THE THREE GIRLS CONTINUED TO WALK UP ST.
Nicholas Avenue taking in the sights. Dena loved Harlem not only for the action, but the feel of it. In her hood everything and everybody was tense. The young boys seemed to be prepared for battle at all times. It wasn't like Harlem didn't have its ghettos, but the tension level didn't seem to be so high. But, alien as the two boroughs were to each other, Dena wouldn't have traded Brooklyn for the world.
When Sharon finally slowed her pace they were standing in front of building 410, on 130th. It was a fairly decent-looking building with a great view of the park, but Dena didn't care too much for the looks the stragglers in front of the building were giving them.
“Who you know in here?” Dena asked, rolling her eyes at a young dude who was trying to get her attention.
“Girl, would you relax. My friend lives in this building. We can blow something down at his crib and then hit the video shoot,” Sharon said, leading them into the building and onto the elevator. In a matter of seconds they were stepping off on the fourteenth floor and heading towards the apartment closest to the staircase. Sharon knocked, and
after a few seconds the locks were undone and a man stood in the doorway, beaming at the three young ladies.
“What da deal, boo?” Sharon gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “These are my girls Dena and Mo from BK. Y'all, this is Sean.”
Sean gave a light chuckle. “Rough-Sean, back in the days, but that's another story. How're you ladies doing?” Sean was a fairly handsome cat with peanut-butter skin and broad shoulders. His hair was cut low, but not low enough to where you couldn't see the waves rippling through the top of it. Lightly tapered sideburns ran the length of his jaw and connected with a budding goatee. “Come on in.” He stepped back and allowed them to enter the apartment.
Sean's crib was decorated surprisingly nice for a dude. He had a plush white living room set, which rested on a smoke gray carpet. A plasma TV, tuned to
ESPN News,
was fastened to a wall he had bricked over when he moved into the spot, to give it more of a chic look. Along the shelves that were mounted on the wall were trophies of different shapes and sizes. Most of them were for football, but there was also a basketball award and two for baseball. Along the walls were pictures of him dressed in his high school football uniform, wearing a goofy smirk.
“Shit!” Dena cursed, looking at the blank screen on her cell phone.
“What's good, ma?” Mo asked.
“I was so busy rushing out the house that I forgot to charge my phone.”
“If it's a local call you can use the house phone,” Sean said, tossing her the cordless.
“I'm just checking my messages,” she told him, punching in her number.
“You a balla, huh?” Mo asked Sean, admiring the picture.
Leaning against the wall he gave her a confident grin. “I used to play a lil bit.”
“Sean won a D-2 national title last year,” Sharon added proudly, taking one of the larger trophies off the shelf.
“You a college grad?” Dena asked.
“Not quite.” He took the trophy from Sharon and placed it back
on the shelf. “I got two more years before I get my bachelor's. You go to school?”
“I'm in my last year, but as soon as the fall hits I'm off to college,” Dena told him.
Sean licked his lips, not in a seductive way, more like they were dry. But he was definitely transmitting something. “That's what's up. It's good to see a sister handling hers.”
“What you got up in here to drink? A bitch is parched,” Sharon cut in, not digging the way Sean was looking at Dena.
“Look at your lush ass.” Sean playfully mushed her.
“Set it out, you know how I do!” Sharon told him before flopping on the couch and grabbing the remote, letting the other two girls know she and Sean had that kind of familiarity.
“Sharon, I better not get knocked for letting your young ass drink. If I do, I'm fucking you up for telling and fucking Be-Be up for bringing your young ass around.” He cut a glance at Dena when he said this. “Y'all want something too?”
“Ain't you afraid of getting in trouble for serving alcohol to us minors?” Dena said slyly.
“You're gonna do it anyhow, so I'd rather it be up here where you're safe than out there where something could happen to you. Besides, you ain't that young,” he said before disappearing into the kitchen. “Is Sex on the Street alright with y'all?” he called from the kitchen.
“I'm always for that,” Mo mumbled, looking at a picture of Sean at his senior prom.
“What the hell is that?” Dena asked suspiciously.
“Just something me and my crew came up on. Its an original recipe,” he said, milling about the refrigerator. He placed an ice-cold forty of St. Ides on the counter, beside a two-liter Hawaiian Punch. In old-school form, Sean turned the forty up and downed it just to the label, then replaced the beer with the Punch and swirled it around in the bottle. The finished product looked like red Alize, with a hit of bubbles at the top.
“Here we go,” Sean said, coming out of the kitchen, balancing a
tray with four full wine glasses on it. Sharon immediately began sipping hers, while Dena and Mo looked at the glasses suspiciously.
“There better not be no date rape in this.” Dena smelled her glass.
“Ma, do I look like a nigga who gotta
take
the pussy? Come on, shorty, I wouldn't do that to the lil homey or her girls.” He nodded towards Sharon, who looked upset at the statement.
“Yeah, I'm gonna remember that little homey shit.” Sharon took a deep gulp of her drink.
Mo took a shy sip and nodded her head in approval. “It kinda tastes like a wine cooler.”
“Told you so.” Sean flopped on the couch between Dena and Mo. “Now, which one of y'all got the bud?”
For the next twenty minutes or so the quartet smoked weed and sipped the Sex. Dena had a good buzz, but Sharon looked like she was on the verge of being drunk, which was always a bad sign. She had one leg slung over the arm of the lounge chair and her eyes looked like they were trying to droop.
“You a'ight?” Dena asked her.
“I'm good, yo. That Sex on the Street be kicking my ass, though.” Sharon slurred a bit.
“This shit is kinda strong. What did you say was in it?” Mo asked.
“I didn't,” Sean said playfully.
Sharon suddenly sprung to her feet, scaring the hell out of everyone. “This shit got me feeling good!” she said, stretching so that her breasts were pressing against the fabric of her shirt. “Yo, Ima be up in the video like,” she tried to bust a dance step, but mistimed it and stumbled, landing with her ass in Sean's lap and almost spilling the Sex onto Dena and Mo.
“Bitch, watch that!” Mo shouted.
“Damn, you drunk ass almost fucked up my outfit,” Dena scolded her.
“Fuck y'all, ain't nobody drunk,” Sharon shot back. She draped her arms around Sean's neck and gave him a seductive look. “Let me holla at you in the back for a minute,” she tried to whisper, but everyone in the room heard her.
Sean's face turned a shade darker, but he tried not to look embarrassed. “Easy, ma,” he said, while removing her hands. “You a little tipsy right now.”
“Sean, stop acting like that.” She was now trying to wrap her arms around his waist, but he resisted.
“Cut it out, Sharon.” He removed her from his lap and stood up.
“Word, it's like that now?” she asked with hurt in her eyes and anger in her voice. “What, you acting brand-new cause these bitches is here? Sean, you know my head game is way good, so stop fronting.”
“Sharon, that drink got you bugging right now,” Sean said seriously. Sharon was blowing his cool in front of Dena and he was starting to get upset.
“Fuck you, nigga!” Sharon tossed the empty glass at him, but thankfully it didn't shatter.
“You acting like a real bird right now, shorty,” Sean said, clearly irritated now.
“I got ya fucking shorty.” Sharon hopped up like she was going to take a swing at him, but Mo grabbed her.
“Ain't gonna be none of that, Sharon, cause if he buck we all gotta buck,” she said very seriously.
“Nah, I ain't even on it like that. Just get her drunk ass the fuck up outta here,” Sean said, bending to pick up the glass. As soon as he was close enough, Sharon tired to kick him, but she ended up nicking Dena's leg.
Dena glared at her. “Now I know your ass is tripping.”
“Come on, we out,” Mo said, half steering, half dragging Sharon towards the door. Dena shook her head and fell in step behind her peoples.
“Yo, I'm sorry this shit happened,” Sean said to Dena.
“Don't sweat it,” she said casually.
“Maybe one day I could make it up to you?”
Dena gave him a seductive smile. “Nah.” She glanced at Sharon and back to Sean. “I think I'm a little too old for you.” With a playful wink, she was out the door.
THE INSIDE OF THE CAMPER SMELLED LIKE A
combination of body spray and pressed hair. Several of the more high-profile ladies to be featured in the video went about the task of getting themselves and their gear right for the shoot.
Yoshi sat at the vanity table across from the lead girl, Ayanna, carefully applying the finishing touches to her make up. Yoshi had successfully tuned her from a nice-looking, around-the-way chick to a certified diva, using a smooth coat of foundation and autumn colors where she knew the light would hit. Yoshi had always considered herself a fly bitch, so doing wardrobe and makeup came quite naturally to her.
“Yeah,” Yoshi said, using her thumb to wipe a smudge from beneath her bottom lip. “These muthafuckas is gonna be on you, ma.” She handed Ayanna a hand mirror.
“You did ya thing, Yoshi.” Ayanna admired her face, and tugged at her Shirley Temple curls. “If these niggaz didn't know, they gonna know.”
“Okay.” Yoshi gave her a high five.
Ayanna got up and went to give her five-seven banana frame the once over in the mirror. She was wearing a black leather miniskirt and a black corset. Her China doll eyes
seemed to sit perfectly in her angular face, brought to the forefront by a thin line of black mascara. The black leather pumps were a little snug on her feet, but it was a small price to pay for fashion. Like Yoshi, Ayanna was a young chick on the come up. She had graced the pages of magazines and calendars and was the talk of the town on the video scene. She was a young chick with an exotic look and one hell of a swagger.
“You killing em right now, but something's missing,” Yoshi said, pacing around Ayanna. “Hold up, I got just the thing.” Yoshi fumbled around in her case until she found what she was looking for. Rubbing a nice hunk of Vaseline in her palms, Yoshi began to smooth it over Ayanna's face and arms. When she was done she dipped one of her make-up brushes into a small jar of glitter and began flicking it on Ayanna. The flecks of gold clung to her, giving her skin a pixielike effect. For the finishing touch, Yoshi removed the gold slide necklace from around her neck and placed it on Ayanna.
Yoshi nodded. “Now you're ready.”
“Damn, I thought you'd never get done. You ain't the only one that gotta get right for the camera,” Peaches said, flopping her forty-eight-inch ass on the stool Ayanna had just vacated. She was a chocolate dime with hips like she was raised on nothing but corn bread and greens. Much like Ayanna, Peaches was on the come up in the entertainment business, but she represented the darker side of it. When someone said “down for whatever,” they were probably talking about Peaches. The girls were bitter rivals.
“Yeah, some bitches need a head start,” Ayanna said slyly.
Peaches faced Yoshi, who was just sitting back down to the vanity table, but addressed Ayanna: “Speaking of
head,
how did your private interview with Stacks work out?”
“Bitch, knock it off. I know you ain't trying to talk slick, wit all the dick you done sucked? Your head game is international. You throwing shade, when your ass is like forty, still trying to do videos. You ain't get the memo? It's a young bitch's world,” Ayanna shot back, drawing laughter from the other four girls that were in the camper.
“Come on girl, dead that shit. I still got two more ladies to do after you and I don't wanna have to rush. You know I pride myself on
quality,” Yoshi said, trying to ease the tension so she could do what she had to do and kick back.
“I'm sorry, Yoshi, but you know how some of these bitches forget they place,” Peaches said, in an attempt to taunt Ayanna further. Thankfully, she didn't bite. “So what you been up to, girl?” she asked Yoshi.
“Out here trying to get a dollar,” Yoshi said, as she began to run the alcohol pad over Peaches's face. “How's the modeling thing going?”
“It's going, but not the way I want it to,” Peaches told her. “These niggaz act like if you ain't trying to pose in a thong, they ain't fucking wit you.”
“Who you got managing you?” Yoshi asked, evening out Peaches's makeup.
“Oh, my son's father and his cousin is handling that. His cousin used to work for Diddy, so you know he about his business.”
“Peaches, a woman's worth is too precious to be measured by a man. Leaving a novice nigga in control of your destiny is like having a pimp. Remind me to give you the name and number of the agency I went through back in the days. My girl Laurie Gold will get you right.”
“You used to model?” a caramel-colored girl asked from the loveseat.
Yoshi looked over at her. “Baby, I used to do some of everything, but now I'm just trying to make it through to tomorrow like everybody else.”
“Yeah, I heard you was a beast on the streets,” an older girl said from near the wardrobe. Yoshi remembered her face from the club scene, but couldn't place her name. “You used to headline at Shooter's, right?”
“That was a lifetime ago,” Yoshi told her, moving from Peaches's eyes to her lips.
“I can't see it. You seem so ⦠square,” Ayanna said.
“You can't take everything you see for surface value.”
The door to the camper swung open, drawing everyone's attention. “This shit is gonna be serious. Don B just rolled up.” She was dark, with the look of a newscaster on a good story.
“Where them dollars at,” Peaches sang.
Yoshi's face didn't show it, but a chill ran down her back. Every time she heard the name she got uneasy. Though Don B hadn't been a participant in the rape, they were his minions. To her, he represented the worst the streets had to offer, hidden behind a pair of blacked-out glasses.
“That nigga True looking like new money,” the newscaster broadcasted.
“What's better than new money?”
“Long money!” Ayanna said. “Man, I'm about to hit the bricks and see who's out there. Time is money, bitches,” Ayanna said, following the newscaster out of the camper.
Yoshi watched the young girls leave, feeling somewhere between amused and saddened. They reminded her of herself not so long ago. Yoshi tore through Harlem like she had papers on it. She was young, fine, skillful, and determined to manipulate her way to the top. Until the now-departed members of Bad Blood and Rel's grimy ass showed her how deep the rabbit hole goes. Just thinking of him made her want to vomit. Yoshi had never wished death on anyone, but she wasn't sorry that someone tossed him off a roof.
You have to really love someone in order to kill for them, and this is what had strengthened the bond between her and Jah. She was still pissed at him, but couldn't help but to laugh when she thought of him. How could someone so versed in the streets be such a novice at love? Jah had stood by her and constantly helped absorb the pain all through her recovery, but when it came to him opening up, he withdrew. She had tried to figure out the puzzle that made up the young man but was stumped. Yoshi considered herself an expert in reading men, but Jah's character was a puzzle she had yet to solve, and this is what often frustrated her most.
Yoshi was distracted by the beeping of her cell phone. “Hello?” she answered, without looking at the caller ID.
“What's good, skank?” Billy's familiar voice came through the phone.
“Takes one to know one,” Yoshi shot back.
“What you doing?” Billy asked.
“Shit, working. Stacks Green is shooting his video uptown, so you know ya girl out there trying to get a check. Why don't you stop through, they got plenty of food and chronic. You know Stacks always feels like he gotta outstunt Don B, so it should be fun to watch.”
“Damn, that sounds like what it is, but you know Reese ain't trying to come nowhere near Don B.”
“My poor home girl is gonna fuck around and miss out on a lot, trying to hide from a nigga that's at every event. Yo, if it was me I'd have just stepped to the nigga by now.”
“You and me both, but Reese don't wanna press it. She figures, as she's got Alex, she don't need no nigga; and truthfully, I agree with her. All a nigga can really do is bring you grief or a fucking disease.”
Yoshi sucked her teeth. “Yeah, right, you don't be popping that shit when your ass be rushing home to watch
Girlfriends
with Marcus. His fake, tough ass watching a chick show is bananas.”
“Leave my boo alone. I'll have you know that
Girlfriends
is an excellent show. Yo ass don't know nothing about upwardly mobile blacks,” Billy said.
“And you do? Shit, ya man own a strip club,” Yoshi pointed out.
“Baby, a check is a check,” Billy told her.
“I know that's right.”
“Anyhow, how long are you gonna be stuck over there trying to swat them country nigga's hands away from yo ass?” Billy asked.
Yoshi glanced at her watch. “I don't know. I've been through four wardrobe changes already, and these niggaz ain't even halfway through the shoot. I might be here for a minute, ma.”
“You gotta do what you gotta do, Yoshi. Well, me and Reese is gonna go get something to eat and probably hit a bar up. It's been a while since I hung out with my girls.”
“Cause you spend so much time on lockdown,” Yoshi teased.
“Like Jah lets you run like you used to. Don't go there with me, Yoshi. Speaking of Jah, what's up with my little brother?”
“He's probably sulking around the house or playing that damn video game, fucking asshole.”
“What's with all the hostility?”
“Nothin. That lil nigga just gets me tight. Stacks wanted him to do security this weekend and he acting all funny about the shit, like we don't need that bread. When I checked him on it he act like he was feeling in a way. I don't wanna have to filet that little thug-ass nigga, but damnit I will!”
“You need to calm down, Yoshi. You knew Jah was wild when you got with him, so don't go condemning him now,” Billy said seriously. Yoshi was her girl, but over the course of Yoshi's recovery Jah had been a pillar. This is what earned her respect, and she was quick to defend him.
“Billy, if you only knew the half.”
“Talk to ya girl,” Billy urged her.
“A'ight, peep this ⦔ Yoshi went on to give Billy the short version of the story. She ended with, “Yo, if the nigga don't wanna be around, he needs to just say so.”
“Damn, that's crazy; but I don't think Jah meant it like that,” Billy said.
“However the fuck he meant it, he said it. That was some hurtful shit, Billy, and to make it worse, he hasn't even called me today.”
“Now that's whack, but the other shit I think you can work on. I know he should've called, but why don't you give him a ring instead?”
“Fuck that!” Yoshi spat.
“Yoshi, stop acting like that. You've got more experience with the opposite sex, so you know you understand the rules of engagement a little better than he does. Just call him.”
There was a knock on the door, then a round-faced female PA wearing a headset poked her head into the camper. “Yoshi, they need you on set. One of Persia's tracks came out and they're ready to shoot.”
Yoshi covered the phone. “I'll be right there. Billy, I gotta go, but I'll shout y'all later.”
“Alright then, do what you gotta do, kid. Make sure you call me later. One.”