Ghetto Girls 6

by Anthony Whyte

  “I thought he was dead. Wasn’t he killed at Deedee’s uncle’s place? I was there. And he was spitting up lead and all that, yo,”

  “Yeah, I know, I know. I thought he was dead,” Deedee said.

  “Yeah, you and everybody else, right? But un’nerstan’, I’m sayin’ I seen da nigga. He doubled up like he got a hunchback or sump’n. I’m sayin’ I seen him—I seen da muthafucka. You know? He be wearing dark shades covering his eyes, limpin’. I’m tellin’ da truth. Coco, he knows, he knows. He limped away and broke out as soon as I was getting ready to step to him. Feel me? I’m Rightchus Allah. I’m da mu’fuckin’ Shorty-Wopper. And y’all know that wopping ain’t even easy. Peeps be acting cheesy, and all. But you know what?”

  “What?” Coco and Deedee asked simultaneously.

  “When I hit you, I hit you with da raw truths. No lies or tales follow my word, cuz my word is bond.”

  “Rightchus, Rightchus, listen. We’re not sweating Lil’ Long. We gotta be out, so hear me out. If Lil’ Long wanna jump, he’ll catch the worst beat-down of his life. And it’s for ignorant people like him that we’ve got bodyguards. Know what I mean, yo?” Coco said.

  “Matter o’ fact, word on da streets is that his man Nesto is getting out of Elmira soon. And Coco, you know; that’s Lil’ Long’s man. Let me get down with y’all. I’ll supervise them big boys for you. I’ll keep it on the down low. Them dumb bodyguards ain’t got a thing on da Shorty-Wop. I’ll wop a mu’fucka so fast his family be hurting,” Rightchus said, shuffling his feet as if he was shadow-boxing.

  “Rightchus, please stop. Just stop it, alright. Chill before something really does go down, yo,” Coco said.

  “Please, before you hurt yourself,” Deedee added.

  A gunshot fired close by and Rightchus took off running down the street. The bodyguards checked to make sure all was okay.

  “We’re all good? What happened to Shorty?” One of the bodyguards asked.

  “I don’t know, yo. Homey said he had beef with Maruichi peoples. I don’t know, yo,” Coco said.

  “He was a nutcase, but some things he said were so on point. I mean when that incident went down, hmm… You’re right—he was just there.”

  “Like the time he told me ’bout Lil’ Long and Vulcha, yo.”

  “Oh, please don’t mention them,” Deedee said.

  “He was the first one to bring that to my attention and I still had trouble believing what he was saying, yo.”

  “Why…?”

  “Cuz he smoked mad crills. He was a full-time crack-head, yo. I had just come from visiting madukes, who was at the rehab program, and I saw him.”

  Outside, Coco eased into her bop as she made her way down the darkened streets. Danielle stayed on her mind, her death recorded in snapshots. Coco searched for answers. Coco halted as she recognized Rightchus.

  “Whuddup?” Coco asked. The greeting came like a demand, but she couldn’t take it back. “You following me around or what?”

  “Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Rightchus said.

  “Then what?”

  “Chill, Coco, I ain’t trying to put a rush on you or nothing. I’m just chilling. You know wha’ I’m saying?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sure it’s a free country. You weren’t trying to rush me, huh, yo?”

  “Nah, Coco, that ain’t my style. Coco, I’m saying, I saw you, and so I’m stepping to you like a brother to a sister. You know wha’ I’m saying?”

  “A brother, huh? A brother? Then brother, you better start cleaning up your shit. You feel me?”

  “I’m a righteous black man,” Rightchus yelled, placing the palm of his right hand on his chest.

  “Save it, yo. I ain’t got time for da BS,” Coco said, extending her arm and using her palm to block Rightchus’s mug.

  “Why you wanna play me like that?”

  “Because you’re a crack-head. Isn’t that reason enough, yo?” Coco asked as she made a move to leave. “I ain’t got time for front’n-ass niggas like you. I’m bouncing.”

  “Coco, before you step, I got sump’n to say. Hear me out,” Rightchus pleaded.

  Coco hesitated. She saw the plea in Rigtchus’ eyes and she waited.

  “A’ight yo, kick da shit. Then step da fuck off.”

  “A’ight, remember da shooting a week or so ago?”

  “What shooting? Everyday people getting popped, yo.”

  “Yeah, but I’m saying da shooting wid Déjà and da honey from your building.”

  “You mean Bebop?”

  “Honey wuz in da wrong place at da wrong time. See, ’em mu’fuckas were out to smoke Déjà.”

  “Whoa! Hold up. Who’s them muthafuckas, yo?”

  “Cool, I’m a tell ya soon enough. Someone put out a contract for a hit on Deja. Some shit that he raped a girl an’ jacked her ride and shit. You wuz supposed to be involved and all.”

  “Wait up, yo. Deja was killed because he raped a girl?”

  “Yeah, her uncle is, um, what’s his name, uh…”

  “You talkin’ ’bout Eric Ascot, yo?”

  “Word, that’s da one.”

  “Wait up. You ain’t nothing but a crack-head. Why da fuck should I believe your ass, huh?”

  For a minute Coco thought he could be right. Maybe Deja’s killing was a hit. Coco stared at Rightchus and thought about what he had told her.

  “I’m saying, if you don’t believe me, check da stats. Check da stats, baby. Someone set up Déjà to be killed. You and I know he ain’t rape the girl. Them wuz two niggas sent by the devil.”

  “The Devil? You bugging out or what?”

  “I’m saying.”

  “I’m saying you da crack-head. Why you wanna stress?”

  “Stress? Coco, da muthafucka killed my man, my nigga, my ace boom.”

  “Yeah, yeah, and all that. So what? What did you do? Smoke some crack, yo?”

  “I’m saying, them niggas… Them’s da one responsible for your friend’s death. And you know they hit that Spanish girl and da big dude she was wid. Them’s Lil’ Long and Vulcha. Coco, it’s gonna take a nation to hold them muthafuckas back.”

  “You’re saying that Lil’ Long wid da ’fro, and that guy wid da trunk-of-funk Navigator, always partying, they been shooting up da town like that, yo? Why don’t you go to the cops, then?”

  “C’mon! And sell da brothers out like that? Be real, Coco. I’d rather see shit stay da same. Gotta stay real, you feel me?”

  “So why you choose to stop me and try to feed all this bullshit to my ass, huh?”

  “Yo, Coco, listen up. I ain’t trying a run a game on you or nothing, but them niggas get picked up by the cops and come back wid bags of muthafucking dough. I’m talking G’s and triple G’s. Now, is them niggas working for da police, or what? I’m serious!” Rightchus yelled. Coco doubled over in laughter.

  “You’re saying—ha, ha, ha—Lil’ Long and Vulcha, them false hoods, they working for da police? How deep is their cover?” Coco howled.

  Rightchus stared, amazed at Coco’s reaction. She seemed to choke with laughter.

  “I know you think I’m only a crack-head, but I’m a street person who has knowledge of what’s going down an’ so on. When you check da stats you’ll see. Boom! Rightchus was right. You gonna say, ‘Yo,’ Coco, ‘boom.’ Can I get five dollars? Yo, help a brother out. You a top celebrity an’ all that.”

  “Muthafucka, now you clocking my papers, too? How you living? Here’s a buck to start the scramble.”

  Coco handed Rightchus a dollar bill. He clasped it in both hands. Rightchus was gone as quickly as he had come. Coco continued her walk home. When she reached the building, Coco stopped and opened the door to her mother’s place. She paused and turned on the lights. One bedroom reeked with a putrid scent. She went to the window and gazed out. Coco saw the street people, once more, scrambling around like rats.

  She wondered if any of them bothered to clean their apartments, or if they even had places to live. S
he cleaned the dirty kitchen first, and finished in the livingroom in the wee hours of the morning. Exhausted, Coco took a shower and passed out in front of the television.

  “That’s soo crazy. He knew so many things that other peeps didn’t even know about, yo.”

  “You’re right Coco. Like he was he was random and all, but he knew everything that was going on. I remember so well now. You came over, and we were in the studio, and then you told us about what Rightchus said. Oh my God. I was like how did he know that? You remember right, Coco?”

  “Remember that day, you were giving me a tour of your uncle home studio and we started talking about weed…” Coco said and her voice trailed.

  “Yes, I surely do. We were smoking weed, and checking out the recording equipment for the first time and then you started telling me what Rightchus had told you.”

  “True, you brought the Harvey’s and I had that blunt, yo…I was fucked up! And your ass kept me drinking.”

  “I remember that was my way of getting you to talk, Coco. I kept telling you to drink more,” Deedee laughed.

  “C’mon, Coco, you can’t front. You know you could handle this,” Deedee said, passing the blunt to Coco.

  Coco was trying to stop, but yielded to temptation as Deedee had hoped. When the weed and liquor kicked in Coco would be more talkative. She would lose control.

  “I know certain things that I’m checking before I even act on. You know that Rightchus?”

  “Ah,” Deedee struggled to link a face with the name. “Rightchus?” she repeated.

  “Yeah, yeah. Rightchus, that real black, short con man who be hanging out by da clubs. He be out by da school late in da evenings. Always begging for money and cigarettes, yo.”

  Deedee’s jaunt through her memory bank, cloudy from weed smoke and alcohol, yielded nothing but confusion.

  “The name sounds familiar, I mean but I can’t place the face…”

  “He was at da club da night that shit went down, yo. That nigga pointing his fingers at Lil’ Long and Vulcha.”

  “Word…? You don’t say?” Deedee queried.

  “Word up. He be knowing some shit, yo.”

  “Them niggas,” muttered Deedee under her breath. “Coco,” Deedee spoke in a louder tone. “You’re saying that, that this guy, ah, Rightchus is saying they—Lil’ Long and Vulcha—raped me?”

  Deedee rose from the soft chair where she’d been sitting. Coco glanced around at the mass of recording equipment. Then she heard fury coming through in Deedee’s voice.

  “Them muthafuckas!” she yelled. “They deserve to fucking die.”

  “If they are really da ones, yo. They asses should be dead. Over, yo.”

  “But, but let me get it right. I think I’m sure. I mean, you’re saying Rightchus is front’n?” Deedee paced from one side of the room to the other.

  “I’m not sure, cuz Rightchus, he be cracking. He always front’n like he’s got knowledge of self, but he smokes da rock. That shit just don’t make sense. I just don’t know…”

  “Is there anyone else? Someone whose word is really bond? Then again, maybe it should just die, go away,” Deedee said.

  “You and I know it will never leave, yo. It’s like luggage you have to carry forever to the grave,” Coco said, turning and looking at Deedee. She temporarily halted her nervous walk. Then Coco’s words proved to be the catalyst of dreaded thoughts. Deedee began her slow gait.

  “We should go to the cops.”

  “Da tin badges? Are you for real?”

  “I mean they’d investigate. I mean…”

  “Da cops never look out for people like us, yo,” Coco said. She rubbed her soft brown cheek. “Plus, if Rightchus is telling da truth, then them niggas must be well connected.”

  “Why so?”

  “Cause every time they get picked up by da police, they be coming right back looking paid. Word, that’s what Rightchus said, yo.”

  “They get paid by the cops?”

  “I’m saying I’m not da one making da shit up. Don’t be looking at me like I’m crazy. I’m just repeating sump’n I heard from a fucking crack-head. I mean, da shit might not mean nothing.”

  “So, how are we gonna find out if it’s the truth or not?”

  “I’m gonna approach them niggas, yo. I’m gonna be like, what. I don’t give a fuck. Them niggas killed ma girl Bebop when they shot up Déjà’s place, and they responsible for Danielle’s death. You know wha’ I’m saying, Deedee? Them niggas are the ones who raped you. Da cops don’t give a fuck. We got to take matters in our own hands. I’m saying, we got to take care of our business!”

  “How are we gonna do this, Coco?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “Listen, Coco, my uncle has guns hidden. He doesn’t know that I know where they are.”

  “What kinda guns?”

  “Forty-fives, Nines.”

  “We could do some damage. Forty-fives, yo?”

  “I got soo tore up that night, I started talking reckless about running up and killing niggas and all that BS, yo.”

  “We did try to murder that Lil’ Long. Remember Kamilla running around with Rightchus?”

  “That’s right—that’s how she knew where we had gone. Damn how did he know, yo?”

  “He must have some good connection. He’s the ghetto Internet.”

  “Rightchus was trying to save me from trouble, yo. But at the end o’ the day he was pretty much just a crack-head and he couldn’t be trusted. I had seen him on the Ave, getting his payoff from Lil’ Long, and he ain’t seen me. I crept on him and smacked all that shit out of his hand so fast, his head was spinning.”

  “He must’ve been mad. What did he do, Coco?”

  “Not a damn thing. He tried to con me, but I had seen him and Lil’ Long. And he didn’t know. I mean I seen the whole shit, yo.”

  Lil’ Long reached into his pockets and pulled out about a dozen tiny redcap vials filled with cheap, yellow-stained, cocaine rocks. He poured them in Rightchus’ out-stretched hands.

  “Now, you remember who really feeds you, muthafucka. Go on and enjoy. It’s on da house,” Lil’ Long said with a deadly smile.

  Horns blared as Vulcha pulled the SUV abruptly into the traffic. They departed, leaving Rightchus standing on the corner. Coco ran over and slapped Rightchus’ hands. The vials of crack littered the pavement.

  “Bitch!” Rightchus yelled. “What da fuck you think you’re doing, girl?”

  “Saving your muthafuckin’, no good-ass life. Your ass best tell me da truth about this whole shit or you ain’t smoking none of these goddamn rocks, yo.”

  Coco scrambled on the sidewalk, picking up as many of the small vials as she could. Rightchus couldn’t keep up with her and soon she had collected most of the vials.

  “Aw c’mon, Coco. What truth? What da fuck you talkin’ ’bout?”

  “You know what da fuck I’m talkin’ ’bout, nigga. Hello, da real fucking truth. You better start yakking away or everyone in da ’hood will know you is nothing but a fucking crack-head.”

  “I don’t give a fuck ’bout no muthafuckas from da ’hood knowin’ who I am. Everybody got a nasty habit. Mine’s crack. So what? What’s yours? Drinking, smoking dust? Cuz that’s why your Spanish friend died. Too much fucking dust and coke. So don’t step to Rightchus wid that bullshit.”

  “Bullshit! You fucking crack-head.”

  “Your mother is a crack-head! Look Coco, you best keep your ass out of this and stay in school, a’ight. I’m telling you, if you keep following this shit up, yo’ ass will be ended. Can’t say I ain’t warned your ass.”

  “Well, you give it to me straight and I’ll let you have your rocks back. And I’ll handle my fucking bidness, a’ight?”

  “Can’t you handle bidness without my fucking involvement?”

  “No, yo.”

  “Why?”

  “Cuz you started this whole shit. So now you’ve got to come straight, muthafucka.”

&
nbsp; “You seen their guns?”

  “I ain’t scared of no guns. I have guns, too, yo.”

  “Guns? Guns? Listen up. You gonna need more than just guns to do battle wid them niggas. Drug dealers and cops. Fucking po-po be scared, and you wanna do battle? Coco, you stick to singing and doing your thing on the dance tip. Get your swerve that way. Let da big boys handle that type shit.”

  “Nigga please stop pissing me off!”

  “Coco, I told you ’bout da time I auditioned for Eric Ascot. He loves ma shit, ma shit. He love da way I put it down. See, I was standing there. He comes along in a limo, pulls up, and start checking me doing my thing. At the end, he was like, ‘Oh shit, we need you in a da studio right away.’ He told me I was all this an’ that an’ he would love to work wid my ass soon. Soon as ya’ll shit drops, he gonna work wid ma shit. Ma shit be out there on your radio, in stere-ereo. Off the hook, baby… That’s da way I be doin’ my thing ya heard…” Rightchus sang, stomping his feet in rhythm.

  Coco gazed at Rightchus with eyes already reddened from staying up too late. They glowed more crimson red with anger at Rightchus’ comedic babblings. Under the wrath of Coco’s stare, the stirring of Shorty-Wop, a.k.a. Rightchus, ceased. She opened her fists, exposing small red and white-topped vials with yellow rocks inside. He read her intentions and opened his lips to plead.

  “No, Coco. No, Coco, don’t.”

  “Nigga, please,” Coco said.

  She hurled the vials at Rightchus. He failed miserably to catch all the vials. Most of them scattered in the street. Rightchus scrambled to retrieve them.

  “Bitch, you best stay outta that shit. Leave peoples bidness alone or you gonna get toe-tagged.”

  “Fuck you! You crack-head low-life bastard!”

  Coco entered the park, ready to walk home. She turned back to see Rightchus being joined by a congregation of emaciated people in dirty clothes. They prepared to sacrifice their lives in worship of the contents of the vials.

  “Crack-heads,” Coco whispered. Her bop came off a little shaky.

  “Stay out of it, Coco! You ain’t much. Just a regular girl,” Rightchus said.