Ghetto Girls

by Anthony Whyte

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgements

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  Copyright Page

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  “In order to eat roast corn your fingers have to burn.”

  That’s what my mom used to tell me and man did she know. She was an old Jamaican soul lost on these shores trying to make a living for all her children. For her that represented going through a fire. I guess if you really look at all that on face value then you will miss the fact that it’s just another way to say if you want something bad enough you may have to go through barriers to get it. I’d like to thank Jason Claiborne for going through the fire with me. Thank you Lisette Matos for helping out from the beginning and still hanging in. All your suggestions have been really helpful. You’re greatly appreciated. Tamiko Maldonado thank you for all your help, you’re on the team now. Sanyi Gomez, photographer extraordinaire; shout to you and your fam, thanks for looking out with the book covers. Iris, goodlookijng. Jasmine Clemente, thank you for all your input and cuts.

  In order to achieve you’ve got to be able to conceive a plan of action and stick with it. When I first started out I accepted a deal with a company run by brothers, but to my surprise they were only wolves in sheep clothing. Beware and guard yourselves you scribes looking to sign deals. Get expert guidance through an agent or have an attorney take a look at any contracts before you sign. Don’t get caught out there. Devils come in different colors and from all angles of this game.

  I’d like to thank the following people for their continuous support: Sue Shapiro, Gloria McFarland who’s been like a mother to me. Thanks for the compliment Laura Shumate, I’d like to thank Dorothy Baker (Mom I love you) my sisters Veronica thanks for taking me to church and telling me about King David and such. Thanks God for putting the sword and your shield in my grasp. I’m armed and ready to battle. Thanks for supporting always Juliet, Pam, Gloria, Ayo and Zee, good luck or better yet knock ‘em dead. To my brothers who always gave me inspiration: Ty, Jay Clay, Cecil, Raymond, Shannon Holmes, thanks for holding me down. All the best to you Treasure Blue. Like Show Biz and AG, Can I get a Soul Clap? Shout to the following peeps: Justice Born Allah, Champ M.C. Peace to Tasheim and the Gods from the CHOP SHOP Crew. Michelle Robinson and family, thank you. Mr. and Mrs. Gaillaird thank you. RIP to Karen Roper Lafayette gone but not forgotten. God bless, you encouraged me to always strive for success. Never accepting less…

  One Love,

  ONE

  NO DRUGS OR ALCOHOL ALLOWED read the sign outside the club.

  “A yo! You girls can’t stand here. You’re gonna have to move it on. Be ghost!” the doorman yelled, pointing down the block.

  “I hate this shit,” Coco sighed. “But you know what? One of these days I’m gonna own this fucking club, and then I’ll probably be doing the same shit, anyway.”

  Coco, her friends, Danielle and Josephine, the crew, she called them, started to walk. They had just been tossed out of a jam for teens, thrown by Disco Dave at club Deep. The girls were caught lighting up a blunt. Now they stood around outside, at 23rd and fifth enviously checking out all the happenings. They watch all the party people stepping into the club, some they knew and some they didn’t. It really didn’t matter, they were outside scheming on getting back inside the club when headlights hit them.

  “Check out that fat Benz, yo!” Coco shouted. They all made tracks for the corner to see the sleek black whip.

  “Damn! Now that shit is P-H-A-T. I could see jacking a nigga for sump’n like that.” Coco’s friend Danielle placed her hand under her shirt like she was gonna pull out a gun.

  “Look out you may have to.” Josephine said. She was sixteen and attractive.

  “If this bitch comes out her face, I’m a have to smack her down.” Danielle argued.

  “You’re so Ghetto, why you always gotta be thinking mean and shit?” Josephine asked.

  “Them security chumps just kicked my ass out the club, I could’ve met some cutie tonight. You think I should be on a welcome wagon for people and all that, bitch?” Danielle retorted. Before Josephine could answer, the girl had walked into their bickering.

  “Can I get a light?”

  The driver was a tall, beautiful, dark-skinned sister wearing a sexy red DKNY outfit. She popped from out of nowhere scaring the girls. Coco tried to size the girl up as she stepped closer to her. She didn’t look like she was a hood-rat.

  Is this bitch packing, or can she be jacked? Coco wondered. The girl appeared to be sixteen or seventeen, taller than Coco, but much thinner. If it came down to a fight, Coco was sure she could kick her ass.

  “Yo, are you gonna give me a light, or what?”

  The girl stood about three feet from Coco, one hand on her hip and the other one holding out a cigarette. Coco gazed at her, smirked and decided she was trying to act Ghetto. Ignoring the attitude, Coco kept admiring the car.

  “How much does a whip like that cost?” Coco demanded. “Don’t ask me,” she replied, “it’s my uncle’s, and he’s outta town, so I’m driving it this weekend.” “Stop playing, yo?” Coco replied.

  She removed the cigarette dangling from her lips and handed it to the newcomer. The girl used it to light hers.

  “Yeah, but it ain’t all that,” the girl replied as she returned Coco’s cigarette. “Have y’all been inside the club yet?”

  “Yeah, it’s ahight. But we …” The conversation ended abruptly as a volley of shots erupted. The blast of the bullets rang out and all the girls hit the dirt, except for the newcomer. She was frozen to her spot. Coco yanked her down.

  “If you wanna keep driving this weekend, you better get your black ass down here with the rest of us,” Coco said.

  All of the girls scrambled on their stomachs back to the Mercedes 600. Another volley went off as they raced to get inside the car, slamming the door shut.

  “Shit! Is the whip bulletproof?” Coco asked.

  “You mean this car? Nah I don’t think so,” the newcomer replied.

  “I think we should be out,” Danielle yelled.

  “Yeah, we should definitely be leaving this spot,” Coco agreed.

  The driver put the car in gear and slammed on the accelerator, barely avoiding another car. She swerved wildly to the middle of the street.

  “Damn, this thing can really fly,” Coco exclaimed from her place riding shotgun. “Oh, um, I’m Coco, and that’s Da Crew, Josephine and Danielle”

  “I know who y’all is! I mean, I’ve seen y’all in L.’s last video.”

  “Yeah, we were in that joint, but we’re coming out with our own style now.”

  “I’m Deedee.”

  “What’s up, Deedee? You cool with me. Good looking out on the ride. What kind of biz is your uncle into?”

  “Music biz,” Deedee smiled. “He’s a music producer.”

  “That’s ahight,” Coco smirked, pointing at McDonalds. “Yo, make a left and go through the drive-thru, Deedee. I want me some fries.”


  “Yeah, I could go for some fries too,” Danielle added. “But what I really want is a chocolate shake.”

  “I’m with that.” Deedee turned into McDonalds. “Y’all wanna chill here or go to the drive-thru?”

  “Drive-thru, no doubt we could be chilling listening to music and all that.” Coco ordered as she checked out the restaurant.

  “Ain’t no niggas worth sump’n sitting up in there.” Danielle said as Deedee pulled up to the drive-thru window.

  “Only scrubs be’s hanging out in Mickey D’s on a Friday night.” Josephine agreed.

  “Welcome to McDonalds. May I take your order, please?”

  “Yeah, let me get four orders of large fries and,” Deedee looked back. “And what, four chocolate shakes?”

  “Three chocolate shakes and one vanilla,” Danielle answered.

  Deedee reached for her wallet. “I got this, y’all,” she said. She found a twenty-dollar bill and stuck it under the cup.

  “Do you have twenty cents so I can give you back a ten?” Deedee asked the cashier.

  “Nah, take it out the twenty,” Deedee yelled, trying to be hard.

  “En garde! I’ll let you try my Wu-Tang style.

  Bring the ruckus, bring the muthafucking ruckus!

  The hook from the Wu-Tang Clan knocked, and the whole posse moved in time as the car shuddered from the heavy bass.

  “It’s not the Russian it’s the Wu-Tang crushing roulette.

  Slip up, you’ll get crushed like Suzette....”

  It was smiles all around. The fries and shakes hit the spot.

  “Wu-Tang has mad, mad flavas, yo,” Coco said as she demanded agreement. Da crew nodded, but Deedee didn’t agree.

  “Yeah, too many,” Deedee said. Then her eyes met Coco’s stare of indifference. Her voice trailed off for a second, but Deedee didn’t blink. She continued, “There’s too many emcees, and they all wanna let off their rhymes at once.”

  “Shame on a nigga who try to run game on a nigga

  whose buck-wild wid da trigga....”

  The lyrics of the Wu vibrated from the car’s speakers, and Da Crew nodded their heads to the music. Coco stared at Deedee’s manicured nails resting on the wheel. Besides an occasional glance in the rearview mirror, Deedee kept her eyes on the road. Flashing lights went by as the sound of the police proceeded in opposite direction.

  “D’ya know much about da business?” Coco asked with that same stare. For a moment, Deedee thought of elaborating, but decided to wait.

  Coco continued to stare. She checked out Deedee’s features against her dark skin, and decided that Deedee was not an ugly duckling. The Mercedes came to a halt at a red light.

  “Ain’t a damn thing change

  Just protect ya neck...”

  As the car speakers blared, blasting the hype lyrics of Protect Ya Neck. Deedee lit another cigarette and checked the time. She felt some kind of weird alliance forming with this shotgun.

  “What time is it?” Coco asked.

  Deedee smiled. “One forty. It’s still early. Anything y’all would like to do?”

  “Yeah,” replied Coco. “Let’s rock‘n’ roll uptown, yo.” The rest of the girls glanced at her. “We’re always downtown. I’m saying lets give uptown Harlem a try.”

  “Ahight, Ahight, we with all that,” Danielle and Josephine shouted in agreement.

  Deedee smiled and lifted her foot off the brake and slowly pressed on the gas. The sleek car began to move toward the downtown lane, the anthem from the Wu-Tang Clan in tow. Deedee smiled, enjoying the sense of camaraderie. Coco stared straight ahead nodding her head. She was visibly impressed.

  TWO

  The black Benz sat idle on chromes at a stop light on the corner of 125th Street and Broadway. Coco let the window down and they heard the charming chant of the neighborhood weed dealer.

  “Hold up, who dat?” Coco barked.

  “Cheeba . Cheeba Coco puff ....” The rhythmic chant of the hoarse voice was followed by a dry cough.

  “What’s up, Deja?” Coco greeted the weed dealer with a smile.

  “I got some serious shit, Coco. It’s all that. No bullshit, no lie. You wanna give it a try?” Deja asked in a melodious tone that brought sweet music to Coco’s ear, and a five-dollar bill out of her pocket.

  Deja shoved a small plastic bag in Coco’s right hand. Coco examined the bag, and the smell of chocolate engulfed the interior of the car.

  “Peace, Deja. It looks good.” Coco grinned as Deedee hit the accelerator and the car screeched away. “Damn, I hope he buys some breath mints or sees a dentist, yo. His breath was kicking, yo!”

  “Hell yeah, I hear you. I wanna know why’d you let him get all up in your face, girl?” Josephine chimed in from the back seat. “We were all trying to hold our breath. His breath was lethal. He was killing us with germ warfare.” They all laughed. Coco stared at the contents of the bag.

  “Yeah, but that’s my nigga, though. He always be coming through with da chocolate. It’s that serious shit, yo.” Suddenly, she startled Deedee by yelling, “Pull over! I’ve got to get a Dutch for this. Y’all want something from the store?” Coco slammed the car door and hurried to the store without waiting for a response.

  A few minutes later, she strolled back to the car. Once inside, she slit a cigar and dumped the tobacco out the window, and replaced it with weed. Coco deftly rolled and licked it smooth, her tongue snaking up and down the length of the blunt. Deedee stared in awe at Coco’s performance. She had seen her uncle’s attempts to roll a blunt, but never had she seen him execute it as skillfully as Coco.

  “Did you guys see that?” Deedee marveled.

  Danielle nodded yawningly and Josephine raised her eyebrows. She was acting as if she was shocked, but the crew had witnessed this performance before. This was nothing out of the ordinary, but to Deedee it was new and she looked astonished. Coco lit up and they smoked. Deedee hit the blunt just a little and was nice. Her head swam from the high. And these girls were sharing a forty when I drove up? Deedee wondered. She realized that there was much more to Coco than meet the eyes.

  Coco had this effect on everyone who saw her in action, whether she was dancing, singing or just rolling a blunt. She always drew stares of amazement. Her survival was also amazing. Coco hailed from a family of three, including a father she had not seen since she was five years old. Her steady boozing mother was so drunk at times that she couldn’t even remember who Coco was.

  “Who da fuck are you?” Rachel Harvey sometimes asked Coco. “What are y’all doing in my place? Y’all got to go. Gon’ git da fuck out, and don’t try to steal nada!” She would scream at Coco and her friends.

  It was embarrassing, but Coco never showed the humiliation. Instead, the girls would race to another venue and continue their rehearsal. Coco’s high-energy style of singing and dancing always lightened the mood after one of her mother’s scenes.

  Sometimes, Coco relaxed by wandering up to the rooftop spending hours, daydreaming and crying. Sometimes falling asleep up there. After a decapitated body was discovered on the rooftop, Coco stopped using it.

  At school, she coped, and received passing grades. But it was a hassle keeping the nosy guidance counselor out of her business.

  “How’s your mother doing, Coocoo? I haven’t seen her recently. Is she working?”

  Coco would stare, trying to decide whether she disliked this woman more for not being able to pronounce her name correctly, or for being a little too damn nosy. In any case, her reaction would be the same. Coco would force a smile and reply:

  “My mother has a job.”

  “Well, when is she off?”

  “On the weekends,” Coco yelled over her shoulder and hurriedly walked away.

  “Coocoo... Coocoo...” Mrs. Martinez would yell back, but Coco would be out of hearing distance. She was on her way to rendezvous with Danielle James and Josephine Murray, Da Crew.

  Both girls were recent transfers to the school
, and were talented singers and dancers. Before they came, Coco reigned as the high school queen of song and dance. All the trophies were stored at her house.

  On the rare occasions when her mother was sober and user friendly, she related tales of a “no-good, singing, traveling man.” Coco decided he must have been her father. Sometimes her mother would produce pictures and wonder out loud if Coco and the man in the photographs shared any resemblance. Maybe there is a likeness, Coco thought, glancing at the old, tattered photos.

  “Y’all both got the same lips,” her mother would say teasingly.

  It was compassion enough, and Coco shared the loneliness. Singing was Coco’s escape. She fantasized about being there onstage, the audience loving her. One day, wandering through Central Park, Coco was daydreaming about being a pop-star. She got so caught up in her fantasy that she forgot where she was, and the audience was treated to an exclusive performance from Coco. She closed her eyes, and became engulfed with the energy she radiated in her singing and dancing on an imaginary stage. Coco was captivating, riding high and shining like a star.

  She lost her mind to an encore and a couple of spins, mingled with a few turns. Coco burst into a verse from I’m coming out. For that moment she was Diana Ross, the boss, and the crowd cheered her on. They were screaming, “Yeah you go girl!” They provded Coco with the strong support she needed.

  “You’re gonna be a major star one day, Coco. Keep doing what you do,” an audience member shouted.

  “Maybe one day we’ll work together,” a fat, dark-skinned man said. He gave her a business card that read Busta, the talent promoter.

  Coco was motivated. She never stopped singing, and one day danced herself into a music video. It was the first time she had received money for her fantasy, and felt good, but it only served to whet her appetite.

  Coco first met Danielle and Josephine at that video shoot. Although they had been attending the same school, they were not aware of each other’s existence. Danielle and Josephine were locked into Coco’s vibes after this first meeting. Coco had dreamt of being another Diana Ross, and now she had found her Supremes. In school, the girls hung together, allowing Coco the time to discover the family she had been longing for. The three talented teens formed Da Crew, with Coco at the helm.