Ghetto Girls Too

by Anthony Whyte

  He had enjoyed the ride but now he was forced to go back on one of his promises he made to himself. Let these thugs die like gangsters should, cold and with no empathy. Hall knew that Lil’ Long was a career criminal who deserved to bleed until lifeless. His evils were unrepentant. It would be the right thing to do. Hall had a wife and three girls. He was a family man. He wasn’t God. He was only a human being with responsibilities. He hoped that maybe one day, the ill feelings he harbored toward this type of scum would leave. Right now they were only roadblocks, he thought. Hall’s focus was jarred when he heard his white partner clamoring for attention. He turned to him like a studious father dealing with an impatient child.

  “You got to learn to trust me. You’ve got to show more enthusiasm for the team,” said Kowalski before shouting, “Bring those fucking medics down here now.” Hall knew he was going to have to deal with this type of immature behavior from his partner. It was what everyone expected from the highly charged junior detective. Kowalski had less than ten years on the job but he had made his bones fast by becoming a narcotics officer. He rode a wave of successful busts for three years, which landed him as detective. Young and arrogant, he wasted no time in pissing off his partner. “Come on, what is it you’re waiting for?”

  An officer charged upstairs to deliver the request. The owner and occupants of the apartment were in one of the bedrooms surrounded by six or seven officers. Two paramedics tended to Coco and Deedee. They sat huddled together as the paramedics, two young guys, attempted to comfort them by obviously flirting with them. The girls were cold and appeared shell shocked. They didn’t seem to want to say too much.

  “Y′all were pretty lucky surviving all that with just minor scratches and bruises. Wouldn’t want to mess up two beautiful faces now, would we?”

  The other paramedic spoke on his walkie-talkie. “Both the girls are fine and the adults are okay,” he said then an officer rumbled through the door disturbing everyone.

  “The sarge needs a medic downstairs right away,” he said then bounded back downstairs. Coco’s lips curled in silent fury. Deedee eyes slanted as they stared at each other hoping the incredible hadn’t happened.

  Eric turned around and looked at the girls. He heard the paramedic who had been flirting with Coco speak.

  “Duty calls. It seems like we’ve got someone who’s not ready to die just yet.” The paramedics removed their equipment and went out before Eric recovered enough to ponder aloud.

  “Who?” Eric asked. His question was met by an angry growl from Detective Kowalski. He leaned inside the doorway and answered.

  “Well, put it like this, Mr. Ascot, you’re no longer looking at double homicides,” he remarked rudely.

  “Man, I already told your ass that the cat downstairs with all the bullets, he was trying to rob me and the rest of the people here. He shot the other lady, a guest of mine, and I had no choice but to defend my household. Would you let somebody run up in your crib and rob you?” There were no answers. Eric continued, “I didn’t think so.”

  “Is that your story? I’m to stand here and understand that you had no other type of problems, ah, any beef with this notorious drug dealer? You mean there were no drug deals gone bad?” Kowalski asked.

  “Listen, with all due respect, detective, if you’re gonna charge me with something then you just go ahead and...” Ascot was about to get on a roll but Sophia didn’t want him to. She tried to intervene.

  “Eric... Officer...” Sophia began. Her pleas went unheeded after the detective went beyond the limits of courtesy. His tone changed and professionalism was out the window.

  “No, you listen,” Kowalski shouted angrily. “The only reason your black ass ain’t locked down is because your girlfriend here got connections.”

  The detective stood eyeball to eyeball with Eric, staring dead center in Eric’s angry mug. Their faces were close enough for Eric to smell his pores. Testosterone growled loudly but cooler heads prevailed. Detective Hall tugged at his partner’s arm. Eric resisted the urge to push the officer out of his face. Instead, he stood arms folded across his chest and stared furiously at Kowalski. For a couple of frantic moments, both held their ground grill to grill until a fuming Ascot made his overture.

  “Before I ask you to leave my place, I want your fucking badge number. Fuck with me, I will have your job.”

  “All right then, Mr. High and Mighty, take a look but I want you to know that we’ll be checking these guns carefully and the serial numbers better match correct. Start worrying if you see me again.”

  The detectives walked out of the room towards the stairs. Eric sat next to Sophia.

  “The nerve of those fucking cops. They just jealous, that’s all,” Eric said as the other officers slowly filed out.

  FIVE

  The commotion had caused nearly all of the officers to leave their posts to take a look. Now as they all walked out, their mumbling was constant as they shambled down the stairs admiring the artwork on the wall.

  “You believe him?” Hall asked his partner as they made their way downstairs.

  “No, not one word. What about you?” Kowalski asked and turned to look at Hall.

  “Everything he said after his name was a damn lie. I hate these hip hop rich kids,” Hall opined.

  “I know for a fact that he’s more R&B, my man,” Kowalski corrected.

  “I guess that makes a difference, huh?”

  “You goddamn right, buddy. It does make a big difference.”

  “Explain why.”

  “It means we can’t request back up from the hip hop guys.”

  “I wasn’t aware there were hip hop police,” Hall was staring at Kowalski as if it was all a joke.

  “I didn’t say hip hop police.”

  “I meant cops. Squad or cop, I didn′t know such a thing existed in the department.”

  “It goes to show you don’t know everything, do you, sergeant? They’re like the Keystone cops or something like that, only they specialize in cases involving the brothers.”

  “You shitting me. Keystone? Never heard of them.” Hall threw a glance at some uniformed officers.

  “No, not them. I’m talking about us, Kowalski and Hall. You and I need to work together as a team. That’s very important to the overall success of our mission as officers of the law.” Kowalski knew he made sense. He had a nose for the investigation. Young, white, and hip, Kowalski was destined to be a cop. His father and his father before were. That’s how the story goes. More importantly they were all heroes of one kind or the other. For Kowalski, failure at busting this or any other case wide open was not an option. Kowalski was primed and ready to take down his number one suspect. The only thing was that his partner was a respected black sergeant of detectives who may object to some of Kowalski’s tactics in achieving the goal. He wanted to make sure. The young detective took jabs at the older man’s chin.

  “Yeah, Kowalski and Hall, we should be the Starsky and Hutch of this division,” chuckled Kowalski.

  “Man, I’m just too old and way too cool to have this conversation with you. Talk to your kids, they’ll explain.”

  “How many times must I tell you? I have none.”

  “What’re you waiting for? You need to make some then.”

  “Then maybe I could start understanding black folks a little better. Cuz every white kid from around the way knows hip hop and R&B are not the same,” Kowalski mocked.

  “Hey, easy with that racial bullshit.”

  “Okay, pops, I gotcha. Now let’s go find ourselves some credible witnesses.”

  “Maybe our survivor will be the man.”

  Both detectives walked to where Lil’ Long lay. They watched as paramedics struggled desperately to staunch the blood that dripped like water from a leaky faucet. The paramedics worked feverishly with bandages in their attempt to cover quarter sized bullet holes in Lil’ Long’s body. Hall frowned and turned away while Kowalski’s eyes followed his every convulsion.

 
“Let’s do this quickly. He’s losing a lot of blood,” a paramedic yelled.

  “He’s going into shock.”

  “Will he make it?” Kowalski asked

  “We’re gonna have to move fast if he’s gonna live. We’ve got to get him to a hospital right away.”

  “Wait a minute. I’m gonna help. I’ll ride shotgun,” Detective Kowalski said to Hall.

  “What are you thinking of doing?”

  “Provide them with an escort. As soon as this sonofabitch regains consciousness, I wanna be there like Johnny-on-the-spot.”

  “You get an A plus for effort.”

  “No, we get pay raises and promotions after we crack this wide open. That person on the gurney may be our only real witness. So whaddya say we give the paramedics some help to the hospital, huh?”

  “What do you suggest we do, open a lane?” Hall asked resigned.

  “You catch on real fast for an older officer.” Kowalski cranked the engine and was off in front of the paramedics.

  “What’re they doing?” the paramedic driving asked immediately paying attention to the route.

  “They’re guiding us to the hospital only used by officers,” the other replied.

  “I guess they really want this one to live, huh?”

  “I guess. Turn on the sirens.”

  Wailing ambulance sirens cut through evening rush hour. Traffic flowed thick on the highway to the hospital. Even with the additional sirens of the lead detective’s car, Lil’ Long’s journey to the hospital was going to be perilous.

  The emergency vehicle wound in and out of lanes trying to find a clear path to the hospital. The detectives radioed ahead in the search of a clear lane to the emergency room.

  “This is Kowalski. We need a little help.”

  “Go ahead with your request.”

  “Give me local streets to a good police medical facility.”

  “That’s easy. Cop shot?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  “What is your position?”

  In a matter of minutes, the detectives were in a hospital. They watched a team of doctors and nurses rush Lil’ Long’s near death body off to surgery.

  “If he lives, he’s gonna be your headache,” Hall said sarcastically.

  “In that case, I better have some aspirin handy,” Kowalski replied watching the creaking gurney carry Lil’ Long beyond the double doors.

  SIX

  In the annals of what remained of his wits, cannons bellowed. Don’t make me die, Lord, I wanna live. He heard words cocked and reloaded in his mind but no sounds shot past his swollen lips. Instead, he choked when the pain became unbearable. Blood dripped from his mouth.

  Lil′ Long tried to hold on. This is just too hard. Internally, it felt as if bells were ringing loud in his head but he remained unable to scream or communicate. His head pounded so hard that Lil’ Long closed his eyes. He stopped resisting.

  A shadowy figure whose eyes he couldn’t see approached him. He strained through the darkness trying to identify the figure. It was a familiar one, he was sure. Lil’ Long wanted to rise but couldn’t move. His mind became preoccupied with the activity. His facial muscles contorted into a silly grin. He knew he was no longer in charge of his movements. Darkness overshadowed every move but just beyond, something shone bright. The figure reached out and Lil’ Long dragged himself to the light.

  There was the ease of a cool breeze against his face. He could speak again but no one could hear him. The cold wind swirled cradling him. Wrapped in a blanket of wind, Lil’ Long hung in mid-air on a wild spinning ride. Suddenly, he was in an amusement park laughing loudly. Though no sounds were heard, he felt a fascinating high.

  Way up there with the birds, he could see his mother waving at him. Decked out in her Sunday best, her mouth opened as she attempted to tell him something. Nodding occasionally, Lil’ Long pretended to be interested in what she had to say but he did-n’t hear a thing. He really wasn’t trying to hear her.

  The wind swooshed and swept him past her. He saw his best friend, Vulcha. They were kids again, running and chasing each other, chasing pretty girls in skirts. Then Lil’ Long watched while everyone disappeared from around him. Bars encircled him and once again, he was alone.

  A burning sensation hit him. Lil’ Long tried but couldn’t block the pain. He dropped and felt his body throb and ache from the pain. Searing heat penetrated his fallen body, scorching flesh and everything else in its path. I’ll make ‘em suffer. I will torment their souls on earth and in hell. Death’s gonna be my revenge.

  He peeped through blood and sweat then fretted silently when his body refused the command from his brain to motivate. It seemed like it was too late and he had no other plans. There would be no backup today. A profusion of sweat appeared along with thick blood. His thoughts faded in and out.

  A look of determination contorted his features. Lil′ Long wanted to hang on. He knew he would if only he could bear the intense pain that came with each breath. He sighed heavy and summoned all his energy for this last ride. No matter how hard he tried, Lil’ Long still felt the life seeping through his bones.

  The wind warmed. Lil’ Long’s thoughts fought back groggily from the edge. Blinking while twisting back and forth, he could see lights. Their brightness made him dizzy with pleasure. His lips parched, Lil’ long reached out to soothe the dryness. Leg irons and handcuffs restrained him making the task an impossible one.

  Neither chains nor handcuffs gonna hold the kid back. I refuse to die. You can’t hold me down forever. Lil’ Long summoned strength through the fury of his thoughts. He gritted his teeth against the revenge he sought. I’m gonna make them pay. They will pay for Vulcha’s death and all this suffering they made me go through. I’m gonna get at them soon.

  His thoughts offered some consolation against the pain his body felt. The idea of retaliation fueled a frantic desire to recover from his injuries. Lil’ Long desperately wanted to punish those he thought responsible for his present condition. His harnessed hatred worked like Novocain against physical pain. Mentally, he rejoiced when he knew that he had a chance to live. Lil’ Long’s plea was a whisper, “Yeah, I’m coming for y’all.”

  “He’s going into shock again. Let’s move quickly or we’re gonna lose him,” a resident yelled as the elevator stopped in the lobby.

  SEVEN

  Rightchus had seen the paramedics and cops zoom by him. He was in the lobby of Ascot’s building waiting around and was close to loitering. The doorman had asked him to leave a half hour before but Rightchus refused to go. Claiming he had business with Eric Ascot, he refused to accept the doorman’s explanation that he was unavailable and demanded to see Ascot’s representative. He would not budge when the doorman told him no. Rightchus was still in the lobby when the police and emergency technicians hurried by with Lil’ Long lying on a gurney. Rightchus saw a second gurney with a zipped body bag. He knew that someone had been killed and not knowing that person’s identity bothered him.

  “I’ve come too far not to find out,” he said and darted after the ambulance. Rightchus quickly caught up before it pulled out.

  “Get back. What the hell are you doing here?” Detective Kowalski asked and grabbed him.

  “Just tell me, please, who caught it and I promise I’ll leave. Who caught the bad one?” Rightchus pleaded with the detective who brushed his pleas aside and attempted to walk away but Rightchus was persistent.

  “This is not your concern. This is police business. Go home, Rightchus,” Kowalski seethed and Rightchus stared back defiantly.

  “Look, man, three or four of my very good friends were up there. I’m just trying to figure out if anyone important to me got dropped.”

  “That’s not important to me. Now beat it.”

  “Look, I just hope it wasn’t my girl, Coco.”

  “How do you know who came here today?”

  “I just do. I came with them. I just...”

  “Who were you here with?”
<
br />   “I came here with some girls. What, you don’t believe me or sump’n?”

  “You’re impeding official police business. Are we gonna leave today?” Detective Hall asked as he interrupted.

  “Detective Hall, won’t you please tell me who got shot?”

  “No, I will not.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s none of your goddamn business. Let’s go, Kowalski.” Both detectives were off and Rightchus, realizing he still didn’t know who was in the body bag, gave chase.

  “Hey, yo, wait up, wait up,” Rightchus shouted but the two detectives ignored his pleas. They were in their Malibu speeding away. “Them cops, they devils. That’s fucked up that they don’t want to inform you but when they ready for info, that’s another story,” Rightchus continued in disgust. He walked back, dodging traffic, and made his way home, angry at not knowing who was inside the body bag.

  The devil, he doesn’t want you to know yourself. That’s the only way he can keep you enslaved. I guess I’ll find out who got shot by watching the evening news like rest of this city, Rightchus thought as he continued down the block, stopping only to bum a cigarette.

  He entered his east Harlem building and ran up the stairs to the second floor. He opened the door and threw himself onto his worn out wine colored alcohol stained sofa. It doubled as his bed but he was too edgy to sit still. Instinctively, he reached for the glass pipe lying on top of a dusty, well used end table. Searching his underwear, he fished for the vial he had stashed in the crack of his ass.

  “Aha, found you. Thought I’d lost you but I know, I know. Those crack dealers,” he said shaking his head, “they must be tap dancing on the shit. I can’t even get a handle on it. Damn thing so skinny,” Rightchus mumbled and held the piece of rock to the light.

  Salivating, he fastidiously began chopping a piece of the yellow substance and frenetically packed it into a glass pipe. Rightchus cleared his throat and whipped his tongue over his lips then brought the stem to his mouth and sucked hard, deflating his cheeks in the process. With his thumb and index finger, he squeezed off air through his nostrils. His cheeks inflated and veins grew vivid in his neck.