Ghetto Girls. Anthony Whyte
“Lemme get some of that stogy,” Josephine said.
She pointed her hands showing nails, tipped and manicured. Coco passed her the burning cigarette. Deedee considered offering another cigarette, but Coco turned and walked away. She moved clumsily under Deedee’s watchful eyes, found an empty chair and plopped down. Either due to the time, or the effect of the alcohol, Coco seemed tired and worn.
“Looking for me?” Deja asked. He was holding two drinks in his hands.
“No, I’m... Yeah, what time do you have?” Deedee answered.
“I have all night and most of the morning. Got to get some shut-eye, know what I mean?”
“I’m talking about the time on your watch, Mr. McNasty—I mean Deja,” Deedee quickly added when she saw Deja’s face folding into a grimace.
“Its three-thirty, bitch,” Deja said, limping away.
“I’m sorry to hurt your feelings. I didn’t...” Deedee yelled apologetically. “Oh well,” she said, hurrying back in Coco’s direction.
Coco’s chair was empty. Where was she? Deedee wondered. Anxiety slowly crept in. Deedee felt uncomfortable. She wanted to leave. Damn! Where are these girls, she nearly said out loud, but checked herself. What a night, meeting Coco and her posse, the gunshots outside the other hangout, and now, feeling stalked by Deja for something she had said. I’m leaving, she told herself.
“Where are you running to, honey? Still looking for me?” Deja asked, turning on the charms.
“I’m looking for my friends, ah, Deja,” she said, using his name correctly.
“Always looking for everyone else but me, huh?” Deja asked.
“They’re in the blunt-smoking section. Over there in the VIP area,” he continued, motioning with a movement of his head.
“Thanks... Thanks a lot,” Deedee said, overplaying the graciousness.
She attempted to turn away, and Deja grabbed her right hand. His grip was strong, her body jerked back from the motion.
“Why do you insist on touching me?” she started to ask. Deja cut her off and shoved a Dutchmaster cigar in her face.
“You’ll need one of these if you’re going over there,” Deja cautioned as he offered Deedee the cigar. “Have blunt, will travel,” he said with a smile.
“No, I’m not into traveling high,” Deedee said and put her fake smile on.
“Bitch!” Deja shouted, unable to control the anguish he felt. “She’s—ah, ah, fuck it,” he said to any clubbies who were close enough to pay attention.
He spun, licked his lips and watched as she moved hurriedly away. Her black sweater clung to her sensuous body, shapely legs crowned by tight, round buttocks. Damn! She’s nice for real, for real, thought Deja. He was enraptured by her graceful walk.
“Listen, I gotta go,” Deedee said, standing next to the table where Coco and some other kids were puffing on a blunt.
“Yeah I’m through my damn self,” Coco declared, getting off her chair.
“This some good weed, yo,” Lil’ Long said and offered the lit blunt to Deedee.
“No thanks, I don’t need that. They let you smoke that on this side?” Deedee asked hesitantly.
“This da VIP section, girlfriend. You do whatever, yo.” Coco walked as if a shoestring was loose. She struggled to gain her balance.
“Coco, are you ahight?” Deedee asked, giving a hand to Coco.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just gimme a second, ahight, I’ll steady myself, thank you.”
Coco needed more than a second. Deedee allowed her the time. She felt like walking away and leaving Coco, but then turned around and put an arm across Coco’s shoulder to steady her walk. Coco offered no resistance and Deedee held her tighter, guiding her through the maze of club kids.
“Where are the other girls? Do you—”
“I heard you,” Coco snarled, she was not used to the friendly treatment. “They ahight, they hooked up with their boyfriends...”
“Oh, they’re not—”
“What are you, some kind of a counselor? They good, yo. Come on, Ms. Harriet Tubman. Lead the way. Take me home,” Coco said as Deedee ushered her toward the ladies room.
“Yeah, yeah, I gotta go. Were you gonna give me a ride back uptown?”
“Sure, if you want me to. I—”
“Yeah, cool,” Coco said as she held the door open for Deedee. She’s real cool, Coco thought as she stared at Deedee’s backside disappearing into a stall. She has a nice shape. Coco pulled down her sagging jeans, revealing colorful boxers.
Deedee waited outside the bathroom for Coco and eventually both girls made their way to the exit. Coco had both hands in her pockets, bopping, staring at the reflections of the faces in the mirrors on the wall. Deedee, meantime, fumbled for the keys to the Mercedes. What if the car isn’t there? she thought, stressing.
“Member where you stash the whip, yo?” Coco asked, catching up with Deedee.
“Somewhere close, I think...” Deedee said.
“Okay, but where, yo?” Coco asked.
“Ah, there. This way,” Deedee said, finding her bearings. She grabbed Coco’s arm and pulled her to the left of the exit door.
“Yep, there it is,” she confirmed, spotting the car, sitting on rims, radiant in the moonlight.
“It’s such a dope whip, yo,” Coco said.
Deedee did not understand, and for the moment she did-n’t see the two figures lurking in the dark.
“What’s a whip?” Deedee asked.
“Some dope shit like this. That’s a whip, yo.”
“What up? What up? Why y’all moving so fast, huh?” A man’s voice shouted.
“Who dat? Is it…”
Coco peered around and felt the blow to her face.
“It’s this, bitch!” the throaty voice came.
A fist crashed the party. Coco reeled and blanked out immediately when her head hit the pavement.
“Where you running to, bitch? Get back here and get in da fucking whip. We wanna test ride da shit,” the man chuckled loudly.
Deedee shuddered as she felt cold steel pressed against the back of her neck.
“I sez git in da car, bitch,” he growled.
Deedee had seen this at the movies, heard of it happening to others. She never imagined it happening to her. Her knees became weak as the sudden demand hit her, and her mind reeled into a world of fear.
“I said get in the muthafuckin’ car, bitch,” he repeated harshly.
He brought the weapon to her face and then pushed the nozzle against her right temple.
“Please,” she begged. “It’s not my car. It’s not mine. I...I.”
“Shut up! Shuddafuckup!”
A second man grabbed the keys to the Mercedes and headed to the driver’s side. He opened the door, got in the car and started the engine. Deedee ran, even though the guy with the gun was still close by. He caught up quickly and used his left hand to slap her face twice. Her cheeks stung. Then he brought the gun to her face. She pleaded with him. Terror engulfed her whole body,