Eric with tears in his eyes watched Busta’s face contorting through deep emotions also. That was the reason for the tears when Eric said: “Deedee was raped by some dirty muthafuckas,” Eric tried to restrain his emotion.
“Who? What da fuck are you talking about, E.? Get da fuck outta here!” Busta stared disbelievingly. “When did that shit happen? You know who the fuck them low lives are. Shit gotta be dealt with.” Busta said.
Eric picked up the slender shot-glass and sighed heavily. He raised his eyebrows and his nostrils flared in anger. Busta sensed the fire burning inside him.
“No doubt about that.” Eric replied.
“When did that go down?” Busta asked much louder now.
“Over this past weekend,” Eric said. The words left his mouth dry. He raised the glass and flung the liquor to the back of his throat. His lips came together in a smacking sound.
“She knows who did it?”
“She said some guy called Deja. Well, she didn’t say anything. What happened...Well, she woke up screaming, and when I got to her room, she said she was dreaming that Deja was trying to rape her again.”
“So there’s your man,” Busta said.
“Well, that’s the reason I wanted to see you. I wanted to know if you ever heard of him.” Eric said then stared as Busta sipped and pondered.
“I know of him. He’s small time.” Busta said after a while. “Just another crack dealer the world can do without. He hang with some West Side peeps. That’s who be supplying him. Let’s bag that muthafucka,” he continued. “Bum ass nigga! His boys who be hanging wid him may all be packing, and he probably packin’ a nine or sump’n. He’s on his hustle E., but da muthafucka is a rapist. He’s got to go. Let’s hit…”
“I can’t be involved, see. Sophia got me legal, and I can’t just be doing anything to fuck that up,” Eric said sitting back.
“Don’t even concern yourself with all that worry. I’ll know how to handle this. He’s down with those West Side peoples. There might be some difficulty. It’s gonna cost you a small amount. Put up the price tag and I’ll hook it up.”
Eric picked up his beer and gulped. He motioned to the waiter for more. He picked up the fresh beer and watched as Busta did the same.
“Six grand,” he said.
The bottles clinked as Eric and Busta toasted their new deal, and Eric sipped his beer with a renewed sense of calm. He knew the problem would be taken care of. Busta was deeply connected in the street. Both men burped and laughed, releasing the tension.
“A-h-h” Eric said. “This spot still gets crowded. Haven’t been up in here in a while.”
“Yep, it’s the same. Ain’t too much changed. These fine looking ladies keep me coming here, four, five, six times a week.” Busta agreed.
“You need to find you a nice wifey and settle, big man.”
“Nah, I ain’t that lucky. But you need to come down to the talent show, E. we having it in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh, you still involved with that?”
“Fridays is open-mike night at the club. Do something for the kids, you know? Come through and check it out. There’s a lot of energy in there, I’m telling you, E-money.” Busta said and sipped.
“Alright, I’ll pass through, check things out.”
“Any Friday. Matter of fact, come for sure in two weeks we’re having the finals of the talent competition. I’ve got these girls, ah… Coco an’ Da Crew. Eric, you’ve got to see them. They are all the way live. They got flavas. I’m saying, E. they’re dimes too.”
“Sounds good,” Eric said. He checked his watch. Eight-fifteen. A good time to call and see what the girls were doing.
“I gotta make a call.” Eric began to rise.
“Yeah, lemme go use the bathroom.” Busta pushed the table away. They walked toward the men’s room. New arrivals made the small place feel smaller. Eric descended the steps to the public phone and dialed the number of his cellular. Deedee answered.
“Hi uncle. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“We’re on our way.”
“Okay.” He hung up, stepped into the bathroom then went back upstairs. Busta was shaking hands. Eric went back to his table and dropped a fifty-dollar bill. He gestured to Busta, I’ll be outside, and pointed to the exit. Busta, still shaking hands, acknowledged Eric and engaged the smooth chick with the sexy walk.
A lazy evening breeze greeted Eric when he stepped outside. It dragged the humidity down, made the air a little cooler. The moon glowed orange, its ascent caught in the setting sun. Busta came out and gave Eric another hug and a firm handshake.
“Need a ride somewhere?” Busta asked.
“No, Sophia is on her way with Deedee. We’re gonna check out a flick.”
“Alright, good seeing you, E.,” Busta punched Eric’s stomach. A bit too hard, Eric thought.
“Yeah, take it easy.” Eric countered a straight, hard, right to Busta’s exposed gut. They flinched, and took a fighter’s stance, then laughed and parted like men who have been friends since childhood. They were familiar with each other’s weaknesses.
The valet brought Busta’s black Lexus around and Busta handed him a tip.
“Stay cool,” he called to Eric and jumped into the car. Eric waved and with a blast of his horn, Busta was gone. In traffic, he picked up the car phone and made his call.
“I need a hit record. Crack dealer on back. The A side with the West Side syndicate. Deja, as in deja vu.” Busta clicked the phone off and placed it on the seat next to him.
“Muthafucka,” he hissed under his breath, “you’re as good as dead.”
He steered through light downtown traffic. Dennis and I were like brothers, he mused. He loaned me money when no one else would. No bank, bad credit, and being a young, black man—that equals no loans, no legal funds. But Dennis took a chance. He financed twenty thousand dollars, the money to start the club. Now he’s dead. The club’s doing good, but I never really got a chance to pay him back all that money. I would have done this one my damn self, for free. That crack-slinging muthafucka raped Deedee. She’s like my own daughter. If Dennis hadn’t moved fast, I could have been her father. Dennis had too many women to keep count.
Sophia stopped at the curb where Eric stood.
“Come around and drive, baby,” she said, and moved over as Eric hopped into the driver’s seat.
“How was your meeting, Uncle E.?” Deedee asked. Eric saw she was decked out in a black Versace dress.
“All good. It went well, thanks,” he said. “You look wonderful in that dress.”
“Thanks,” Deedee answered. “But didn’t you like the multi-colored one like this one, Uncle E. You liked it earlier.” By now Eric had headed the car into traffic and she was speaking to the back of his head. “Oh well,” Deedee said. “I’m glad you think this one is nice.”
Eric peeked at her in the rear-view mirror. Her face showed no change in expression. He looked at Sophia for support, but she avoided his plea for help.
“What movie are we gonna see?” Eric asked.
“Well, we narrowed it down to two,” Sophia said. “Which one do you vote for, Deedee?”
“The first one.” She was flippant. Sophia frowned.
“I’m sorry,” Deedee quickly said. “I mean the one we discussed first.”
“Okay, that’s cool,” Sophia said. “I haven’t seen that one yet, and I’m sure Eric hasn’t either.” Sophia addressed Eric. “It’s ah, ‘Kill Bill’.
“I’m down. I’ll enjoy any movie. It’s just hanging with you guys that’s cool,” he said with a quick glance at Deedee.
In the theater, Eric’s nose tingled at the overpowering smell of hot buttered popcorn. “Get the tickets,” he said. “I’m gonna get on the food line.”
He nearly jogged to the concession stand. On the ticket line with Sophia, Deedee heard two guys behind her comparing notes. She assumed they were discussing her.
“But da bitch up front is all that,” loud
mouth Number One said. Number two agreed sternly. “Yeah, she right. She got that shit going on.”
Sophia heard this, but she had a clearer idea who the guys were discussing.
“Look!” She rolled her eyes in the indicated direction. She recognized Danielle, from Da Crew. “She must think she’s all that,” Sophia said as she inspected Danielle. She drew every eye, and every man’s approval. The women were less enthusiastic, but they feasted their eyes on Cory Miller, her escort. He was a student athlete at Seton Hall University.
The beautiful couple was on their way to the concession stand. They got closer and Cory’s eyes flashed. He paused in front of Deedee.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Danielle sniffled and walked on. Cory shrugged his shoulders and followed her.
When Sophia saw his shoulders, she said to herself, “Wow.” Then irrepressibly she blurted, “Oh, he’s all that.” She searched for a reaction, but Deedee only raised her brows.
I won’t say anything, Deedee thought when Danielle walked by her. She and Sophia reached the head of the line and she concerned herself with the tickets. Then a minor commotion broke out. Danielle hurried toward her.
“I knew it was you,” she said. A lobby full of people watched the encounter.
“Yep, nice dress,” Danielle continued. “You seem to be, all healed,” Danielle said, eyeing Deedee incredulously.
“Well, thanks. Just a good makeup job, thanks to my good buddy,” Deedee answered. “Danielle, right?” she asked. Danielle nodded.
“Yes, I’m Danielle,” she said, testily. She extended her arm and Sophia shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Danielle,” Sophia said. Her smile did not betray the yearning not to shake Danielle’s hand, but to grip it tightly, squeezing her rings between her fingers. Sophia resisted. She’s only a kid, she thought. “You’re very beautiful. You guys know each from school?” Sophia asked.
“No, not really. We met over the weekend,” Danielle said. Sophia’s smile changed to a frown. She perked up her legal ears.
“She gave me and my two girlfriends a ride to the club,” Danielle said. She looked to Deedee for any hint to stop, or elaborate. Deedee was weary and turned to Sophia then said.
“Yeah, I picked them up and drove them to the club.”
“I was too mad when I heard that shit they did when you and Coco left the club,” said Danielle. “I’m sorry, those bastards will pay,” she said as an afterthought.
Deedee stared at her. She nodded and grimaced.
Then Danielle told Sophia, “Yeah, but I know Coco should have done something, you know. Everyone knows us. I mean, Coco at least had to have seen or done sump’n, ya know? She just let that shit happen to this innocent girl.”
Deedee turned away. She couldn’t believe what Danielle was saying. She sounded as if she was blaming Coco for the rape.
“I mean, Coco…Coco is, like, very well known. I mean, we’ve performed at that club several times. I don’t know,” she said touching her black tights with newly manicured, multi-colored fingernails.
“Well, maybe she saw who was there,” Sophia said.
“Coco probably couldn’t do anything,” Deedee said exasperated.
“C’mon. Coco was dead drunk,” Danielle said. “That’s why she couldn’t do anything. She was drinking the whole night.”
“Even if she wasn’t, it really wouldn’t have made any difference,” Deedee said as she looked away. “They had guns. I really don’t wanna talk about this right now. So let’s just drop it,” she said abruptly.
“Okay. Sorry for bringing it up.”
“That’s okay,” Deedee said, looking up and finding two pairs of eyes examining her.
“Well, here comes the popcorn,” Sophia said as Eric rejoined them.
“Here, let me help you out, dear,” Sophia said and helped herself to some popcorn. She noticed Eric’s roving eyes checking out Danielle’s figure. “Have you checked her out enough?” Sophia whispered as she elbowed him in the ribs. Eric lowered his eyes to the floor.
“Danielle, this is Deedee’s Uncle Eric,” Sophia said then turned to face the others. She positioned herself to block Eric’s view of Danielle’s tight frame. Danielle became perky. She rushed toward Eric, extending her right hand.
“You’re Eric Ascot. Pleased to meet you. I’m Daniella. I think you’re the best.”
Eric smiled. Sophia compressed her lips and raised an eyebrow.
“Pleased to meet you, Daniella,” Eric said reaching out to shake her hand.
Deedee looked away. She saw a small video arcade off to her left. Two small kids challenged each other. The machine soon turned their game into a battle. Now Cory joined the group, also bringing popcorn. After introductions, they headed off to separate movies. Sophia detected Eric admiring Danielle’s rear end a second time.
“You need to start going to the gym, baby,” she said, and gave him a harder jab to his gut.
SIX
Coco and Josephine sat on a wooden bench next to the school auditorium. It was three thirty-five in the afternoon. Coco had been resisting the urge to light up a cigarette. She gave in, put the cigarette to her lips and shoved both hands in the front pockets of her oversized jeans.
“Let’s walk down to the store. I’m taking a smoke break, yo,” Coco said. She walked away. Josephine scurried and caught up to Coco.
“Where’s the señorita?” Josephine asked.
“She’s making us wait, that little…” Coco caught herself, lit up and then inhaled.
Josephine spotted Danielle driving up in Cory’s car.
“On her way in a new carriage.” She directed Coco’s attention with her body language. Danielle and her escort had arrived.
“I’m sorry y’all, but we had to stop to do something on the way here,” Danielle announced. Cory got out of the car with a video camera slung on his chest.
“Remember Cory? He’s gonna be the cameraman so we can videotape this rehearsal, to use for reference,” Danielle said, aiming her words at Coco who continued smoking without showing any interest. Then Coco addressed Josephine.
“If it’s cool with everyone, then yeah, I’m with it, yo.”
Cory approached them with his video-camera at the ready.
“I’m in,” said Josephine. “Hi, Cory,” she cooed.
“How you doing, Josephine?” They touched cheeks.
“Hi Coco,” Cory said. He looked at Coco as if he was waiting on her table.
“Whazzup, Cory?” she puffed. “Let’s do this then, yo.”
The group headed for the auditorium. This was no ordinary rehearsal. A showdown had been shaping up ever since Danielle had confronted the girls. Threatened or not, Coco had been put on her guard. Josephine played peacemaker. She was happy that the rehearsal would be recorded and critiqued. Da Crew knew they were ready. They exchanged wary smiles, except for Coco, who didn’t smile.
On stage, Danielle moved enticingly. The camera rolled. Coco moved back and forth, heels and toes tapping street-sounds to the beat. Josephine circled, moving faster and faster, as if on ice. They balanced one another.
It was like the first day, when they met at the audition for the video shoot. All three danced with different groups and each girl was chosen from the groups. It had been that easy for them. They completed the dance video, and when Coco learned that the other two girls were recent transfers at her school, they started hanging out. The girls became a trio. But now a little competition didn’t hurt.
The dance movements were complex, but the girls made them look easy. Coco, at the lead, performed a combination of hip-hop jazz steps, moving out against the girls. A simple tap and a few rolls to the floor brought Danielle’s kicks to the changes in the beat. It was high-tempo.
The girls were getting warm. The pace was furious. Coco flopped to the background with a two-knee slide. Now it was Danielle’s turn. She seductively jumped and pranced for the camera and the man. She ended on beat with a split,
a la James Brown. The place was wildly funky. Perpetuating the beat, Josephine skipped, launching her lithe frame in flight, vaulting over Danielle’s cat-like, crouched figure. Josephine bounded with acrobatic skill and landed in a graceful ballerina’s pose. She rolled up into hip-hop contortions. Coco prowled and leaped, flipping her body into the middle of the hoopla. The three danced easily together, moving in time to rehearsed steps. Cory recorded it all, and the camera intensified the mood.
It was Coco’s turn again, or was it? She relinquished the lead. Josephine moved to the forefront with a split and quickly put down the break moves. She slid easily into a snail’s crawl, freezing herself en vogue. Coco came through like a butterfly, landing softly on petals, wings beating a seductive rhythm. For one moment, time froze as the camera caught Coco in flight. Her gestures, her steps, said she was a dancer.
When she was sure that they had enough, she quickly tumbled and rolled up on her stomach. She showed complete mastery of her muscles and limbs. It shook the other girls. The cameraman turned his head and held the camera in place. He watched Coco dance an unbelievable groove to up-tempo sounds. Josephine refused to follow.
“Yo, hold up, hold up. I think we’ve all flexed enough. Let’s not lose focus, alright? The winner is Coco,” Josephine shouted and clapped sarcastically. “Let’s take a break.”
Cory stopped filming and applauded. The girls had danced for nearly an hour.
“That was no rehearsal. That shit was for-real dance warfare,” Josephine said between sips of water. Coco turned and looked at her. She lit a cigarette without answering. Danielle walked over to Cory, a few feet away. They huddled for a minute.
“I’m saying you were the best out there, baby. But Coco is bad.”
“What do you mean?” Danielle was annoyed. “Did you get it all?”
“Think so,” Cory said.
“We’re gonna do voices next, and that’ll be it. So take five.” She kissed him on the cheek, twitched her hips, and rejoined Coco and Josephine.
“Did he get us?” Josephine asked. Her emphasis on ‘he’ made Coco look up from her smoke break.
“Yep, he did,” Danielle answered. “Okay, instead of singing one or two numbers as a group, how about each of us solo on a song of our own choice?”
Ghetto Girls Page 9
