Street Chic

by Anthony Whyte

  Sheryl Street felt pangs of guilt streaming through her body as Mimmy Osorio knelt down, made the sign of the cross and quietly prayed. She still felt the same urge to run away like when she first walked in, but Sheryl also felt glued to her seat. She bowed her head, wordlessly begging God for absolution.

  “There’s no friend we have like Jesus and only He can grant you forgiveness…”

  Sheryl looked up at the preacher with her mouth wide open. Suddenly her head hurt and she began to sweat profusely. Slowly, she got up and tiptoed to the exit. A series of nodding heads following her to the door.

  “That’s right! You better ease up outta here pig!”

  “Yeah, that’s it bitch, get to stepping!”

  Their nasty comments chased her. She walked out to tiny droplets of rain. By the time she reached her car, it was coming down in buckets. Sheryl hastily jumped inside the comfort of the rented car and sat shaking her head. Slipping the key in the ignition, the engine hummed, drowning her sobbing. She heard honking and looked up to see what the clamoring was about.

  Melanie Delgado, another childhood friend, had showed up with enough fanfare to stop any show. Cuban and connected to gangsters from all over the globe, Melanie was sitting in the black stretch. The dark tinted window came down. Melanie was screaming with a haunting greeting.

  “Had ya fair-share, cop-bitch? Ya can’t take it anymore, huh? No one wants ya ass around here anyhow. Ya know the way outta town bitch-cop…!”

  Sheryl Street stared at Melanie and a group of well dressed men. Without saying anything in response, she slipped her shades on. Sheryl gunned the powerful engine and took off with nowhere special to go. She knew she had to get away.

  Coming back to the city had proven a point. There was no further need to stay. But maybe there was one more thing she needed to do. She had wanted to talk to Mimmy. Her telephone calls had gone unanswered and she had never got a chance to say her piece. Now it didn’t seem likely to happen. Mimmy was too bitter. It was time to go, clear her head and try another time.

  She found herself going up the familiar steep hill. These were her old haunts. Sheryl guided the car through the neighborhood she knew all too well. She looked at Mimmy’s apartment building. It was where all the kids from the neighborhood used to congregate on the steps. Sheryl remembered the last time when they all gathered at the steps.

  “Yeah, here comes Orphan Annie,” Melanie teased.

  Sheryl’s cheek smart from the jibe, but she held herself in check. Instead she countered with a question about school.

  “I’m going to Florida for college. Where are you headed Melanie?”

  “If I’ve gotta live in Florida, it won’t be for no school, ya heard? After graduation I’m through with this school stuff. I’m gonna make me some money. It’ll be all about the money for me,” Melanie said.

  “Melanie’s right. School’s helped me enough already. I think I’ve learned how to count my money,” Candace smiled.

  “I agree with them. You’re wrong Orphan Annie,” Claire surmised. “But it’s good that you’re going to college in Florida. Maybe you might find a relative or someone for you.”

  That night, Sheryl had difficulty sleeping in her hotel room and couldn’t wait for the morning. When it came, she hurried through showering. After slipping into the same dark skirt outfit, Sheryl spent a lot of time at the make-up stand trying to cover the dark circles around her eyes. She wanted to face Mimmy one more time. Stopping at a café for breakfast, Sheryl couldn’t keep her mind off Mimmy. During her second cup of coffee, she read about the ordeal in a local daily newspaper.

  Mourners gathered outside a funeral home in order to get a glimpse of the detective whose bullets caused the deaths of her adopted sisters. “I’ve cut all ties to my former adopted daughter, Sheryl Street, before she killed my babies…’” Mimmy Osorio, the woman who raised Sheryl and her sisters Candace and Claire Osorio, said after learning that her daughters were killed in a fiery stand-off with police in South Florida. The girls, both twenty-three years old, were accused of a wave of shoplifting and were being sought by the NYPD for the murders of key witnesses involved in the case against them. Detective Shirley Street headed a team of investigators that included members of the NYPD larceny squad and detectives from the Dade County in Miami. For over a year authorities had been searching for the sisters who grew up in Washington Heights and were local high school basketball and volleyball stars. Somewhere along the line their lives took a whirl into the land of crime. The deaths of the two women have left questions. Detective Street has known the victims since she was eight years old. The victims were…

  Shaking her head, Sheryl couldn’t read anymore. She left the tearstained daily on the breakfast table. Sheryl put on her shades and headed to the parking lot. She turned the radio on and quickly changed the station from a newscast. The light, melodic jazz calmed her nerves and cleared the frown she wore.

  Sheryl gazed unexcitedly out the window, driving back across the George Washington and riding along 178th Street. Approaching the old neighborhood, she eased her foot up off the gas pedal. Her mind raced to recollect all the memories that quickly fell back into place.

  Mimmy had tried to provide the best for all the girls, and was mostly out of the home. She worked as a nurse’s aide in a Jewish hospital in Staten Island. Mimmy used to travel back and forth from Staten Island to Manhattan to give her daughters the best. They were her only children and even though the marriage ended in disaster. Her husband and father of her girls, walked out with a younger woman. Mimmy worked hard to help the girls forget him. She went out of her way for the young Candace and Claire.

  They would get anything they wanted and Mimmy always obliged. A month after Sheryl was residing with them they wanted a new volleyball set for all their friends to play with at the park. The sisters were fourteen and hung out with older friends in front of the building. Mimmy clearly didn’t like their friends but she went out of her way to run to the store and get them the set.

  “I told you she…” Candace started, but Claire cut her off.

  “But Mimmy, you said you were gonna…”

  As soon as Claire started, Mimmy reached into her bag and pulled out a ball. The girls jumped and screamed, clearly excited by the sight of the volleyball and net. Jacque was a good friend and would be in the midst of everything, came running from next door.

  “Wha’ happened?”

  “Oh she got it, the whole set,” Claire cheered.

  “Mimmy, you’re the best,” said both girls in unison and Jacque started rejoicing with them.

  “Now, we could go to the park, huh Mimmy?” Candace asked.

  “You can. Please be careful. And please come back before it gets too dark.”

  “Let me go with y’all. Y’all two gonna need some protection,” Jacque said.

  “Not from no sissy…” Claire said.

  “C’mon girls, play nice…” Mimmy said.

  “It’s okay Mimmy, Jacque can handle himself,” Jacque said, his hands on his hips.

  “You need to stop!” Candace said, waving her hand.

  “You can play with orphaned Annie over there,” said Claire, pointing at Sheryl.

  “Since our uncle left, she’s been acting funny you know? Retarded…”

  They both giggled and ran off. Mimmy called out after them.

  “Claire, Candace, listen up both of you; I spent my last dollar buying that damn ball. I don’t wanna hear about y’all losing it. Y’all understand?”

  “Yes Mimmy,” the sisters responded in unison.

  “Lord, I have spoiled them rotten. What can I say, they’re mine,” Mimmy smiled. “Sheryl, please, you and Jacque follow my girls and watch out for them. Make sure nothing happens to them. I’m gonna see what’s inside the fridge for dinner.”

  Jacque stared at Sheryl and they both nodded. Candace and Claire always have their way. They hurried to play with their new volleyball.

  “We know the perfect spo
t,” Candace said, pointing to an area in the park with trees that had low hanging branches.

  Claire was the oldest by two years and the leader of the pack. Candace always stuck with her sister through thick and thin. They were tall and beautiful and not only went everywhere together, but the sisters also did everything together.

  When they arrived at River Bank Park, it was crowded. A group of young white kids picnicking grudgingly watched Claire and Candace setting up the volleyball net. Snickers and sneers were thrown in the players’ direction. Sheryl and Jacque played on one side while Claire and Candace teamed up. Sheryl and Jacque played hard but the sisters were very tall at an early age, agile and athletic.

  The games got more intense and Jacque struck first, sending the ball out of bounds one too many times in the midst of the picnickers. The girls chased the ball another time when Candace spiked it too hard. One of the kids standing around grabbed the ball and threw it in the direction of another member of the group.

  “Give it back!” Claire demanded, walking toward the group.

  “Why y’all want to mess around?” Candace asked excitedly.

  “Hold up, Candace. Wait a minute. You know your temper, girl?” Jacque was shouting running after the girls as he and Sheryl followed, trying to keep the peace.

  “Yeah, and if I don’t, what?” the boy holding the ball replied and tossed the ball to another boy when Claire took a few steps closer.

  She watched the ball being tossed around in the group. The routine continued for five minutes. They were all tired of waiting for the ball to be returned.

  “Give me my ball or else…” She preened, strutted, and started her head-wagging routine.

  “Or else what…? What’re you gonna do?”

  Claire reached for her ball and one of the guys shoved her. She made another attempt. This time he shoved her so hard, she fell backwards and hit her head. Jacque rushed to her help her.

  “Jacque is she alright?” shouted Sheryl.

  Jacque knelt next to the fallen and unconscious Claire. He checked her pulse as if he was a paramedic then shot a mean stare, batting his eyes at the guy who had pushed Claire.

  “You mean, lily, white bully. I oughta…”

  “Listen you lil’ black fag, I’ll kick your teeth in if you so much as look this way again. Why don’t you and your girlfriends go on your side of the park…?”

  “Hey, what’d do to my sister?” shouted Candace.

  “I done told y’all, you are not welcome on this side.”

  The group laughed as Candace and Jacque tried their best to resuscitate Claire. It seemed like an eternity. Candace shook with fear but bravely gave her sister mouth-to-mouth, trying to revive Claire. It was a procedure she had learned in swimming class. Candace gently shook her sister. The cobwebs seemed to clear from Claire’s dazed mind. Close to tears, she and Jacque were able to finally help Claire to her feet.

  “Claire, Claire…”

  “Who got the ball?” asked Claire.

  “Forget about the ball, are you…” Jacque started.

  “Forget it? No way, Mimmy told us not to lose that ball,” Claire said, jumping up and brushing herself off. “I’m not leaving without our ball,” she said, blinking rapidly and shaking her head.

  “Oh girl, why don’t you just forget that damn ball,” offered Jacque, dragging Claire back from the picnickers.

  “Jacque you’re such a sissy…”

  “Shoot, I’d rather be a live sissy than a dead brave boy.”

  “Hold up, why we walking away? We ain’t leaving without my damn volleyball,” Claire said, brushing off Jacque.

  “He got our ball,” Candace firmly said, pointing to the white teen.

  He was smiling, proudly holding the ball. They walked over to where the group of kids stood sunning and guffawing.

  “Uh oh, here they come again…” one of them said.

  “They must want some more,” another laughed.

  “Give me back my fucking ball,” Claire yelled.

  “Ooh… Or what…?”

  “She gonna break your heart with them tears…”

  The group broke out in laughter.

  “I’m gonna ask you for the last time…”

  “Or what…?”

  “She’s gonna blow your dick… Ha, ha, ha…”

  “Yeah bitch, do this…” the boy taunted.

  They were laughing so hard, the kid with the ball didn’t see Claire swing. The blow caught him in the soft of his throat, catching the boy off guard. He staggered, choking.

  “Shit, th-th-this bitch just hi-hit me…” he said coughing up blood. He wiped the red liquid trickling from his mouth.

  There was no chance for a recovery. Claire was on him, hitting him hard with another left, and a right. Her Reeboks landed in his groin, leaving him doubled over.

  “Whoever wanna clown c’mon step up.” Claire said, recovering the ball.

  She tossed it to Jacque. Candace moved in behind her while Jacque cowered next to Sheryl.

  “It wasn’t me…” a kid screamed when Claire rushed him.

  “Kick his ass Claire! Who they think they is anyhow…?” Jacque hollered, puffing up his chest.

  “I wasn’t down with it from the jump,” one said.

  “It was not my idea… He did it,” another said pointing at the teen spitting blood.

  Claire stared at the teen cringing with his bloodied lips and felt something surging through her veins. She was the victor and he was the vanquished. This thought caused a surge of power to rush through her frame. It made her feel like she had super powers. Claire smiled and walked away.

  “Damn girl, you punched his ass out. He was so dazed his homey had to help him out. What do you have in those fist of yours, girlfriend?” Jacque snickered.

  CHAPTER 2

  The girls were very close and grew even closer the older they got. Popular and admired, Claire and Candace Osorio hung together so tightly that nearly everyone thought they were twin sisters. Claire was the older by two years to the baby-faced Candace. Despite being in different classes, the girls were always seen together in school. Whether they were hanging in the halls or playing basketball, they were with each other constantly. They never seemed bored with each other’s company.

  Not only were they the most athletic pair on the school’s varsity teams, but they were the tallest and the best players. From volleyball to basketball and baseball, it didn’t matter. The Osorio sisters were winners at their games.

  Best friend and neighbor, Jacque was always with them. He was tall but lacked real athletic skills unless dancing fit the category. Jacque guided them and watched over them like a trained Chihuahua, with a loud bark that drew plenty attention. It was his way. Then they met Melanie, a Cuban girl. She was much older and experienced in every aspect of living. She quickly became the girls influence, especially Candace. Jacque was a member of the marching band and he was Cuban. Melanie was not athletic—simply beautiful, cunning, saucy and vivacious. From the very jump, everyone could tell she carried a Latina fire that burned anyone she didn’t like within her vicinity.

  It was also known to everyone that she would go for whatever. Whether straight or bi, Melanie was down to do whatever it took to get her way. The first time Jacque encountered Melanie was a day never to be forgotten. She had her eyes on the athletically built sisters but it was clear, Jacque was smitten.

  Melanie was walking with the sisters. Jacque saw them in their sexy outfits and walked over. The sisters always looked really good but Melanie was ravishing.

  “Are you on detention, Jacque?” Candace asked.

  “No, why…?”

  “You don’t even come to school enough. And when you do come, you overstay your day? Oh, you’re trying to make up for lost time?” Candace cackled and Claire laughed.

  “Everybody wants to be a comedian, huh?” Jacque deadpanned.

  He turned to Melanie standing next to them. Jacque ogled every inch of her curves. When h
e was satisfied, he turned to Sean, nodding. They struck a high five and posed for a beat. Jacque turned to Melanie with his pearly whites on display.

  “Hi, I’m Jacque. I know you’re Melanie. Fuck what they say about you, you’re beautiful, girl,” he announced in his most social voice.

  “Are you trying to push-up on our friend?” Claire teased.

  “Melanie, Jacque has never had a girlfriend and if you give him some he won’t know how to act…” Candace started as Jacque stare shot to the roof. Rolling his eyes, he stomped his Nike in the hall.

  “Get out! You mean he’s a virgin?” Melanie shouted too loud. “Why don’t you give him some na-na?” she whispered to Candace.

  “She can’t stand mustaches, especially down there…” Claire remarked. “And Jacque not only wears a mustache, but he has the whole goatee look going on,” Claire laughed.

  “Too sensitive down there, huh…?” Melanie laughed.

  The conversation brought nosy schoolmates. Jacque, his hands on his hips, stood glowering at the sisters and Melanie.

  “It’s my pleasure to meet you too, bitches,” Jacque said after minutes of steaming.

  “Boy, you better watch your mouth,” Melanie responded with a smile. “You behave and I might let you have some,” she laughed.

  “See you later, lover. We’ll hangout later after practice. I’ll put in a word for you if you come to class,” Candace smiled.

  “But Mimmy is expecting us to be home right after—” Sheryl started but Candace interrupted.

  “We do what we wanna do Orphan Annie, and don’t you forget that!” Claire said.

  “Candy, if you need someone else to go downtown, then I’ll shave for you, Candy baby,” Rick interjected.

  “Hey dip-shit, her name isn’t Candy. So you can go ahead with all that yang, and count yourself out of the running to get anything from my sister. I’m the only one who calls her Candy. Understand stupid?” Claire said.