her singing and dancing on an imaginary stage. Coco was captivating, riding high and shining like a star.
She lost her mind to an encore and a couple of spins, mingled with a few turns. Coco burst into a verse from I’m coming out. For that moment she was Diana Ross, the boss, and the crowd cheered her on. They were screaming, “Yeah you go girl!” They provded Coco with the strong support she needed.
“You’re gonna be a major star one day, Coco. Keep doing what you do,” an audience member shouted.
“Maybe one day we’ll work together,” a fat, dark-skinned man said. He gave her a business card that read Busta, the talent promoter.
Coco was motivated. She never stopped singing, and one day danced herself into a music video. It was the first time she had received money for her fantasy, and felt good, but it only served to whet her appetite.
Coco first met Danielle and Josephine at that video shoot. Although they had been attending the same school, they were not aware of each other’s existence. Danielle and Josephine were locked into Coco’s vibes after this first meeting. Coco had dreamt of being another Diana Ross, and now she had found her Supremes. In school, the girls hung together, allowing Coco the time to discover the family she had been longing for. The three talented teens formed Da Crew, with Coco at the helm.
Danielle’s mother didn’t mind her daughter being out so much, since she thought Danielle was in the library most of the time. Being more concerned with a marriage on the brink of disaster, she knew nothing of Danielle in the streets, running with the clique.
Josephine’s parents were working professionals, and her family was the closest to what could be called a real family. She just wanted to fit in, so she was in ecstasy since she had hooked up with the other girls. They were contented to see their daughter happy and her parents always allowed her to participate freely in extracurricular activities. She was allowed time for rehearsals, but there was only one stipulation.
“I’m good as long as my school work’s up to date,” Josephine said, whenever the topic of rehearsal schedules was brought up.
The posse rehearsed their routine almost every evening after school and performed on weekends, usually Friday evenings, at different clubs. Each was loyal to the clique that had blossomed right under their families’ noses. The next time Coco spoke to Busta, he had congratulated her after she had won another talent show. He invited her and crew to be a contestant in his own annual talent jump off. It was now officially on for Coco and her girls.
Headlights bounced off the paved streets, causing tiny speckled beads of reflection. The girls made their way past three older women sipping, and standing around losing their souls in the bottle.
Coco gazed out the car window. “Why do these people keep holding on?” she wondered aloud.
“That’s their salvation, drinking, I guess,” Deedee replied.
“They need to just give up and git da fuck off the curb.” Danielle said.
“That’s...that spot right there!” Coco yelled as she changed the subject to something less depressing.
“Yeah...yeah,” Danielle and Josephine yelled as they gazed at the nightclub Genesis.
“Let’s check this scene, yo,” Coco demanded.
“Okay, I hear you. But can I park first?” Deedee asked.
“Yeah, right over there. They’re pulling out,” Coco shouted.
Deedee guided the car with some difficulty into the vacant spot. The teens standing in line turned and stared in the direction of the car.
“Why’s everyone all up in my biz?” Deedee asked loud enough for anyone to hear. No one answered. Da Crew had performed at this club before, so Coco moved toward the front, motioning Da Crew and Deedee to follow. The girls felt like celebrities as they were escorted through the velvet ropes of the VIP entrance into the club.
“Hey yo, check this out. We’ve got some honeys in da house,” an Afro-headed youth exclaimed as he menacingly approached the girls, his hips gyrating and arms above his head.
“What up? What up? Ladies y’all wanna be swinging wit’ Lil’ Long, or what?” He asked. Coco stepped closer to him, pressing four fingertips in his chest.
“We’re gonna swing wit’ you later, Lil’ Long. But for now, just cool it. We’re gonna chill. And here’s a Spearmint, yo. You might need some more, but it’s a start.” She turned to Da Crew. “Why does every stinking-breath wanna get up all on top of me, all up in my face tonight?” Coco asked as she lit another blunt.
“You’re gonna have to put that out,” a club security officer gruffly ordered.
“Okay, okay,” Coco said. She inhaled and then crushed the lit tip under her right boot.
“Bitch, that’s some expensive-ass weave you’re wearing, right?” a handsome thug with braids down to his shoulders asked. He was joking around, but Deedee wasn’t having it.
“Yeah, it’s your mammy’s,” She immediately shot back.
“Ouch,” chorused a small crowd of club hoppers who gathered at the site.
Coco and Da Crew were wearing headgear, so Deedee figured the voice was directed at her. She felt like she had to reply.
“Yo, I’ll slap—”
“Whassup, Deja? Yo chill. This is my friend, Deedee. She’s real down-to-earth once you get to know her,” Coco said. She hoped the situation wouldn’t get physical.
“Well, as long as she recognizes that I’m not here to represent da bullshit. I’m only representing da real. Then we ahight, you feel me, ma?”
“Watch da soundman,” the deejay roared, flipping the script. The music transformed the club into a hip-hop mass.
“Booyakka ... Booyakka ... soundman lick some shots,” the girls yelled in unison jumping and reveling.
Reggae groove transformed the mood of the club into a swirling, bass-heavy, resonating grind. The volume sent a quiver up the spine of even the most relaxed wallflowers. The dance floor rocked as Coco moved toward the bar, not stopping to join the party. Deedee, hot on her heels, finally caught up to her.
“Coco, Coco, I just wanna thank you for what you did back there. That was the second time you saved my—”
“Keep your mouth shut and stop acting like you’ve got bodyguards and there should not be a third time. Un’erstan’?” Coco growled, her nostrils flaring and her brown eyes wide open.
“But—” Deedee’s face wore a baffled expression.
“Nah, no buts, homey,” Coco said. “Just know that these niggas are grimy. They ain’t taking shit off no one, Ahight.”
“Cool, I hear you…”
“You
