“Oh, oh yeah. Hmm, hmm,” Vulcha said.
“I would love to put my dick right between your lips. Have a nice day, too.” Lil’ Long waved and smiled at the woman.
The woman held her gun ready, out of sight. She allowed them to overtake her.
“Assholes,” she muttered. She heard the music and laughter echoing from the SUV.
“Bitch,” they yelled as Vulcha swerved in front, awkwardly cutting her off and accelerated.
You don’t stop. You don’t stop... The lyrics blasted in the Navigator.
“I ain’t fucking wid no more dancing ca-razee chicken heads for a while, kid. I’m leaving ‘em alone. Might kill a nigga. Crazy bitch!” Lil’ Long shouted above the blare of the sound system. Vulcha drove and laughed.
TWENTY-THREE
“So, it was all good, huh?” Miss Katie was at her post by the window. “Look at them hustle for their fixes. Man, oh man. Well, at least we don’t have to worry ‘bout where your mother is, huh Coco?”
“Yep, that’s right, Miss Katie.” Coco joined her at the window. She watched the street people wander about, sharing cigarettes and bottles. Every so often two or three would find their fix and hurriedly depart. “My mother couldn’t survive out there,” she said. “It’ll eat her up, Miss Katie. She’s better off staying inside. I mean, she’ll die out there.”
“Well, we better start working out a strategy to convince her to stay there, Coco.”
“Maybe we—I—should just talk to her, y’know?”
“She’s been there before, Coco. This isn’t her first time. She knows what she’s got to do, but that stubborn woman won’t do it.”
“Maybe she’s just scared. People can be scared, right?”
“Yes. I am scared every day, every night. Do you see me put a crack pipe to my lips? People make their own choices. She could do better.”
“Well, I’m gonna try an’ help her get better. She’s my mother.”
“I know, Coco. I know, and I’ll be your assistant in that matter. I too want to see her free and getting her life back on track.”
They watched the skirmishes in the street. Members of different crack cliques attacked one another. Coco envisioned her mother in the clique. What role did she play? Coco wondered. The scene below brought a surge of anger. Coco clenched her fists tightly as the evils of crack were on display. Her mother played a lead role as she conjured up the possibilities.
“Isn’t that one of your friends coming up the block?”
“Yeah. Wow Miss Katie, your eyes be working.”
“Open the window, cause she won’t find you in this mess.”
Coco raised the window and yelled to Josephine. “Hey, Jo.”
Josephine waved. She seemed anxious.
“Well, invite her up, Coco,” Miss Katie said.
“Come on up. Third floor,” Coco yelled.
“We’re in three-D,” Miss Katie yelled.
Josephine ran into the building and up the stairs. Coco met her in the doorway.
“Hi,” Josephine said breathlessly. “Coco, have you heard anything from Danielle? Her parents called me at about twelve today.”
“No I haven’t, yo.”
“Why don’t you come inside?” Miss Katie called.
“Oh, oh, I’m sorry,” Coco said. “Miss Katie, this is Josephine, a member of Da Crew and a good friend.”
“You’re prettier in person. Coco showed me the group’s pictures. Nice to meet you,” Miss Katie said. “You were saying someone is missing?”
“Yeah, ah… Danielle. Another member of Da Crew. Well, her parents are worried.”
Coco grabbed her jacket. She and Josephine were quickly out the door and racing out of the building. They ran down the block.
“Be careful,” Miss Katie called from the window.
The girls waved back. They hailed a cab.
“Where we going?”
“Well, let’s go to Cory, see if he’s seen her. Maybe—”
“Cory? Where does he live, yo?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got his address.”
“Are you girls getting in or what?” The cab driver asked. They got in and Josephine gave him Cory’s address. There was little talk during the twenty minute ride to Cory’s house. Suddenly the girls jumped out of the cab and ran into the house. The driver pursued them.
“Fucking pay the fare,” he yelled. He wasn’t worried; there were two police cars outside the house.
A few minutes later, Josephine ran out of the house, screaming. The cabby was unimpressed.
“My fare, Miss,” he said. Then he saw the policemen approach, talking to Coco.
“She—They haven’t paid their fare,” he yelled.
“We’re trying to conduct an investigation.”
“But, but, they haven’t paid.”
Josephine sat on the curb. She sobbed deep and loud. Coco shook her head in disbelief. The cab driver shouted for his fare. Altogether, it was noisy.
“Hey, hey,” the police sergeant said. “How much is the fare?”
“Five dollars.”
“Five dollars?”
“Yes, five.”
“Here,” the officer said. “Now get out of here.”
“What’s going on? What, are they in trouble?” The driver asked.
“Get out of here before I give you a summons,” the officer barked. The driver scampered to his cab and drove off.
“My name is Sergeant Wilder. If you girls remember anything, please feel free to call. Call collect, if necessary. Someone was brutally murdered last night. It could’ve happened to any of you.”
“Alright. Yeah, yo.”
“His girlfriend is missing. I mean, they didn’t leave at the same time. But you know, they used to get together, and they sorta had a fight,” Josephine said.
“A fight?” The officer asked. “What type?”
“No, I’m not talking like that. Y’know, they just weren’t speaking to each other anymore. Not a physical fight.”
Another officer joined them. “Hey, Sarge, their stories checked out. They didn’t leave at the same time, but they were seen arguing before he left.”
“Who did your friend leave the club with?” The sergeant asked.
Josephine jumped up and rushed over to Coco and the sergeant. The policemen got into a patrol car and spoke on the radio. Coco and Josephine nervously faced the sergeant.
“Who did your friend leave the club with? Who?” The sergeant’s question took on a new urgency. Another officer terminated his call and approached.
“Hey, Sarge, I think you may wanna hear this,” he said. The sergeant went to the car, picked up the microphone and spoke, then he listened to the radio. He returned slowly to the girls, a troubled look on his face. Josephine trembled. She reached out for Coco’s hand. They waited fearfully.
“I don’t feel well,” Josephine said. Coco lit a cigarette.
“Okay,” the sergeant said. “This is not a game. If you’re withholding information we’ll find out. We’re running both of you in for questioning. And put that damn cigarette out.” He rushed Coco and Josephine into the backseat of the patrol car.
“What da fuck is going down?” Coco asked.
“Somebody tell us sump’n.” Josephine demanded.
The policemen got in the car and they drove away, siren wailing, lights flashing. The car turned the corner violently and screeched to a halt at the precinct. The officers hustled them in the building and up the stairs to face two men in suits.
“Have a seat,” one of the men said. They all sat. Coco and Josephine were close together, facing a detective over a battered desk.
“May I smoke?” Coco asked. She placed a cigarette in her mouth, looking at no one particularly.
“Sure you can. I’m Detective Carter and he’s my partner, Detective Sazlowski. Did anyone tell you why you were brought here?”
“Yeah, they told us to answer some more questions,” Josephine said.
“We already told ‘e
m everything,” Coco said with a stream of smoke trailing from her lips.
The detectives exchanged looks. Then Carter pulled an envelope from his breast pocket. He spread the contents on the table; black and white photographs.
“You told the officers that your friend was missing,” Detective Carter said. Coco and Josephine looked down at the pictures. They saw it was a girl, naked and horribly dead.
“I feel faint,” Josephine said.
“Get her some water, Saz. Are you okay?” Carter asked Coco. She was scrabbling through the pictures. Josephine rose and drank readily from the paper cup.
“Let me help you,” Carter said. He turned the pictures so the girls could easily see them. “Did you know this person?” Josephine examined a picture closely. She saw that half of Danielle’s face was gone. Her tattoo was visible. Josephine started to sit down, but missed the chair. She fell to the floor.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. It’s not—it couldn’t be,” she said. She lay silent. Carter knelt, cradling her head in his arms. He held a white tab of smelling salt to her nose and squeezed it.
Coco selected a photograph and scrutinized it. The tattoo was Danielle’s. All three had had hearts tattooed on their breasts, as tokens of friendship. Now she saw that the face in the picture was a distorted likeness of Danielle. Coco clutched her throat and lay the picture down. She shut her eyes and felt the swirling as her mind spun, rewinding memories of Danielle. The rush of her retrospection hurled Coco into vertigo. She grabbed the table to balance herself.
“Here, drink this,” Sazlowski said. He handed Coco a paper cup. She gulped the fluid. He handed a second cup to Carter, still tending to Josephine. Coco breathed hard and lit another cigarette.
“I guess you guys know the person in the photo. She’s been Jane Doe to us. Who is she to you?” Sazlowski asked.
“She was a friend, yo,” Coco said.
“Her name’s Danielle Richards. She’s…” Josephine sobbed uncontrollably. She could not continue. She grabbed her face and screamed. Her tears brought Carter back to his knees as he offered her more water.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” he said.
“She’s done nothing at all, ‘cept hung wid assholes,” Coco said.
“Can you identify these assholes?” Sazlowski asked.
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Coco sat at the table and sifted through the pictures. Tears stung her eyes and splattered the photographs. Sazlowski went out and returned with what appeared to be two photo albums. He pulled up a chair and sat next to Coco.
“Look at these photos. Maybe your friend’s killer left the club with her.”
“I don’t need pictures. She left the club with Lil’ Long and his man Vulcha,” said Coco. Tears ran into the creases at the corners of her mouth. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. She watched Detective Carter help Josephine from the room.
“I’m gonna call my parents,” Josephine called looking forlornly back at Coco.
Sazlowski flipped through the pages of mug shots. He stopped searching and showed Coco two pictures. The first was captioned Michael Lowe, a.k.a. Lil’ Long. The next was tagged Yves Velucien, a.k.a. Vulcha.
“Are these the men your friend Danielle left the club with?” Sazlowski pointed to the pictures.
“Yes, that’s them,” Coco said meek now.
“Is this all you know about it?” The detective pounced on Coco’s weakness.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s it,” she answered, robot-like. She stared silently at the pictures, searching for answers. Sazlowski studied her expression for a few minutes.
“If you think of anything else, here’s my card. Give me a call.”
“Yeah, uh-huh, sure.”
“I’ll be right back,” Sazlowski said. He retrieved the pictures of Danielle and closed the book of mug shots. “If you wanna call anyone, you can use the phone over there.”
He shut the door behind him. Coco was alone. She looked around the empty room, trying to blot out the gruesome pictures that had lay on this desk. Danielle’s face was etched in her mind. Coco rose and wiped her eyes. She heard footsteps. The door swung open. The detectives returned.
“You’re free to leave any time.”
Coco walked past Danielle’s parents in the hallway, huddled with Josephine and her folks. They all wept. They looked at Coco as if she had done something wrong. Coco did not know what to say. She waved as she passed them and went out the front door.
The air struck her face and she swabbed at renewed tears. Coco struggled against the wind, halting to smoke cigarettes. She blew smoke into the face of dusk as thoughts of Da Crew crept into her daze. Danielle had been alright, thought Coco, waiting at a bus stop. She was a bitch sometimes, but isn’t everyone, one time or another? What had happened after she left the club with those thugs? Those muthafucking hoods. She started to board the bus.
“No smoking,” the driver said. “Please get off the bus, Miss.”
She stepped off and threw the cigarette to the ground. The driver closed the door and drove away.
“Fuck you, too,” Coco yelled, her middle finger raised at the departing bus. She cried again and resumed walking.
This is better, anyway. At least no one will stare and fucking try to be nosy, she told herself. Coco set a steady pace, crying and walking, then settled into her bop when she neared the hospital.
She signed the visitor’s log and went up to her mother’s room. Mrs. Harvey sat on the edge of the bed. She was smoking a cigarette and staring at the wall. Coco knocked.
“Come in.”
Mrs. Harvey was happy to see her. She put the cigarette down.
“Coco, come in, come in. Come give mommy a hug,” she said, arms open. Coco raced forward and fell into her sobered mother’s arms. They hugged and cried together.
TWENTY-FOUR
“Oh, Mommy, you’re looking good. Real good.”
“Well, they’ve certainly kept me.”
“Really, you weren’t looking this good. I mean you..I..I was really scared. Please, no more, no more. Promise me.”
“Now Coco, you know I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not gonna do that shit no more.”
“Mommy, you said that before. I mean…”
“You sound just like that nosy Miss Katie.”
“Mommy, Miss Katie has nothing to do wid this. It’s between us, you an’ me got to work it out. I wanna support you.”
“Support me with what? How an’ what are you gonna support me wid, huh?”
“I’ll be there for you. You won’t need drugs, mommy.”
“Listen, girl, you don’t know what’cha talking ‘bout. Sometimes you start out slow an’ suddenly crack takes over your mind and body. You become cracked, smoked. I know I’m not gonna let it beat me. I’m gonna get over it like I got over everything else. My mother putting me out when I was pregnant, your father leaving. This is just sump’n else I’ve gotta learn to deal wid, that’s all.”
“Mommy, I know you can do it. You can survive without it.”
“I know. I’ve gotta give up drinking. I hate the running here and there for treatment. Staying all cooped up in my own place, scared as hell. For what? All that has got to change.”
“Only you can do it, mommy.”
“I will. I know I don’t need any more of that. I can do it on my own. I’ll do better. I ain’t gotta stay locked up to do it, though.”
Coco stared at her mother and listened intently as she mumbled the words she thought Coco wanted to hear.
“Mommy, I love you, and I don’t want to see you down like this. But staying inside is better. Look, you’re looking a lot better already. Everyone thinks you should stay inside an’ get the treatment. I mean, I could stay with Miss Katie. There wouldn’t be any problems, you know. I mean, it’ll be tough sometimes.”
“Tough? What you know bout tough?”
“I know, Mom. Believe that. Well, at least continue the treatment. See how good you’re looking already? And it hasn’t bee
n that long. In like a month…”
“A month? Girl, you’re bugging out. I’ll think about it, okay? Alright, how’s life treating you?”
“It’s kinda hectic, mommy, but I’m surviving.”
“I know you are, baby girl. I’ll survive, too. If I could have a lil’ nip of sump’n…”
“Mommy! See, you can’t even think of nothing else but to get high or drunk.”
“Who’s talking ‘bout getting high or drunk? All I’m saying is, sneak me a little bottle of sump’n. I’ll use it at my discretion.”
“Mommy, I...” A knock at the door interrupted them.
“Meeting in ten minutes.”
Coco watched her mother straighten the linen on the single bed.
“Things look like they could work out at Miss Katie’s. I don’t have to ask. She’s been here to see me. Tell her I really appreciate all of her help.”
“She knows, mommy.”
“Well, tell her anyway.”
“Okay, okay. I will.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Mommy, I...” Coco faced her mother. There was still so much to say. They looked at each other’s face, smiling for a second. Reaching out at the same instant, mother and daughter hugged.
“You’re just a rambling, singing, spitting resemblance of your father,” Mrs. Harvey whispered. Tears fell quickly from her clouded eyes. Coco held her tightly.
“Mommy, another person I cared about was killed,” she said. “I can’t...” She was surprised that the words slipped out, “Afford to lose you.”
“Who? Who got killed now?”
“Danielle,” Coco’s voice cracked with emotion. Mrs. Harvey held her daughter’s heavy shoulders and she cried, too.
“Who? Wha’ happened, Coco? Gunfight? She got shot at a damn rap show? Coco, that’s the reason I don’t want you involved in too much of da damn street shit.”
“Ma,” gasped Coco, “Nobody knows what happened, alright? She didn’t get shot at a rap show, so please save it. She went hanging out wid these imitation hoods and next thing she’s missing. We thought she was at…we thought she was with a friend of hers. When we got there, we found the cops. They said she was shot point-blank in the head. Then they took us to da precinct and showed us these pictures of her.”
Ghetto Girls Page 21
