He put on the instrumental to Nas’s “One Mic.” I was in love with this song. I gripped the microphone like it was welded to my hand and moved around on stage freely in my wedged heels. The nervousness I felt earlier faded. I was hyped. I locked eyes with the crowd, opened my mouth, and said, “Let me come out wit’ the intro. Fellas, this for y’all grimy niggas that don’t know what us ladies be going through wit’ y’all,” I shouted roughly through the mic. “So Vixen Chaos is now on stage, and to let y’all know, we’re more than big tits, a smile, ’n’ a phat ass. The Bronx, Edenwald projects is in the house. Bronx, where you at?”

  There was lots of screaming and shouting. The Bronx was definitely in the house tonight.

  They were feeling my intro. Now it was time to go in and show them my talents. I started to spit. “You keep falling victim to things that really don’t matter, addicted to the person who keeps shattering your laughter, hooked on a love that’s tainted like acid, it’s blasphemy how you stay chasin’ after an unwilling happening, in your heart, you know that love ain’t happening, their charm got you delusional, your yearned got you seeing illusions, you thirst for that first, wanna win the race ’cause last ain’t the right place, so ya ready to devour that lie, hang on to that un-need high, the wrong turns got you doin’ U-turns, and it’s a one-way street, clinging to an dumb interest, face to face with disaster, you wanna call it natural, but it ain’t usual, tryin’ to see the sun through the clouds forming, the thunder should have been a strong warning, choose to remain under the dark sky, watching as the downpour drowned your craving sunshine.”

  Mouse came in on cue and started to spit her rhyme. “You’re such a trouble li’l angel, drama queen they made you be, feathers ruffled, your soul tearing ’cause the weight of their love is too bearing. You didn’t know you would fall a victim to such his cool, his love crept onto you like an unwanted cold, the way he talked to you made you sway like leaves dancing in the wind, his words warmed your heart like a nice spring day, the attractive smile turned ya frown around, his touch made you feel wanted, the right talk really made you feel so hunted, that sought-after chick like you was an R&B hit. Believed his love completed you, but his lies only depleted you, the drama damn near defeated you, got caught up in his intricate system. Damn, you then finally realized you only became a victim to his enduring system.”

  I then went on to singing the hook and my voice boomed through the mic like Beyoncé, shocking everyone like, “Oh shit, this bitch can sing, too.”

  “We Vixen Chaos and we don’t play them games, so see us rise from the bottom to the top like a building frame and stay there, ’cause we like clouds, we won’t ever fall, like stars, stay above, shine better when that darkness fall, we beauty and brains, say no more, putting clown-ass niggas in their place, ’cause bitch ’n’ fake-ass niggas wear more makeup than us, see us coming into the game is like niggas gettin’ mad when I close my legs, ’cause they can’t eat no more, so recognize who we be, two thorough-ass bitches from Edenwald,” Mouse and I said as one.

  Everyone loved us. They were cheering and screaming and I was on cloud nine. We exited the stage feeling so good. I couldn’t stop smiling. Search approached us and was exhilarated. He hugged me and Mouse. Craig gave us two thumbs up. By his look, I could tell that he was impressed with our rhymes and performance.

  It was over with and we rocked the house. I mean, we were getting so much love from left and right that it felt like I just won a Grammy. The duration of the night was spent mingling with Craig and Search. Craig was ready to put us on and I was ready to pass go. Search was the businessman. He knew how to talk to these corporate muthafuckas. He went to school and everything. I just wanted to make it happen and take things further.

  The only thing that upset my night was when I looked over and saw Mouse chatting with Rico outside the club. He was posted up on the hood of his gleaming 650i coupe with the chrome rims and tinted windows, and looking like the hustler he was. Rico was from our hood and about trouble. For some strange reason, I felt he was going to be bad news for us. There was Mouse, smiling and laughing, showing her interest in this thug after we had a successful performance.

  Search and Craig wanted to go out for drinks in the city; I was ready to do whatever. I wanted to pick Craig’s brain all night. It was still early and the night had only just begun. Mouse walked over to us and I told her what the plan was, to continue to chill with Craig and Search, but by the look on her face I could already tell that she had something else in mind.

  “I might go chill with Rico for a minute,” she said.

  “Chill wit’ Rico?” I was dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m sayin’, Sammy, he cool peoples. He really liked our show a lot and wanna talk.”

  “Talk about what, Mouse? Rico ain’t nothin’ but a thug,” I refuted.

  “He just wanna chill,” Mouse argued.

  I didn’t want to become frustrated in front of everyone, especially with Search and Craig around. It was a nice night, but Mouse wanted to ruin it by chasing Rico. I could have choked her.

  “You can go ahead and talk to Search and Craig, tell them I had to run. You was always good wit’ networking anyway,” she suggested.

  “Mouse, c’mon. You can’t be serious.”

  But by the look she gave me, I knew she was dead serious. I sighed with frustration. Mouse wasn’t about to change her mind. Rico was still posted by his ride, waiting for Mouse to come back his way. He gave me a head nod, but I didn’t acknowledge him at all.

  “I’m not gonna be too long, Sammy. Go handle that business for us and I’ll give you a call tomorrow,” she said.

  She walked away from me and climbed into the passenger seat of Rico’s flashy ride. I just wanted to punch him in his face. I watched them pull off, looking helpless that I couldn’t get Mouse to come take care of important matters. I turned and there was Search standing there, looking lost himself. I had to go over there and give him some excuse why Mouse decided to run off with a thug instead of networking with an A&R from Def Jam. I swear, she was my best friend, but sometimes her priorities were totally fucked up.

  Chapter Three

  Mouse

  The sun was at its peak when I finally made it home. Rico pulled up in front of my building and parked. The radio was playing HOT 97, but it was on commercials. We both were exhausted. I had a really busy day and busy night. But I had a good time with Rico. After we left the club, he took me to Philadelphia with him, and I had a great time at this club in South Philly. He had to take care of business out there with some associates of his. While I was on the dance floor doing it up, Rico disappeared into one of the backrooms in the club to handle his business. I wasn’t naïve to what he was about. Rico was a drug dealer, becoming big time. However, he was an exciting guy, charming and attractive: the bad boy and the heartthrob in the hood. His chiseled physique was something to drool over. He was tall, six feet one inch, with brown skin and a thick goatee. His onyx eyes were piercing and the respect he had was appealing.

  I lingered in his car for a moment. The leather interior was soothing and the coconut smell was freshening. It was my first time being in a BMW. It was an impressive car. I wasn’t ready to leave his side. It was a be
autiful afternoon and I felt there was so much more to do. I wasn’t getting much sleep, being so active from fighting, to performing, and hanging out with Rico, but I wasn’t tired. Being next to Rico gave me energy.

  Rico removed his shirt and tossed it in the back seat. He was in a wife beater. His cut physique became exposed. His arms were so muscular and defined, and his tattoos manifested the way he lived: gangland, drugs, thugs, and “C.R.E.A.M. (Cash Rules Everything Around Me).” His diamond-link chain with the monstrous Tech Nine pendent that was diamond cut hung low to his abs. I didn’t want to gaze at him too hard. Yeah, I was interested in him, but I didn’t want to look thirsty and shit.

  “I had a good time wit’ you, Mouse,” he said, smiling.

  “I did too.”

  “You and Sammy did y’all thang the other night. You got talent, yo, fo’ real. I mean, y’all were the best group to perform, real talk. You got skills.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “I ain’t wanna bring you back home right away, but I got other moves to make,” he said.

  “I understand. It’s cool.”

  “But ya beautiful, Mouse.”

  I smiled heavily. “Thanks.”

  “How come you ain’t got no man?”

  “Don’t be havin’ the time. And I’m picky wit’ mines. Besides, I work part time and I’m tryin’ to make this music thing happen wit’ Sammy,” I said to him.

  “See, I like that though, you about ya business. You ain’t like these others bitches around here that ain’t doin’ shit. You and Sammy, y’all about somethin’. I respect that,” he complimented me.

  I loved the praise. He was making me blush.

  “How come you ain’t got a girl in ya life?” I asked.

  “Ain’t had the right shorty hold me down yet. I’m picky myself, ya feel me?”

  “I feel you.”

  He stared at me again. I could see the hunger for me in his eyes. I wanted to taste his lips again. They were so full, so enticing. I was ready to jump on him, but I kept my composure. In Philly, we almost got it popping after we left the club, tongue kissing heavily in his ride, with his hand between my thighs massaging my pussy through my jeans. I was becoming hot and bothered. I was ready to fuck him right there, but it didn’t happen.