Glitz

by Philana Marie Boles

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “Oh my goodness . . .” I leaned back and used the wall to brace myself. “Okay. But how will I get home? And when?”

  “Trust me, you’ll get back. First thing in the morning,” Raq assured me with a wink. “So, you wit’ it?”

  I didn’t answer right away.

  I was contemplating what in the world I would tell Gramma.

  Then Raq said, “By the way, I peeped you all close up with Piper. So I know you’re not trippin’ too much.”

  I fought hard not to grin. Maybe Raq wasn’t mad at me for riding close to Piper. When she’d pushed me in the small of my back when I’d gotten in first and rode next to him, I thought she had wanted that seat for herself. Now I was thinking that maybe her shove was because she was excited for me.

  Raq tilted her head as she looked at me in the mirror. Then she gave me a sharp, quick nudge. “Check it,” she said. “And listen close, all right? Because I’m serious when I say this. Those people back home, as far as me, I’m just extra income and a way for them to feel good about themselves, the grown-up Girl Scout and the grown-up Boy Scout, you know? I’m like just some extra gesture they did for society. So they can say they kept some bad-assed girl out of juvie and sent her to a college prep school instead.”

  I nodded. When Raq had first told me about her foster parents, I thought what they were doing for her was kind of cool. But maybe she was right—maybe what they were doing for her was more for themselves than it was for Raq. Maybe they really were just phony parents.

  She said, “So you think I’m gonna pass tonight up for them? You think I’m thinking twice about rolling with Greg tonight? Roll up to the D so maybe I can have a shot doing what I want to do? Sure, I could go back to Judge and Kitty tonight, go to bed and wake up tomorrow to her corny-ass pancakes and syrup ... and all that phoniness. But for what?”

  I was feeling more and more empowered as she continued, “Stackin’ dollars and livin’ fab starts tonight, chica! So don’t trip on your grandmother. You can’t keep living your life for her, laying bricks for a house she wants you living in. This is your time to do what you wanna do!”

  With that, I held my hand for Raq’s cell phone.

  Gramma snatched up the phone on the first ring. “Where. Are. You?” she demanded without even hearing my voice first to confirm it was me. “And why didn’t you take your phone? I call you and some song about a monster keeps blasting from your room!”

  I sighed, asking God real quick in my mind to forgive me for the lie I was about to tell. I’d never been seriously dishonest with Gramma before—for fear of God giving her the instincts to recognize that I was—so I asked Him to be on my side, just this once.

  I said, “I wanted to call you earlier but I forgot my phone. And, um, Raq’s couldn’t keep a signal or something. Her battery ... We caught a flat. Had to walk to her house. I’ll—”

  “Didn’t I tell you that little demon child was bad luck. Didn’t I? Huh? That tire was a sign! Going nowhere, I told ya!”

  “People get flat tires all the time,” I told Gramma. “Listen, we’re both exhausted. Plus, I have a headache. Plus, my feet are beat up from walking. I’m just gonna crash here, okay? Be home tomorrow? First thing.” I held my breath, grimaced, and waited for the heat of her wrath to escape from the speaker.

  But Raq snatched the phone. “Hi, Gramma! It’s me ... Raquel. Listen, it’s totally my fault. I thought I had juice on my phone and didn’t—” Raq held the phone away from her face as Gramma yelled something—a bunch of things—that I couldn’t make out.

  Raq said, “Yes, yes . . . I know. I know you were worried . . . Yes . . . Well, no ma’am . . . I . . . The devil? No I don’t worship . . . No . . . Well, I just want you to know that we’re okay. Okay? Hopefully it’s all right with you she can just crash here. . . .” With an offended look on her face—no doubt due to something Gramma had said to her—Raq handed me back the phone.

  She turned back to the mirror and said nothing while she fixed herself up.

  “Gramma?” I said.

  “First thing in the morning you’d better be home. You hear me? I knew I shouldn’t have taken my sinus pill. If I didn’t think I would end up driving on somebody’s sidewalk, I’d get in my car right now and snatch you up! Do you have a toothbrush to use? Do they have clean pajamas for you to borrow?”

  “Yes, Gramma.”

  “All right now. Better floss, too. No telling how much candy you been eating today. And don’t forget to—”

  I wanted to scream! Sixteen years old and she was telling me to brush and floss my teeth! “Okay, Gramma,” I replied. “I’ll see you in the morning.” I think she was still talking when I hung up.

  7

  Sir Gee’s back was to us, and he was sitting directly across from Piper and Cyn 21 in the Waffle House booth. Gee was so much larger than Piper—and even Cyn 21—that he looked like their bodyguard. They were all leaned in and looking tense. I tried to make eye contact with Piper, but he was too focused in on what Sir Gee was saying to notice us approaching.

  I slid in beside Piper, forcing Cyn 21 to move over even more, which made him clear his throat with irritation. Raq sat next to Gee.

  “One thing I can’t stand,” Sir Gee was saying, “is a man that’d put his hands on a woman. Gets me irked.”

  “Yo . . .” Piper nodded. “It’s atrocious.”

  Sir Gee sighed into a smile when he looked at Raq. “We was just discussing your mans ...”

  “Oh,” Raq replied, looking impressively unfazed. “Forget that jerk.”

  “Yeah,” Gee confirmed. “Got a call from Muns. He got word that Hitz is going around looking for ‘the Latina chick backstage, the one with Sir Gee.’ Said he saw her leavin’ with us. Said when he find her, it’s on. Skinny fool don’t know who he’s dealin’ wit’, ma. Muns is crazy. And my deck ain’t too damn full either, ya dig? And don’t none of us like a punk.”

  “Yo . . .” Piper said, “Any man that puts his hands on a female? Straight—”

  “Punk!” Gee finished Piper’s statement.

  Everyone laughed.

  And Raq shrugged. “Told you he was crazy.” She swallowed. “What else did Mun-E say?”

  Gee shrugged. “I just told him, I said, ‘Look man, homey is just a skinny-assed punk.’ I told him all about Hitz and his dirty paws. Ain’t nobody tryna entertain a punk like that, some skinny dude on some simple shit, reppin’ Toledo cats all wrong.”

  Raq said, “Fools stupid like that in Detroit, too. Don’t get it twisted.”

  Gee nodded. “But callin’ Mun-E lookin’ for you?” He shook his head with a tsk-tsk. “So ill . . .”

  Piper said, “Yo ... Not trying to say—you know—that a woofface necessarily deserves a beat down, but you too gorgeous for bruises, girl.”

  Looking flattered, Raq turned her head toward Piper and smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

  It was no surprise that even Piper noticed her beauty. Raq’s eyes dazzled when she spoke and her smile was electric. Of course he thought she was beautiful. But I can’t deny how it made me feel. Not jealous, no. Well, okay, maybe just a little, but she already had Gee all googly-eyed over there. Jeez.

  Cyn 21 finally spoke up, his voice dry, “So how long he been hittin’ you?”

  Raq’s eyes fluttered with annoyance at Cyn 21’s probing. “Too long,” she said. “But actually, I hate even talking about it. It’s so embarrassing.”

  Sir Gee looked over at me. “How long your girl been getting beat up by her mans?”

  I shrugged, glancing over at the table across from us where other members of Piper’s entourage were having their order taken by the waitress. I said, “They’re not together, now. So it’s all good.”

  “Right. But how long?” Cyn pressed.

  What is up with this dude?

  Cyn 21 had like a big old chunk, not even a chip, on his shoulder, about something.

  About what?

  “Too long,” I
replied. And instantly I regretted doing so.

  Already, within an hour, I’d told two lies. I didn’t even know Hitz. He was probably harmless.

  But just like that, Raq’s lies had become mine.

  Sir Gee looked disgusted by my answer, his nose scrunched up like something smelled in the room, “Any man that would hit a woman . . .” He frowned like someone had poured a mound of garbage on our table. “Disgusts me,” he said.

  Piper added, “Yo . . . First time I saw my stepdaddy hit my mama . . .” He shook his head.

  Wasn’t my daddy. Wasn’t my blood.

  But I said okay, today, still thank you God.

  ’Cause in our house. . . . there’s still a man.

  But wasn’t my daddy. Damn sure no blood.

  . . . why I said okay, today gotta warn you God.

  He hit my mama, so I cock aimed and shot . . .

  “That’s one of my favorite songs,” I said.

  Piper looked perplexed. “What song?”

  I realized then that the music had only been playing in my mind. Piper hadn’t been rapping.

  “‘Wasn’t My Daddy,’” I replied.

  Piper nodded. “Yo . . .” He smiled. “That’s what’s up.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s like I never ever wanted to kill anybody—never would or will—but you made me understand why you considered it, you know? And the way you rode the track, right ahead of the beat ... it made me feel like you were on the run, like those nightmares you had about wanting to hurt your stepfather were literally chasing you—”

  That’s when I noticed that I had everyone’s attention, even Cyn 21’s. Sir Gee looked a little shocked—it was the most he’d heard me say all night—and Piper appeared, as usual, interested in what was on my mind.

  Cyn 21 nodded. “Shorty’s dope,” he said.

  “Yo . . .” Piper laughed and said to Sir Gee, “Told you, man.”

  Told him? Told him what? Had he really told them about our conversation in the car?

  “How old are y’all?” Cyn 21 wanted to know, eyeing me real quick. “Y’all look young.”

  “Grown,” Raq immediately replied. “That’s how old.”

  “Yo,” Piper said. “Better be.”

  A red-haired waitress interrupted us. “What can I getcha?”

  Soon, we were slamming on scrambled eggs with cheese, hash browns, fat juicy steaks, and toast, and the two waitresses on duty were working hard to keep everyone happy. “More jelly? Need ketchup?” We were so busy eating and laughing that it didn’t seem like much of a big deal at all that no one ever asked for a more specific answer about our ages.

  Bzzzzz . . . Bzzzzz . . . Bzzzz . . . Sir Gee’s cell phone was vibrating on the table and eventually bumped up against the side of his plate, which made the noise even more obnoxiously loud. Bzzzz-clink . . . Bzzz-clink . . . Bzzzz-clink ...

  “Yo.” Piper took a sip from his orange juice. “Pick it up, my mans. Tell Mun we’ll be there.”

  Sir Gee took a deep breath before answering, “Mun-E! We’re on our way now. Half hour.”

  Raq popped the last bite of sausage into her mouth and listened in on Sir Gee’s conversation. Piper leaned in and whispered in my ear. I had just raised my glass of ice water with lemon to my lips and began to sip when his whisper began.

  “Yo,” he said, “your girl? She’ll be all right. Don’t worry. Piper’s gonna haveta show her some real love.” Then, he went back to his orange juice.

  He said that to me. And then he just went back to his orange juice.

  Raq was watching us. She’d seen Piper whisper to me but she couldn’t have heard what he’d said. She had Sir Gee next to her, obviously digging her, and now even Piper, next to me, was eyeing her, too. Me? Oh they liked that I knew something about good music, but that was it. I couldn’t be wanted, too?

  “I can’t get there no faster than the man can drive,” Sir Gee shouted into the phone. “See you when we get there!” He stuffed his phone into his pocket and attacked what was left on his plate.

  Piper nudged me, then whispered a joke, “Gee’s gonna have heartburn.”

  I forced my lips to curl up into a smile. Ha. Ha. He.

  I felt so silly. When had delusions of possibility crept into my head in the first place? Just because I’d gotten to ride next to him, just because he’d actually had a conversation with me, just because he’d seemed impressed by all the things I’d said, I’d thought I had a chance with Piper? Please. Of course he would rather have Raq. Who was I kidding? And the worst part was that I couldn’t blame him at all.

  8

  It was 3:37 in the morning when we finally got to the studio. Normally, driving from Toledo across the Michigan line to get to Detroit takes like an hour. Not tonight.

  Mun-E was dumpy, bald, out of breath, and—at least now—so mad that spit was accompanying his every syllable. “Give me one reason, just anything”—he paced the lobby of the recording studio—“why I shouldn’t be upset.” He walked back and forth some more, grumbling before barking some more. “Time and paper just wastin’ away while y’all somewhere stuffing your mouths! Coulda swore I said to be here immediately after the show.”

  For the longest, word on all the blogs was that Mun-E would sell his soul to go down in history as the Berry Gordy of hip-hop. He wanted Detroit to have not one but two famous music company pioneers. Ever since he’d taken over Motor City Soundz, Mun-E had been working to crank out hip-hop classics the way Hitsville/Motown had done for R&B.

  And it was no secret that Piper was to be Mun-E’s claim to legendary status.

  Funny. Out of all the books I’d read about Motown—Gramma’s shelves were stocked full—I never got the impression that Mr. Gordy would have ever yelled at Smokey Robinson, Stevie Wonder, or the Supremes.

  Shoot.

  Gramma.

  Don’t. Think. About. Gramma.

  Motor City Soundz sat in the pit of the inner city, a forgotten street off of 8 Mile Road. It looked like any other plain, boring building where nothing exciting ever happened, but really it was the most happening place in hip-hop. Me, Raq, Piper, Cyn 21, and the rest of the entourage stood silent in the lobby, yet it seemed only I was nervous.

  But from the bored expressions on everyone else’s faces, these types of rants from Mun-E were routine. I knew from reading about Piper and his crew that they were all in their mid-twenties (Piper was twenty-three), and yet suddenly Mun-E (who I had read was around thirty-five) was acting like the only adult in a room full of children.

  Sir Gee’s booming voice was an instant reminder to everyone that he was no punk. “You don’t see me standin’ right here? Piper right in front of you? Look, we here, all right? ”

  “Yo ...” Piper took time to choose his words, “Mun, my apologies.”

  Mun-E swallowed hard before turning his head away from Sir Gee to look directly at Piper. In a calmer voice, he said, “Nice job tonight, Pipe.” But he might as well have said Today is Saturday, his tone was so unenthused. Then, in an even more eased-down voice, he addressed the entire entourage.

  “Fellas, really. How many times I gotta tell y’all I don’t give a damn how good you were? If it was five minutes ago or five years ago, it’s in the past. Y’all waste time, you also waste my money. How good you gonna be. That’s what’s got to be your focus. Not wanna be. Not was. How good you gonna be? That’s what the hell I care about.”

  Sir Gee rolled his eyes and sighed. “Mun, all we did was eat, man. That’s it. We was hungry. We didn’t even—”

  Mun-E looked appalled and then laughed. “Eat? Y’all talking about eating?” An eerily excessive hooting erupted from his gut. “That shit is hilarious to me! Y’all got time to think about your stomachs? About food?” He laughed some more. Then a furious expression washed over his face. “We got hit records to make! Dollars to stack. Mansions to buy. For me, islands to buy. Platinum roads to build ... Got more shows to tackle. And y’all worried about food? What the—?” Mun-E
’s eyes raced around the room in a rage before zeroing in on me. And then Raq.

  “And who the hell’s babysitting these two?” he asked.

  The man was straight cuckoo, but Raq was gazing at him like he was King of Platinum Land just stepped off of his throne to address us.

  Sir Gee was speaking through clenched teeth at this point, “Mun, I told you on the phone we had a couple of good friends with us. Let us in the booth already, man.”

  Mun-E sucked his teeth and then, with his nostrils flared, abruptly said, “We got time for the Buckstarr joint tonight and that’s it. Let’s knock that out real quick. Also, I just got y’all a few gigs on the road. Leavin’ out tomorrow. The rest of y’all? Dismissed.” He laughed a dry laugh and left the room.

  Cyn 21 offered a loud grunt of disappointment. What was up with that guy?

  “Yo.” Piper spoke to his entire entourage but looked directly at Cyn 21. “Let’s just give thanks to God for the blessing of a superior show this evening, ya dig? And for the fans that came out to support. Be thankful for the grace of safe travels, for the nourishment in our bodies, for the promise of what’s yet to be seen.”

  The heaviness of the room lifted a bit, and Cyn 21 took a breath and relented. “Kill the booth, tonight, Pipe,” he said. With that, he and the other two offered dap and quick hugs to Piper.

  To Sir Gee, Cyn 21 said, “Can I holler at you, Gee?”

  Gee replied, “You heard the man. I got the booth with Pipe.”

  Cyn 21 gave a blank stare as reply. “Won’t take but a second.”

  “Hit you up in the A.M.,” Sir Gee said.

  “It’s like that?”

  Sir Gee sighed. “Me and Pipe gotta lay this track down.”

  I noticed Cyn 21 give Sir Gee a look. Icy.

  Immediately, Sir Gee said, “Cool out, man. Real talk. In the A.M. . . .”

  Cyn offered a stiff head-nod in return. “Yeah,” he said. “A’ight then.” He gave Piper dap, which eventually the entire entourage did again as they left.