She knew she had struck the right chord with Coco. Coco had been through a lot lately and even though Deedee wanted to discuss what Coco had been through recently, she did not push the issue.
“Yeah, yeah. Got to bust your ass to make it in da biz,” Coco tried to sound like an experienced performer. “But it’s all good, cause only da real serious mo’fuckas can take it to another level. You feel me right?”
“I know,” Deedee said and nodded her head.
“Cuz like your uncle, I ain’t got to say no more. He’s all that. Why? Cuz he’s able to take da biz to that other level, see?” Coco said, raising her right hand to her lips.
“Yeah, yeah,” Deedee said. “Spark that up.”
Coco pulled the long brown tobacco-wrapped joint from her shirt pocket and meticulously smoothed it out with her fingers.
“Lemme get it right,” Coco said. She continued the action. Deedee came closer and offered a light.
“No. Oh, no, this is your house. You spark da shit, yo.” Deedee tried to light the rolled blunt, but there was no smoke. “No, no, spark the other end.”
She made another attempt to light it and the blunt blazed when the flame touched its tip. Deedee pulled harder and the smoke entered her lungs. She passed the blunt to Coco.
“Some good shit,” Coco said. She coughed.
“Do you want another drink?” Deedee asked. Coco’s coughing had intensified.
“Yeah, most definitely. I can see you wanna get me blow-ass,” Coco coughed.
When Deedee headed up the stairs, Coco’s mind turned again to the sound equipment. “Wow!” Coco said. Her thoughts exploded into the syllable. “Wow! Some pops gots it and somes don’t,” she remarked. When Deedee returned, she said, “I know this shit cost crazy loot. I know, I know.”
Deedee passed Coco a glass of Harvey’s.
“Josephine called a minute ago, left a message on the machine.”
“She coming through?”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Deedee said, hesitating.
“Oh, this is da bomb.” Coco sipped again and again from the glass, and quickly finished the drink. “Harvey’s and weed. That’s some killing shit for your ass, I’m saying.” Coco cleared her throat. Deedee averted her gaze. “Wanna get really booted, yo?” Coco fished in her pockets for something to smoke.
“Ah,” Coco breathed as she snatched another blunt from her shirt pocket. In one swift motion, she had the blunt between her lips. Coco made a sucking motion with her mouth and the blunt went ablaze. Deedee stood in awe. She decided to let Coco get high. Then she might open up.
“Yeah, let’s get really booted, Coco,” she said. Her plan took the shape of the lit blunt.
“Pass that shit, girl,” Coco demanded.
“You know, you know, it’s really funny. I mean, Josephine, she said, she...”
“I ain’t trying to hear her funny-acting ass. Just puff and pass da shit.”
“Have you spoken to her since... Since the incident?” Deedee asked.
“I tried, yo. Called her house, left messages and all that. She ain’t trying to get wid me, yo. I’m saying Dee, I’ve reached out. What da fuck did I do? We used to be girls, like, really down.” Coco held up her middle and index fingers together. Deedee misunderstood and handed Coco the blunt.
“Like this,” Coco repeated now with the blunt between the fingers. “Yeah, but I’m saying when da ship goes down, yo...”
“Yeah, I know exactly what you’re saying.” Deedee took the smoldering weed. “When da ship goes down. But I thought being friends and all, if sump’n goes bad, you know, we would all stick together.” Deedee reached for her drink.
“Yeah, I thought da same shit, yo, but it ain’t like that. Ya know? I think no matter what group, no matter what field the group belongs to, there is always these external forces pulling it back from fully developing. If that group is ready, da members will come together and put a check to all the negativity.” Coco paused. Deedee’s face looked as if it were being smacked by the one-two combination of alcohol and marijuana. Coco wondered if Deedee understood anything that she had said.
“You look blow-assed, girl. Fucked up, yo.” They both laughed giddily. “But that’s da real, you know? People front. They try to make you feel that they wit’ you when you know all the time they just wanna bounce, do their own thing. Danielle... I mean, we had our differences, but we were cool like that. May her soul rest in peace.” Coco sipped gently from her glass. Deedee noticed tears coming from Coco’s eyes. She felt the sting as her own tears welled.
“It must be this weed, but our eyes are tearing a lot, Coco.” Deedee said wiping at her eyes.
“It’s not only the chronic, yo. You’re dealing wid da real, see wha’ I’m saying?”
“What about Josephine? You think she’s dealing with what’s real?”
“I couldn’t answer for her, Dee. She would have to.”
“But she was hanging out with y’all. I mean…”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken directly to her. But I spoke to her mother an’ she was acting kinda funny, know wha’ I’m saying?”
“Like how?”
“When I called, her mother would pick up da phone and be like, ‘Coco, Josephine is not available at the moment,’” Coco mimicked Josephine’s mother’s voice. “Like I did her sump’n. She don’t owe me no money and I ain’t looking for no job, yo. She gotta duck me.”
“Yeah,” Deedee said. “I know what you mean.”
The blunt had gone out. It lay in the ash tray as a reminder of her plan. She had wanted Coco to get high, relax and maybe talk. Deedee reached for the blunt, lit it, and resumed her plan of action.
“Aw, shit. You getting open on da weed, yo. I don’t know if I can handle it. I’m tore-up as it is right now,” Coco said.
“C’mon, Coco, you can’t front. You know you could handle this.”
Deedee passed the blunt to Coco. Coco yielded to temptation and as Deedee had hoped; when the weed and liquor kicked in Coco would be more talkative. She would lose control.
“I, I know certain things that I’m checking before I even act on, you know wha’ I’m saying? You know that kid Rightchus?”
“Ah,” Deedee struggled to link a face with the name. “Rightchus?” she repeated.
“Yeah, yeah. Rightchus, that real black, short mo’fucka who be hanging out by da clubs. Yo, he be out by da school late in da evenings. Always begging for money and cigarettes.” Deedee jogged through her memory bank, but it was cloudy now from the smoke and the drinks.
“Nah, can’t say. The name sounds familiar, I mean...”
“Well, he was at da club da night that shit wit’ you went down. Yo, that nigga is pointing fingers at Lil’ Long and Vulcha.”
“Word?” Deedee queried.
“Word up. He be knowing some shit, yo.”
“Them niggas,” muttered Deedee under her breath. “Coco,” Deedee spoke in a louder tone. “You’re saying that, that this guy, ah, Rightchus is saying they—Lil’ Long and Vulcha—raped me?” Deedee rose from the soft chair where she’d been sitting. Coco glanced around at the mass of recording equipment. Then she heard fury coming through in Deedee’s rushing voice.
“Them mothafuckas!” she yelled. “They deserve to fucking die.”
“If they are really da ones, yo. They asses should be dead. Over wid, yo.”
“But, but I think I’m sure. I mean, you’re saying Rightchus is front’n?” Deedee paced from one side of the room to the other.
“I’m not sure, cause Rightchus, he be cracking. He always front’n like he’s got knowledge of self, but he smokes da rock. I just don’t know.”
“Is there anyone else? Someone whose word is really bond? Then again, maybe it should just die, go away,” Deedee said. Her saunter had now ceased.
“You and I know it will never leave, yo. It’s like luggage you have to carry forever to the grave,” Coco said as she turned and looked at Deedee. The halting of
her nervous walk was only temporary. Coco’s words immediately proved to be the catalyst of a dreaded thought as she began a slow gait.
“We should go to the cops.”
“Da tin badges? Are you for real?”
“I mean, they would investigate. I mean…”
“Da cops never look out for people like us,” Coco said. She rubbed her soft brown cheek. “Plus, if Rightchus is telling da truth, then them niggas must be well connected.”
“Why so?”
“Cause every time they get picked up by da police, they be coming right back looking paid. Word, that’s what Rightchus said, yo.”
“They get paid by the cops?”
“I’m saying I’m not da one making da shit up. Don’t be looking at me like I’m crazy. I’m just repeating sump’n I heard from a fucking crack head. I mean, da shit might not mean nothing.”
“So, how are we gonna find out if it’s the truth or not?”
“I’m gonna approach them niggas, yo. I’m gonna be like, what. I don’t give a fuck. Them niggas killed ma girl Bebop when they shot up Deja’s place, and they responsible for Danielle’s death. You know wha’ I’m saying, Deedee? Them niggas are the ones who raped you. Da cops don’t give a fuck. We got to take matters into our own hands. I’m saying, we got to take care of our business!”
“How are we gonna do this?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Listen, Coco, my uncle has guns hidden. He doesn’t know that I know where they are.”
“What kinda guns?”
“Forty-fives, Nines...”
“Yo, we could do some damage. Forty-fives, yo?”
“Yep. Put some caps in them niggas’ ass. End the whole shit.” She pointed her index finger. “Pow!” She said. Deedee felt the surge of power that a gun gives. “Let’s find out where they live, dress like prostitutes, real ho-ish. They pick us up—boom! We kill both of them.”
“Nah, everybody’s packing, yo. It ain’t gonna be that easy.”
“Coco, you think I should tell my uncle?”
“Tell your uncle what? I’m saying, this is just speculation right now. You can’t get da toasts without telling him anything, yo?”
“Da toasts?”
“Yeah, da guns, da burners whatever, yo.” Coco clarified.
“I mean, I could get da guns. We…Me and my uncle haven’t really talked about that whole incident. I don’t know. Maybe he really blames me. Why didn’t I just crash and die?” Tears flowed down Deedee’s cheeks. Coco rushed over and they embraced. Now they both were connected by a common cause, like kids in a playground. Their hugs and tears brought a new bond.
“We’ll get ‘em, yo. I best be out. You’re going to the Wake, right? Ahigt, then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Coco looked at her watch. “Damn, it’s almost tomorrow already.” They headed upstairs.
“Think Josephine is gonna show?” Deedee asked.
“I won’t go there,” Coco said.
“We’ll see, won’t we,” Deedee said. “Let me call you a cab.”
“Cool. Thanks, yo.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” Coco smiled.
“Alright, but where is home?” Deedee saw that Coco was trying to hold back tears. She’s a fighter, Deedee thought as she dialed the taxi.
“Hell,” Coco whispered.
Deedee kissed Coco’s cheek. Coco patted Deedee’s shoulder. They watched for the cab together, and Deedee looked on as Coco ran for the cab. She savored the growing camaraderie between her and Coco. The thought of breaking the information from Rightchus to her uncle overwhelmed her. How would Coco handle that? She wondered.
Coco too, was thinking as her cab rushed through the light rain. I wasn’t supposed to get this close, but she’s cool people. I wonder how Mom is doing. I should go and see her. Maybe after tomorrow’s Wake for Danielle. A fallen comrade. Oh shit! Coco almost screamed but the words never came. She saw Lil’ Long and Vulcha parked at a diner, and Rightchus was standing next to their Navigator.
“Let me out right here! Thank you.” Coco hurried down the block, her bop slowing down as she approached them. The thought of these three together stung her mind. Once again, her eyes welled as she strained to hear the conversation. The talk of revenge circled the heaven and brought a damp cloud to the new day.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“You know, I don’t know your biz like that, God, and furthermore, if I did happen to know your biz, I wouldn’t blow up your spot,” Rightchus said.
“I ought to use some duct tape an’ some gasoline on your ass,” Lil’ Long said.
“Let me shoot da muthafucka in his fucking mouth. I’m telling you, this muthafucka been snitching around,” Vulcha said. He reached for his weapon of choice, a silver nine millimeter.
“I’m telling y’all. That ain’t me, Blackman. Much respect and all that, you smell me?”
“Respect! Smell this.”
Vulcha raised the silver muzzle of the Desert Eagle to Rightchus’ chest and nervously toyed with the trigger.
“No rounds? No corns?” Lil’ Long asked with a smile. “Now, see, you pissed me off. You done pissed my man off. Money, if you don’t give us da real jewels, my man’s gonna push your wig back. You feel me? Ahight, go ahead spit the gospel.” Lil’ Long said looking directly in the eyes of the shook Rightchus.
“Ahight. Word, word. Listen up, let me build wid y’all like this: They trying to test y’all.”
“Who is they? Give us names. Well, muthafucka?” Lil’ Long barked with fury leaving Rightchus rattling like shells on string. He knew he’d be blowing in the wind if he didn’t get his game on. Rightchus’ mind registered life or death.
“I don’t really know them like that. I mean Eric, uh, Eric Ascot. Him and some peeps just wanted to check out my rap game, you know wha’ I’m saying? He wanted to see what kinda comp is really out there. He wanted to bite sump’n from me,” Rightchus said giving his best con artist performance. “Busta, you’ve seen da guy, da scout who brought me to him. They was looking for a hit, know wha’ I’m saying?”
“Don’t play wid us, you non-rapping mo’-fucka. They want a hit, huh? Well, tell them we have a demo we wanna let them hear, know wha’ I’m saying?” Lil’ Long asked his angry eyes taking deadly aim at a jumpy Rightchus.
“Hey man, I’m not giving y’all up, cuz y’all can make some real demos. I know, I don’t wanna see anymore.”
Lil’ Long reached into his pockets and pulled out about a dozen tiny redcap vials filled with cheap, yellow-stained, cocaine rocks. He poured them in Rightchus’ out-stretched hands.
“Now, you remember who really feeds you, muthafucka. Go on and enjoy. It’s on da house,” Lil’ Long said with a deadly smile. Horns blared as Vulcha pulled the SUV abruptly into the traffic. They departed, leaving Rightchus standing on the corner.
Coco ran over, immediately and slapped Rightchus’ hands. The vials of crack littered the pavement.
“Bitch!” Rightchus yelled. “What da fuck you think you’re doing, girl?”
“Saving your muthafucking, no good life. Your ass best tell me da truth about this whole shit or you ain’t smoking none of these goddamn rocks.” Coco scrambled on the sidewalk, picking up as many of the small vials as she could.
“What truth? What da fuck you talking ‘bout?”
“You know what da fuck I’m talkin’ bout, nigga. Hello, da real fucking truth. You better start yakking away or everyone in da ‘hood will know you is nothing but a fucking crack head.”
“I don’t give a fuck bout no muthafuckas from da hood knowin’. Everybody got a nasty habit. Mine’s crack. What’s yours? Drinking, smoking dust? Cuz that’s why your Spanish friend died. Too much fucking dust an’ coke. So don’t step to Rightchus wid that bullshit.”
“Bullshit! You fucking crack head.”
“Your mother is a crack head. Coco, you best keep your ass out of this and stay in school, ahight. I’m telling you, if you keep foll
owing this shit up, yo’ ass will be ended. Can’t say I ain’t warned your ass.”
“Well, you give it to me straight and I’ll let you have your rocks back. And I’ll handle my fucking bidness, ahight?”
“Can’t you handle bidness without my fucking involvement?”
“No, yo.”
“Why?”
“Cuz you started this whole shit. So now you’ve got to come straight, muthafucka.”
“You seen their guns?”
“I ain’t scared. I have guns, too, yo.”
“Guns? Guns? Listen up. You gonna need more than just guns to do battle wid them niggas. Drug dealers and cops. Fucking po-po be scared, and you wanna do battle? Coco, you stick to singing an’ doing your thing on the dance tip. Get your swerve that way. Let da big boys handle that type shit. Coco, I told you ‘bout da time I auditioned for Eric Ascot. He loves ma shit, ma shit. He love da way I put it down. See, I was standing there, he comes along in a limo, pulls up and start checking me doing my thing. At the end, he was like ‘oh shit, we need you in a da studio right away.’ He told me, I was all this ‘n’ that an’ he would love to work wid my ass soon. Soon as ya’ll shit drops, he gonna work wid ma shit. Ma shit be out there on your radio, in stere-ereo. Off the hook, baby,” Rightchus sang and stomped his feet in rhythm.
Coco gazed at Rightchus with eyes reddened from staying up too late. They glowed crimson red with anger at Rightchus’ comedic repertoire. Under the wrath of Coco’s stare, the stirring of Shorty-Wop, a.k.a. Rightchus, ceased. She opened her fists, exposing small red and white topped vials with yellow rocks inside. He read her intentions and opened his lips to plead.
“No, Coco. No, Coco, don’t.”
“Nigga, please,” Coco said. She hurled the vials at Rightchus. He failed miserably to catch all the vials. Most of them scattered in the street. Rightchus scrambled to retrieve them.
Ghetto Girls Page 24
