Ghetto Girls 6

by Anthony Whyte

  “Stick to the script, Dontay. You ain’t that important!”

  “What was I supposed to do? You said you’d handle Kim. That was your words to me, Tina.”

  “These people I’m working with—they serious, Dontay. They are not playin’.”

  “So what’s gonna happen now?”

  “You’re out, Dontay. You’ve gotta get up out of the city by the end of the day,” Tina said. “That’s what I was told to tell you.”

  “Damn, Tina!” Dontay exclaimed jumping up. “We had sump’n. You used to be my bottom ho’. My girl…” Dontay’s voice trailed.

  He saw her poker face, and knew she wasn’t phased by his pleas. Dontay slowly realized his begging was falling on deaf ears. Tina reached inside the Birkin bag on her shoulder and pulled out a wad of money. She offered the wad to Dontay while she spoke.

  “You’re right, Dontay,” Tina said with a chuckle. “Back in the days, I used to be all that for you. But you fucked all that shit up. You created me, Dontay. You taught me how to look out for myself. You should feel good. Cuz now you’re sick and I feel sorry for you,” she said. “But things ain’t always what it seems,” she continued, attempting to hand him the money.

  Dontay was about to take the money then suddenly changed his mind and slapped the wad from Tina’s hand. He stepped back, holding his head. Dontay closed his eyes when Tina tossed the rest of the money at him and started to walk out.

  “I don’t want your pity,” he shouted, looking at the money scattered on the floor. “I ain’t running out like Rightchus did!”

  “Dontay, you taught me a few tricks in this game of life, and I’ll never forget them. But you see what those peoples did to Rightchus. They’ll be coming for you,” Tina warned.

  “Whatever, let them come. I ain’t scared,” Dontay calmly said. “I’m dying of AIDS. What do I have to live for, huh? So let ’em come. I’m already dead. “

  “These people ’bout their biz, so just pick up the money and get out of town,” Tina said, and strutted out the door.

  When Tina reached outside, she dialed on her cell phone, the phone rang a couple times before her party answered.

  “Hello…?”

  “Max… I delivered the message… Yes and the dough,” she said. “He didn’t take it too well.”

  “Good, it will be handled from here.”

  Tina hung up the call and dialed another number. She waited for a few moments before she asked, “How’s it goin, ho’…? Meet me uptown later. Let’s get a mani and pedi…”

  Later that day Kim and Tina met at the hair-and-nail salon. They were both sashaying in the tightest of dresses, walking like they didn’t see the other women staring evilly at them. Needless to say all the men in the vicinity had their eyes riveted on the pair of derrieres going by. They stood outside, and finished smoking their cigarettes while chatting.

  “Shut da front door, ho! You singing on Coco’s song for real. Then what happened? I know you tried to fuck that nigga,” Tina said.

  “I didn’t get a chance. I was only up in there for a few then we had to go to the hospital and shyt.”

  “Shut your face, ho! Why you had to go to the hospital?”

  “Coco’s mom, bitch.”

  “She’s still in the hospital?”

  “I’m telling you it was sad and shyt. Everybody bawling for Coco and her mother,” Kim said, shaking her head.

  “Shut your mouth! She dead?

  “Dead, dead, dead, and shyt, bitch.”

  “So did you at least do what I ask, ho?”

  “Yes bitch. I left the device in Eric’s apartment and shyt. I forgot how huge that damn place was. He needs me up in there helping him decorate and shyt,” Kim said.

  “Shut your face! What you gon’ do ho’, be the housekeeper?”

  “Nah bitch, we’d hire your mira-mira ass for that shyt. I’m talkin’ bout being Mrs. Ascot and shyt.”

  “Shut your face, ho’! Eric Ascot marrying your poor ass, not happening—definitely not,” Tina said, shaking her head.

  “Leave me alone. A ho’ can dream can’t she?”

  “Shut da front door, ho!”

  “Lemme go get my mani and pedi done and shyt.”

  “Pay for mine, I’ll give you the money back, ho’,” Tina said.

  “Nah, nah, not the rich bitch asking poor ol’ Kim for a loan…?”

  “Shut your face! I got money, ho. I had to give Dontay money earlier and I ain’t got no more cash on me.”

  “I thought you stopped doing that shyt for him. I didn’t know you still his ho’.”

  “Shut your face! He had to leave town in a hurry.”

  “He told me he was starting all this model and video biz. Where he had to leave for in such hurry and shyt—Cali?”

  “That nigga was too busy leaving. He ain’t had time to say where he going.”

  “Shyt, that’s hurrying. What he smell your stank ass and shyt?

  “Shut your face, ho’! You gon’ give me the money or what?”

  “Okay bitch, come on let’s get our nails did. I gotcha on da dough and shyt…” Kim said and they both strutted into the nail salon.

  It was later that evening and Dontay still had not picked up the money scattered on the floor. He sat drinking whiskey from the bottle and fiddling with the thoughts in his mind. He heard the knock on his door. Dontay paid no heed to the knocking, but the banging grew louder, and he could no longer ignore it.

  “Who da fuck is it?” he slurred.

  “It’s the police. Open up in there!”

  His brain jumped into panic mode and Dontay grabbed his shirt. He picked up the bottle and took a last swig. Then he ran to bathroom and popped the window opened. Dontay jumped out the window and swung his body across to an adjoining building. He lost his footing and attempted to brace himself on an air conditioner.

  Night had darkened the evening sky and the whiskey saturated his system. Dontay miscalculated his leap. The air conditioner was not secured to the window and easily gave way under his weight. Dontay found himself falling from the eighth floor.

  “Oh shi-i-i-i-t!” he shrieked.

  His body landed in a heap with the trash behind the building. Dontay realized that the stacked garbage bags had cushioned his fall. Out of the blue, Dontay smiled, happy he was still alive. Then all of a sudden, the weight of the air conditioner crashed into him. With blood leaking from the wound on his head, Dontay’s twisted, lifeless form mixed with the garbage in a strange, macabre collage.

  The next day, news of Dontay’s fall was all over the building. People were gathered in front of the building talking. Dontay’s name was warming their lips. In a hot minute, the debacle of Dontay was in the rumor mill and traveling around the neighborhood. Kim immediately called Tina after receiving the news.

  “Bitch, you heard that Dontay threw himself off the building and shyt last night…?”

  “Shut da front door, ho’! He did what?”

  “Come over here—mad drama on this side, bitch. I gotta call Mommy and let her know Coco’s mother died and shyt.”

  “A’ight, ho. I’ll be there later,” Tina said.

  19

  Coco woke up with her head swimming in a deep sea of emotions. There were so many thoughts swirling, her mind was confused. She stared at the room and for a minute she forgot where she was. Startled by her surroundings, Coco rapidly blinked her eyes trying to clear her head. Then she rubbed her eyes and felt the tear stains. Slowly she remembered that she was at Eric’s apartment. She heard Deedee’s voice.

  “Coco…? Are you okay?”

  “I feel like I was in this horrible nightmare… And madukes…” Coco’s voice trailed as her feelings consumed her. Coco’s body shuddered when she continued. “Madukes was dead, yo.”

  Deedee heard Coco’s tone of despair. She stared at her best friend’s puffy, red eyes. Coco had cried herself to sleep. A look of confusion clouded her face. Coco was shaking her head.

  “It�
��s true, huh? Madukes is dead, right Dee?”

  Deedee ran over to Coco and threw her arms around her. They both stood crying in each other’s embrace for a couple of beats.

  “Tell me…”

  “Yes,” Deedee whispered. “She passed away yesterday at the hospital.”

  “So it really happened, yo?”

  “Yes, we went to the hospital and—”

  “I remember going to the hospital and then I was talking to the nurse…”

  “You fainted, but don’t worry. Uncle E has everything covered. He’s making all the arrangements for the funeral. And you’re staying here. So you better get used to staying here,” Deedee said.

  “I gotta go to Madukes’ apartment… I mean. Well, you know what I mean, right, yo?”

  “Let’s freshen up and get brunch then we’ll go over to your former apartment,” Deedee said trying to keep Coco’s mind on track.

  “Cool, let me take a shower, yo.”

  Coco stepped inside the shower and selected “Massage.” The warm water soothed her body, but the pain was growing deep down inside her. She felt the sting of the water hitting her skin as her lithe body heaved with sorrow. Coco sobbed.

  Later, she slipped her dark shades on. Coco stepped out dressed in all black from head to toe. Deedee was waiting for her and she too was wearing an all-black outfit. Together they walked to a small café on the corner. There was a midday rush, but the girls were seated immediately. Coco ordered hot chocolate and perused the menu. After a few minutes, Coco put the menu down and went blank.

  “You should try to eat something,” she heard Deedee said, but Coco’s mind was caught in her sorrow. “Try the fruit salad. It’s always good.”

  “Okay, yo.”

  The waiter came by, took their orders and walked away. Coco sat with the weight of her mother’s death like a boulder on her shoulder. She was tired from not sleeping and yawned several times. Coco fiddled with her hand, wanting badly to make this a dream, but it was her reality. Thinking about her mother’s passing, Coco bit her fist and let the sadness drive her to tears. Coco quietly removed the shades and wiped her eyes.

  Deedee saw her pain and reached out. She held Coco’s hand and tried to provide some measure of support. Sometimes being best friends was just not enough. Deedee quickly paid the tab when she realized that Coco really needed this moment to cry. She guided her out of the café as onlookers stared. Coco’s body shuddered while they walked out. She felt Deedee’s hug, and the distraught teen laid her head on the shoulders of her best friend.

  They sat in Deedee’s car and smoked cigarettes. Coco was massaging her temple with her fingertips.

  “What’s bothering you soo much that you can’t talk, Coco?” Deedee asked.

  “What’s bothering me?” Coco repeated. Inhaling, she waited a beat before saying, “I feel angry. I feel so fucking angry when I think of the way my mother died,” she said, exhaling with a loud sigh. “Let’s go uptown, yo, I wanna go see that nigga, Dontay,” she said, composing herself. “I wanna smash that nigga’s face so bad… Hmm!” Coco hissed.

  They arrived there in a flash and the people were out in full force, milling in front of the building. News of Dontay’s death was making the rounds. Coco and Deedee walked smack into the hubbub of hearsay.

  “What up, Coco?” the usual greeting came, and Coco held up two fingers. Deuces! Then she heard a question she never expected.

  “You heard wha’ happened to Dontay?”

  Coco wore a zombie-like stare and the person asking the question was unsure whether to continue. Then after a beat, Coco said, “No, what happened, yo?”

  “He dead, fell off the roof, running from the police.”

  “You can bet that them cops threw him off the roof,” another person said.

  Deedee saw the look of surprise on Coco’s face. She knew Coco had wanted to talk to Dontay, but now that was impossible. Maybe it was better, because Coco was angry, and Deedee didn’t know if she had the courage to stop her from killing Dontay. In a strange twist of fate, he had already died.

  “That’s fucked up, yo.”

  Coco and Deedee continued inside the building. They walked in silence up the stairs. Coco opened the door and they entered the apartment. The place seemed smaller and Coco stood in the middle of the place looking around.

  Drab furniture placed around the new sofa, the draperies didn’t match, but the place appeared tidy. The two-bedroom apartment contained many bittersweet memories for Coco. She had lived here with her mother for most of her life. Her memories of being raised by her mother in the apartment started a waterfall of feelings, flooding her confused mind.

  “I remember some crazy things about this place,” Coco said.

  Coco shook her head and wore an expression that was puzzling to Deedee. She felt the urge to find out what was behind the sarcastic smile.

  “What’re you thinking, Coco,” Deedee asked.

  “Just thinking about back in the days how I used to come in with my attitude, yo,” Coco smiled. “Miss Katie used to keep an eye on madukes,” she continued soberly.

  Damn! She almost said it out loud. The bus lurched forward, and Coco fell back into the seat. Her thoughts switched to home. What kind of mood is Madukes’ gonna be in? She wondered, getting off the bus and moved toward the broken glass doors of the dirty brick building. There were always people outside while crack-heads lurched in and out. Home, sweet home, she thought as she pushed by them and into the building.

  “Hi Coco,” they greeted.

  “Peace,” Coco said.

  She continued inside the building without looking back. Coco headed for the elevator, but the sign on the door read “Out of Service.”

  “The usual bullshit,” Coco said, trudging to the stairwell.

  At the third floor she walked down the hallway, and reached the apartment door where—she thought—a sign should be posted: ‘You’re now entering hell.’ By the way it looked, a stray shotgun shell must have made the peephole.

  Let’s see what the devil’s gonna cook up this evening. Maybe she’ll be too drunk to deal with life. Coco’s mind tried to enter before her body. This type of mind-game prepared her for whatever came next. Think it’s worse maybe it’ll be better. She was preparing herself when another door squeaked open.

  It was Miss Katie, the widow from 3D. Her apartment was toward the entrance of the building and from her window she could see both corners of the streets below.

  “Hi Coco, how are you doing?” Ms. Katie asked. “It’s been about a month that she’s been home, right Coco?”

  “Yes, Miss Katie,” Coco answered politely.

  It was not her usual style to talk to the neighbors. Coco hated gossip, but Katie Patterson was different from the other neighbors. She was in her fifties and still looked young and bright. “My husband was killed in Vietnam,” she would say during times she allowed herself to talk about him. Coco knew him only as Sergeant Patterson. But Miss Katie didn’t sit around moping; she went back to college and earned her bachelor’s degree.

  Coco admired her greatly for accomplishing that. Miss Katie did this while raising and sending her children, Roxy and Robert, to none other than Princeton University. Coco smiled at Miss Katie, who deserved a lot of respect and love. “Well, I’m pleased to report that she didn’t go down to the dens today,” Miss Katie reported.

  “That’s good news, Miss Katie,” Coco beamed.

  Ever since her mother came out of drug rehab, Miss Katie provided a daily account of her mother’s activity. Her mother was continuing counseling on an outpatient basis and Coco wanted to know if her mother was out drugging with friends.

  “How’s she on the inside?” Miss Katie asked.

  Coco flipped her right hand up and down, wrist loose. “She’s a little crazy but I guess it takes time, huh?”

  “Yes, it does, Coco. How’s school, and your tests coming along?”

  “Really fair to fine, Miss Katie,” Coco replied, enthu
siasm in her voice.

  “Good, good. Keep it up, Coco.” Miss Katie called after the girl as she walked away.

  “Coco, is that you?”

  She heard her mother’s voice and saw her standing in the doorway. Coco turned and waved at Miss Katie.

  “Yes, I will, Miss Katie. I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye, Coco. Take care.”

  Coco entered an apartment that was well worn. It appeared every stitch of the family’s clothing was laid out in the tiny hallway.

  “I was gonna do laundry,” her mother said, lighting a cigarette. “But I just couldn’t make it down them goddamn steps. Elevator’s still out?”

  “Yeah, Ma,” Coco said, shaking her head. “I’ll get them in a few. Just sort ’em out…”

  The teen knew that it would be an opportunity to go downstairs and sit with the pay phone. It would also prevent her mother from going outside.

  “Any mail…?” Coco asked.

  “Girl, you constantly asking the same question… What you hoping for? Publisher’s Clearinghouse told you that you gonna be their next first-prize winner, huh?”

  “No, Mom. Just checking, just checking,” Coco said, grabbing a bag of chips.

  Under her mother’s watchful eyes, Coco slipped a couple into her mouth and crunched. The woman took a couple of drags from the cigarette. Then she exhaled and spoke.

  “The mail’s over by the kitchen window.”

  Coco sauntered to the window, bopping with excitement and even her mother’s rebuke didn’t curb her enthusiasm as she sorted through the mail.

  “Why can’t you walk ladylike? You’re getting older, and you’ve got to learn to conduct yourself proper, like a lady.”

  “Mom, please save the sermon,” Coco sighed.

  She continued checking each letter. There were only bills and junk mail. No college acceptances, no record contracts. She looked down through the window. People were milling around. From above, they looked like robots, moving a few steps at a time, pausing as if trying to reach something, but never succeeding. Coco saw beggars with turned up palms stained with dirt. The working people moved faster, walking quickly with noses turned up in disgust. Just across the side of the building, a torch was sparked—a fiend scored.