Ghetto Girls. Anthony Whyte
you won’t fucking get hurt, bitch.”
Deedee was scared, but she got in the car. She tried to slither to the back but the passenger pulled her onto his lap.
“I want you close. We can fuck around while my man drives,” he threatened.
Deedee did not turn around. She didn’t want to look at his face. Her heartbeat was so loud, she couldn’t think of what to say. She thought she was close enough to reach for the door handle, press on it and jump. Deedee tried.
The man anticipated the move, and as she reached over, he blocked her with a twist of his body. She stared into his smiling face. He was mocking her. The move seemed to have excited him. His face was familiar. He had been inside the club but she was too harried to really think clearly. Where?
The car shot into the middle of traffic. The driver showed his unfamiliarity with the controls.
“A yo, watch where ya going! Turn on some fucking lights!” An angry pedestrian yelled as the car hurtled by wildly.
“What’s up? I thought you say you could drive this bad boy?”
“I’m sayin’ though, I’m not too familiar wid da shit. Gimme time. Why your ass brought da bitch? Put her out,” the driver said as he searched for the headlight switch.
“I brought her to tell your dumb ass where the light switch is. Cutie, tell him how to turn on the lights.”
Deedee’s mouth remained shut. She felt too nauseated to speak.
“Tell him!” The passenger ordered. Deedee managed to point a shaky finger.
“Yeah, yeah, cool,” the driver said flicking the switch.
“This shit can do ‘bout a hun’ed and fitty, yo,” he shouted, getting excited. The car raced toward the highway, piercing the morning mist. Deedee couldn’t believe what was happening. Then she felt his hands touching her body. She quivered as tears rolled down the side of her face.
“Please, please, don’t,” she begged. It didn’t matter. His hand continued to roam. She started to resist, but felt the pressure of a gun. She allowed it to happen, out of fear for her life. The driver was preoccupied, and the car was doing close to ninety by now. His hand roughly groped her breast. She held in the sick feeling of disgust. “Please don’t do that. Stop please, no…” He covered her mouth with the gun.
Where are the damn police? Deedee thought.
It didn’t do much to try and outstare him. All of a sudden she remembered the face. He was one of the guys sharing a smoke earlier with Coco. His smile covered with the gold fronts she’ll never forget.
Deedee felt afraid and started to scream. He slapped a hand over her mouth, and with his other hand he placed the gun’s muzzle against her ear.
“Click,” he said.
Mentally, she was dead. She awoke with him physically on top of her attacking her. The passenger seat was in a reclined position, and her black spandex pants were off. Her black sweater was dangling around her neck. Lil’ Long was prying open her legs with his torso.
She resisted and tried to push him off, but he was strong, and after a couple of minutes of struggling, he mounted her. He slobbered over her body, bit her breasts and raked her thighs. She screamed. He slapped her again and again. Blood trickled from her lips. Deedee sobbed as he viciously thrust himself into her flesh until he exploded. She scratched his face. He slapped her harder.
“Don’t kill da bitch, yo. Lemme get a piece,” the driver shouted excitedly.
The car pulled over to the roadside. Deedee thought the nightmare ride was over. Then the driver snatched her from out the car and slammed her against the hood. He was inside her, raping her on the hood of the Mercedes. When he was spent, he slapped her to the ground and got back in the car. Lil’ Long threw the rest of her clothes at her. Then he fired twice, both shots striking within inches. The explosion produced a fall-out of dirt that settled on Deedee’s tear-soaked face. She was down and not moving, wishing she was dead. Deedee sobbed loudly. Laughter and music came from the Benz as it disappeared into the mist.
How did this all begin? Deedee wondered. Dazed and confused, she passed out from the pain. Her thoughts ceased.
Meanwhile, outside the club, Coco gathered herself. She touched her nose. Blood appeared on her fingers, and her eyes stung.
“Those muthafuckas. Fucking bastards,” she thought aloud as she pulled off her headwear and dabbed it at her nose. The white do-rag was now stained red. She headed back to the club. Her head was pounding from the blow. The music from the club only served to exacerbate the pain. She went past the entrance and straight to the ladies room where she washed the cloth and stared back at her bloodshot reflection.
After she left the restroom, she went to the pay phone and paged her girls. They responded in a flash, and the three girls left the club before saying anything. Once outside, they walked a few feet away from the entrance. Coco held the headwear to her throbbing nose, hiding the bruise.
“Coco you’re letting your dreads fly. What’s up?” Josephine asked.
“This whazzup.” Coco removed the blood-soaked wrap from her face. “Some niggas mush me an’ jack da shit, yo. They must’ve snatched up honey too, cuz I ain’t seen her since. Y’all seen her back in here?”
“Nah we were way up in da VIP area. She wasn’t back there.” Danielle said.
“Oh shit! Oh fucking shit. They didn’t!” Coco yelled as Da Crew stood in amazement.
“Who did it? You know?” Josephine asked.
“I didn’t really see who they were, yo. But the voice sounded kinda familiar. It was like… did any of you see Lil’ Long leave?”
“Coco, you know we were both all the way in da back booths. We couldn’t see them. They could a left anytime, yo.”
“Word,” Coco said nodding her throbbing head in agreement.
“All she wanted to do was drop me at da rest, yo. That’s it. That shit is fucked up.” Coco searched for cigarettes. There were none. Her head throbbed. She wondered about Deedee. The thought made her whole body shudder. Then Josephine said it. Maybe Da Crew was thinking it, but nobody wanted to say it.
“We’ve got to call five-o, yo.” The words hung for awhile. Then the discussion began.
“Now, ya know them muthafuckas ain’t gonna do shit,” Coco said.
“I think we should call the cops,” Danielle said.
“Ahight,” Coco said. The girls walked to the phone on the corner.
“Police, 911...”
“Yo, some guys just mugged some girls and stole a car. They kidnapped one of the girls. They had guns an’ all and they were shooting at everybody. It’s crazy out here. Send your baddest peoples out here.”
“Slow down, Miss. Where are you calling from?”
“We’re at the corner of 116th and 1st. Send the baddest cops.” Click. The girls hung up and sauntered away from the pay-phone.
“I’m out. Y’all stay and talk wit’ da cops. I gotta take care of my nose, yo.”
“Yo, Coco, wait up. You know what happened. Come on, you gotta stay.” Josephine pleaded.
“Ahight, I’ll stay. But shit’s not gonna be solved by talking all night wit’ five-oh. We don’t even know if she stole da shit or if she had her license, yo.” Coco said.
“Well, she said her uncle—” Danielle began to say but Coco cut her off.
“Her damn uncle could’ve stolen that shit,” Coco said. The