Ghetto Girls 6

by Anthony Whyte

  It was like the first day, when they met at the audition for the video shoot. All three danced with different groups and each girl was chosen from these groups. It had been that easy for them. They had competed for the dance video, and when Coco learned that the other two girls were recent transfers at her school, they started hanging out. The girls became a trio. But now, a little competition didn’t hurt.

  The dance movements were complex, but the girls made them look easy. Coco, at the lead, performed a combination of hip-hop jazz steps, moving out against the girls. A simple tap and a few rolls to the floor brought Danielle’s kicks to the changes in the beat. It was high-tempo. The girls were getting warm. The pace was furious. Coco slid to floor in the background on two knees.

  Then it was Danielle’s turn. She seductively jumped and pranced for the camera and the man. She ended on beat with a split, a la James Brown. The place was wildly funky. Josephine perpetuated the beat by skipping, taking flight and, vaulting over Danielle’s cat-like, crouched figure. Josephine bounded with acrobatic skill and landed in a graceful ballerina’s pose. She rolled up into hip-hop contortions. Coco prowled and leaped, flipping her body into the middle of the hoopla. The three danced easily together, moving in time to rehearsed steps. Cory recorded it all, and the camera intensified the mood.

  It was Coco’s turn again, or was it? She relinquished the lead. Josephine moved to the forefront with a split and quickly put down the break moves. She slid easily into a snail’s crawl, freezing herself en vogue. Coco came through like a butterfly, landing softly on petals, wings beating a seductive rhythm. For one moment, time froze as the camera caught Coco in flight. Her gestures, her steps, said she was a dancer. When she was sure that they had enough, she quickly tumbled and rolled up on her stomach. She showed complete mastery of her muscles and limbs. It shook the other girls. The cameraman turned his head and held the camera in place. He watched Coco dance an unbelievable groove to up-tempo sounds. Josephine refused to follow.

  “Yo, hold up, hold up. I think we’ve all flexed enough. Let’s not lose focus, alright? The winner is Coco,” Josephine shouted and clapped sarcastically. “Let’s take a break.”

  Cory stopped filming and applauded. The girls had danced for nearly an hour and their clothes were soaked in sweat.

  “That was no rehearsal. That shit was for-real dance warfare,” Josephine said between sips of water. Coco turned and looked at her. She lit a cigarette without answering. Danielle walked over to her boyfriend Cory, a few feet away. They huddled for a minute.

  “I’m saying you were the best out there, baby. But Coco is bad.”

  “What do you mean?” Danielle asked. It was clear that she was annoyed. “Did you get it all?”

  “Think so,” Cory said.

  “We’re gonna do voices next, and that’ll be it. So take five.” She kissed him on the cheek, twitched her hips, and rejoined Coco and Josephine.

  “Did he get us?” Josephine asked. Her emphasis on “he” made Coco look up from her smoke break.

  “Yep he did,” Danielle answered. “Okay, instead of singing one or two numbers as a group, how about each of us solo on a song of our own choice?”

  Coco and Josephine looked at each other in mock horror, then they all laughed and high-fived.

  “Oh, the contest is still on?” Josephine asked.

  “Who says it’s a contest?” Danielle retorted.

  “A’ight, stop bitching at each other. Let’s do it, yo,” Coco said as she put out her cigarette.

  “Josephine, you’ll be first up. Or, do you want me to go?” Danielle asked.

  She was eager to show her vocal range. She had taken voice lessons with a trainer and she claimed the trainer had coached a couple of famous singers. She felt that put her in another class.

  The equipment and the cameraman were ready. Danielle took the microphone and belted out “Neither One of Us,” Gladys Knight–style. Even without the Pips help, Danielle did an excellent job. She received applause from a new member of the audience.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not the heat. I’m just gonna sit here and check y’all nice, talented people out,” the man shouted while still clapping.

  Josephine was next. She chose a difficult number by Whitney Houston. Her enthusiasm kept her going and when she was done, it was Coco’s turn. Sitting at the edge of the auditorium stage, Coco lit another cigarette. My turn came quickly, she thought, inhaling. Well, I could try ‘Diana the Boss’. But there were no Supremes.

  Coco dragged on the cigarette, and the microphone amplified its hiss. She held the cigarette and microphone in her right hand. With her left hand, she removed her sweat-laden baseball cap, and tousled her hair. She was searching her mind for something. Then she found it. It was her mother’s favorite. Coco raised the microphone and the cigarette, and sang Billie Holiday’s, ‘My Man’.

  The newcomer was clapping from the beginning of the first stanza. He shouted, “Yeah!” Each time Coco paused. She held the other girls captive with her nonchalance. She was good. They thought of Diana and the Supremes, but when the Supremes sat down, Coco became Ms. Holiday. Then it was over. The newcomer raced down the aisle to the front of the stage. He got down on his knees, begging Coco to continue.

  “Do some more for me. I’m Rightchus your new number-one fan,” he shouted. Coco beamed and jumped off the stage.

  “Y’all are some talented people,” Rightchus said. “I watched and listened to you, and you,” he said, pointing to each of the girls in turn. Then, he turned to Cory. “And you look like you have talent too, being the bodyguard and the cameraman.” Rightchus laughed, amused by his own joke.

  “Thanks,” the girls said.

  They walked toward the exit. Cory joined them, and so did Rightchus.

  “You did that song, girl,” Josephine said. “I didn’t know you feelin’ Billie Holiday like that?”

  “She’s maduke’s favorite,” Coco said.

  She was visibly overcome by the admission. Danielle locked the door as they left and ran off to return the key to the maintenance staff. She had chosen that role ever since the girls got permission to use the small auditorium when it was idle.

  “So, we’ll be seeing you, yo,” Coco said to Rightchus.

  “Oh, yo. If I didn’t say it, forgive me. My name is Rightchus. When I do my thing, folks call me da Shorty-Wop-It Man. Hey, y’all can call me Shorty-Wop, cuz I seen y’all’s performance, n’ y’all are there. Bad! Nah mean?”

  He raised his arms, barely four feet, ten inches tall. Coco, five ten in her boots, towered over him. He was decked out in an inside-out Free Mike Tyson T-shirt, rolled-up blue jeans, and sandals.

  “Yeah, I could sing, too. I could do my thing. Can I get a cigarette?” Rightchus asked.

  They gathered around the car. The girls relaxed, as all the pre-rehearsal tension was gone. Coco gave Rightchus a cigarette and a light. Josephine and Danielle shared a joint.

  “Anyone want a Bud?” Rightchus asked. He produced a brown-paper sack.

  “But y’all probably don’t want this light stuff. Y’all probably want da gasoline stuff, da crooked-eye stuff.” He winked.

  A big smile appeared on Rightchus’s face. Cory moved closer and took two cans from the package. He gave Danielle a can. Rightchus moved over to Coco, offering her a can. She hesitated then took one. He looked at Josephine, and she looked at Danielle.

  “I’m not sharing, yo. Take a beer,” Coco said as she sipped on the now-open can.

  “Yeah, I can tell you’re good peoples. See, I know. When you’ve spent your whole day talking to people who are constantly trying to beat you outta shit, then you know good peoples,” Rightchus said. The group nodded and guzzled their beers.

  “You from around here?” Josephine asked.

  “What do you care?” Coco asked.

  “Nah, nah,” Rightchus answered. “This guy I met at a job interview told me whenever I was in da hood, jus’ stop by. He’s large in da hood. I stopped by a
nd da muthafucka had nothing,” he grinned and Cory laughed, encouraging Rightchus. “He was begging me. I had to give him a dollar bill,” continued Rightchus. “Is she your girl?” Rightchus asked, pointing at Josephine, and speaking to Cory.

  “No,” Cory said. He pointed to Danielle. “She’s my girl.”

  “No disrespect. I know you love her, but I’m telling you, don’t get married. When you marry, you stop growing. Two people can’t grow together. One has to stop growing and let the other, or they will wind up butting heads. I’m telling you.”

  “People make it,” Josephine said. “I mean there are a lot of successful married people out there.”

  “Yeah,” Rightchus agreed. “But they have the minds of eight-year-olds. They’ll be forty years old, acting like eight-year-olds. They’ve got the minds of children.”

  The group of teens broke out laughing. Clearly taken in by the stranger, Cory clapped his hands and pumped his fist. Rightchus was harmless.

  “See, I knew y’all were nice people. So far, nobody tried to beat me outta shit. That’s what it’s all about. You have to enjoy life. Like me, I got crazy, Bobby-Brown style. Whenever y’all ready. My name’s Rightchus, but you can call me Shorty-Wop. An’ when I do ma thing, I’ll be blowing up da spot. Peace. Y’all take care. I’ve got to be out before da police escorts me into da cell. Y’all know how they love to fuck wid da black man cuz he’s da true an’ living god.”

  Rightchus hobbled down the street, tugging at the brim of his cap. He vanished as quickly as he had appeared, leaving the group with beer on their lips and smiles on their faces.

  “I’m out, yo,” Coco said.

  “We’ll give you a lift. Let’s do something, hang out for a minute,” Danielle said.

  “I’m down,” Josephine said.

  “A’ight, yo. Sounds good to me too,” Coco said.

  She was feeling the beer. Coco and Josephine got in the backseat. Cory and Danielle sat up front. As Cory started the car, he looked back. Coco gazed out the window, and Josephine smiled at him, approvingly.

  “Where to?” Cory asked.

  “Downtown,” Josephine suggested.

  Soon they were on the way. They passed Déjà on Tenth Ave., hustling drugs, and whatever else came his way.

  “Down for some smokes?” Danielle asked.

  “Sure. Here’s two dollars,” Josephine said, “And a dollar from y’all.”

  “Hold this, yo,” Coco said, giving Danielle a dollar.

  “Get it from Déjà, yo. His shit is always best,” Coco whispered.

  “He would just always show up on some random visits, yo.”

  “Josephine and Danielle knew him too, huh?”

  “Yes they did. He always tried to come see us perform and all, yo.”

  “He was like the number-one fan of Da Crew, huh? He knew your mom too?”

  “I guess. I mean, I heard things about him and my mother before, but it was just crack-head talk. You know they all stick together tight in the building, yo. Although, I did have to step to him once for showing his ass, yo.”

  “Word…? Tell me about it,” Deedee said.

  “It was just me being over-protective of Madukes cuz I know he was cracking, so I just tried to keep my mother away from him and vice versa. And one night he just was ringing my doorbell. I mean I broke on his ass…”

  “Who da fuck is ringing my damn doorbell? Let a nigga get some rest.” Coco saw Rightchus emerging from the shadows. “Rightchus what da fuck is so important?”

  “Why don’t you ask your mother? She’s da one paging me 9-1-1.”

  “She’s asleep alright. So get da fuck on, muthafucka!” Coco slammed the window. She stared at her mother grumbling something inaudible. Coco brought a blanket and placed it over her mother’s outstretched figure. She fell asleep on the new sofa listening to her mother’s relentless heavy snoring.

  “I remember seeing you almost punch his lights out once, remember, Coco?”

  “Oh yes, I do—on the block and you had just drop me off or sump’n.”

  “I think you were going to visit someone in the hospital—”

  “Yes, I was gonna visit Ms. Katie, God bless her soul. You pulled up and Rightchus came around to go upstairs and I wanted him to stay away from my mother, yo.”

  “I remembered that all of sudden you just took off after him…”

  Coco was about to get inside the car then abruptly changed her direction and quickly walked to the other side of the street. Deedee’s eyes curiously followed Coco who was talking with Rightchus. Deedee let the window down in order to hear the conversation.

  “Don’t be selling her that shit. You hear me bum-ass nigga, don’t be seeing her. Or I’m a come see you and fuck your shit up…”

  “Cuz you see me in da street doin’ ma thing, don’t mean you know me, a’ight, Coco?”

  “Rightchus, I’m telling you. You ain’t shit but a crack-head.”

  “And I’m tellin’ you just cuz you see shit this way don’t necessarily mean they that way. I’m tellin’ you if your mother wasn’t a crack-head you wouldn’t be calling me one. I remember when your mother used to wake up crack-head crabby, looking for me. She was so skinny you could see her brain stems coming out da back of her head.”

  “Just remember nigga, I will come looking for your lil’ ol’ ugly ass…”

  “Yo, I do you a favor—I’ll tell you where them bitches, Kim and her girl Tina, hang out. Them is who you got beef wit’ Coco, not me. I ain’t busting no gun at you.”

  Coco shook her head and walked back to the car.

  “Is everything alright, Coco?” Deedee asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s all good. I just had to straighten out some shit wit that Shorty-Wop. Can I get a ride over to the hospital, yo?”

  “I should’ve knocked his lil’ ass out that day. Ooh, he pissed me off!”

  “He was like you said, a crack-head. And I mean, I don’t even know if you can let someone like that piss you off. I thought he was just funny and a know-it-all. I remember when he showed up to warn us about Lil’ Long. I hope that nigga rot in hell… Oh Rightchus was really high that night,” Deedee said.

  “Yeah, I remember…”

  It was seven in the evening. The girls heard ranting from behind them. They turned and saw Rightchus approaching the door of the parked Range. The bodyguards stepped to the front. Rightchus pulled out a long knife.

  “Coco, Deedee. My, my, what are you two beautiful beings doing here? Who’s that? Don’t tell me, Josephine, what’s goin’ on y’all? I ain’t seen you in a minute.”

  “Hi,” Josephine said.

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, but we gotta go, Mr. Rightchus,” Deedee said.

  “I gotta get da fuck up, yo?” Coco exclaimed.

  “Everyone is in a hurry. I’m in a hurry, too. If I didn’t have the Maruichi brothers coming after me, I’d be cool. I didn’t know the shit wasn’t real. It ain’t my damn fault. It’s them cheap-ass drug dealers dancing up an’ down on da product.”

  “Yo, what da fuck you yapping’ bout nigga? We ain’t got time to

  yap about no coke, Wop. I gotta be gone like yesterday.”

  “Yeah, I feel you,” Rightchus said putting away the chopper. “I mean, shoot, we need to conversate on lots of subjects. I’m a person with all kinds of knowledge. Great minds think alike—feel me, Coco? But I’m saying, what is da real science, girl?”

  “Rightchus don’t start with that bullshit…”

  “A’ight, a’ight, I hear you, I hear you, girl. Well, in reference to that, I wanna say, I don’t wanna start fucking with y’all young girls anyways, cuz I always gets fucked around, see? I’m not having my shit screwed up on y’all’s account. Every time I get around y’all young chickens, shit happens. Bullets start flying, people dropping. I don’t get down like that. Speaking of dropping, I’ve seen the walking dead…”

  “You and everybody else living in these parts, yo,” Coco said, interrupting Ri
ghtchus.

  “Then you know what I’m dealing with, Coco?”

  “’The Walking Dead’—isn’t that a scary movie?” Deedee asked, cutting off Rightchus’s explanation.

  “I could tell y’all ain’t serious. Peeps all the time wanna run up on a nigga, ya know. Reason why I’m here is cuz me an some fuckin’ peeps at war, ya know. Can’t go home an’ all. But I’m build me a MTV crib with bullet-proof everything, all in time, still…” Rightchus said.

  “All right Mr. Rightchus we gotta be moving on…” The bodyguard pushed Rightchus as he spoke.

  “Nah, don’t do that. A muthafucka can’t be takin’ aim over here. I can see y’all just right. What y’all should be more interested in is the muthafucka I be seein’. Saw him. Yesterday… last night…Hmm, things get fuzzy. Old age.”

  “Negative. Too much drugs, Wop. Your brain is fried. Gone out to lunch, yo.”

  “Coco, you can keep spitting all that BS. But I’m telling you girl, you need to put me down. Me da Shorty-Wop, cuz I’ve seen him. I’ve seen da nigga,” Rightchus said.

  “Seen who, yo?” Coco asked. She threw her hands in the air, perplexed.

  “I’ve seen him,” repeated Rightchus. He took a couple steps back and noticed the security team moving in front of the girls.

  Coco and Deedee stood close to the security team, Josephine stood next to the Range. Rightchus was in his flow. “I’m saying, I’ve seen him. I’ve seen that nigga, Lil’ Long.”

  Silence descended like an eagle, swallowing the atmosphere and leaving each girl with cold feet. There was a power to ruthlessness on the street. It was visible when the mention of a name conjured fear. The girls slowly acknowledged Rightchus’s urgency. The mention of Lil’ Long’s name was a reminder of a brutal period in the girls’ experiences. He had preyed on many victims and was responsible for the deaths of Coco’s friends. He and his friend Vulcha had savagely raped and assaulted Deedee.