Passin'

by Karen E. Quinones Miller

  Shanika quickly hit the end button on the cell phone. Oh

  shit, I have Paris Hilton’s private cell phone number! She started gasping for breath. I have Paris Hilton’s number!

  She started scrolling through the listings again. Abby, Andrea, Angela . . . there were more than 150 girls’ names listed in the directory, though none had their last names. Whose BlackBerry had she found, she wondered. She decided to call one of the numbers in the directory and ask.

  She didn’t think she’d be able to handle calling someone who might be a celebrity, so she settled on the name Vivian, since she couldn’t think of a celebrity by that name.

  “What the hell do you want?” someone all but shouted into the phone after only three rings.

  “Uh, well, I was just calling because I found this phone, this, um, cell phone, at a restaurant and I wanted to return it,” Shanika managed to get out through her shock at the reception.

  “Oh!” The voice softened. “Well, thanks. That’s nice of you.”

  “Um, do you know, uh, do you know whose cell phone this is?”

  “Yeah, it belongs to my friend Cindy. Hold on, let me call her on her cell phone and see where she is.”

  This Cindy girl has two cell phones, she marveled, after Vivian put her on hold.

  Vivian was back on the line in about forty-five seconds. “Hang up, she’s going to call you. She didn’t even know she lost the damn thing, the idiot.”

  The phone rang less than a minute after Vivian hung up.

  “Hello,” Shanika said hesitantly, not sure if Cindy was going to be as abrasive as her friend.

  “Hi. This is Cindy. Vivian just called me and told me you found my phone!” the young woman said in a cheery voice.

  “Yes, I found it in a restaurant on Madison Avenue. It was on the sidewalk.”

  “Now, isn’t that something? I didn’t even know I’d lost it. It must have slipped out of my purse. Where are you right now?”

  “I’m at a hotel on Lexington Avenue.”

  “Lexington and what?”

  “Um, Lexington and Thirtieth Street.”

  “Oh, good. I’m not far away. Would you be a sweetheart and bring it over to me? I’m with some friends at Sangy’s.”

  “Sangy’s?”

  “The Sangria Club. I’ll be here until about ten. Do you think you can make it before then?”

  Damn, this chick got some nerve. Here I’m doing her a favor by trying to return her cell phone and she wants me to come to her? Shanika wanted to tell the girl to go to hell, but at the same time she didn’t want to. Going out to the Sangria Club might be fun, she’d get to see a real New York club and maybe meet some interesting people. Of course she couldn’t stay too long, since she had to catch the train early the next morning. But the girl just said the club wasn’t far.

  “Sure,” she heard herself telling Cindy. “I can leave right now. Where exactly is the Sangria Club located?”

  There was a pause. “You’re kidding, right? It’s the Sangria Club. You know, on Sixty-seventh and Park.”

  “Oh, I’m not from here. I’m just visiting New York, but, yeah, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. How will I know you?”

  “I’ll be in a VIP area with two other girls right by the stage.

  I’m wearing a white summer dress and I have long red hair.” Cindy started giggling. “You’ll know me, I’m the most beautiful girl in the place.”

  Shanika could hear some girls laughing in the background.

  “Oh, shut up, you jealous bitches,” she heard Cindy say.

  “Okay, I’m on my way,” Shanika said, trying to regain Cindy’s attention.

  “Good. I’ll be waiting.”

  She didn’t even ask me my name, Shanika thought after the girl hung up. She probably doesn’t care. I guess she’s just used to people doing what she wants.

  Wow, the VIP section. Boy, she really sounds like she’s going to be interesting, Shanika thought as she grabbed her pocketbook and hotel key and headed out the door. I bet this is going to be fun.

  Chapter Five

  The Sangria Club, which Cindy had described as “not far,” was actually a $7.80 taxi ride from the hotel—$7.80 that Shanika could barely afford to pay. She pursed her lips as she handed the cabdriver a five and three singles, preparing for an outburst since she wasn’t planning on giving him a tip, unless you counted the twenty-cents change that is, but he never bothered to give her a backward glance as she got out of the car.

  “Ten dollars and ID,” a beefy brute of a man with blond hair and a neck that bulged out of his heavily starched shirt collar said when she walked into the club. He gave her a quick look up and down and then, clearly deciding she wasn’t worthy of more, turned back to the four security monitors in his little lobby cubbyhole and added, “And a two-drink minimum.”

  “Ten dollars? There’s a cover charge to get in?” Shanika drew back in surprise. “A cover charge on a Monday? And it’s not even ten o’clock yet!”

  “Ten dollars and a two-drink minimum,” the man reminded her. “And it’s twenty dollars after ten on weeknights, and thirty-five on weekends.” He turned to her again, bestowing

  on her a polite but insincere smile. “We take all of the major credit cards, but no checks. Sorry.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll be paying cash.” Shanika quietly fumed as she fumbled in her pocketbook for her wallet and gave the man her driver’s license, along with a ten-dollar bill. Between the cab ride, the cover charge, and her two-drink minimum, it was going to cost her a pretty penny to return the stupid phone. Chickie better at least offer to pay my expenses, she thought as she walked into the club’s interior.

  She’d been in some really nice clubs in Detroit, and also while in school in Delaware, but this was something else.

  There wasn’t a big crowd in the place, maybe about sixty or seventy people, though the club could easily accommodate four or five times that many, and that didn’t even count the balcony area.

  Isn’t that the girl who plays in that new TV sitcom standing over in the corner laughing with that guy? But wait, is that a margarita she’s swigging down? The girl can’t be more than sixteen. And the guy at the door had the nerve to ask me for ID. Hmmph!

  There were only four couples on the dance floor, and all but one were white. The other was interracial, the guy looked Asian, and the woman was definitely African-American— from her dreadlocks to her cowrie shell earrings. The funny thing was the pretty little dreadlocked mama was the worst dancer on the floor—as loud as the bass was, coming from the large speakers situated throughout the club, she acted like she couldn’t find the beat if her life depended on it. In fact, she looked like she was having a seizure there on the floor. Shanika struggled not to giggle. So much for all black girls having rhythm.

  She was so busy staring at the uncoordinated woman that she almost bumped into a tall, willowy blonde who looked like a runway model. “Sorry,” she said hurriedly.

  The blonde looked her up and down, making Shanika suddenly feel self-conscious. “Whatever,” she finally said with a heavy Italian accent and turned to walk away.

  “Damn, it didn’t have to be all that,” Shanika said out loud.

  The woman turned. “Did you say something to me?”

  “I just said it didn’t have to be all like that,” Shanika repeated.

  “Uh-huh. Well, like I said, whatever.” The blonde walked away.

  Hmmph, I’d better hurry up and drop off this phone before I have to start getting wild up in this place.

  It only took her a few minutes to locate the VIP section, and, sure enough, there were three young women sitting there looking bored, and not even moving their shoulders or bopping their heads to the loud music. Nor were they engaged in conversation. They were just sitting there, and one of them had red hair.

  If that’s Cindy, she sure wasn’t lying, Shanika thought as she neared the table. She was indeed the most striking-looking woman in the club—or at
the very least one of them. She was skinny—not bony like Nicole Richie, but soft skinny like Nicole Kidman—with long red hair that hung in loose waves past her bare tanned shoulders. The white summer dress, as Cindy had described it, looked almost exactly like one Shanika had seen in Vogue—low-cut, tight around her small bodice, and the material, Shanika was sure, had to be silk.

  The woman suddenly looked up and Shanika found herself staring into a pair of feline green eyes, topped by perfectly arched red eyebrows that extended down almost to the outer corner of her eyelids.

  Shanika quickened her step, sure that she’d indeed found the party she’d been looking for, but her path was suddenly blocked by a tall, thin man wearing a black suit and dark sunglasses.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he said curtly. “This is the VIP section.”

  “Yes, but—” Shanika started.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” the man repeated, “but I’m sure you’ll find suitable seating elsewhere.”

  Shanika pointed to the women at the table and said, “But I’m with them.”

  “Of course you are.” The man took Shanika’s arm, swung her around, and started walking her away from the stage area.

  “Hey!” Shanika tried to pull away, but the man’s grip tightened. “Will you please let me go!”

  “Tony!”

  Both Shanika and the man turned to see the redhead standing up and cupping her hands around her mouth as she yelled again, “Tony! I think she’s here with me!”

  “You think she’s here with you?”

  The woman gave an exasperated smirk and waved them over.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Statler. You said you think she’s here with you?” the man asked once she reached the table.

  “Yes, yes, yes, that’s what I said! Damn, man!” the woman said, her green eyes narrowed into slits. “And you don’t have to manhandle her even if she’s not.”

  The man quickly let go of Shanika’s arm. “Sorry, Ms. Statler,” he mumbled before swiftly walking away.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Shanika nodded. “Just a little shook-up, but fine.”

  “I’m really sorry about that. Tony’s a real gorilla.” The redhead sat back down, and then smiled up at Shanika. “So now, tell me, are you the girl who found my cell phone?”

  “Huh? Oh yes!” Shanika quickly dipped her hand in her pocketbook and pulled out the phone and handed it to the redhead.

  Cindy put the phone down on the table and gave Shanika a long look up and down. She definitely needed some makeup lessons. Who wore amber lipstick? Maybe black girls, but no one she hung out with. And her clothes were nice enough, but they definitely came from someplace like the Gap or Old Navy. The shoes were especially nice, black stiletto heels, but again, not designer. Probably couldn’t have cost more than a hundred dollars or so. In fact, the girl’s entire outfit probably cost less than Cindy’s underwear. But she was pretty. Very pretty, in fact. She might be amusing.

  “Well? Aren’t you going to tell me your name? You already know mine is Cindy.”

  “Oh! Sorry.” Shanika reached over the table and extended her hand for a shake. “Nikkie. Good to meet you.”

  Cindy gave Shanika a limp handshake, then motioned for her to have a seat. “This is my cousin Rachel.” She waved her hand in the direction of the petite brunette sitting to her right.

  Rachel smiled, revealing small perfectly shaped teeth. “Nice to meet you, Nikkie. Thanks for bringing Cindy the telephone.”

  “That’s why I hate you, bitch. I was going to thank her myself, you know.”

  “Well, you didn’t.” Rachel smiled at Shanika again. “Don’t pay her any mind. She’s just being crabby because her mommy”—she looked at Cindy and smirked—“won’t let her use the Porsche.”

  Cindy sucked her teeth. “She’s another bitch.”

  Shanika tried to keep her face expressionless. It was bad enough these girls called each other bitches, but they referred to their mothers the same way?

  “Anyway, this is Tina.” Cindy pointed to the other brunette. This one was short, not quite on the pudgy side, but definitely bigger than either Cindy or Rachel.

  “What’s up? How ya doin’?” Tina acknowledged with a nod.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” Shanika answered, a little surprised. Tina’s use of Ebonics seemed to indicate that she was aware of Shanika’s ethnicity, but it was unusual for white people to figure it out so quickly. In fact, it had never happened before so quickly. She struggled to figure out what to say to the girls next. “How long have you been here?”

  “Been where?” Cindy’s arched eyebrow arched even higher.

  “Here. I mean, here at the club.”

  Cindy shrugged. “We don’t usually go out until one or so, but we decided to come out early for a change as a favor. Big mistake. The place is dead.”

  “A favor?” Shanika asked.

  Cindy waved her hand and caught the attention of a drink waitress walking through the VIP section. “Terry, would you bring us another round of drinks?” She turned to Shanika.

  “You want a drink, right? Do you like cosmos?”

  Shanika nodded.

  “And Terry”—Cindy tapped the waitress on the arm— “make sure you tell Steve to bring his cute ass over here as soon as he walks in. Tell him I need to see him about business.”

  “Hey, Cindy, how are you doing?” asked a pretty Asian woman who seemed to appear from nowhere.

  “Hey, Suki. I’m doing great. Can’t you see?” Cindy said dismissively.

  “Oh well, that’s good.” The girl stood at the table for a few moments, as if waiting to be asked to join the group, then finally walked away without saying another word.

  “That was rather mean of you,” Rachel said after she left. “You could have asked her to join us.”

  “Bitch please.” Cindy rolled her eyes. “I didn’t notice you asking her to join us.”

  “I didn’t notice her saying hello to me,” Rachel said with a laugh. “It’s all about you, darling.”

  “It most certainly is,” Cindy said with a smug smile.

  “Yeah, usually clubs are banging by the time we get here,” Tina said with a nod of her head. “You can’t even move on the floor.”

  “Like that bothers Cindy,” Rachel said. “Give her a couple of cosmos and she jumps up on a table.”

  “Hell, you’re only young once,” Cindy said in a disinterested voice. She stood up and looked around the club for a moment before sitting down again. “It’s bad enough Steve isn’t here yet, but there isn’t anyone around that I can get anything from. We should go ahead and leave after these drinks. I’m bored. None of you bitches got anything for real?”

  “Damn, Cindy, you just dropped some E. Give it some time to kick in.” Tina gave Cindy a small punch on the shoulder, then leaned over her toward Shanika. “Do you want some? I got enough to get you straight, girl.”

  “Uh, no, I’m cool.” These girls were something else, Shanika decided. Especially Cindy. But, hell, like she said, you’re only young once. You might as well live it up.

  The drink waitress reappeared with the cosmos and placed them down in front of the young women.

  “So, Nikkie, Cindy said you’re visiting the city? Where are you from?” Rachel asked after taking a ladylike sip.

  “Detroit,” Shanika answered.

  “Really? Oh, I love Detroit,” Cindy said after taking a huge gulp of her cosmo. “We were just down there for the Super Bowl game this year.”

  Rachel furrowed her brow. “Detroit? No, that was last year. It was in Miami this year.”

  “Miami. Detroit. Whatever.” Cindy shrugged.

  “Oh? Are you-all big football fans?”

  “No, we just like the parties.” Cindy took another couple of gulps of her drink, then waved the waitress over again. “Terry, sweetie, listen. Bring us another round, okay? And when you see that round getting low, just bring another one.”

  “Looks like that E’s fi
nally kicking in, huh, Cindy?” Tina tapped Cindy on the shoulder again.

  “Will you please stop hitting me? Damn. Every time I go out with you, I wind up black-and-blue. But, yeah, I’m feeling okay. I’m feeling pretty good.” Cindy started moving her

  shoulders to the beat of the music. “So, did you go to any of the Super Bowl parties when you were in Detroit?”

  “Cindy, she lives in Detroit, remember?” Rachel said with a giggle.

  “They have nice parties,” Cindy said, ignoring Rachel and not waiting for an answer from Shanika. “Especially the ones the sports agents give. But there’s nothing like the Oscar parties. Those really get wild.”

  Shanika’s eyes widened. “You go to the Oscar parties? Really?”

  “Oh yeah. Every year. The Elton John party is the best as far as hobnobbing, but I’m going to tell you that black guy . . . what’s his name? Jamie Foxx? He’s throws the best party.”

  Now, see, Shanika thought, this is what I’m talking about. These girls are living it up. This is the kind of life I’m supposed to be living—flying to different cities just to go to a party and hanging out with people like Jamie Foxx.

  “Don’t forget the George Clooney party, that was wild,” Rachel added.

  “My favorite was the one Will Smith and Jada Pinkett gave this year. That party was da bomb! Now that was really da bomb. Everybody who was anybody was there,” Tina chimed in.

  Cindy snorted. “You mean everybody who’s anybody in hip-hop. But, yeah, it was wild.” She started moving her shoulders to the music again. “You should go with us next year, Nikkie. Everybody should make it out to the Oscar-night parties at least once, don’t you think?”

  “I do, I do think,” Shanika said as she took a sip from the new fresh cosmo the waitress placed down in front of her minutes before. She was getting giddy, not just from the drinks, but from the whole experience. Yes, this was the life she wanted to live, and maybe these girls were the ticket. Thank God Cindy lost her stupid cell phone. “Let me know your plans, I’d love to meet up with all of you.”