Ghetto Girls Too

by Anthony Whyte

  “Hope the ambulance breaks down on the way over,” Coco said as she walked away.

  Deedee mustered all the courage she had and allowed herself to lock onto Lil’ Long’s cruel gaze. In that repugnant moment, she saw the ghost of a smirk making its way onto his unsightly mug. It was as if Lil’ Long was giving her some kind of creepy warning.

  “How does it feel now?” she asked but got no answer. That cynical smile stayed attached to his mug. In the midst of wrestling with the thought of killing him, Deedee heard her uncle’s voice.

  “Everyone listen, this is the story. We were having guests over and this thug broke in trying to rob us. I shot him to protect mine. These are my guns and I have the right to use them. I was defending my guests, my property, and myself. All everyone has to do is please just stick to the story, all right?”

  “Honey, honey, please! I mean, are you in your right mind? How‘re you gonna explain the guns, huh? This is not a project building. There are no armed looters randomly visiting you. There is absolutely no reason for you to be sitting in your living room with guns,” Sophia said worriedly.

  “I was in the bathroom when he broke in. That’s all. He didn’t know that I was home so I surprised him. That’s it, sweetheart. It’s that simple.”

  “I don’t like it, Eric,” Sophia said regaining her senses. The blow to her head had initially rattled her. “Why don’t we just tell the truth, Eric?” she asked. “The more you lie, the more you’re gonna have to keep lying in order to cover up the other lies.” Sophia appealed to Eric. “I’m just afraid somewhere along the line someone might...” There was a long silence as Sophia paused. It was as if she was the voice of their deepest fears. “What if one of us breaks down? Or some key thing is overlooked? Then what?” Everyone heard the question but no one dared answer. Sophia continued, “I just think we should tell the truth and take our chances.” She pleaded with Eric but he shied away from looking directly at her face. He looked to the floor instead.

  Eric already had his mind made up. He had defended himself against a violent and illegal intruder, someone who not only wanted to rob his guests but who had also shot and killed Kamilla. Eric knew it was the best story and he defended it.

  “The truth, honey, is that the police ain’t gonna hear anything I’ve got to say. They’re gonna hear what they wanna hear then they’re gonna start questioning and dragging this case out trying to bring me down. The cops, they’re all about bringing the next black man down. It’s not happening here,” Eric said hoping for a sympathetic ear. “Everyone just has to stick to the story. It’s easy. I mean, is everyone on the same page or what?” Eric asked looking at everyone’s face but paying close attention to Sophia’s body language.

  “I’m with it. If we decide that’s it then that’s all that po-po is getting outta me, yo,” Coco said.

  “Deedee, are you okay? Do you understand what is going on, sweetheart?” Eric asked. Immediately, she knew the reason for his inquiry. He wanted to make sure he understood the worried look that had spread across her face. He moved to comfort her. Wide eyed with alarm, she recoiled when Eric tried to touch her. He eventually was able hold her and felt her heartbeat slow down from triple time.

  “But Uncle E...”

  “It’ll be all right, sweetheart. Everything will work out,” Eric said patting his niece’s shoulder and nodding as he looked at Sophia. He knew she didn’t want it like this but this was the only way so no one would go to jail. If it didn’t go the way he planned then the question would be, was he prepared to go? The thought fast forwarded through his overactive mind and he let it go. He would be ready.

  THREE

  Minutes later, the anticipated knock on the door was louder than expected. The deafening sound was a surprise to all even though they had been waiting for it.

  “Don’t worry. I got this, honey,” Eric said confident as he walked to the door.

  Before he could make it, there was another loud bang followed by, “Police! Open up.” Suddenly, Eric was staring at police officers with weapons drawn. He stood frozen as the door was broken and cops flooded the apartment. Eric had forgotten he still had a weapon in his hand.

  “Don’t shoot,” yelled Sophia”

  “Drop your weapon!”

  Eric Ascot threw the weapon to the floor immediately. He closed his eyes expecting a barrage of gunfire but nothing happened.

  “Officer, the man laying over there in the corner,” Sophia said and pointed to Lil’ Long’s body. The police diverted their stare. “He came here to rob my friends and fiancé. Eric, ah, my fiancé was able to shoot the man but not before he shot our friend, Kamilla,” Sophia said with the urgency of an appealing attorney.

  A detective quickly picked up all the weapons and walked cautiously to Kamilla and then to Lil’ Long. He addressed a nervous Sophia.

  “Slow down, sweetheart. Is everyone safe? Is there anyone else with weapons in here?”

  “Yes, we’re safe. There is no one else with guns, detective.”

  “Okay,” he said and holstered his weapon. He walked to where Sophia stood then looked at the body of Lil’ Long. “How long ago did this happen?” the detective asked and walked back to where the street fighter lay bleeding.

  “About fifteen minutes ago. My fiancé had to shoot the man you see over there. He tried to rob us,” Sophia repeated as she pointed.

  “How was your fiancé able to get his guns, Miss...? What is your name? I’m Detective Kowalski.” Sophia reached out and shook the detective’s hand.

  “Pardon my manners, detective. I’m Sophia Sullivan. This is Coco, Deedee, and Eric Ascot.”

  Detective Kowalski shook Eric’s hand and waved at the girls then he yelled into his walkie talkie, “Send the boys from the lab. We also need some paramedics over here right now. Mister…?”

  “Ascot,” Sophia said.

  “Yes, glad to see that you’re alive. Can I speak to you alone?” Detective Kowalski asked and walked to the kitchen with Eric. The uniformed officers descended on the girls like ballers to Cristal. Sophia warded off any questions she deemed inappropriate for the girls to answer. She hoped that Eric would stick to the story. After all, it was his story. She dialed on her cell phone. The remaining detective noticed.

  “May I ask who are you calling?”

  “I have a friend in the DA′s office. I was about to call and let him know what happened,” Sophia replied without hesitation.

  “Oh really? What’s the name of your friend?”

  “Michael, Michael Thompson.”

  “Really? The man himself, huh?”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Know him like a book. He’s my kid brother. I’m Detective Hall, by the way,” the dapper detective stated. Their eyes locked as he continued, “He never mentioned you. Mike always talked about the beautiful ones.” He saw the question in Sophia’s eyes. “Looking for the family resemblance?”

  “Yes and no. It was funny that I thought of him when I saw you and now that you’ve mentioned it, there is a family resemblance.”

  “What could it be?” the detective asked.

  “It’s that same nonchalant attitude,” Sophia replied without thinking.

  “Hmm...then you must be a friend of Mike.”

  “Yes. He’s a very good friend. We went to law school together.”

  “Are you a lawyer?” Detective Hall asked.

  “Corporate,” Sophia volunteered and then turned to speak on the telephone for a minute or two. She turned back to the detective. “I have someone here who wants to speak with you,” Sophia said handing the instrument to the detective and walking to where Coco and Deedee stood. “Everything will be fine. You guys are holding up well?”

  “We… I mean, this ain’t nothing new. I’ve seen people shot before. Drug dealers on my block get shot by the police or innocent people are in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s all part of my world, my reality, Sophia,” Coco said as she watched the police at work.

>   “God bless your soul, girl. And may you be a better person for it but I hope I never ever witness another death or shooting. I’m saying it would be too soon if it ever happened again.”

  “It’s so unfortunate to be always seeing death and experiencing violence like that, Coco,” Deedee said. Coco’s ears perked as Deedee continued, “You know living in that environment under those conditions has to be difficult. Well, at least that’s the way I see it,” Deedee opined. “This is the first time I’ve seen anyone actually get shot much less killed.” Deedee was interrupted by the appearance of Detective Hall.

  “Here’s your phone. So, you’ve got friends in high places, huh?” he asked as he handed Sophia the cellular. “And you are a very good friend according to my brother,” he said with a suggestive smile and wink.

  Sophia thought of responding in a cold manner to the detective’s flirtatious ways but she bit her tongue and smiled, using this exchange fully to her advantage. There was still the matter of guns being discharged, she thought as she responded. “Mike and I went to the same law school together. Both of us being black, there were only so many of us, you know. So, quite naturally, we wound up at many similar activities. Whether on dates or not, we’d be there squabbling with each other.”

  “He’s a good man and he spoke very highly of you. Sez he knew you very well and I think his office is already handling this case.”

  “Really, I didn′t know that he was investigating little ol’ me,” Sophia said coyly.

  “We’ll go through with some of the formalities. You should be just fine. Everything seems to be in order here but I’ll make sure all is okay. Wonder what’s taking my partner so long? Ah, excuse me, Miss Sophia, let me go check on him.” Detective Hall walked away leaving Sophia with her conflicted thoughts. He had predicted the outcome but deep down she knew it would happen but not his way.

  Michael Thompson always said that if she ever needed him just call. He had been a good friend and she felt that one day their paths would cross again. Sophia had imagined it would be in an election campaign for senator or some other political event. Michael was into politics in a big way. He worked hard to succeed. It was one of the things she had liked about him. Michael Thompson had been the most together brother on campus and since graduation, they had maintained friendly monthly telephone conversations, the type that always ended with unfulfilled promises to see each other. They were busy young attorneys driven to success.

  Sophia had to play her trump card. She had thrown Michael’s name out but had no inkling that they would come across each other under these circumstances. On the phone, he revealed that they would conduct something internal and nothing would come of it since everything pointed to the fact that an intruder had broken into the place and shot a guest. Sophia thought about this and was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she noticed that both the detectives were alone with Eric.

  She hurried off to the kitchen to make sure everything was going according to Eric’s plan. She felt that it was dangerous for him to be alone with the detectives. The girls were being ushered upstairs by uniformed officers as Sophia walked into the kitchen.

  Back in the living room, another officer bent and picked up a gun. He smelled the barrel and scrutinized it. He could tell that weapon had recently been discharged. What the officer did-n’t know was that the gun had once belonged to Kamilla. She had lost it earlier when she was downed by a bullet from Lil’ Long’s gun. It was a simple thing but one that could prove Eric’s story false.

  Every gun has its own history and the one Kamilla carried was given to her by Lil’ Long’s partner in crime and her former lover, Vulcha. He was now dead. Another victim dead from a bullet to the head. His death was courtesy of a rogue cop who was a member of an elusive but organized hit squad scattered throughout the police department. The officer continued to examine the weapon with close interest then slipped it into a plastic bag and marked it as evidence.

  Eric and Sophia walked out of the kitchen and up the steps leading to the second floor. Downstairs remained abuzz with activity, teeming with members of the police’s Crime Scene Unit. They scurried about in an orderly fashion ignoring the medical needs of any of the bodies crumpled on the floor. Laboratory technicians from Crime Scene were taking samples from all over. Someone finally noticed that Lil’ Long’s body was still moving. He watched as the former street hit man clenched and unclenched his fists.

  “I think we got a live one over here,” the technician announced.

  “Aw c’mon, leave the man alone. Can’t you see he’s dying in peace?” There was a smattering of laughter as the techs continued about their business.

  “How much you think a place like this would run you?” The question was not answered. At that moment, the sergeant walked in. All laughter and chatter ceased.

  FOUR

  Lil’ Long felt his body would hold out after the bullets hit but as he laid out on floor bleeding, he began to feel his body shift into uncontrollable movements. The spasms came and his face contorted as the end dawned on him. Here it comes, the shakes. He struggled with the thought and fought hard against surrendering.

  This is not how it should end. Nah, this ain’t the kid’s time to go. Not yet. I’m just not ready to go. Nah, nah, especially, not like this. Lil’ Long wanted to scream but could only grunt in pain. The blood in his mouth suppressed his words. They stayed burrowed deep inside. His mind burst setting thoughts afloat.

  A surge of burning sensation left his senses numb to the discomfort of his journey. His insides wailed against the torment of increasing pain. I can’t go out like this, nah, not like this. Not now. Lil’ Long gripped his fists and willed himself to live as he felt blood stream from his wounds. Eyes cast downwards followed the red path of blood across the shiny wooden floor. Against the white walls of the luxury apartment, tiny splashes of blood red were repulsive against the artwork.

  Police continued to arrive in droves, lightning fast. Lil’ Long thought it was a good thing. He told himself that the paramedics couldn’t be too far behind. He desperately needed one. With all the blue uniforms walking around, you’d think a brother dropped a bomb, he mused.

  Police moved back and forth getting and searching for evidence. Crime Scene with their yellow tape sealed off areas and drew white chalk lines around the dead body. It was as if death had, in a blur, transported them into a nightmare.

  The squelching of radios and walkie-talkies and the bantering of the police and paramedics brought realness to the situation. These activities along with the buzz of arriving media completed the transformation of Eric Ascot’s ritzy apartment into a bonafide crime scene.

  In this enclave of expensive buildings occupied mostly by affluent whites, Ascot was an outsider and was viewed as dangerous because he was black. It was probably presumed that he had orchestrated a deal where a shootout inside his apartment was the final scenario. Nary had a neighbor batted an eye at the macabre scene on the twelfth floor. It was as if the uniformed officers standing guard outside Ascot’s apartment were expected to be there.

  Vans filled with camera crews and reporters arrived on the scene at the ready. All of the neighbors they spoke with attested to not knowing much about Ascot except that he was black and people were shot dead in his apartment. Ascot was guilty and should go to jail. An old white lady, completely ignorant of Ascot’s accomplishments in the record industry, first praised the work of the police for their quick response in catching a gun toting criminal then, after berating Ascot, apologized for the shame this hideous crime had brought on the neighborhood. Staring into the camera, the old lady used the last portion of her fifteen minutes ranting.

  Inside the apartment, techs combed the place scraping here and getting samples there. An angry looking sergeant paced the scene inspecting the area. He chatted wildly on the walkie-talkie.

  “Multiple gunshot wound, two victims. One appears to be fatal, checking....wait…hold your damn horses. Confirmed dead, early twenties, female.
Another appears to be alive. Black male, late teen to early twenties. That’s what we’ve got so far. Over.”

  Surveying the scene, Kowalski asked, “Where are the paramedics already?”

  “Upstairs,” an officer yelled.

  “Get them down here, pronto! We’ve got to save this man. He maybe the last chance I…ah, we have to crack this case wide open. You agree with that, partner?”

  “It’s Detective Hall, not partner. And what makes you so sure that the scumbag lying there with all that blood leaking out of him is gonna make it, Kowalski?”

  “Cause Detective Hall, we, you and I, are gonna make sure he gets taken to our hospital.”

  They eyed Lil’ Long’s bloodied body unmoving on the wooden floor. Detective Hall held out looking for another answer. If the hotshot detective here thinks he should live, I’ll play along, Hall thought. Nevertheless, he felt Lil’ Long should remain on the floor and bleed to death. It would be better for everyone. The answer was that simple but he gave his word anyway.

  “All right, we’ll do it your way.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about, partner,” Kowalski gushed and patted Hall on the shoulder. “You won’t be sorry. You’ll see.” Kowalski held Hall’s shoulder as he continued, “This is the big one.”

  “We’ll see, partner,” Hall said, knowing that he had already betrayed his gut feeling, something he had not done in over twenty years on the job. As a rookie, he was always reminded to trust your partner because a cop out on the street had two friends, his gun and his partner. Your survival depended on it.

  Gregory Hall was a little different. He had once been the proud parent of a high school all star jock for a son who had been cut down in the prime of his life. Hall’s only son succumbed to bullets from the gun of a thug like the one laying in his own blood. It would be sweet revenge if that low life just bled to death, Hall thought. But the once fulfilled father had made it to detective sergeant. Now he had to act accordingly.