“Ahight, ahight I’m a take you up on that,” Lil’ Long said, nodding.
“Later,” Coco said, heading away from him. “I need some air, yo.”
“What about you?” Deja asked as he swooped down on the defenseless Deedee.
She had let him come too near. Deedee could not back up, and did not want to push him out of her face. The drama from the earlier introduction was still fresh in her mind. His breath was hot. It smelled awful, like burnt body parts mixed with alcohol. Deedee wanted to be cool, be down with the other girls.
“Ahight, let’s dance,” she said, reaching for his hand and directed her thoughts to the dance floor.
He wanted to grind, she kept avoiding contact. They continued dancing, and he was able to lay his hands on her hips. He touched her small waist and breasts. Each time, Deja pretended the contact was incidental. She didn’t push it. Or, paid it no mind and the sounds took her away—the bass-line driving hard, ricocheting from her hips sweeping her body into a pelvic grind. By the second song Deedee had allowed him to grab her ass. She shook it for him and he was pleased as he got up close and personal riding her whirling posterior.
“Alrighty, party people, as we continue on wid that rub-a-dub style…” the voice of the deejay screamed colliding with Deedee’s efforts on the floor.
“I hate those fucking deejays,” she said, mimicking Coco. It was now her exit line. She smiled as she abruptly brought the dance to an end.
“I gotta get some air, yo,” Deedee said as she made her escape from the floor. Deja wore a jilted look.
“You know where to find me,” he laughed, turning and rejoining the celebration on the dance floor. The place now belonged to Josephine and Danielle. They were moving in an encore of Coco’s performance. Da Crew was clearly enjoying themselves.
“Another one?” Deedee asked when she encountered Coco holding a cigarette and glass filled with liquor.
“Another one of what, yo?” Coco shot back with much attitude. She showed contempt for Deedee’s meddling. “Listen,” she continued, adjusting her expression with a crooked smile. “I know my limitations,” she declared, holding the last syllable slightly longer than normal. “I do this all the time. There’s nothing’ new to this. What’s it to you? Don’t sweat me. Can I live, yo?”
“Well, I just don’t think you should have another...”
“Da posse is still tearing shit up,” Coco burped. Deedee stared at Coco’s crooked grin, and then put a cigarette to her lips.
“Yeah, they doing their thing. Gimme a light,” Deedee said, attempting to absorb the situation without sounding sympathetic.
Coco obliged with a light. Her grin had gone awry, clinging to another corner of her mouth.
“The performance, is it... Ah?” Deedee asked awkwardly.
“Is it what?” Coco replied.
“Is it your salvation?” Deedee responded too quickly.
“Never thought about it like that. Never really,” Coco’s answer was cut short by the man on the microphone.
“Yeah party people we’ve really got a fire blazin’ up in da house tonight you hear. I can’t hear you …”
“That deejay...” Da Crew chorused as they walked toward the smoking duet.
“...Talks too muthafuckin’ much!” The four girls announced.
“Save me some shorts,” Josephine requested.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” Danielle yelled. “Whew, I’m hot and thirsty.”
“That ain’t nothing new, bitch.” Josephine said.
“Mind your own Bl, bi-yotch.” Danielle answered.
“I seen you bumping an’ all up in Deja’s face.” Coco turned to Deedee and said.
“He’s just trying to push up. Nothing else…” Deedee started to speak but Coco cut her off.
“I’ll tell you the two things what madukes always be running, ‘don’t get friendly too quickly, and don’t trust no man,’” Coco sleepily mumbled. The alcohol had numbed her thoughts, but she was still in charge of Coco. She had been done before but Deedee had no way to know. She stared at Coco and for a moment Deedee felt nothing but pity, then a tinge of nervousness as her eyes met Deja’s stare. Coco saw her reaction.
“Why is he clocking you so hard? What’d ya do to home-boy? He’s got that sick puppy-dog look going on, yo. He’s only trying to catch a new owner. You got him open like Seven-Eleven, girlfriend,” Coco said giddily. She even managed a chuckle.
Deedee stared at Coco. She watched as the alcohol stimulated the meltdown of Coco’s hard edge. It made her friendly and almost childlike.
“This must mean it’s my turn to burn,” the thug that called himself Lil’ Long said as he approached them. Coco grabbed his hand. She motioned to Da Crew. They turned and strutted back to continue their domination of the dance floor. Deedee marveled again at Coco’s moves. She was startled when she felt someone palming her ass.
“Hey,” she said, and whirled around to face Deja. “Chill with that, please.”
“Chill with what, honey?” Deja asked and showed his hands feigning innocence. He was full of fun but Deedee was not in the mood for his humor. “You need to stop acting so stuck up.” Deja said.
“You need to stop trying to cop a feel,” Deedee replied emphatically. “I don’t like that,” she continued. “Most guys will buy a girl a drink and then try to kick it. Maybe that’s what you should be trying to do. Buy me a drink and talk sexy to me or sump’n other than trying to feel on my behind.”
“You’re a spoiled and bossy bitch,” Deja said dejectedly. “That’s because you think you’re all this and that,” he continued, his voice rising and competing with the bass.
“All right, party people. Yeah! Give it up for Coco and Da Crew. Young Ghetto celebs, in da house doing their thingy-thing. Alrighty…”
“Oh shit, oh no he didn’t,” Coco said. She smiled, drunkenly acknowledging the onlookers.
“Let’s get da fuck off this floor,” Josephine said.
“Why? The deejay’s only trying to blow us up. That ain’t such a bad thing,” Danielle countered. The girls followed Coco off the floor anyway.
“You guys can really go!” Deedee said when she caught up to Coco. Da Crew kept walking toward a booth.
“We’ll be back in a few,” Da Crew, Danielle and Josephine said on cue.
“They must’ve seen their boyfriends. Hey, don’t get lost, girlies,” Coco replied.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Deedee asked without warning, surprising herself and Coco. She had figured Coco wouldn’t mind talking a little.
“Nah,” replied Coco effortlessly. Deedee had been right. She delved further.
“Why not? Don’t you want one?” Deedee pried.
“I don’t need one. Men shouldn’t be trusted. See men, they start out as boys. They love to beat up on girls and grow up to be men who take advantage of women. They do that because they think women are weaker. But not me, I’m not gonna be nobody’s house pet, you feel me?” Coco reached for a light and fumbled to get the last cigarette from her pack. Deedee nodded as if she understood. “And boys are no good,” Coco finally declared. She shook her head as if she was shaking her thoughts out. Deedee just didn’t see her pain.