SIX
Coco and Josephine sat on a wooden bench next to the school auditorium. It was three thirty-five in the afternoon. Coco had been resisting the urge to light up a cigarette. She gave in, put the cigarette to her lips and shoved both hands in the front pockets of her oversized jeans.
“Let’s walk down to the store. I’m taking a smoke break, yo,” Coco said. She walked away. Josephine scurried and caught up to Coco.
“Where’s the señorita?” Josephine asked.
“She’s making us wait, that little…” Coco caught herself, lit up and then inhaled.
Josephine spotted Danielle driving up in Cory’s car.
“On her way in a new carriage.” She directed Coco’s attention with her body language. Danielle and her escort had arrived.
“I’m sorry y’all, but we had to stop to do something on the way here,” Danielle announced. Cory got out of the car with a video camera slung on his chest.
“Remember Cory? He’s gonna be the cameraman so we can videotape this rehearsal, to use for reference,” Danielle said, aiming her words at Coco who continued smoking without showing any interest. Then Coco addressed Josephine.
“If it’s cool with everyone, then yeah, I’m with it, yo.”
Cory approached them with his video-camera at the ready.
“I’m in,” said Josephine. “Hi, Cory,” she cooed.
“How you doing, Josephine?” They touched cheeks.
“Hi Coco,” Cory said. He looked at Coco as if he was waiting on her table.
“Whazzup, Cory?” she puffed. “Let’s do this then, yo.”
The group headed for the auditorium. This was no ordinary rehearsal. A showdown had been shaping up ever since Danielle had confronted the girls. Threatened or not, Coco had been put on her guard. Josephine played peacemaker. She was happy that the rehearsal would be recorded and critiqued. Da Crew knew they were ready. They exchanged wary smiles, except for Coco, who didn’t smile.
On stage, Danielle moved enticingly. The camera rolled. Coco moved back and forth, heels and toes tapping street-sounds to the beat. Josephine circled, moving faster and faster, as if on ice. They balanced one another.
It was like the first day, when they met at the audition for the video shoot. All three danced with different groups and each girl was chosen from the groups. It had been that easy for them. They completed the dance video, and when Coco learned that the other two girls were recent transfers at her school, they started hanging out. The girls became a trio. But now a little competition didn’t hurt.
The dance movements were complex, but the girls made them look easy. Coco, at the lead, performed a combination of hip-hop jazz steps, moving out against the girls. A simple tap and a few rolls to the floor brought Danielle’s kicks to the changes in the beat. It was high-tempo.
The girls were getting warm. The pace was furious. Coco flopped to the background with a two-knee slide. Now it was Danielle’s turn. She seductively jumped and pranced for the camera and the man. She ended on beat with a split, a la James Brown. The place was wildly funky. Perpetuating the beat, Josephine skipped, launching her lithe frame in flight, vaulting over Danielle’s cat-like, crouched figure. Josephine bounded with acrobatic skill and landed in a graceful ballerina’s pose. She rolled up into hip-hop contortions. Coco prowled and leaped, flipping her body into the middle of the hoopla. The three danced easily together, moving in time to rehearsed steps. Cory recorded it all, and the camera intensified the mood.
It was Coco’s turn again, or was it? She relinquished the lead. Josephine moved to the forefront with a split and quickly put down the break moves. She slid easily into a snail’s crawl, freezing herself en vogue. Coco came through like a butterfly, landing softly on petals, wings beating a seductive rhythm. For one moment, time froze as the camera caught Coco in flight. Her gestures, her steps, said she was a dancer.
When she was sure that they had enough, she quickly tumbled and rolled up on her stomach. She showed complete mastery of her muscles and limbs. It shook the other girls. The cameraman turned his head and held the camera in place. He watched Coco dance an unbelievable groove to up-tempo sounds. Josephine refused to follow.
“Yo, hold up, hold up. I think we’ve all flexed enough. Let’s not lose focus, alright? The winner is Coco,” Josephine shouted and clapped sarcastically. “Let’s take a break.”
Cory stopped filming and applauded. The girls had danced for nearly an hour.
“That was no rehearsal. That shit was for-real dance warfare,” Josephine said between sips of water. Coco turned and looked at her. She lit a cigarette without answering. Danielle walked over to Cory, a few feet away. They huddled for a minute.
“I’m saying you were the best out there, baby. But Coco is bad.”
“What do you mean?” Danielle was annoyed. “Did you get it all?”
“Think so,” Cory said.
“We’re gonna do voices next, and that’ll be it. So take five.” She kissed him on the cheek, twitched her hips, and rejoined Coco and Josephine.
“Did he get us?” Josephine asked. Her emphasis on ‘he’ made Coco look up from her smoke break.
“Yep, he did,” Danielle answered. “Okay, instead of singing one or two numbers as a group, how about each of us solo on a song of our own choice?”
Coco and Josephine looked at each other.
“Oh, the contest is still on?” Josephine asked.
“Who says it’s a contest?” Danielle retorted.
“Ahight, stop bitching at each other. Let’s do it, yo,” Coco said as she put out her cigarette.
“Josephine, you go first. Or do you want me to?” Danielle asked. She was eager to show her vocal range. She had taken voice lessons with a trainer and she claimed the trainer had coached a couple of famous singers. She felt that put her in another class.
The equipment and the cameraman were ready. Danielle took the microphone and belted out “Neither One of Us,” Gladys Knight-style. Even without the Pips, Danielle did an excellent job. She received applause from a new member of the audience.
“Don’t worry. I’m not the heat. I’m just gonna sit here and check y’all nice, talented people out,” he shouted, still clapping.
Josephine was next. She chose a difficult number by Whitney Houston. Her enthusiasm kept her going and when she was done, it was Coco’s turn. Sitting at the edge of the auditorium stage, Coco lit another cigarette. My turn came quickly, she thought, inhaling. Well, I could try “Diana the Boss,” but there are no Supremes. She dragged on the cigarette and the microphone amplified its hiss.
Coco held cigarette and mike in her right hand. With her left hand, she removed her sweat-laden baseball cap and tousled her hair. She was searching her mind for something. Then she found it: her mother’s favorite. Coco raised the microphone and the cigarette, and sang Billie Holiday’s “My Man.”
The newcomer was clapping from the beginning of the first stanza. He shouted, “Yeah” each time Coco paused. She held the other girls captive with her nonchalance. She was good. They thought of Diana and the Supremes, but when the Supremes sat down, Coco became Ms. Holiday. Then it was over. The newcomer raced down the aisle to the front of the stage. He got down on his knees, begging Coco to continue.
“Do some more for me. I’m your new Number One fan,” he shouted. Coco beamed and jumped off the stage.
“Y’all are some talented people,” Rightchus said. “I watched and listened to you, and you—” He pointed to each of the girls in turn. Then, he turned to Cory. “And you look like you have talent too, being the bodyguard and the cameraman.” He was amused by his own joke.
“Thanks,” the girls said. They walked toward the exit. Cory joined them, as did Rightchus.
“You did that song, girl,” Josephine said. “I didn’t know you dug Billie Holiday like that.”
“Well, she’s my mom’s favorite,” Coco said. She was visibly overcome by the admission.
Danielle locked the door as they left and ran off to return the key to the maintenance staff. She had chosen that role ever since the girls got permission to use the small auditorium when it was idle.
“So, we’ll be seeing you, yo,” Coco said to the newcomer.
“Oh, yo. My name is Rightchus. When I do my thing, folks call me da Shorty-Wop-it Man. Hey, y’all can call me Shorty-Wop, cuz I seen y’all’s performance an’ y’all are there. Bad! Nah mean?” He raised his arm. He was only four-feet, ten-inches tall. Coco, five-ten in her boots, towered over him. He was decked out in an inside-out Free Mike Tyson T-shirt, rolled-up blue jeans, and sandals.
“Yeah, I could sing too. I could do my thing. Can I get a cigarette?” asked Rightchus. They gathered around the car. The girls relaxed as all the pre-rehearsal tension was gone. Coco gave Rightchus a cigarette and a light. Josephine and Danielle shared a joint.
“Anyone want a Bud”? Rightchus asked. He produced a brown paper sack. “But y’all probably don’t want this light stuff. Y’all probably want da gasoline stuff, da crooked-eye stuff.” He winked. A big smile appeared on his face. Cory moved closer and took two cans from the package. He gave Danielle a can. Rightchus moved over to Coco, offering her a can. She hesitated, and then took one. He looked at Josephine, she looked at Danielle.
“I’m not sharing. Take a beer,” Coco said as she sipped on the now-open can.
“Yeah, I can tell you’re good peoples. See, I know. When you’ve spent your whole day talking to people who are constantly trying to beat you outta shit, then you know good peoples,” Rightchus said. The group nodded and guzzled their beers.
“You from around here?” Josephine asked.
“What do you care?” Coco asked.
“Nah, nah,” Rightchus answered. “This guy I met at a job interview told me whenever I was in da hood, jus’ stop by. He’s large in da hood. I stopped by and da muthafucka had nothing.” He grinned. Cory laughed, encouraging Rightchus. “He was begging me. I had to give him a dollar bill,” continued Rightchus. “Is she your girl?” he asked, pointing to Josephine and speaking to Cory.
“No,” Cory said. “That’s my girl,” he added, pointing to Danielle.
“No disrespect. I know you love her, but I’m telling you, don’t get married. When you marry, you stop growing. Two people can’t grow together. One has to stop growing and let the other, or they will wind up butting heads. I’m telling you.”
“People make it,” Josephine said. “I mean there are a lot of successful married people out there.”
“Yeah,” Rightchus agreed. “But they have the minds of eight-year-olds. They’ll be forty years old, acting like eight-year-olds. They’ve got the minds of children.” The group broke out laughing. Cory clapped his hands.
“See, I knew y’all were nice people. So far, nobody tried to beat me outta shit. That’s what it’s all about. You have to enjoy life. Like me, I got crazy, Bobby Brown style. Whenever y’all ready. My name’s Rightchus, but you can call me Shorty-Wop. An’ when I do ma thing, I’ll be blowing up da spot. Peace. I’ve got to be out before da police escorts me into da cell. Y’all know how they love to fuck wid da black man cuz he’s da true an’ living god.”
Rightchus hobbled down the street, tugging at the brim of his cap. He vanished as quickly as he had appeared, leaving the group with beer on their lips and smiles on their faces.
“I’m out, yo.” Coco hurtled her empty at the trashcan.
“We’ll give you a lift. Let’s do something, hang out for a minute,” Danielle said.
“I’m down,” Josephine said.
“Ahight, yo. Sounds ahight to me, too,” Coco said. She was feeling the beer. Coco and Josephine got in the backseat, Cory and Danielle sat up front. As Cory started the car, he looked back. Coco gazed out the window, and Josephine smiled at him, approvingly.
“Where to?” Cory asked.
“Downtown,” Josephine suggested. Soon they were on the way downtown. They passed Deja on Tenth avenue, doing his hustle; drugs, whatever.
“Are you down for some smokes?” Danielle asked.
“Sure, we copping? Here’s two dollars,” Josephine said, “and a dollar from y’all.”
“Hold this, yo.” Coco gave a dollar to Danielle.
“Get it from Deja, yo. His shit is always best,” Coco whispered.
“Wha’ nigga, I’m a take the bank. Yeah, that’s right, muthafucka. Jus’ watch,” a player said and kissed the dice before he threw.
“Head crack,” a chorus burst as the dice landed, showing a loss. They all laughed, picking up dollar bills.
“Next game, try again,” the winner of a lot of singles said. It was Deja, wearing a red Pelle Pelle jacket zipped to his neck, and baggy blue Guess jeans. He went bopping over to the car. The dragging of his unlaced Timberlands made the bop seem difficult.
“Zup?”
“Nickel,” Cory said offering Deja a handshake with five one-dollar bills folded in his palm. Deja slipped him the small, bag of weed with the handshake. The exchange went smoothly, no fumbles.
“Yo, Coco. Whazzup?” Deja asked peering into the car.
“Chilling,” Coco replied with her index and middle fingers extended in the street sign.
“Peace,” Deja said. He walked away from the car, back to the game.
“Those da honeys that be dancing and shit. Word, they kinda got it going on,” a dice-player said.
“Roll da dice, you pimping mo’fucka. Git ready to lose your money,” Deja taunted.
“Uh,” grunted the roller as he let the dice fly. “Mama need a new HDTV.” The dice landed and the car occupants watched a scuffle over the exchange of dollar bills.
“Yo, there goes that preaching ass nigga,” Coco said.
“Yep,” said Danielle as she pulled on the joint. “I heard his raps. We are nice people, an’ all that, but I bet if he were smoking an’ getting’ high, he’d be the first to jump off wid shit about what women shouldn’t be doing,” Danielle said.
“Uh-huh,” Coco agreed pulling hard on the joint. “He be kicking shit ‘bout da true and living righteous black woman and black man, yo.” Coco knew the origin of Rightchus’ street name. They watched as he approached Deja urgently. He pulled at one arm of the red jacket.
“Yo, whazzup Rightchus?” Deja asked. “Can’t you see I’m busting these niggas’ asses?” He saw the serious eyes of Rightchus. “You are bugging off sump’n, nigga?”
“Yo, man, my brother, word from the snake’s mouth is you’ve been fingered to die. Your life has been jeopardized, Black man.” Rightchus was emphatic.
“What da fuck?” Deja asked. “Fucking talk straight to me before I have my niggas do you. What’s this word-from-the-snake shit?”
“Deja, you’re my brother. There are snakes, devils, plotting to kill you.”
Deja was doubtful. He knew Rightchus had a history at Bellevue, smoked a lot of weed and crack.
“Yo, everyone strapped?” Deja spoke to the three lanky teens he had been shooting dice with.
“What you think nigga? We turned our toasts in for food and toys?” a dice player asked and laughed as he clutched his waist. “Muthafucka, hell, yeah, we strapped.”
The laughter ceased, stalling the game.
“Whazzup?” they demanded.
“Chill, niggas. I’m just checking y’all muthafuckas, making sure shit is tight,” Deja said. He smirked, and gave Rightchus a small plastic vial with an orange top. Rightchus walked away at a furious pace.
“Don’t worry ‘bout who is strapped, nigga. Just watch this strapping your ass will receive, right here. Ugh,” he grunted as the dice bounced off the wall.
“Crack head,” shouted the girls in the car.
“Whose dice is it?” Deja shouted.
“Put your money down an’ find out about this C-low, nigga,” a player said.
“Let’s go check Open-Mike. See how our competition is doing,” Danielle suggested.
“Yeah, cool,” Josephine said.
“I’m with it, yo,” Coco said.
The beer and weed had relaxed her. She gave Danielle a high-five. Josephine welcomed the return of camaraderie.
“Let’s do this, Cory,” she slapped his outstretched palm. Cory drove off, a smile on his face.
When they arrived at the club, the girls and Cory were escorted to the head of club hoppers queue. They were announced over the club speakers, and the crowd cheered. This is annoying, thought Coco, before she entered the trance of the groove.
All thoughts aside, the music insisted. She gave in and glided in step to the beat. The rhythm took their souls and they came alive dancing around and laughing, just having fun. All the air had been let out, and now the girls were running on beer and weed. There was an explosion when they pretended to be one another, mimicking each other’s favorite moves.
They applauded each act that took the stage, and jeered or encouraged their attempts to sink or swim. Josephine kept a tally on the good acts, the ones the crowd liked. At their table, it was non-stop chatter.
“They nice,” Josephine said.
“Nah, nah. I like da other ones who wore those funky outfits. That shit was dope,” Danielle yelled.
“I like them and the other ones, too. That lead kid was wicked, yo. He caught a body on that joint.” Coco said.
Cory brought sodas to the table. The evening advanced and jokes spilled from the girls’ lips. Anxious frowns were replaced by smiling faces. They were in a groove and were happy.
“Of course, the people who are favorites so far are here tonight. They are Coco and Da Crew. Let’s hear from them,” said the master of ceremonies. A beam of bright light struck the table. The girls stood, acknowledging the applause.
“Would you like to give us a taste of y’all good stuff?”
The emcee could not be denied. The girls walked down a short corridor and onto the stage. Coco, last to get there, hugged the other girls.
“Yo, before we do this,” she said to the audience, “I just want y’all to know that we’re sistas. It’s me, Coco, Josephine to my right, Danielle to my left, and we started this and we’re gonna finish it. It’s no more Coco and Da Crew. We’re just Da Crew, yo.”
“All three of us are Crew,” Danielle yelled.
“That’s right. C-R-E-W. Crew,” Josephine yelled.
“C-R-E-W... Crew...” Coco sang, clapping her hands.
The girls picked up the rhythm and the club hoppers clapped, stomped and chanted. They needed something to lift them and they were caught in Da Crew’s hysteria.
“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Deejay. Drop the beat, yo,” Coco yelled. The stage exploded with the fire of Da Crew. They began setting lightening-quick moves to the hard beat. Their first love, dancing, came as natural as the electricity in the wave of moves crashing against the audience. The ones who continued to chant “C-R-E-W... Crew...”
The chanting continued long after the girls shared high-fives, bowed, and walked off the stage.
“What can I say?” the emcee asked when the appluse subsided. “We asked for it, right? Another round of applause.” It came with ease. The girls were ushered back to their table. They raised their glasses of soda to acknowledge the audience’s generosity.
“Wow! What a night. I’m worn out. Let me sit,” Danielle said.
“It felt great up there tonight,” Josephine said.
“Now nobody else wants to follow y’all,” Cory said. “Here comes the emcee.”
“Yeah, he’s coming over here,” Danielle said.
“Y’all were so bad. The people in the open-mike section don’t even want to perform behind y’all,” the emcee said. He motioned to a waiter.
“What’s good, Busta?” Coco asked the portly, neatly denim Nehru-clad man.
“You is up. Y’all are what’s up. Keep it up.” The waiter came. “Give them as many rounds of sodas as they can handle. Don’t give their bodyguard too much though; we don’t want him to OD.” He slapped the waiter’s back too hard and walked away. The waiter stared at Busta as if he wanted to return the favor.
“Okay,” the waiter said.
“That Busta is tough on you, yo?” Coco blurted.
“Nah, it’s his jokes. He has to slap you with the punch lines. Anyway, what kind of sodas y’all having?” He had fully recovered from the joke now.
The group partied and the feeling of camaraderie intensified a while longer. They lent their celebration to a couple more acts. Then with more hugs and kisses, the girls got up and followed Cory Williams.
“Yo, Coco. That shit was real cool, with the intro and all,” Cory said. Danielle beamed. “What you said on stage, about the name change and all, that held the crowd. They were behind y’all. Y’all almost wrecked that whole set.”
“Word, they were open from that point on, yo,” Coco said. She stepped into the car and took her place in the backseat, next to Josephine who gave her a smile. “What are you smiling bout, yo?” Coco asked smiling herself.
“That was really cool, yo,” Josephine answered. After a second she assumed a smirk.
“That’s Coco, I swear, yo,” Danielle said.
“Well, that shit’s better than y’all wid da; ‘oh, hi, I’m cool, you know’. Because that shit be making y’all look soo foul. Little Ms. fucking Muffet,” Coco laughed loud.
“Oh no, you not calling niggas Miss fucking Muffet. That’s what your whole shit is about,” Danielle said. She and Josephine clapped a high five and they stared at Coco.
“Well, being a little fucking Muffet is all good. At least I ain’t out there chasing after niggas like chicken heads. And y’all know who I’m talking bout.” Coco eyed Josephine.
“Huh uh, you ain’t gotta go there. You know that’s right,” Josephine said play-punching Coco’s left arm.
“See, now you’re gonna make me dust your shit off,” Coco cautioned Josephine.
“I got your back. Go ahead,” Danielle taunted Josephine. The girls laughed. Danielle sipped the soda she had sneaked out of the club.
“Alright, everyone out,” Cory yelled. All three girls looked at him in serious surprise.
“Just kidding,” Cory said. He sounded like a wimp. The girls burst into laughter. Cory headed the car uptown.
The girls continued laughing and high-fiving one another. No team could come back to defeat them after the tremendous step they had taken tonight. They enjoyed the small victory, hugging and touching cheeks at each stop and departure. Cory dropped off Josephine first, then Coco. Cory and Danielle were now alone, riding further uptown.
“Where do you think you’re going, Mister?” Danielle asked slyly now.
“I’m…Baby, you wanna go home?”
“That’s not what I asked. I want to know where you’re headed.”
“Well, it’s still early. It’s only eleven fifteen.”
“Damn! I was having so much fun and all; I forgot to tell them I saw that bitch Deedee.”
“Oh don’t even think about all that.” Cory said as he pulled Danielle closer.
“Oh, what should I do then?”
“Let’s go chill for awhile, close to da park,” Cory said.
“Huh, excuse me,” Danielle said with mock scorn.
“I’m saying, do you want to go to my place or over to the park?”
“It’s a cool night. Let’s chill by the park. Your dad is way too fucking nosey for my use.” Danielle purred. Cory leaned over and hugged her close as he drove to the park.
“C’mon now, Dani, you know he’s a cop, right?” Cory asked.
“Well, does he have to stay on duty when he’s at home? We ain’t fucking criminals.” Danielle countered.
“That nigga stays on duty twenty-four-seven. That’s why my moms left his ass. We’ll just chill-lax at the park, okay. That way I won’t hear your mouth complaining about nothing.” Cory said and took his eyes off the road for a beat to kiss her lips. He managed to steer the car out of danger when it swerved.
“Hmm,” Danielle responded. “Your pops don’t give me a chance to do this,” she said. Her hands were busy rubbing the ripple of his abs muscles. The bulge in his RocaWear jeans grew larger. She raised his sweat top and kissed hard on his chest, bit his nipple then blew in his ear. Danielle knew that blowing in his ear drove him mad. Cory squirmed behind the steering wheel, doing everything he could to keep the car steady on the roadway. Danielle had other ideas. She fidgeted with his crotch, tugging to loosen his belt and zipper.
“Let’s do it while you’re driving real fast,” Danielle seductively suggested. She blew a wet kiss in his ear. Cory shivered. His palms became sweaty and he gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“You’re bugging,” he breathed. Really hoping she wasn’t.
“Think so?” She kissed his stomach. The car raced. His heartbeat kept pace with the engine. She toyed with his zipper, sliding the nail of her index finger up and down the ridges of his zipper, then his stomach. His muscles tightened at her touch. Cory breathed deeply, trying to control himself behind the fast moving car. Danielle slowly unzipped his fly and her hands greeted his hard member, protruding proudly from its perch. She leaned over and gripped his left leg with her right hand. The penis disappeared between her lips as the car moved faster. Her tongue lapped at his exposed genitals.
“Yeah, ahhh, yeah, yeah,” Cory murmured as the excitement took his mind for a pleasant ride.
Danielle sucked hard. The tip of her tongue was tantalizing and Cory gripped the wheel of the fast moving car, holding on for dear life. Danielle’s lips slid up and down his rock-hard member until the head pointed stiffly to the roof of the car. Facing to the road, she parted her legs and straddled his hardness. Danielle leaned on the top of the dashboard and rocked her exposed ass back and forth in Cory’s lap. Cory thrashed about in the seat as Danielle moved gently at first.
She was riding him skillfully now as she watched the highway disappearing beneath the car. Cory stabbed, jerking his muscular torso. Danielle closed her eyes and grunted. The car hopped over potholes Cory was unable to locate. The motion of the car forced her up and down, and then she was swinging back and forth, up and down, back and forth, until he felt the explosion and thought he had blown a gasket. It was the front end of the car.
“Damn!” he yelled.
“Oh yess, baby. Hot damn! Keep moving, baby, keep it moving. Oh yeah!” Danielle shouted. She was launched into ecstasy when she felt the heat of his dick inside her stomach. The engine revved loudly but the wheels just spun.
“Baby,” Cory said still stroking up and down all the time trying to stop. “I think we’re stuck.”
“Yeah baby we’re stuck. Your dick game is real baby. Oh yeah!” Danielle screamed.
“No baby. I mean we’re stuck in a hole.”
“This pussy is too tight, huh? Got you stuck for sheesy.”
“Yeah, baby. Oh yeah! But baby we’re really stuck,” Cory screamed.
“What, what are you talking about? Am I not able to slide all up and down on it.” Danielle asked.
“No! I mean yess! But the car is stuck in a hole.” Cory was finally able to say.
“We must have hit a big hole, because we can’t move,” he said. Danielle closed her eyes and continued to ride his shaft. Cory caressed and squeezed her breasts, shoving harder into the moistness of her flesh. He stepped but the car did not budge from the hole.
“Oh yeah, baby. We gotta stop and get out of the car before we get hit,” he said, still shoving his erection deep inside her. After much difficulty Cory was able to turn the hazard lights on.
“Oh... Ooh...oh, yess! I feel you baby deep inside of me. Huh, don’t stop,” Danielle screamed. She shook her head moving her ass faster and faster. Up and down until she let out a forceful groan. “Oh, ah, ah, aghhhhh Lord!” Then there was complete quiet. Cory gunned the engine and pulled on the steering wheel, trying to direct the car out of the pothole, but to no avail.
The wheels just spun. They were stuck, indeed. The ticking of the hazard lights sounded like a time bomb. Danielle sat back in the passenger seat. She noticed cars going by, the drivers honking their horns. “Damn,” she said, “that shit was good.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Cory said. “You got yours.” He sounded a little annoyed. He zipped up his jeans and stepped madly out of the car just barely missing get hit by a eighteen wheeler. It swooshed by him as the driver sat on the horn. “Damn stupid! Can’t you see my lights flashing? You fucking idiot!”
“Yo, your ass is really stuck, kid?”
Danielle heard the voice and knew that it belonged to Lil’ Long. Vulcha was driving. They pulled up alongside Cory.
“Damn!” Lil’ Long announced. “How did you miss this big hole, kid?”
“My girl was driving. She didn’t see it coming. Sorta snuck up on us.” Cory answered as he covered his tracks. Lil’ Long peered into the car. Immediately he recognized Danielle.
“Yeah, yeah. That bitch is one them funky ass video dancing bitch from da club. Yeah, you’re gonna miss some potholes. Shit, the way I’d be all over that bitch, I’d be falling in holes too, kid. Up under that dress and all that, you know what I’m saying, right?”
Danielle watched as Lil’ Long spoke, not able to clearly hear the words. She saw how the light of the street reflected from his gold-capped teeth whenever his lips parted. Tacky nigga, she thought, as she stepped out of the car. A speeding car barely missed her. The driver honked loudly as he went by.
“Get out the road you moron!” The driver yelled.
“Oh my freaking God! Shit!” Danielle screamed. “Fuck you! Stupid bitch!” Danielle yelled at the driver.
“Get back in the car. I got this.” Cory screamed. “Get in the driver’s seat and steer it. Give it gas slowly. Try to move it slow. Then me and my man here will lift. Remember slowly,” Cory loudly instructed.
“Lil’ Long,” the help said as he introduced himself. Cory was busy with the task at hand and ignored him.
“On three,” Cory shouted. “One, two, three. Oomph,” he grunted. The wheel remained captive in the deep pothole.
“Gimme another count,” Lil’ Long said.
“Let’s change positions,” Cory said.
“Cool,” Lil’ Long said.
Cory moved directly above the stuck wheel. He heaved without saying anything. The wheel made it over the edge, and Cory eased the front of the car down.
“You is a cock-diesel muthfucka,” Lil’ Long said noticeably impressed. “Do you lift? I used to, back in da days. When I was lock down in da penal, but I ain’t done that shit in a minute. You feel me?”
“Good looking out, man.” Cory said extending a handshake.
“I’m Lil’ Long,” he said, pounding his fist against Cory’s outstretched palm. “A cock-strong nigga like you, damn, I know you be fucking da dog shit outta that bitch, kid.”
Cory flinched. “Alright, man. I’m out, and that bitch, she’s my girl,” Cory said and swung his frame into the car.
“Ahight my nigga. Stroke her twice for da brother. See ya.” Lil’ Long jumped into the Navigator and Vulcha sitting behind the wheel, peeled off.
“Yo, that bitch is bad, Vulcha.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Real bad, sun.”
“If she was that bad, why didn’t you bag it, then?” Vulcha watched Lil’ Long clutch his crotch.
“Bidness before pleasure.” Lil’ Long smiled and removed the Glock-17 from inside his shorts. “That muthafucka was definitely trying to show out. I should’ve bagged his bitch. What time is it, kid?” Lil’ Long asked.
“Eleven-fifty.”
“Yeah, that muthafucka should be home fucking sump’n.”
“Let’s make a check,” Vulcha said.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go check that nigga.” Lil’ Long nodded.
