by Ni-Ni Simone
“Heifer,” she said, following me to my room, “you better start from the beginning.”
“How about I just skip to the end.” I tossed my backpack at the foot of my bed. “He asked me to go out and I said no.”
“No? You know what,” Tasha tapped her foot, “I should just mush you in the head. Why did you tell him no?”
“Look, I’m not here for all that. I’m just here to do my year and then I’ma jet. That’s it.”
“I can’t deal with you right now. This is not jail! One minute you wanna chill, and wondering if he likes you or not. Now he asks you out and instead of you going you trippin’ and actin’ all strange!”
“I’m not actin’ strange! And, anyway, I don’t have to explain anything to you; this is my life!”
“Then you need to live it!” she screamed, storming out of my room and slamming the door. A few seconds later, she flung the door open and said, “For your information, pitiful Pattie, Li’l Herman got us all into the Dough E. Fresh concert!”
“He . . .” Before I could finish my sentence, Tasha had slammed the door once more.
22
Ah Ya Know What . . .
It was the night of the concert, and me, Ebony, Reesie, and Tasha were all in Tasha’s room, gettin’ our fly on.
We wore matching light blue jeans, white tee shirts with our names airbrushed in bubble letters on them—courtesy of me, Vette-B—and crisp white, high-top Reeboks.
The only thing different was our hair. Reesie rocked a black lace bow tied around her ponytail. I wore my hair straight, spilling over my shoulders, with a stretchy sparkling gold headband. Ebony rocked her braids, and Tasha’s hair was hooked up with crimps in the front and cascading coils in the back.
“This is my jam!” Tasha said as Dough E. Fresh’s hit, The Show, blasted through the radio.
Reesie, at the mirror and applying hot pink eye shadow, free-styled: “We’re just some fly chicks, that’s gettin’ right for the night. ’Cause when Dough E. Fresh rock up on the mic, he gon’ rock the mic right!”
We all stopped what we were doin’ and did the whop dance in agreement.
“Yo,” I said, now helpin’ Ebony lay her baby hair down. “What if Dough E. Fresh calls me up on stage?” I twirled around.
“He will call you,” Reesie said, “right after he calls me.”
“Y’all know he could call any of us,” Tasha said.
“That would be stupid ill!” Reesie screamed, then popped her glossy lips.
“We should make a pact,” Tasha said, “that if any of us get wit’ Dough E. Fresh tonight, we hook everybody else up with one of his friends.”
“What if some of his friends are broke?” Reesie curled her upper lip. “We don’t know if all of his friends are rappers. Some of ’em might be project kings. And I already have one of those.”
“Who?” I asked.
“My baby, Jerelle. That’s who,” Reesie said.
“You’re still talking to Jerelle?” Ebony frowned. “I thought his phone was disconnected.”
“I told you that in confidence! Not for you to diss my man and put him on Front Street. And for your information, it’s back on now, thank you.”
“Can we get back to Dough E. Fresh’s friends?” Tasha said, “’Cause I don’t wanna hear y’all arguing about Mr. Telephone Man, Jerelle. Now, let’s scratch Dough E.’s friends and change it to rappers. So, if any of us get hooked up with Dough E., we have to hook the crew up with another rapper. I got Hammer.”
“Eww,” I said. “No way. ’Cause I got Rakim, baby! Yes! What! Umm-hmm! I ain’t no joke.”
“And I got Slick Rick,” Reesie said in a bouncy British accent. “Just call me Sally.”
We all cracked up.
“Since you all are all choosing someone else, then I might as well claim Dough E. Fresh,” Ebony said.
“Don’t even try it; we all have a chance at Dough E.,” I said to Ebony.
“Yo,” Tasha said, “we better take one last look in the mirror. Li’l Herman just beeped me 0377; that’s code for he’s on his way to get us.”
We rushed over to the mirror, pressed shoulder to shoulder, and after we reassured one another that we were cute, I looked at each of their reflections and said, “I wanna tell y’all somethin’. But I don’t want y’all buggin’ or sayin’ any slick comments.”
“I wouldn’t never do that,” Reesie said. “And I can’t stand chicks who act like that. Always running their mouths with some foolishness.”
“Let’s bow our heads. And have a moment of silence,” Ebony said.
“Why?” we asked.
“Reesie is about to be struck by lightning. She’s the main one who always has something slick to say, and suddenly, she can’t stand chicks who act that way. Girl, please.”
Reesie responded, “Ebony, green is so not your color. You need to stick with black.”
“Would you two shut up and let Yvette speak. Dang!” Tasha said. “Go ’head, Yvette. Even if they’re not listening, I am.”
“I’m listening,” Ebony said.
“Me too,” Reesie agreed.
I took in their reflections again. I knew I was taking a chance, but I had to tell somebody, or in this case, three somebodies. “IwannaletBrooklynknowthatI’mfeelin’him,” I said in one breath.
They each paused, like they had to figure out what I’d just said; then their light bulbs went off and they screamed.
“Yes!” Tasha said. “Thank you, baby Jesus. ’Cause this heifer is a hard nut to crack.”
“A nut?” Reesie looked concerned. “Wait a minute, Yvette. What does Tasha mean? Don’t tell you’re a herma-dyke.”
“A what?” I frowned.
“A herma-dyke. It means you’re swingin’ with a litter box and a pipe.”
“Oh, my God!” Ebony said.
Tasha blinked, like she couldn’t believe this was happening. “First of all, it’s hermaphrodite. And hard nut to crack is an expression.”
Reesie put in her two cents worth. “Don’t do that. Don’t try and play me out and act like I’m crazy. ’Cause y’all would’ve been thinking the same thing. Anyway, Yvette, as you were saying before Tasha started calling you names . . .”
“I was just sayin’ I like Brooklyn, and I would like to go out with him.”
“Brooklyn?” Reesie said, surprised.
“Why did you say it like that?” I asked.
Reesie continued. “Just be careful ’cause Alesha told me that they was working on their relationship.”
I rolled my eyes and sucked my teeth. “Alesha is a liar. She came at me the other day all crazy, ’cause Brooklyn was taking me home, and he checked her. Told her they were done, been done, and he was tired of her. So she needs to stop lyin’.”
“Well, dang. Okay.” Reesie smirked. “Next.”
“Yeah, next,” I snapped.
“Don’t get mad at me,” Reesie said. “And, anyway, I thought you’d brother-zoned him.”
Tasha’s eyes popped open in surprise.
These birds talk too much!
“Where you get that from?” I asked, peering at my bigmouth housemate, Tasha. “I never said that.”
Reesie carried on. “Well, if it’s a lie, blame Tasha. ’Cause she told Ebony, and Ebony told me, that Brooklyn asked you to go out and you told him no.”
Ebony huffed. “I also told you that you talk too much, but I don’t see you running to tell that.”
Tasha looked at me. “I never said you brother-zoned him. I just said you turned his date down.”
“Same thing,” Reesie said.
“No, I did not brother-zone him,” I said.
“So why did you turn his date down?” Ebony asked.
“I was just confused.”
Tasha asked, “When are you going to tell him you want to go out with him?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I know,” Tasha said. “Tonight. Li’l Herman said that after the concert,
his cousin is having an after-party. And I’m sure Brooklyn will be there.”
“You think?” I asked.
Tasha said, “Yes, girl, you know Brooklyn and Li’l Herman got a serious bromance going on. They ain’t going nowhere without the other being there.”
“All right.” I smiled. “Then tonight. It’s goin’ down!”
23
Ain’t No Half-Steppin’
You know what/peep this
For the first time in my life, the here-and-now was all that mattered.
The live music.
The dope way Dough E. Fresh and Slick Rick stepped onto stage and rocked the crowd.
I was captivated.
Fascinated.
Feelin’ . . . sixteen.
Runnin’ wit’ a crew that wasn’t headed for a scheme or tryna create one.
Just partying to be partying.
Chillin’ to be chillin’.
Finally, someplace beyond the block.
Don’t cry/Dry your eyes!
At least two hundred people were shoulder to shoulder, rockin’ to the beat and screamin’ at the stage.
I leaned over to Tasha, who was throwin’ her arms in the air and yelled, “I guess Li’l Herman got the juice!”
She snapped her fingers. “Yeah, girl. It seems so. And when he pulled up in that olive green ’77 Cadillac Coupe Deville, I was like, wait a minute, now. Hold up, pimp.” She grinned, like it was only a matter of time before Li’l Herman was the boo assigned to the weekend.
I twisted my lips and said, “That car was loud as hell and you know it. Even Ms. Glo was like, ‘In a minute, that car gon’ have me fightin’ dead bodies.’ ”
“It wasn’t that loud,” Tasha said. “Aunty Glo always exaggerating. She ain’t say all that when his daddy Big Herman was creepin’ to the house, driving that same Cadillac.”
I laughed. “Now you know you wrong. You ain’t have to call Ms. Glo out like that.”
“Tasha,” Reesie leaned over and asked, “what was with all that foam and cushion falling from Li’l Herman’s car’s ceiling? I felt like it was snowing on me.”
“Me too!” Ebony agreed. “And why is he rockin’ a three-piece suit?”
“’Cause his name needs to be Whack-Skee,” I said.
Tasha frowned and shot us all a look. “Y’all are three of the most ungrateful tricks I’ve ever seen. Ya behinds could’ve walked. And Whack-Skee?” She rolled her eyes at me. “Slow down, Vette-B, ’cause you could be home watching repeats of Good Times on TV, or smelling the Bengay Aunty Glo rubs into her knees. But you’re not. Why? ’Cause Whack-Skee got you in the place to be. You better check yo’self for you wreck yo’self.”
Tasha glared at Reesie. “And you raggin’ on his ride, Cheresse? At least he got one! What party-line Jerelle got? A disconnected line. And you, Ebony. For your information, Mother Earth, in order for him to get the car on a school night, so he could bring y’all unappreciative behinds to this sold-out concert, he lied and told his mama he was goin’ to church!”
“Church?” Reesie asked. “It ain’t even Sunday.”
“And if he told her he was goin’ to church,” I said, “then why is he gettin’ on stage ’bout to toss it up?”
E’rybody’s eyes shifted to the stage, where Dough E. Fresh’s hype crew brought people up and passed the mic around. Of course they skipped right over us, killin’ our dreams of having a rapper in our life.
But whatever.
Li’l Herman was on stage and he looked like a straight clown—dressed in a metallic gold and black pin-stripe suit with shoulder pads, a tight vest, and black MC Hammer pants. “Is he throwin’ up gang signs?” I asked, but nobody answered.
Li’l Herman rapped, “Ah one-two, ah one-two. My name is Li’l Herman and most wonder why, but it ain’t ’cause in my pants is a little guy. I’m super fresh, yes I’m the best, and on my chest don’t have to be an S. Ah one-two, ah one-two.”
“That’s my baby!” Tasha yelled. “Get ’em, baby! Show ’em what time it is!”
Me, Ebony, and Reese looked at each other. Our eyes said the same thing: Tasha was out of control.
Li’l Herman ended his rap and Tasha looked at us and said, “Now y’all know that was fresh.”
Ebony and Reesie didn’t say a word, but I had to live with this chick. “Yes!” I clapped. “Stupid-dumb-triple-fat-dope! He is straight spittin’ bars!”
“You better recognize.” Tasha grinned, as Li’l Herman walked over and pulled her into his embrace. And for the rest of the concert they were hugged up. Tasha had her back pressed to Li’l Herman’s chest, and his arms draped over her shoulders.
As the concert went on, Dough E. Fresh killed it. I’d never seen so many stars in one place. Slick Rick, Run–D.M.C., Kurtis Blow, MC Lyte, and Kool Moe Dee. By the time the concert was over, e’rybody was hyped.
“Yo, that was so dope!” I squealed.
“Thank you, Li’l Herman,” we all said.
“You the man, baby!” Tasha hollered, holdin’ Li’l Herman by the waist.
He popped his collar and said, “You know the night doesn’t have to end. Remember I told you my cousin, Lottie, is having an after-party at his crib. He said we can come through. Unless y’all gotta go home and get ready for school.”
Was Mr. Three-Piece-Suit, Mr. Lied-to-Get-the-Car, Mr. Booty-Ass Rhymin’, Mr. Whack-Skee tryna be funny? School? Really? It was only ten o’clock. We had at least another hour or two before we had to be worried about gettin’ ready for school. See, this is why I’m anti-sucker.
Li’l Herman continued. “It’s up to you; y’all can roll if you want to, or I can take y’all home.”
“We rollin’,” Tasha said. “Ain’t nobody worried about school.”
24
Ah One-Two, One-Two
“Hurry up and tell me if my breath stinks.” Reesie blew a puff of air in Ebony’s face, causing Ebony to stagger back.
“What the hell?” Ebony blinked. “What have you been eating? I think I’ve been violated.”
“Would y’all chill?” Tasha snapped. “I don’t want them to think we’re kids.”
“Don’t play me,” Reesie said. “I’m no kid; and all I wanted to know was how my breath smelled. As matter of fact, Mrs. Li’l Herman, you need a Tic-Tac. Mmph. Unlike you, I don’t wanna be in my future husband’s face with my mouth smelling like unwashed feet.”
“You mean ass.” Ebony frowned, handing Reesie a pack of Red Hot gum. “Chew on all of that, at once.”
“Whatever,” Reesie said, poppin’ a single stick of gum in her mouth.
“Tasha,” Ebony called, “where did Li’l Herman go? How he gon’ invite us to an after party, then leave us sittin’ in the car?”
“Word,” Reesie agreed. “I’m tired of sittin’ on this middle hump, holdin’ this ceiling up.”
“See, this is why I don’t like to bring y’all nowhere. For your information, his cousin just moved out here to Virginia Beach, so Li’l Herman wanted to be sure this was the right house before we all walked up in there.”
Reesie cut in, “Wait a minute, the right house? You can’t be serious. I know he had to hear all that music playin’ when he pulled up here. And I know he had to see all those people standing around kicking it. Either Li’l Herman lied and this ain’t his cousin, or he up in there tellin’ people he’s our pimp. He ain’t slick.”
“Shhh, here they come,” I said, and we all fell silent and looked straight ahead.
Li’l Herman walked over to the car and peeked in through the passenger side window. “This is my cuzo, Lottie,” he said, pointing to the dude standing next to him.
All three of us in the back seat leaned forward.
“Dang, Daddy,” Reesie mumbled. “You are deliciously cute.”
“Yes. He. Is.” Ebony whispered, “Reesie, gimme a piece of my gum back.”
“Nope. Lottie”—Reesie boldly reached her hand across me and out the window—“I’m Cheresse, but ev
erybody calls me Reesie. And I’m single.” She pointed to me and Ebony. “These are my girls, Yvette and Ebony; they both tied up.”
This chick is trippin’.
She carried on. “And Tasha is here with your cousin, Li’l Herman.”
Lottie, who was the color of dark chocolate, smiled and a single dimple sank into his left cheek.
“Damn,” Reesie said, droolin’. “Look at those teeth. They all straight too. No crowded mouth in sight. I mean that bottom left one is a li’l crooked, but, hey, ain’t nobody perfect, except Jesus, and even Jesus had hard times.”
Silence. Complete and utter silence.
Then Lottie said, “Are you all coming inside? I hope so, ’cause the house is all the way live.”
“Oh, yes it is,” Reesie replied, excited.
Li’l Herman opened the car door and helped Tasha out. Tasha then flipped up the front seat and we all climbed out the back.
“Lottie, this is my lady, Tasha.” Li’l Herman grinned.
His lady?
Lottie looked over at me and Ebony. “I know she said your names were Yvette and Ebony, but I’m not sure who’s who.”
“I’m Ebony.” She waved.
“And I’m Yvette,” I said.
Lottie smiled. “Okay. Wassup, Ebony?” Before she could answer, Lottie continued. “Yvette, nice to meet you.” His eyes soaked in e’ry part of me, causing me to wonder if I needed some gum. How was my hair? Was it all in place? Was my outfit still on point, or lookin’ crazy?
“You look beautiful,” Lottie said. “Maybe . . .”
“Lottie!” A car parked in front of Li’l Herman’s car, and a guy stuck his head out the window. “Wassup?!”
“Yo! Yo!” Lottie yelled over to him, then looked back to us. “Check it; y’all go on in the house and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be in there in a minute. The music is bumpin’, drinks flowin’, and tons of food.” He tossed me a soft wink, as he took a few steps backwards before turning around and walking over to the dudes who’d just called for his attention.
Reesie grinned. “Y’all know Lottie checkin’ for me, right? Did you see how he was just lookin’ at me? He was all in my grill.”