Ghetto Girls 5

by Anthony Whyte

  “But thanks anyway for the offer,” Danielle said, waving at Eric Ascot.

  “Yeah, thanks. That’s cool, you’re always looking out,” Josephine said.

  She gave Coco a challenging look. Coco shook her head. Eric Ascot spun the vehicle around in front of the girls.

  “Hello, young ladies,” he greeted the girls from the driver’s seat.

  “Hi, Uncle E, I want you to meet Coco, Danielle and Josephine. They have a group called Coco and Da Crew.”

  “No…not anymore. We just Da Crew, yo,” Coco said with a smile.

  “Yep, Eric,” Danielle said, sashaying toward Eric. “It’s Coco, the crowd motivator, yo, Ms. Flamboyant Jo, and myself. We rep Da Crew.”

  “Love-lay Ms. Dani,” Josephine said, rhythmically completing the melody.

  The girls laughed. Deedee opened the door and got in the van.

  “Come check us this weekend. We gonna wreck shit at Busta’s open-mike contest, yo,” Coco said.

  “I will, I definitely will,” he said.

  Deedee jumped inside, and the Range Rover pulled away. Deedee waved. The girls raised their hands.

  “Peace,” they shouted in unison.

  “Okay, yeah, yeah. I remember that yo. I remember,” Coco smiled.

  Deedee’s cell phone went off and she answered then hung up. She kissed Coco’s cheek before untangling from their embrace.

  “It’s Uncle E. He wants you in the studio working with some new tech he hired. So let’s get ready to bounce up.”

  “Okay, I’m ready to go right now. I want to stop at the hospital and give Madukes all these sleeping gears you got her, Dee.”

  “Okie dokie, we’ll stop there first. Then go to the studio,” Deedee said, throwing a T-shirt in Coco’s direction. “Hey this may go well with your skirt.”

  Dressed in Chanel sandals, Donna Karan sarong skirt, and the white Cavalli T-shirt Deedee had thrown her, Coco stepped out the elevator. She walked with Deedee out of the building. The doorman stood holding the door open, gawking at the girls. They were headed to the garage and he watched their hips in full sway. Deedee was wearing a brown Dolce and Gabanna pantsuit that hugged her curves. The doorman had an eyeful. A few minutes later the BMW was pulling into traffic. Coco and Deedee pulled their Gucci shades down.

  They pulled up near Harlem Hospital and took a tour around the block before finding parking. Accompanied by the stares of all the men in the immediate vicinity, the girls walked to the hospital’s entrance. Coco and Deedee carried the shopping bags containing the clothing she had got for her mother. Coco went up to the information desk.

  “I’m Ms. Rachel Harvey’s daughter and…”

  “One sec, please,” the woman in thick glasses said. She quickly checked the log and turned back to Coco. “Your mother is still in intensive care on the eighth floor. You may go up and see her, but…”

  The woman turned to see Coco and Deedee racing to the elevator. They got out on the eighth floor and walked toward the room where Coco’s mother was. Coco and Deedee stood outside and looked at her mother. She was on a bed with tubes running in and out of her nose and mouth. Her eyes were closed and there was no way to tell if she was alive except for a tube floating up and down. A nurse walked over to the girls and spoke.

  “Are you related to her?” she asked Deedee.

  “Her daughter is right here,” Deedee said, pointing at Coco.

  “Coco…” Deedee said, gently tapping her friend, who was engrossed in looking at her mother.

  “Huh?” Coco answered. She nodded when she saw the nurse.

  “Okay, you were the one here yesterday, right?” the nurse asked and Coco nodded again. “You two could pass for sisters.”

  “Is she gonna be alright?” Coco asked. Her eyes were still on her mother inside intensive care.

  “She’s responding to the medication but it takes a little time. Your mother was also suffering some dehydration, and that didn’t help. Her recovery will come along slowly, but she should come out alright,” the nurse explained.

  “We brought her some clothes and stuff,” Deedee said.

  “Okay, you can check the packages over here,” the nurse said to Deedee. “If you like I could let you sit by her for a few minutes,” she said to the distraught Coco.

  Coco was stunned by the sight of her mother, and didn’t hear or see when Deedee and the nurse took the shopping bags to another section of the hospital.

  “You’ve done it again, mom. When will it end? Are you gonna stick around to tell me to stop saying ‘yo’?” Coco asked aloud.

  Staring at her mother’s still body, Coco cringed as she silently counted the number of tubes connected to her emaciated body.

  She found herself kissing her mother’s exposed cheek and sitting at her bedside. Coco wrung her hands, shifting between anger, sympathy and love. Her emotions overflowed and Coco cried.

  Deedee returned and watched Coco’s hunched shoulders and could see that her friend was sobbing. She entered and stood behind Coco for a beat. Then Deedee placed her hands on Coco’s shoulder. Teary-eyed, Coco stood, hugging Deedee. The girls embraced for a few beats in silence while the life-support machine made squelching sounds.

  “She’s gonna be alright,” Deedee said.

  “If you say so, yo,” Coco sighed.

  “Never give up on your mother, Coco,” Deedee said with conviction. “I gave up on mine, and now I wish I never did.”

  “Yeah but—”

  “I was six when I realized what was going on…” Deedee thought of the last time she saw her own mother. “And I should have done more to help…” Deedee’s said, her voice trembling with emotion. Then her voice suddenly trailed as she reminisced.

  Her mother, Denise Ascot was heavy into drugs after her husband’s death. Perhaps she couldn’t handle his dying, or maybe it was the way he was killed. Whatever it was, Deedee remembered vividly that the last month or so before her mother was carried away. She was stealing to support a burgeoning crack habit. Her mother had lost a lot of weight. Her clothing no longer fit. Deedee remembered feeling real hatred toward her mother.

  Her uncle had tried to explain, but Deedee couldn’t understand, wouldn’t listen. She changed her name on the school register by forging her mother’s signature. Denise had been part of Deedee’s name. She had been Denise D. Ascot, but changed it to Deedee. Deedee despised her mother, because of the drug use. During the period they lived together, Deedee would often wish death on her mother.

  “I wish she would die,” Deedee prayed daily. One day, eight years ago, the ambulance had carried her mother away on a stretcher. Denise had overdosed on crack-cocaine and heroin. Deedee felt some type of relief. She hoped her mother would never come back. After the overdose, Deedee never saw Denise again. She would miss her, but kept that a secret.

  “How do you help someone who just keeps doing the same ol’, yo? It’s like she hasn’t learned anything from her past,” Coco said, walking out with Deedee. “Let’s go to the studio, yo.”

  “You still shouldn’t give up,” Deedee said.

  They walked in silence to the elevator. Deedee continued hugging Coco’s sagging shoulder. Continuing beyond the boundaries of the Harlem hospital, Coco and Deedee put their shades on and walked to the car. The girls got in and Deedee steered the car into traffic.

  While riding in the car, Coco seemed to be in a tranquil mood and Deedee remained silent. Outside the midtown studio, she parked and the girls walked inside the building. Upstairs, a young man sitting alone in the lobby took notice of them. Once they entered the studio office, they walked past the icy grills of Tina and Kim. Both looked surprised and did a clear double take at Coco. Deedee noticed and smiled as she went by.

  “Hi,” she greeted.

  “Hello…” Tina and Kim said.

  “Ah, here come my two stars now,” Eric said, greeting them when the girls walked into his office. “You look real nice, Coco,” Ascot smiled at Deedee. “I just wrapped up t
hat movie deal. We got a two-and-half–million-dollar budget. Just now got off the phone,” he said.

  “That’s great, Uncle E.,” Deedee said, hugging her uncle.

  “Congrats, Mr. Ascot,” Coco said.

  “How many times must I tell you that you can call me Eric or Uncle Eric like Deedee does,” Eric smiled and hugged Coco.

  “This is good news,” Deedee said, looking directly at Coco.

  “It certainly is, yo.”

  “Uncle E., I spoke to Rightchus and—”

  The ringing of the telephone diverted Eric’s attention.

  “Forget it Mr. Ascot. I mean Uncle E.,” Coco said, interrupting Deedee as Eric sat at his desk to answer the phone.

  “Coco, I just wanted to—”

  “Repeat the B.S. that the con man fed you…?”

  Coco cut her off and drew her closer in a huddle. While the girls chitchatted, Eric got on the intercom and spoke to the receptionist. Soon the young man who was sitting in the reception area, walked into the office.

  “Deedee, Coco this is Reggie Mills, our new studio engineer. Reggie, I’d like you to meet my niece Deedee and our new recording star, Coco,” Eric said, smiling.

  “Nice to meet you both,” Reggie said.

  Coco nodded, and Deedee said, “Welcome Reggie.”

  “Reggie comes with great credentials and recommendation and I expect a fruitful time here,” Eric continued.

  “Thank you for the opportunity. I look forward to working with one of the legends in the music field,” Reggie said humbly.

  “Alright, let’s get it going then. Reggie you already know the lay of the land so why don’t you load up that disc we heard earlier for Coco?” Ascot said.

  “I heard a lot of great tracks, Mr. Ascot. Which one…?”

  “Tougher Than Dice,” Coco, Deedee and Eric chorused.

  13

  “Okay, let’s get it going then,” Eric said, hanging up a call.

  Deedee, Coco and the new studio engineer, Reggie Mills engaged in small talk in Eric Ascot’s office. Eric looked at the young man and gave him instructions. Reggie went to the sound room and was preparing the track for Coco’s new single, when Coco and Deedee walked in. Coco reached for her notepad while Deedee sat watching Reggie. He was at the mixing board moving his long fingers around as if he was playing a keyboard.

  “I really think that there were some nice tracks Mr. Ascot made,” he said to Deedee.

  “Tougher Than Dice will be the one,” Deedee said.

  “Without question…That’s definitely gonna make a bangin’ single,” Reggie said. “I heard some of her stuff on a street-mix CD. Coco definitely got it going on right now.

  The music came up and he adjusted the midrange. Her head bobbing, Coco walked over to where Deedee and Reggie stood talking.

  “You got polish on your nails, yo?” she asked.

  Deedee and Reggie both glanced at her with quizzical looks. Coco pointed to Reggie.

  “I’m talking ‘bout you, yo,” she said, pointing to Reggie.

  Deedee glanced at the studio engineer’s hand and laughed. Reggie was baffled and stood gaping at Coco’s stare and Deedee’s laughter. He finally went into the booth and adjusted the microphones.

  “Sounds good to you?” he asked Coco.

  “Yeah, yeah, leave it right there, yo,” she said, stepping into the recording booth.

  Reggie’s fingers moved cautiously on the controls. His previously cool demeanor seemed a little rattled by Coco’s remark and Deedee’s fit of laughter. He was trying not to look at Deedee for fear she might resume laughing at him.

  “I think it’s cool when a person takes care of themselves,” Deedee said in a matter of fact tone.

  “So why were you laughing at me then?” Reggie asked, getting closer to Deedee.

  He was close enough for her to smell his stench. Reggie was handsome and bold. He was in her face and Deedee backed up.

  “Because I think Coco can be soo silly,” she said and turned attention to the booth.

  Coco reached up, grabbed the microphone and launched into a flow. Nodding her head to the heavy-bass-laden track, she sang.

  My sisters always dreaming

  about us being on top

  forever our hopes will not die

  through me you will always fly…

  Suddenly her voice faded, and the beat played on without her lyrics. Deedee glanced at her through the glass separating the sound booth and the rest of the studio. Her best friend had turned her back toward her; Coco’s shoulders were hunched, and she was shaking her head.

  “Give her few and then we can start the track again,” Deedee said.

  “That sounded like a dedication song, huh?”

  “Yes. I think the moment got to her though—she’s been going through a lot,” Deedee said.

  “I heard about ah…her friends…ah, Da Crew—”

  “Uncle E. told you about that?” Deedee asked hurriedly.

  “Nah, that’s old news in the music industry. I stays informed on industry news,” Reggie said, smiling.

  “I hope you don’t get your info from Rightchus,” Deedee, sounding sarcastic.

  “Who…?”

  “Never mind… It’s an expensive inside joke.”

  Coco came out of the booth. She rejoined Deedee and Reggie sitting at the controls. The pair went silent when Coco sat down.

  “Are you okay, Coco?” Deedee asked, moving closer.

  “Yeah, I’m good, yo,” Coco said after a beat. “Singing that song was stirring up all kinds of feelings inside me…I felt like I was off a little.”

  “Uncle E. will tell you if you’re off and besides Reggie will fix it. Can’t he?” Deedee said.

  “I can adjust—” Reggie started to say but Coco interrupted.

  “Oh yeah, let my voice go with the drums—” she started to speak and Reggie cut her off.

  “You mean acappella style?” he hurriedly asked.

  “If you let me finish then I’ll let you know, yo,” she said and smirked before continuing. “Like I was saying, let my voice ride with just the drums and percussions for the first stanza. I’ll sing, then when I start rapping, you bring in the bass.”

  “Like this?” Reggie said, moving his finger across the controls.

  “Yeah, then I’m gonna sing that first piece just with drums like, Hmm yes. Y’all were my sisters now and always our dream was about us being on the top forever…Hmm, hmm…”

  “Okay, I feel you,” Reggie said.

  “How you gonna feel me and I ain’t through yet, yo?” Coco testily asked. “Day-um, lemme finish what I gotta say first before you jump in, yo.”

  “Ah, Coco, let’s take a smoke break,” Deedee suggested.

  “Sounds like a good idea, yo,” Coco said, turning to look at her. “Yeah I ain’t got no weed though, yo. And that’s what I could go for right about now.”

  “I thought you had some from—”

  “I did but I left that shit when I was changing clothes,” Coco said.

  “I got a little sump’n sump’n…” Reggie said.

  Both girls glanced at him and smiled for different reasons. Deedee was happy that Coco’s anxiety would be diffused. Reggie’s helping hand in the situation didn’t go unnoticed by Deedee. She watched him removing the bag of weed and a blunt from his pocket.

  “A’ight, a man who comes to work prepared. You gotta respect that, yo.”

  “Priceless…” Deedee smiled, patting Reggie on the butt. “Let’s go to the green room.”

  They walked out of the studio and into the small room with big, comfortable sofas. There was a small refrigerator in a corner. Graffiti art flossed on the walls. The place was also equipped with small tables. The three found a comfortable area and settled down. Reggie rolled the weed and gave it to Coco. She lit it and passed it to Deedee. The weed went around, circulating several times. Soon it was gone. All that remained was the high and the smell. Deedee got up to turn on the fan wh
en Eric suddenly walked in.

  “Now that everyone is high, let’s get some work done. Dee, come with me,” he said.

  Coco lit a cigarette and got a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Reggie took a soda and they walked back inside the studio.

  “I’m gonna arrange the track the way you want it. Then you can rock out,” Reggie said.

  “A’ight, I’ll get my lyrics tighter. Good looking out on the smoke, yo.”

  “No problem, babes,” Reggie said.

  “Coco,” Coco said, staring. “My name is not “Babes,” it is Coco,” she said.

  “I hear you, Coco,” Reggie said, taking his seat at the control board.

  Coco sat down with her rhyme book and looked at the paper with words in front of her face. The lyrics she had composed should have been there, but she couldn’t see anything. Coco didn’t panic. She closed her eyes and waited for a few beats, knowing her vision would return. This always happens when I smoke, she thought.

  A few minutes later, Coco heard the track ringing just the way she had wanted it. Her sight slowly returned and she threw a glance in Reggie’s direction, her head nodding in rhythm to the music.

  Coco waited until her sight was completely back before she tried to get out of her seat. She danced into the booth, and opened up with vocals on the microphone.

  “Hmm…” Coco hummed. “Hmm…My sisters always dreaming about us on being on the top forever, our hopes will not die. Through me you will always fly…”

  Later Deedee walked into the recording studio, and sat next to Reggie. They did a two-step to the rhythm while Coco laid down her vocals.

  “Feeling like I’m losing my mind

  calling out your names one at a time…”

  Coco’s flow paused then she said, “Just use the last part from ‘My sister’s always dreaming’ Use that for the chorus, yo,” she shouted over the microphone.

  “I gotcha, Coco,” Reggie answered.

  “A’ight, yo…”

  Deedee went into the sound booth and turned the microphone down. Reggie toyed with the controls watching the girls gathered in a tight huddle for a few beats.

  “Yeah, I thought your uncle was about to get on your ass for smoking weed with us, yo.”