Ghetto Girls Too

by Anthony Whyte

  “Honestly, I don’t really know for sure if this is related to Busta or not,” Eric said shaking his head and paused for a minute. He knew that Busta was Sophia’s client. Had Busta said anything to let her think otherwise?

  As Eric became preoccupied, Sophia’s focus shifted to the worried expression on his face. She reached around to hug him and kissed him hard on his cheek. In her heart, she knew she loved him and wanted him no matter what. Yet, Sophia felt something amiss and desperately wanted to trust Eric. She looked into his eyes. He was the man she had chosen to share her life with. Even though they had not set a date for their wedding, both knew it was inevitable and it was just a matter of them fixing their schedules to accommodate it. Sophia did not want the wedding plans to be rushed but she could not decide on a date.

  “Why do you figure I’m trying to ruin anyone here?” she heard Eric ask. Her eyes searched his. Their stares pierced each other’s heart. They stayed that way as Sophia spoke.

  “Because he came here to kill you or us. I know it’s definitely not me because I haven’t done anything to cause someone named Lil’ Long to wanna put a cap in my ass, Eric. I’m not a stupid or dumb broad, Eric. Just fess up and tell it all.” Sophia was angry. Eric tried not to push any of her other buttons.

  “I didn’t say you were dumb.”

  “Well, please stop treating me that way. That guy came here with a plan to kill one of us and I just want to know why?”

  “It could be anything. I done told you, people hating on me, you know. There are a lot of people out there who don’t like to see a brother succeed. They wanna see you locked up or hear that you rotting in jail so people come at you.”

  “Come at you for what? Why you?”

  “Because I’m Eric Ascot and they think I’m holding the bank. There are people walking around who would cut my throat just because they think I’m stacking cheddar or sump’n.”

  “I buy that to an extent but there are artists who are always in the public spotlight and this doesn’t happen,” Sophia argued. A thought ran through her head and she quickly added, “Well, rap stars seeking the limelight are always fighting and shooting at other rap stars who they perceive to be in their way. This is not a rap war, Eric, or is it?” Sophia searched Eric’s brown eyes looking for answers. He had known her long enough to sense that she knew he wasn’t on the up and up. It was the way she knitted her brow. Eric saw the sadness in her eyes. He couldn’t see the current of emotions running through her but he knew. “Why?” She asked.

  “Honey, if I knew the answer to that then I would be able to tell you. I don’t know why people want to come at me. I don’t know,” Eric said as he felt her unrelenting stare cut right through him. It caused sweat ducts in the nape of his neck to act up but he held his ground. “Sweetheart, you’ve got to trust me,” he said. Eric hugged and kissed Sophia again. “I, we just got to be really careful. I’ll keep my ears open cause you know someone will know something.”

  “Please be up front about this, honey, because my reputation with the DA may ride on what you say,” Sophia said and brushed Eric’s lips with hers. “Eric, I’m not gonna stand by and let my career be ruined. I’ve worked long and hard trying to carve my niche in this field and you know how difficult it has been for me. So please try and understand when I tell you to just be level with me‚ alright?”

  “Yes, I do honey.” Eric kissed her hard and walked with a trembling heart up the stairs. “Let’s go pack an overnight bag. We’ll stay at your place until tomorrow.”

  ELEVEN

  Eric Ascot’s apartment was located on the sixteenth floor of a towering high class building. The residents were local stockbrokers and six figure assistants. Coco knew that the shooting had caused bedlam but by the time she reached the lobby hours later, the flow of people appeared to be calmer. Coco lit a cigarette and made her way outside. She paused and puffed before hailing a cab.

  A car screeched to a stop in front of her barely avoiding Coco’s feet. Two detectives jumped out of the car and grabbed the alarmed teen.

  “Hold on, yo. What y’all doing? I ain’t done nothing wrong, yo. What’s this all about, yo? What da fuck! I don’t wanna go anywhere with y’all. Leave me alone. Why am I in cuffs? You gonna tell me?”

  “Just shut up and listen. Now you can be an accomplice to murder or you can tell us right here and now what really went down up there?” Detective Kowalski yelled in her face.

  Despite her protest, Coco was thrown into the backseat of an unmarked police car. There she sat with a vicious stare clamped onto the faces of the two detectives, one black and one white. She had seen them earlier. Coco kept her mouth shut and her eyes shot daggers.

  “So you’re gonna play tough girl, huh?” the detective continued.

  Coco looked out the window in time to see Eric, Deedee, and Sophia driving away in their green Range Rover. I should’ve caught a ride from them. Man, what was I thinking? she wondered then her mind refocused on her present condition.

  “Look, I don’t know anything else. The guy walked in to rob everyone and Eric was in the bathroom and must’ve heard the ruckus or sump’n. He shot the guy after homey shot ah... the girl ...ah, Kamilla. That’s all. Now, let me go,” Coco said and sat up in the seat.

  “Now let me say this to you. Did you see how those rich people drove by without us touching them? They think they’re big fish and they can get away with everything. That leaves you and me, the small fish, to account for their shit. For some reason, you’re supporting them. Think they would support you?” As the detective spoke, Coco casually listened without saying anything. “They would send you down the river without a paddle. I want you tell me what was your business with them and what was going on up there?”

  “I’m working with Eric Ascot. He’s producing some songs.”

  “What, you’re a singer or a rapper?”

  “I’d like to go now, please.”

  “Listen here, girlie, those rich fucks, they don’t give a shit. They’re the type of people who’d sooner leave you holding the bag for all these murders, you hearing me? Why don’t you let us take you home while you tell us everything?” Kowalski asked. Coco stared him down. He didn’t budge. “Where do you live?”

  “I’d like to leave right now,” Coco replied firmly. The officer pretended as if he was going to swing at her. Coco didn’t even blink.

  He released the handcuffs and kept talking. “You think you’re a tough girl, huh?” He was in Coco’s grill. The teenager bit her tongue while the look she wore shot daggers at him.

  “See you around, Coco,” Hall said as Coco released the handle and jumped out of the car. She stood watching as it screeched off.

  “Fuck y’all,” Coco yelled as she fished for another cigarette and lit it. She began to walk when she saw a cab. She hailed it and it stopped. “One-tenth and Lennox,” she said then continued smoking. The cabbie refused to move. Coco looked at him indifferently. The cabbie pointed to the sign.

  “Can you read the sign back there, Miss?” the cabbie insisted. Coco looked at the sign. It read ‘No Smoking’.

  Coco squeezed the last suck out of the cigarette before she flicked it out the window. She leaned back and looked at the cabbie.

  “Ahight, you happy now, my man?”

  “Good to go,” the cabbie replied as he sped off. Coco could not shake the thought of what had just happened.

  She was sure Lil’ Long was there to murder someone but why? Coco made a promise to herself to catch up to Rightchus when she got back to the hood. He would bring the 411, she thought as light ruled the skyline of the city. “Right here is good.” She paid the fare and exited the cab.

  The chill of the cool night hit Coco. She popped her collar as she made her way to her building. She knew that when the story broke in the hood, there would be further questions. Right now, she didn’t want to do any talking.

  Coco raced upstairs foregoing the ‘Now Working’ sign on the door of the elevator. She tried to hu
rry past Miss Katie’s door without too much noise but the old lady was waiting and called to her as she attempted to go by.

  “Coco, Coco, girl, I was hoping you were all right. I haven’t heard from you and got worried. Did you see the news today? I think those men you were talking about, ah, Busta and Eric Ascot, they involved in killings and murders and Lord knows what else. Child, you listening to me? I’m concerned.”

  “Miss Katie, it’s all right. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll come by and talk to you, okay?”

  “Okay. Have you eaten?” Miss Katie asked. Before Coco could reply, Miss Katie continued. “By the way, your mommy done called at least six times trying to find you. She sez you called sounding disturbed. Are you all right? You know you can tell ol’ Miss Katie anything now, girl. God will work it out. There’s no problem on this earth that He can’t fix. Bless His name.” Coco cut the old lady off before she could build a full head of steam.

  “Miss Katie, I’m gonna be right back. I promise,” Coco said looking for any way out of talking. She wanted to be alone and added before she quickly sped off, “We’ll pick up where you left off, okay?”

  “All right now. Don’t go inside and go to sleep without coming and getting something to eat. I made some chicken smothered in bacon grease with sweet yams and cornbread.”

  “Hmm, sounds yummy. I’ll be right back, Miss Katie.”

  “Hurry back Coco, I’ll tell you ‘bout them crazy people up in apartment 6F.”

  “See you in a minute.”

  “All right, child. If your crazy mother calls again, she done called about ten times...anyway, if she calls again, I’ll let her know you’re okay. But don’t you go falling off to sleep without you first getting something to eat, you hear?” Miss Katie said and watched Coco disappear into her apartment. She called after her again but it was too late. The teenager had made good her escape to the quiet of her mother’s apartment. The older lady thought of going after her but decided to wait until later to let Coco know about the visit by the police.

  TWELVE

  Behind the renovated door of her mother’s one bedroom apartment, Coco went to the window and tried to shut the world out. She felt like her every move was being watched. Were eyes trained on her? she wondered. Coco moved around the apartment trying to cover up the different angles from which someone might be spying on her. She wound up pulling all the curtains shut then sat down on the sofa and flipped on the television. Coco saw flashes of the news and finally settled on music videos. She laid down and closed her eyes for a few minutes, still attempting to shut out the world.

  Mental images kept invading her attempts. First, Kamilla then Lil’ Long going down in a hail of gunfire. She, holding a gun in her hand, gawking at the surprised look on Deedee’s face then the argument that ensued. Was it wrong for Eric to cover up the truth? Was it the right thing for him to do? Who knew? I mean he could’ve definitely have shot Lil’ Long. That mug deserved to die. He already caused enough grief. I wonder what he’s gonna do? The question came with no relief. I’m sure he’s gonna come back at us if that sucker lives. Was that what had made her feel upset at Deedee? No. Deedee was out of bounds. She had no business criticizing anyone’s neighborhood. That was that.

  The knock at the door stirred her from her semi-coma back to the real world.

  “Who is it?” Coco asked slowly rising from the sofa.

  “It’s me. Deedee is on the phone. She wants to know if you’re alright.” It was Miss Katie. For a moment, she considerd asking her about the conflicted feelings she felt toward Deedee. Coco decided it wasn’t the right time.

  “Tell her I’m fine. I’m in the shower trying to get the dirt out of my hair. I’ll call her back later,” Coco yelled.

  “Will do, Coco. Hurry, you hear?”

  “Okay, thanks.” Coco hurried to turn on the shower and pumped the volume of the television higher.

  “…Beautiful, I just want you to know that you’re my favorite girl...”

  Pharrel’s chorus suddenly invaded the apartment. Coco’s bootie shook to the Snoop Dog laced track. She felt a tinge of happiness at the knowledge that Easter break was here and it would be another week before she’d see Deedee back at school. Coco figured by then any resentment felt toward Deedee should be gone. I’ll shower then go call my mother. See how she is holding up. I’ll be all right, Coco thought as the spray of the water hit her naked body.

  THIRTEEN

  Rachel Harvey examined her features in the mirror. She had been slowly stacking the pounds back onto her once emaciated body. She noticed her skirt fit better as she ran her hands over a now shapely behind. I’m packing on the pounds in the right places, she thought as she posed, turning from side to side.

  No longer wafer-like, she contemplated the physical changes she had gone through. “I look good. I don’t need no make-up,” Rachel said then turned to leave her room, closing the door behind her. She walked the familiar path to the assembly room.

  The walk to the assembly area was something that she had been doing for the past forty-five days. She walked along the corridor with the other members of her group knowing this was the last group meeting for her. Rachel wanted out of the residential rehab program. She had already mentioned it to her counselor who told her she would consider it.

  Rachel Harvey felt cured. All of her urine samples were clean. Now she could return to her active welfare status and maybe even look for a job. The thirty-four year old single parent had walked this strip before and the dirt in between the tiles was familiar. Rachel felt ready to handle the outside world. For her daughter’s sake, she had to be prepared.

  Last night, she had watched the late version of the evening news and had called leaving messages everywhere trying to find out if anyone had seen her daughter. Finally, Miss Katie had called back to say that she had seen Coco and everything was alright.

  Relieved, Rachel had wiped the tears from her eyes. It seemed like everything was happening all at once. She walked into the group meeting already in progress and joined in the incantation.

  “Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and the courage to change what I can and the wisdom to know the difference. Your blessings we ask in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  She muttered along with the rest of the group then took her seat and glanced around to see who was leading the group meeting. One person is chosen ahead of time to be in charge of the group discussion. The names appeared daily on the bulletin board. Residents would check the board twice daily. It was not a life or death situation, just done to ensure that residents were kept up to date of any changes. Most of the time because there were hardly ever changes, one could get by with just checking the bulletin board once.

  Because of the problems Rachel had reaching Coco, she never got the chance to see the bulletin board. She knew that the topics are usually centered on relationships, whether family or personal. Sometimes, sex was discussed.

  The leader is expected to bare her soul to the group while discussing freely any intimate part of her life based on the chosen theme for the day. There were times when the group leader was so off base that the entire group walked out the meeting. Politics and religion were topics rarely debated. Leaders, whose meetings went bad, always wound up crying. She looked around to see who today’s leader was gonna be. Rachel Harvey was surprised when without warning, her name was called. She sat stunned.

  “Rachel, have you had a chance to read the bulletin board recently?” The question came from group counselor, Fatima Murray. These counselors can be such assholes, thought Rachel. She felt the uneasiness mount and knew immediately that it was her turn. What was the theme of the day, she wondered. “And, as you know, the theme is family relationships.”

  “No, I didn’t look at it this morning. You know, my daughter? She’s been involved in some, ah, trouble and I was just trying to make sure she was straight and that just took all night. Maybe I can go another time or...” Rachel bobbed and weaved in
an attempt to get out of the task.

  “The theme, Rachel, is family relationships. You know how we talked the other day about certain things that are going on in your life? Well, I was thinking that maybe, without going into detail, you can give us your unique take on it.”

  “In terms of my family?” Rachel asked feeling that uneasiness in her stomach. She was just not prepared. The conversation with Fatima had been a private discussion. She was unwilling to discuss the death of Coco’s father with anyone right now. Deep in thought, Rachel could hear the counselor’s voice.

  “Just imagine you’re talking to me. You don’t have to share everything and the group will be able to participate in the discussion.”

  “But I’m just not talking to you. I’m talking to every freaking soul in the room.”

  “That’s the idea, girl,” a group member yelled out.

  Rachel Harvey’s slow march to leadership took some time to begin. She eventually made it to the center of the room and stood in the leader’s position. For a minute, she was completely intimidated by the faces gawking back at her.

  What am I gonna say? she pondered. They don’t really wanna hear me. Most times I sit in my seat wondering what we’re gonna have for supper. This is for the birds, she thought. She looked at her audience and they started to clap.

  “Aw c’mon, you’ve got to be kidding me. It really isn’t that serious, people,” Rachel started saying. “What it is is what it is. I am Rachel Harvey and I’m a drug addict. I started using drugs, smoking weed at seventeen. By twenty two, I had two abortions and was pregnant for the third time with my daughter, Coco.” Rachel could feel the tears welling inside. She paused and tilted her head back.

  She did not want to cry but it was happening anyway. Rachel, despite what she had become, held onto an inkling of pride and became defensive whenever she felt she had to explain herself. She could get off crack. All she had to do was stop smoking it.