She laughed. “You’re so funny . . .”
Who did the card really belong to? Was this the first one she’d stolen? Oh my goodness. Had she done this before? I didn’t want to ask—I was too scared to hear what she might say. Instead, I closed my eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and just asked her what time I should set the alarm for. I just wanted to go to sleep and deal with this tomorrow. Or, better yet, I wanted to wake up and pretend it hadn’t even happened.
“Plus,” she added, ignoring my question, “who really cares? At the end of the day, like Piper said, it’s all just dirt.”
And then, “On top of that, they have no idea who we even are or how to find us. It’s not like my name was on the card.”
We. And how to find us? Was she serious? I hadn’t stolen anything. Nor would I ever. She was out of her mind if she thought I was going to ride or die on that road.
“By the way,” I told her, “Gee seemed suspicious when we got in the car. I caught a look in his eyes . . . In the rearview . . .”
She smacked her lips. “Please. That fool’s just in love with me. He was probably trying to catch a glimpse.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but I still kinda think he knew something was up.”
“It’s all about perception, chica. Welcome to entertainment. Shit. Welcome to life.”
“What?” I had no idea what she was talking about.
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “So, like, what in the world would you do without me to explain these things to you? What I’m saying is things are never what they seem. All of it. The glamour . . .”
She got up and started pacing around the room like she was a teacher, like she was giving me some kind of lesson. “Look at you.” She gestured at my hoodie. “The glitz . . . What’s that old saying about all the stuff that glitters ain’t really gold? I mean, come on. You think Piper’s fans realize right now that that fool is crashing at a Holiday Inn somewhere in Pittsburgh, trying to push it up the turnpike to do a show to chase a few dollars and some screams? Would we have thought that? Hell, no! We’d have thought he’d be on a first-class flight somewhere. Mun is the only one eating off all of this right now, chica, when you really think about it.”
Part of me wanted her to just shut up. What did that have to do with what we had just been discussing? She was talking about everything in the world except stealing, which was so grimy. How could she?
She grunted. “We gotta believe it first. Then we gotta work to get it by any means necessary. Then we gotta act as if we’re already what we want to be so the world will get the impression that we’re already large. I’m just willing to do what I gotta do to start looking my part. You feel me?”
“Yeah,” I said. I’d heard enough and didn’t want to encourage her to continue. “Sounds great.” I set the alarm for eight o’clock, then punched the pillow and tried to get comfortable. But inside I felt terrible. I always thought Raq and I had so much in common, that we saw the world the exact same way. But obviously we didn’t.
The alarm went off Monday morning before I even realized that I’d fallen asleep.
I peeked across the room. Raq wasn’t in bed.
The bathroom door was open and the light wasn’t on.
I heard a random drip of water and I sat up in bed, trying to focus my eyes.
What if she left me?
Where will I go?
What if they all left me?
But the overstuffed Target bag was still on her bed, so she must be around somewhere. Maybe talking to Gee, like yesterday morning.
And then . . .
Bizzzzzzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Raq’s phone was vibrating on the nightstand.
Bizzzzzzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Gramma. I knew it.
As long as she hears your voice, she’ll know you’re fine, I could hear Raq say. So I answered.
“Hello?” I said.
A high pitched voice screamed. “Raquel! Donde en el mundo es usted? Nosotros tan hemos sido preocupados!”
“No, no,” I said. “This is not Raquel.”
The woman speaking gasped. “No? Quién es esto?”
“Lo siento,” I said. “Mi español es muy mal.”
“No?” she said. “So who is this? Ann?”
“Uh . . .”
“Hello? Where’s Raquel?”
“I, uh . . .”
“Okay, listen, this is Kitty Ramirez—”
Whoa.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell Raq you—”
“Please!” she shrieked. “Oh, por favor, don’t hang up!”
I waited.
“Please,” she said. “Just tell me, is she okay?”
I didn’t answer.
“Please just . . . sí or no . . . Is she there?”
“I’ll . . . um . . . I’ll tell her to call you . . . Okay?”
“Is she all right?”
“Yes,” I said. “She is.”
“Oh, sweet Mary! Thank you. I’ve been so sick. She said she and her friend Ann were going to the party at school and after that she was spending the night at Ann’s. Then my husband got a call that the car was left abandoned at some hall where a rap concert ... And then Ann’s grandmother has now called.”
“Ma’am,” I said, “I promise. I’ll tell her you—”
“And then . . . Mi hermano . . . Credit cards reported missing from his store—”
Click. I hung up the phone.
So Raq had stolen a credit card from work! But wait, had Kitty said “cards,” as in more than one? Oh my goodness . . .
Just then I heard the click-click of the door unlocking and Raq came sashaying in. Standing at the foot of my bed, she dumped out the contents of a Holiday Inn plastic laundry bag. There were a couple of high-end belts—a purple D&G and a Louis Vuitton—and two pairs of designer shades. There were also two jazzy-looking camisoles, one of them black lace and the other a black-and-silver zebra print. Lastly there was a pair of black leather pants. Already, Raq was peeling off her jeans and preparing to transform into a hottie. After buttoning up the pants, which hugged her in all the necessary places, she pulled on the black-and-silver camisole and then added the D&G belt and designer shades.
“Raq! Where in the world did you get all this stuff?”
She shrugged before going over to her bag to retrieve the black stilettos she had worn to the Halloween Jam. “It was almost too easy. Just watched for some fly mama to go to the workout room, swiped a housekeeper’s key, and voilà. Took me all of four minutes,” she said.
I sat jaw-locked.
She chuckled. “Took a shower before I left this morning, chica. I could’ve swiped from you if you had anything, you were so knocked out.” She let out a hearty laugh. “I checked on Gee and Pipe. They said to meet them at the truck at noon.”
I stared at all of the stolen goods. First the credit card, and now this?
“Chica,” she said, excited. “Hurry up and shower. Try on your new belt and stuff. Your Glitz hoodie will look good with that black lace tank. Come on!”
Great, my best friend was a klepto. Sure, I wanted to wear all those things—oh my goodness, they were nice—but this wasn’t the way I’d imagined we would make a come-up in life. No way.
But what was I going to do? Call Gramma and say “Come get me. Oh, and by the way, I’m in Pennsylvania!”?
Raq said. “I hope you’re not over there getting all goody on me. It’s not a big deal, and it’s time you started recognizing that this is real life. You talk about being babied by your grandmother and how she shelters you all the time but yet you act like you’re afraid to bend your neck out and see what life is all about, all the stuff that she’s trying to keep you from enjoying. Sometimes, if you really want something in this world—your dreams or whatever else—you gotta just go after it and take it. Once you do, it’s yours. Ready for the world, right, preemie baby?” She winked and then smiled at me like she was so proud.
Then she added, “You’re not gonna fade out on me, are you?”
No. Of course not. I’d come too far to turn back now. So Raq had another side I’d never seen before. There were probably things about me she didn’t know either. And besides, I hadn’t done the stealing. I wondered if in God’s eyes all sins were the same.
Who would be more guilty—Raq for stealing? Or me for benefiting from her thefts?
As we left the hotel room shortly before noon, me in my lace camisole, skinny jeans, heels from Target, and guilty eyes, I carried my Glitz hoodie in hand and realized that I’d never felt so awful or looked so good. I decided not to even mention Kitty’s phone call. I already knew what Raq would say. Forget her, chica! Phony parents . . .
13
Piper came out of the hotel looking more like a college guy than a hip-hop star. He wore a white button-down and baggy khakis and I recognized the tiny logoon his shirt. Expensive. His skin was freshly smoothed from lotion, his braids well-oiled, and his tiny sideburns razor-edged. His smile produced a bit of a dimple in his cheek, something I’d never noticed, as he approached. As he walked toward us it felt—for a second—like he was going to come over and hug me.
But when he got closer to the car, he looked Raq up and down then back up again. “Yo . . .” He grinned his approval of her tight leather pants.
Raq feigned a blush. “What’s up, Pipe?” And then she made a production out of flipping her hair off her shoulder.
Gee was right behind Piper. He wore jeans, a white T-shirt, and clean work boots. With a small brown hairbrush in his hand, he was still grooming as he walked. His dark eyes offered immediate support of Raq’s choice in clothes, too.
From my peripheral, I noticed a white police car cruising the lot, but I chose to ignore it. I was too focused on Piper’s and Gee’s reaction to Raq. For the most part, I was used to it. She was beautiful, and I knew that. But was I really that invisible?
Piper’s hand—fingernails noticeably and newly well filed—was outstretched as he playfully waited to shake Raq’s. The second before their palms touched, he nodded. “Yo . . .” he said. “You look so familiar. Didn’t I see you in a fashion magazine? ”
Gee laughed. “You stupid, Pipe . . .”
Raq giggled all cutesy and giddy-like.
As the police car cruised past again, I slipped on my rhinestone shades. Then I created a mantra and let it play over and over again in my mind. Be tough. Be tough. Be cool. Be cool.
Be Glitz.
“We better get going,” I cheerfully reminded Sir Gee. “The road awaits us. . . .”
He laughed a quiet yeah, you’re right laugh and unlocked the doors.
Glitz wouldn’t have an attitude about Raq getting all the attention. She’d be over it. Nothing’s gonna stop her fun.
We went to a McDonald’s drive through for lunch—Piper’s treat—and Raq made small talk as we waited in the line. “So Pipe,” she asked, “you never answered my question. You gonna let me get onstage with you in New York, or what? ”
“Yo . . . you wearing them pants if I do?”
“You know it . . .” Raq sang playfully.
I slid down farther in my seat and eyed my hoodie on my lap. A moment later, I unzipped it, slipped it on, and covered every inch of my camisole’s lace.
After we’d picked up our Big Macs from the window, Sir Gee pulled over in the parking lot and started dialing his phone. He put it on speaker and we all sat and waited for whoever he was calling to pick up.
“Speak!” a familiar voice barked.
“What up, Mun?”
“Paper. Tryna stack it. What? Any word on Cyn?”
“Yeah,” Gee said. “Talked to Dana last night and again this morning. He’s in stable condition. He’ll be all right.”
“Good.” And then Mun-E’s impatience was a loud silence. “Now, what?”
“Yo . . .” Piper smiled and shook his head, laughing at Mun’s rudeness. “Me and Gee wanted to holla at you about that ‘Liar, Liar’ joint.”
Silence.
Sir Gee said, “Mun? You there?”
“I’m listening. SPEAK!”
Gee continued, “This cute-assed dime, right? She got pipes. It’s like something I never heard before.”
Raq gasped and my eyes bucked. We grabbed each other’s hands and squeezed. Suddenly, I felt silly for having been mad at Raq. This really could be her dream coming true. If she made it, she would have a chance to make right the things she’d done wrong, like stealing. Then this trip really would be worth it. I wanted so bad to be able to prove that to Gramma.
Piper nodded. “And yo . . . I heard her, too, Mun. Got mad soul. Maybe we could spin her at the Apollo. That’d be dope. . . .”
I heard Mun-E’s breathing. “Whose idea was this? Callin’ me with this bullshit—”
“Yo . . .” Piper interjected, “Mun. You just gotta trust me—”
Mun-E laughed. “Trust? Comedians on the line today, I see . . . I trust no man. Only God.”
Sir Gee leaned back in his seat and started brushing his hair again. His eyes flinched with annoyance, but he chilled nonetheless.
Raq held my hand even tighter and then twisted her lips, holding back a smile. Mun-E said, “Where is she?”
Piper turned and looked directly at Raq. He winked. “Gee, go grab her real quick. . . .”
Sir Gee looked up into the rearview, linked eyes with Raq, and—cupping his mouth like a megaphone—yelled, “Ay, Raq! Come holla at Pipe for a minute.” Then he held up his fist and blinked the countdown. Five . . . Four . . . Three . . . Two . . . One . . . He pointed at Raq and nodded. She was on.
“What up, Pipe?” Raq winced and then took a deep breath.
“Yo . . .” Pipe nodded his approval. “I got my mans on the phone, right? You wanna get that hook up for the Jam-Master Jay tribute? Ya gotta let him know.”
“That’s what’s up,” she said. Then she looked at me.
I slipped my hand from hers and put both of mine together.
Lord, if you can hear me. Please just give her a chance.
I’d never seen someone want something so bad before in my life. And Raq deserved it, especially after all she’d been through in her life.
She closed her eyes and gave it all the heart she had beating inside of her. And when she sung it that time, believe me, the hook had never sounded so strong. Halfway through, Sir Gee was nodding his head and Piper was pumping his fist.
Thank you, God.
Thank you . . .
When Raq was finished, we all held our breath until Mun spoke. “I’ll get back to you.” Click.
Raq and I screamed.
Then, we looked at each other. Waited a second . . .
Then we screamed again. Louder this time.
Sir Gee and Piper were up front laughing and giving each other dap.
He hadn’t said no. And that’s all that mattered in that moment.
Mun-E.
Hadn’t.
Said.
No.
Raq was one giant step closer to singing hook with Piper. And when it happened, I was gonna be there with her, to hold her up, to cheer her on, to make sure she didn’t crack under pressure. But of course she wouldn’t. She was Raquel Marissa Diaz. Anyone who’d ever seen her knew she was extraordinary. And anybody who ever heard her sing knew she was destined.
“Thank you, Piper,” she said.
“Yo . . .” Piper said, “Piper knows a gift when he hears it.”
Gee drove as we ate, and I considered something. What if Piper had been a jerk when we met him? Or arrogant? Or rude? What if he had told Gee no when we wanted to come into the dressing room after the concert, or after that when we wanted to hop along in that SUV? A million what-ifs played in my mind, but the bottom line was that everything had happened. And now, Raq was closer than ever to her dreams.
And I was farther away from home than I’d ever meant to be.
It was a five-hour drive from Pittsbur
gh to Philadelphia, so we got into the city late in the afternoon.
Gee was used to Philly and easily navigated the narrow and winding hills, past cars parked in the medians, and landed us in Merion Township, according to the signs I’d seen as we pulled into the parking lot for the King of Prussia Mall. I’d never seen anything like it. It was at least seven times bigger than Westfield Franklin Park back home.
Raq and I were standing underneath the massive shopping center’s glass-domed ceiling, taking in all of the grandness. I imagined that it was like being in the lobby of a really fancy hotel, only the mall was full of stores instead of rooms. It looked like there was something for everyone, from high-end shops to trendy little boutiques to regular mall stores, an easy blend of offerings for the privileged, the working class, and us dreamers.
Piper treated us to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner—I had a shrimp po’boy and fries—and we toasted to being in “The City of Brotherly Love” with milkshakes, then we agreed to meet up in a couple of hours. We were supposed to be discreetly slipping free CDs into the hands of anyone we saw who looked like they dug hip-hop. Piper said it was called “grassroots marketing” and necessary for independent record labels wanting to expand their reach.
Most malls have strict no-soliciting laws, Piper said, but technically we weren’t selling anything, we were just giving things away. Gee warned us, though, that if mall security approached us, we should just be polite and make our exit. But after forty-five minutes my backpack was still loaded down with CDs—I kept offering them to people but they kept shaking their heads no—and Raq was thinking aloud about where to shop. I wanted to help support Piper, of course, but we were both more fascinated with the mall itself.
“I’m thinking we’ll start with The Icing,” she decided. “We should definitely find you some new jewelry, chica.”
There it was, the awful heaviness in my stomach I had felt this morning after Raq lifted that stuff from the woman at the hotel. I knew she’d mentioned having cash, but now I was wondering how she’d even gotten that. Was it stolen too?
Glitz Page 12