TWENTY-SIX
“So what’s going on Coco. What’s up, what’s up girl?”
“Whassup, yo? I’m chilling, trying to maintain. Your uncle looking kinda sharp. He’s getting married or sump’n?”
“Uncle E. should be at the award banquet with Sophia. You met her. She’s a lawyer an’ all, an’ her firm is throwing this big function tonight. So, did you hear from Josephine?”
“Nope, it’s like the girl stepped off to another planet, yo.”
“That shit is fucked up.”
“This a phat crib, yo!”
“Thanks, since this is your first time here, let me show you around.”
“Can I smoke, yo?”
“Smoke? Smoke what?”
“Cigarette, fool. I’ll go outside if I wanna get weeded.”
“That’s cool. But if it’s weed, then we gotta go to the basement. My uncle’s in-house studio. It smells like weed down there. He don’t be knowing that I know what weed be smelling like or sump’n. But I swear da basement stays lit up,” said Deedee. She pointed. “That’s the living room area and the den.”
“This shit is da fattest,” Coco said. Her voice rose with her enjoyment. Deedee, too, was delighted. They hadn’t seen each other since the night of Danielle’s death.
“So shit happens there,” Deedee said pointing to the bathroom.
“Thirsty? We have mad drinks here. What are you drinking?” She asked as they headed for the kitchen.
“Ah, beer?”
“Let me see.” She searched the refrigerator. “Beer, okay, you’re on. There’s some. I’m having Chivas and coke,” Deedee said.
“Well, don’t expect a lecture from me,” Coco said. “Just go for yours. Just don’t fuck wid mine.”
The girls slapped hands mid-air and Deedee poured her drink after handing Coco a cold glass of beer. They were happy to be in each other’s company. Deedee was now feeling much more confident after the brief session with her uncle, culminating with an evening spent with someone she admired.
The girls touched glasses. Then they both sipped.
“What else y’all got up in here?”
“Gin, vodka, rum—everything. Wine, probably champagne in the refrigerator. Just ask.”
“Music! Y’all got that new Silky Black joint? That’s kinda hot. Put that on, yo.”
“No doubt we do, and it’s mad flava.”
“I heard he might be going solo.”
“Nah, he just broke out to make this one album. But he still digging in da crates wid da Chop Shop.” Deedee moved to a panel, pressed a control, and the sound of Silky Black poured through concealed speakers.
“Oh, that shit is dope, yo. Da controls are like that? Where are the speakers?” Coco looked around in wonder.
“This crib is da shits. I’ve never seen anything like this, not even close.”
“Wait, let’s check out da basement.”
“You mean we’re gonna get weeded?”
“Yeah, you might get a contact high from all that shit circling down in there.”
The girls headed down spiral steps. Coco was a little clumsy on the stairs, preoccupied with the reverberating sound of Silky Black. The music pumped louder as they walked further down. They approached a mirrored wall. Coco peered around.
“Oh, shit, we’re at a studio?”
“Yep, this is the studio my uncle and my father built.”
“This shit is all that. Peanut butter in a jar,” Coco marveled.
“Wanna go inside?”
“Sure, yo.”
Deedee opened the door and they entered. Deedee flicked switches and the lights came on. Coco picked up a microphone.
“One, two. One, two. ‘N’ I say, whatcha gonna do? A one-two, microphone check!” She shouted. “It’s fat. It’s all this ‘n’ that, yo. Lemme tell you sump’n about this thing.” Coco began a lyrical game with the microphone. She turned to Deedee, mesmerized by her action.
“Wow, you can make a demo up in this piece. You know how to run all this?”
“Not entirely, but I’ve been taking notes, mixing beats, sampling—all that kinda stuff. Just trying to learn some stuff.”
“Do you have any of your shit, yo?”
“Yeah, I do, but ya know they’re not all that high powered flava yet, so...” Deedee smiled nervously. “Well this is the control booth,” Deedee said. She noticed Coco turn her attention to the studio’s interior. The walls were lined with enough huge tape recorders, equalizers and amplifiers to stock any electronics store. Eric and Deedee’s father had built a solid recording studio, and Deedee was a proud tour-guide.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s nice,” Deedee said and her nervous smile lingered.
Coco gazed and moved, delicately touching pieces of equipment. She rocked her body at different angles to check aspects of each piece. She was like a gardener, tending her plots. “And that’s the recording booth to your left, through the glass,” Deedee said. Coco twirled. “That’s where you would be, toiling at your craft, girl.” Deedee continued.
She knew she had struck the right chord with Coco. Coco had been through a lot lately and even though Deedee wanted to discuss what Coco had been through recently, she did not push the issue.
“Yeah, yeah. Got to bust your ass to make it in da biz,” Coco tried to sound like an experienced performer. “But it’s all good, cause only da real serious mo’fuckas can take it to another level. You feel me right?”
“I know,” Deedee said and nodded her head.
“Cuz like your uncle, I ain’t got to say no more. He’s all that. Why? Cuz he’s able to take da biz to that other level, see?” Coco said, raising her right hand to her lips.
“Yeah, yeah,” Deedee said. “Spark that up.”
Coco pulled the long brown tobacco-wrapped joint from her shirt pocket and meticulously smoothed it out with her fingers.
“Lemme get it right,” Coco said. She continued the action. Deedee came closer and offered a light.
“No. Oh, no, this is your house. You spark da shit, yo.” Deedee tried to light the rolled blunt, but there was no smoke. “No, no, spark the other end.”
She made another attempt to light it and the blunt blazed when the flame touched its tip. Deedee pulled harder and the smoke entered her lungs. She passed the blunt to Coco.
“Some good shit,” Coco said. She coughed.
“Do you want another drink?” Deedee asked. Coco’s coughing had intensified.
“Yeah, most definitely. I can see you wanna get me blow-ass,” Coco coughed.
When Deedee headed up the stairs, Coco’s mind turned again to the sound equipment. “Wow!” Coco said. Her thoughts exploded into the syllable. “Wow! Some pops gots it and somes don’t,” she remarked. When Deedee returned, she said, “I know this shit cost crazy loot. I know, I know.”
Deedee passed Coco a glass of Harvey’s.
“Josephine called a minute ago, left a message on the machine.”
“She coming through?”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Deedee said, hesitating.
“Oh, this is da bomb.” Coco sipped again and again from the glass, and quickly finished the drink. “Harvey’s and weed. That’s some killing shit for your ass, I’m saying.” Coco cleared her throat. Deedee averted her gaze. “Wanna get really booted, yo?” Coco fished in her pockets for something to smoke.
“Ah,” Coco breathed as she snatched another blunt from her shirt pocket. In one swift motion, she had the blunt between her lips. Coco made a sucking motion with her mouth and the blunt went ablaze. Deedee stood in awe. She decided to let Coco get high. Then she might open up.
“Yeah, let’s get really booted, Coco,” she said. Her plan took the shape of the lit blunt.
“Pass that shit, girl,” Coco demanded.
“You know, you know, it’s really funny. I mean, Josephine, she said, she...”
“I ain’t trying to hear her funny-acting ass. Just puff and pass da shit.”
“Have you spoken to her since... Since the incident?” Deedee asked.
“I tried, yo. Called her house, left messages and all that. She ain’t trying to get wid me, yo. I’m saying Dee, I’ve reached out. What da fuck did I do? We used to be girls, like, really down.” Coco held up her middle and index fingers together. Deedee misunderstood and handed Coco the blunt.
“Like this,” Coco repeated now with the blunt between the fingers. “Yeah, but I’m saying when da ship goes down, yo...”
“Yeah, I know exactly what you’re saying.” Deedee took the smoldering weed. “When da ship goes down. But I thought being friends and all, if sump’n goes bad, you know, we would all stick together.” Deedee reached for her drink.
“Yeah, I thought da same shit, yo, but it ain’t like that. Ya know? I think no matter what group, no matter what field the group belongs to, there is always these external forces pulling it back from fully developing. If that group is ready, da members will come together and put a check to all the negativity.” Coco paused. Deedee’s face looked as if it were being smacked by the one-two combination of alcohol and marijuana. Coco wondered if Deedee understood anything that she had said.
“You look blow-assed, girl. Fucked up, yo.” They both laughed giddily. “But that’s da real, you know? People front. They try to make you feel that they wit’ you when you know all the time they just wanna bounce, do their own thing. Danielle... I mean, we had our differences, but we were cool like that. May her soul rest in peace.” Coco sipped gently from her glass. Deedee noticed tears coming from Coco’s eyes. She felt the sting as her own tears welled.
“It must be this weed, but our eyes are tearing a lot, Coco.” Deedee said wiping at her eyes.
“It’s not only the chronic, yo. You’re dealing wid da real, see wha’ I’m saying?”
“What about Josephine? You think she’s dealing with what’s real?”
“I couldn’t answer for her, Dee. She would have to.”
“But she was hanging out with y’all. I mean…”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken directly to her. But I spoke to her mother an’ she was acting kinda funny, know wha’ I’m saying?”
“Like how?”
“When I called, her mother would pick up da phone and be like, ‘Coco, Josephine is not available at the moment,’” Coco mimicked Josephine’s mother’s voice. “Like I did her sump’n. She don’t owe me no money and I ain’t looking for no job, yo. She gotta duck me.”
“Yeah,” Deedee said. “I know what you mean.”
The blunt had gone out. It lay in the ash tray as a reminder of her plan. She had wanted Coco to get high, relax and maybe talk. Deedee reached for the blunt, lit it, and resumed her plan of action.
“Aw, shit. You getting open on da weed, yo. I don’t know if I can handle it. I’m tore-up as it is right now,” Coco said.
“C’mon, Coco, you can’t front. You know you could handle this.”
Deedee passed the blunt to Coco. Coco yielded to temptation and as Deedee had hoped; when the weed and liquor kicked in Coco would be more talkative. She would lose control.
“I, I know certain things that I’m checking before I even act on, you know wha’ I’m saying? You know that kid Rightchus?”
“Ah,” Deedee struggled to link a face with the name. “Rightchus?” she repeated.
“Yeah, yeah. Rightchus, that real black, short mo’fucka who be hanging out by da clubs. Yo, he be out by da school late in da evenings. Always begging for money and cigarettes.” Deedee jogged through her memory bank, but it was cloudy now from the smoke and the drinks.
“Nah, can’t say. The name sounds familiar, I mean...”
“Well, he was at da club da night that shit wit’ you went down. Yo, that nigga is pointing fingers at Lil’ Long and Vulcha.”
“Word?” Deedee queried.
“Word up. He be knowing some shit, yo.”
“Them niggas,” muttered Deedee under her breath. “Coco,” Deedee spoke in a louder tone. “You’re saying that, that this guy, ah, Rightchus is saying they—Lil’ Long and Vulcha—raped me?” Deedee rose from the soft chair where she’d been sitting. Coco glanced around at the mass of recording equipment. Then she heard fury coming through in Deedee’s rushing voice.
“Them mothafuckas!” she yelled. “They deserve to fucking die.”
“If they are really da ones, yo. They asses should be dead. Over wid, yo.”
“But, but I think I’m sure. I mean, you’re saying Rightchus is front’n?” Deedee paced from one side of the room to the other.
“I’m not sure, cause Rightchus, he be cracking. He always front’n like he’s got knowledge of self, but he smokes da rock. I just don’t know.”
“Is there anyone else? Someone whose word is really bond? Then again, maybe it should just die, go away,” Deedee said. Her saunter had now ceased.
“You and I know it will never leave, yo. It’s like luggage you have to carry forever to the grave,” Coco said as she turned and looked at Deedee. The halting of her nervous walk was only temporary. Coco’s words immediately proved to be the catalyst of a dreaded thought as she began a slow gait.
“We should go to the cops.”
“Da tin badges? Are you for real?”
“I mean, they would investigate. I mean…”
“Da cops never look out for people like us,” Coco said. She rubbed her soft brown cheek. “Plus, if Rightchus is telling da truth, then them niggas must be well connected.”
“Why so?”
“Cause every time they get picked up by da police, they be coming right back looking paid. Word, that’s what Rightchus said, yo.”
“They get paid by the cops?”
“I’m saying I’m not da one making da shit up. Don’t be looking at me like I’m crazy. I’m just repeating sump’n I heard from a fucking crack head. I mean, da shit might not mean nothing.”
“So, how are we gonna find out if it’s the truth or not?”
“I’m gonna approach them niggas, yo. I’m gonna be like, what. I don’t give a fuck. Them niggas killed ma girl Bebop when they shot up Deja’s place, and they responsible for Danielle’s death. You know wha’ I’m saying, Deedee? Them niggas are the ones who raped you. Da cops don’t give a fuck. We got to take matters into our own hands. I’m saying, we got to take care of our business!”
“How are we gonna do this?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Listen, Coco, my uncle has guns hidden. He doesn’t know that I know where they are.”
“What kinda guns?”
“Forty-fives, Nines...”
“Yo, we could do some damage. Forty-fives, yo?”
“Yep. Put some caps in them niggas’ ass. End the whole shit.” She pointed her index finger. “Pow!” She said. Deedee felt the surge of power that a gun gives. “Let’s find out where they live, dress like prostitutes, real ho-ish. They pick us up—boom! We kill both of them.”
“Nah, everybody’s packing, yo. It ain’t gonna be that easy.”
“Coco, you think I should tell my uncle?”
“Tell your uncle what? I’m saying, this is just speculation right now. You can’t get da toasts without telling him anything, yo?”
“Da toasts?”
“Yeah, da guns, da burners whatever, yo.” Coco clarified.
“I mean, I could get da guns. We…Me and my uncle haven’t really talked about that whole incident. I don’t know. Maybe he really blames me. Why didn’t I just crash and die?” Tears flowed down Deedee’s cheeks. Coco rushed over and they embraced. Now they both were connected by a common cause, like kids in a playground. Their hugs and tears brought a new bond.
“We’ll get ‘em, yo. I best be out. You’re going to the Wake, right? Ahigt, then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Coco looked at her watch. “Damn, it’s almost tomorrow already.” They headed upstairs.
“Think Josephine is gonna show?” Deedee asked.
“I won’t go there,” Coco said.
“We’ll see, won’t we,” Deedee said. “Let me call you a cab.”
“Cool. Thanks, yo.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” Coco smiled.
“Alright, but where is home?” Deedee saw that Coco was trying to hold back tears. She’s a fighter, Deedee thought as she dialed the taxi.
“Hell,” Coco whispered.
Deedee kissed Coco’s cheek. Coco patted Deedee’s shoulder. They watched for the cab together, and Deedee looked on as Coco ran for the cab. She savored the growing camaraderie between her and Coco. The thought of breaking the information from Rightchus to her uncle overwhelmed her. How would Coco handle that? She wondered.
Coco too, was thinking as her cab rushed through the light rain. I wasn’t supposed to get this close, but she’s cool people. I wonder how Mom is doing. I should go and see her. Maybe after tomorrow’s Wake for Danielle. A fallen comrade. Oh shit! Coco almost screamed but the words never came. She saw Lil’ Long and Vulcha parked at a diner, and Rightchus was standing next to their Navigator.
“Let me out right here! Thank you.” Coco hurried down the block, her bop slowing down as she approached them. The thought of these three together stung her mind. Once again, her eyes welled as she strained to hear the conversation. The talk of revenge circled the heaven and brought a damp cloud to the new day.