A Girl Like Me

by Ni-Ni Simone

  “Please, Elite,” she begged softly. “Mommy and Gary are here held up in the bathroom, and Mommy just sold the last carton of eggs we had to the girl down the hall. So we need you. You know Mommy and Gary listen to you, and I gotta go to the bathroom.”

  I couldn’t believe this. I was this close to meeting Haneef and had to turn around. I swallowed. “Alright, I’m on my way.”

  I looked at Naja. “Girl, you go on, but I need to go and get with my sisters and brothers.”

  “Oh, okay, do you.” She waved and didn’t even look my way. I held my head down and walked out of the arena.

  A few seconds later I heard, “Elite! Elite!” I turned around and it was Naja.

  “I was just playing, girl. You know I’m not gon’ do you like that.”

  And as we waited for the bus, we carried on about how much fun we’d just had.

  I spent my last five dollars on buying a box of chicken from Crown Royal on Elizabeth Avenue and then split it with the twins and Mica. Ny’eem still hadn’t come home and honestly, I didn’t even care. I mean, I cared, but I was tired of caring and him taking advantage of it.

  After feeding Mica and the twins, I made them go to bed and attempted to stay up and wait for Ny’eem. Of course it was to no avail, because the next thing I heard was my mother’s voice, seducing me out of my sleep.

  “Elite. Elite, wake up.” I opened one eye and looked at the clock: two a.m. “Wake up.” My mother was now shaking my thigh.

  “I don’t have two dollars.” I closed my eyes and threw my legs over the side of the sofa. I felt like I’d just slammed my ankles into a brick wall, but when I looked to see, it was a sleeping Ny’eem. I’d hit him on the shoulder, but he didn’t wake up, and all he did was stir. I swear I felt like kicking him.

  “I don’t want two dollars,” my mother snapped. “I wanna know how the concert was.”

  I turned back to face her. “How’d you know about the concert?”

  “Ny’eem told me. Right before I chased his ass off the corner. He said you sang onstage. Said that some of his friends was there and that you ripped it!”

  “Ma!” I said, recapturing the excitement. “I was in heaven. And I was singing so tough that it silenced the crowd.”

  “What?!” she jumped up. “Get the hell outta here!”

  “Yeah, and I think Haneef couldn’t even believe it.”

  “Haneef?” she sat back down on the floor. “Is that—”

  “Ma, he not some street hustler. He’s a pop star.”

  “Okay, ’cause you know I don’t want no nonsense.”

  For a moment I stared at her and wondered what it would be like to have her like this all the time, and not have to share her with the crack pipe, Gary, or the streets. I knew she loved me and that she cared, but something inside her stopped her from caring enough to be sober. And it was only in these few stolen moments that I even remembered she had real motherly instinct. “I know you don’t want any nonsense, Ma.”

  “I hope you do, because you’re special, Elite. That’s why I named you Elite. Because you’re the best, and I don’t want nobody messing up your future. I don’t want none of y’all to be like me.”

  After an awkward moment of silence and me thinking of how I had very little memories of my mother being sober, she cleared her throat and said, “So tell me what happened, from beginning to end.” She was sounding more like a seventeen-year-old friend than my mother.

  I lay back with my head on the armrest, stared at the ceiling, and recapped for her the magical night that I’d had.

  Afterwards we laughed, joked, and even sang. She had the prettiest voice I’d ever heard. On a good day, she would have put Whitney Houston to sleep.

  I hadn’t had a night like this in a long time. It almost made not being able to meet Haneef backstage and Aniyah calling me up to announce that everybody in the house was dead worth it.

  I didn’t remember falling asleep, all I knew was that when I opened my eyes, the sun was shining into the living room and the spot where my mother was sitting was empty. For a moment I wondered if the conversation we’d had the night before was even real.

  SPIN IT…

  Track 6

  It was official: I was the bomb and er’body in Arts High was checkin’ for me, especially since I rocked the Haneef concert the night before.

  “Elite!” my portentous fans screamed. “I heard you killed it!” Everywhere I went, that’s all I heard: homeroom, honors english, trigonometry, economics, music, and on it went. “Elite this and Elite that!” My li’l taste of Hollywood—or should I say—hollyhood—had me zooted.

  Which is why when the school day ended and Naja and I stood before my court dressed in too cute bebe gear (courtesy of the five finger discount), tellin’ an itty bitty white lie about meeting Haneef backstage and how he was checking for me, er’body and their mama’s mama believed it. All except, of course, the hater, Ciera.

  We were standing at the bus stop waiting for the bus to come.

  “Funny,” Ciera twisted her lips, while tapping her stiletto heels against the uneven concrete. “I didn’t see you backstage and I know this for a fact ’cause I was there.” She pointed to her choir of flunkies, who backed her up with a buncha “Uhmm hmmms.”

  I glared at Ciera—I wanted to catch this chick in the throat. “You should really stop hatin’, ’fore we tell everybody how you went backstage, spun around, and became Superhead.”

  Naja sucked in her inner checks and made a face like Nemo, causing Ciera’s neck swerve to kick into overdrive. “You tryna play me?!” Ciera screamed. “Let me tell you something—” and she threw her shoulders back in her get-it-poppin’ mode.

  “Tell us what?!” Naja cut her off and instantly an argument ensued. The girls standing around egged us on. Yet strangely enough, their instigating turned into outright screaming, and them wildly jumping up and down. I couldn’t believe they were being so extra!

  “What the hell is y’all’s problem?!” I asked. “And you, Samantha,” I said, and pointed to one of the girls from my homeroom class, “I’m real surprised that you frontin’—”

  “Ha-ha-ha—” Samantha sputtered.

  “And you laughin’ in my face!”

  “Li’l Ma, what’s good? I missed you last night.” A smooth and familiar male voice floated over my shoulder from nowhere, but I was too amped to acknowledge it. Besides, he couldn’t have been talkin to me.

  “And another thing—” I said as I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist, stopping me dead in my tracks.

  I brushed the arm from my waist and immediately the diamond link bracelet that draped down the caramel colored male forearm caught my attention.

  I stood frozen. I didn’t know who the hell this was. But I knew it wasn’t Jahaad. His broke ass couldn’t afford no real bling.

  I turned around to see exactly who I needed to cuss out for putting their hands on me, but before the words could fall from my mouth, I started screaming and hugging my future baby daddy tightly. “Haneef!!!! Oh, my God…oh, my God.”

  Oxygen. I needed oxygen. I fanned my face and then turned to Naja, who was holding her chest and puffing into a brown paper bag.

  “Wassup, Li’l Ma?” Haneef said. “I missed you.”

  I couldn’t believe this. I had to hug him again.

  “You missed me?” Haneef asked.

  “Yes.” I was in shock, so I’m not even sure if I said that out loud.

  “Yeah?” he smiled…and oh, what a beautiful smile. “Li’l Ma—”

  I put my hand up for him to stop. It was too much to digest at once. I thought I heard him say, “Li’l Ma.” That was the sexiest goddamn Li’l Ma I’d ever heard in my life! For once, it was really all good in the hood! I took a deep breath and said slowly, especially since I was on the verge of passing out, “Yes, Daddy?” I knew I sounded pathetic. But…whatever…

  “I don’t mind you hugging me, baby.”

  I swore he called me baby? I hu
gged him tighter and stomped my feet. Had…he…just…called me…baby?!

  “But you a little too up in my chest wit’ it,” he continued. “And I can’t breathe.”

  Oh, I guess I was holding him kind of close. I let him go but I didn’t move back, not one inch.

  “Now, peep this,” l’il tender said. “I wanna hollah at you for a minute. Come take a ride with me.”

  Just then, the air froze and time stood still. I realized I was dreaming. I looked back at Naja, who was still breathing into the paper bag. “I think I’m dreaming.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “But I ain’t waking up.”

  I turned back to Haneef and blinked. He couldn’t be real. Yeah, that was it, he wasn’t real. As a matter of fact, he had to be an imposter. I was betting this was somebody Jahaad tricked all his li’l minimum wage Burger King money on to fool me.

  I squinted my eyes at who I had just decided was an imposter and said, “I should punch you in the damn face for fakin’ the funk!”

  “What?” he stepped back.

  “You ain’t Haneef,” I snapped.

  “That’s Haneef,” Naja insisted.

  “How do you know?!” I spat.

  “I can look at his booty and tell.”

  “Hmph…good point…” I paused, turned around and looked at the driver standing outside of the crisp and gleaming black Hummer, holding open the back door. Then I looked at the two men, standing outside of the Lincoln town car, parked in front of the Hummer. They were so buff, they were either bodyguards, or hit men…So, maybe…maybe…this was…nope, I was trippin’.

  This was the hood; mofos don’t just appear around here, unless they’re filming a gangsta movie. So obviously, this was some bullshit. Somebody tryna be funny. I looked at whoever this was and wondered if I should let him pull this off, or cold-cock ’im in the face.

  “You ai’ight, Li’l Ma?”

  I wanted God to stop playing before I really started to think this was Haneef. I sized him up with my eyes: six feet—check. Tattoo of his name on the right side of his neck—check.

  Jeeeeeeee’sussssssss! This was Haneef. Okay, okay…I had to calm down. I was gonna let the other birds go wild, but I had to get it together. After all, he was a nineteen-year-old boy. A boy?! There I was trippin’ again; this was a man. A grown ass man. One fine specimen of a man…

  “What you got, a boyfriend or something, Li’l Ma?” Haneef asked.

  Immediately that captured my attention. “What? Boy, don’t play with me.” Hell, at that moment, Jahaad didn’t count.

  “Cool,” he pointed toward his Hummer. “So, can we chill?” he asked as the crowd grew and the screams escalated.

  I turned around, smiled at Naja, who was fanning her face, and mouthed to Ciera, “Hater.” I turned to Haneef and said as cool and calm as melting ice, “Yeah, we can chill.”

  I eased into the backseat, closed my eyes, and said a quick prayer. “Okay God, if this is a dream, don’t bother me with reality.”

  SPIN IT…

  Track 7

  As we entered the highway and blended into rush hour traffic, I thought of something: Suppose this cat was a stalker? I was so busy getting my groupie on that I didn’t even think about why this dude was showing up at my school, anxious to take me around in his Hummer like I was Kim Porter, Maneka, or one of them type chicks.

  I turned to him. “You know my mama gon’ be lookin’ for me.” I knew that was a lie, but heck, he didn’t have to know that. The butterflies in my stomach were killing me. I was so nervous, I was certain the words “sweatin’ like hell” were encrypted on my forehead.

  Haneef laughed and flipped open his cell phone, “You wanna call her?”

  I couldn’t help but blush. “Boy, I’m grown.”

  He laughed again. “Ai’ight, since you’re grown and everything.” He arched his eyebrows.

  “So, ahhhh…” I said as we got on the New Jersey Turnpike heading toward the Holland Tunnel. “Why are you doing all of this?”

  “I’m always anxious to please a fan, especially since I didn’t see you backstage last night. I wanted to come hollah at you, and tell you that you killed it out there.”

  “Thank you,” I swallowed, scared to look him in the eyes.

  Maybe he wanted me to be his protégée. Or perhaps this was a publicity stunt…or an offer for a record deal. Or both.

  But then again…maybe he found out I was a crackhead’s kid, felt sorry for me, and has a TV camera following us around. I turned and looked out both the back windows.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  “Any news crews following us around?”

  “News?” he looked out of both windows. “Why, you see somebody? I hope not, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “No, I don’t see anyone.”

  “So why did you ask?”

  “Just askin’.”

  “Ai’ight…so what happened to you coming backstage last night?”

  My heart was skipping beats. “Uhmmmm, my sister…was sick. And I needed to leave.”

  “Really? Where was ya moms? At work?”

  I stared at him. She was at work alright. “Yeah. At work, and she couldn’t take off.” I was very uncomfortable, but after a few moments, we pulled up to a New York pier, where there was a small boat waiting at the docks. I couldn’t believe it. A real boat.

  I slyly pinched my right thigh to see if the moment was real, and when I felt pain, I realized nothing had changed and it was actually happening to me.

  The water was amazing and the evening sun was turning crimson and leaving illuminated shadows across the ripples. I was speechless. I got out of the car, took his hand, and got on the boat. Was this what the rich and famous did? Ride boats all day? Dang, this was the life.

  Haneef smiled at the captain. “Wassup? Elite, this is Kool-Out, my thugged-out captain,” he laughed.

  “Funny, sir,” the captain said.

  Did he just call him sir?

  “Nawl, I’m buggin’. This is John,” Haneef said. “He’s going to drive us around tonight.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, madam.”

  Madam? Not knowing what to do, I smiled and watched him return to the captain’s booth a few steps below, leaving Haneef and I on the main deck all alone. “Sit down,” Haneef said as he pointed to a reclining chair, but for some reason I continued to stand, even as we pulled into the open sea.

  “I hope you like cheeseburgers and sweet potato fries.” Haneef smiled and pointed to the table in the center of the deck, which was dressed with silver domes. He lifted them and revealed the menu he’d just described.

  Hmph, I could’ve sworn this dude was trying to get with me. But that wasn’t going to happen. After all, he already said this was about pleasing a fan. So, I was going to keep it movin’.

  “Wow, this looks delicious,” I said as we sat down to eat, still looking over my shoulder for an unexpected news crew.

  After we ate dinner, I was too nervous to be myself, so I decided to play the nice and quiet type.

  “Have you ever been on a boat?” Haneef asked, cutting across my thoughts.

  I laughed. “Uhmmm, yeah.”

  He stared at me for a moment.

  Was I supposed to say more than that?

  “Oh…kay, when?” he pried.

  Is he tryna hold a conversation? “Uhmmmmm…okay,” I said, answering his question. Remembering the last time I was on a boat, I cracked up laughing. “Last winter there was a blizzard, and these dudes around my way stole a canoe and we went riding up and down the block in it. We had broomsticks for rowing, and the whole nine.”

  Haneef looked at me like I was crazy.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have told him that story. He probably thinks I’m ghetto as hell. “I guess that was a li’l ghetto, huh?” I asked.

  “A little? A whole lot,” he laughed. “But I got a story to top that.”

  I twisted my lips. “What?”

&nbs
p; “Ai’ight, check it.” He draped his arm behind my seat. “When we lived in Baltimore, my older brother, Khalil, bought a school bus, had the top taken off, took the seats out, and made it a pool.”

  “Oh, no!” I cracked up. “Say, word?”

  “Word. Li’l Ma, we swam in that pool all summer. We were straight coolin’.”

  “That sounds like something my brother, Ny’eem, would do.”

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” he stroked my hair to the back.

  “Two brothers and two sisters. I’m the oldest and my sisters are twins. And you?”

  “All brothers and I’m the youngest.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, it’s five of us.”

  “What? It’s five of us,” I said, a little too excited.

  “You like having a big family?”

  “Not really,” I said. “If I wasn’t the oldest, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then I wouldn’t have to take care of everything and everybody.”

  “You take care of everything and everybody? Why?”

  I paused. I was becoming a little too comfortable. “No reason. My mother just works all the time.”

  “Where’s your dad?”

  “Dead,” I said too quickly for him not to think I was lying, so I changed the subject. “Your concert was the truth,” I smiled. “Word up, you did your thing.”

  “You, too, Li’l Ma. You looked soooooo pretty out there. And when you started singing, did you hear the crowd go wild? You got talent, Li’l Ma, for real.”

  Was Haneef sayin’ I had talent? I believe he was. “Thank you,” I blushed.

  “How long have you been singing?” he asked me.

  “Since I was five.” I told him the story of how I would sing all the time, skipping the times and leaving out stories of how my mother had me singing for drug dealers so she could get drugs. And before I knew it, we were kicking it like old friends. Like he was just a regular ole dude. And I couldn’t believe it. He made me feel so comfortable that home seemed a world away.