A Girl Like Me (8 page)

“Take the car? Like steal it?”

“No, borrow it.”

“Here we go again.”

“What's the problem?”

“I don't wanna steal anymore.”

“There you go with the stealing. I just said borrow it.”

“Borrow it, like those clothes you borrowed in your closet? That's stealing.”

“As long as there's an option to bring it back, it's borrowing.”

“And what about when your mother comes home and sees the car is gone?”

“She won't notice. She'll think Daddy pulled his car in the garage.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Trust me.”

“Alright, Naja, but yo' ass is mad sneaky.”

When nine o'clock came, it was like clockwork; her dad went to bed and a few minutes later he was asleep. Naja snuck the keys from his pants pocket and a few seconds later we were on our way, rushing down the street like we'd escaped from someplace.

My heart was beating fast, but Naja acted like an expert.

“Girl,” she said, driving down the block, “we gon' have a ball.”

“Naja, are you sure we should do this?” I asked as we pulled up to the red light.

“Yeah, girl. It's all good.”

“Okay…Naja, I wanna tell you something.”

“What?”

I sighed. “I lied to Haneef about my real life.”

“You lied?”

“Yeah. The night we went out on his boat, I didn't exactly let him bring me home.”

“I knew you gave him some booty. Now what sleazy four-hour stay did you hit?”

“Ill, didn't I tell you I was not about to be a ho? What I'm saying is he didn't drop me off in front of the building where I live.”

“So, where'd he take you?”

“I had him drop me off in front of your house.”

“My house? Girl, don't mess around and have me going with him, and Mom-Mom tryna get at him on the creep.”

I laughed.

“But why'd you do that?” she asked.

“Because, I can't tell him about my mother. Do you know how devastated I would be? I swear, I don't want anyone to know that shit.”

“Uhmmmm…I don't know, Elite. I think maybe you should've just told him the truth. Either that or go all the way with the lie. You shoulda told him you were Reverend Run's love child—”

“What? Okay, that's enough.”

“Or you shoulda told him that Kimora Lee Simmons was yo' mama who gave you up for adoption, and that you were raised by wolves.”

“Please shut up. Leave it to you to go too far. Now look, we can't stay all night.”

“We'll stay for two hours and then bounce.”

“Two hours only.”

“Ai'ight. So let's get this on and crackin'.”

As the light turned red and the car stopped, we heard someone calling our names. “Elite and Naja!” It was Samantha and Mecca. “Where y'all goin'?” they said as they walked up the block toward the traffic light.

“A party,” Naja blurted out. “With Haneef.”

My eyes bulged out of my head. I could've choked this chick. She knew we didn't get down with them like that.

“Oh, my God, please let us come,” Mecca begged, folding her hands in a prayer position. “Puleeeeeeze.”

“Y'all not even dressed,” I said, hoping they would take the hint.

“It'll only take me a minute to get dressed. Please.” Mecca shook her folded hands.

“Y'all can't go without me!” Samantha spat. “And I'm always fly so I'm going just like this.” I looked over at Samantha, who wore a pair of tight black jeans, a black and rhinestone studded tee, and a pair of stilettos.

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe you can get over with that. But I'm not sure if they'll let you in the club.”

“So what you saying?” Mecca asked. “You don't want us to go?”

“No,” Naja shook her head. “She's not saying that. Y'all can come.” She elbowed me on the sly.

This was a hot ass mess. Stevie Wonder could see this was a bad idea. We didn't do these birds close enough to be partying with them, let alone partying with them in New York—and with a stolen car at that. But I decided I wasn't gon' even stress. Whatever.

The party leeches got in the backseat and Naja drove to Mecca's house.

“Loosen up,” Naja mumbled under her breath.

I didn't even respond.

“And don't be too long,” Naja said as we pulled in front of Mecca's house. “We have to hurry up.”

A few minutes later Mecca returned, dressed in a pair of glued-on jeans, a super tight tank top, and stilettos. All I could think of was one hot ass mess. I was already embarrassed. And when I looked her over again, I realized she had her oldest sister, Tamara, in tow.

Mecca ducked her head through the passenger window and looked toward Naja. “Tamara wanna know if she can come?” She pointed back to Tamara, and Tamara smiled.

“I wanna chill wit' y'all,” Tamara said, sounding pathetic. I knew right then that everything I'd ever heard about this pigeon had to be true. Why else would she wanna hang out with a group of seventeen-year-olds when she was twenty-two? Or was it just me?

“It's not enough room,” I said. “Maybe next time.”

“She can squeeze between us,” Samantha put her two cents in.

“Yeah, I guess,” Naja said, sounding reluctant.

The car was extra tight and extra amped as we drove to New York. I was trying to loosen up, but I was nervous going to meet Haneef. And it wasn't because he was a celebrity. It was more than that. It was like the way you feel when you first meet a dude you realize you not only have a crush on, but he might have a bigger one on you. As a matter of fact, it felt better than that.

My stomach did flips as we zoomed through the Holland Tunnel and passed the sign that read, “Welcome to New York.”

Once we found the club, we parked on a dark side street.

“Okay,” I said, turning around in my seat. “How do I look?”

“You look fly,” Naja said, and the rest of the girls agreed. “Just put on a little more lipstick.”

“Oh, okay.”

“And how do I look?” Naja looked in the rearview mirror and fixed her hair.

“Cute,” Samantha told her. “You know, we all look fly.”

“For real, though,” Tamara said.

“Oh,” Mecca whispered. “Y'all know what I meant to tell you?”

“What?” Naja whispered.

“And why are y'all whispering?” Samantha asked.

“Oh, my fault,” Mecca said. “I know you and Charise cool and all.”

“Who's cool with Charise?” Naja rolled her eyes. “I mean she ai'ight, but she ain't my girl.”

“Well that's good to hear,” Mecca twisted her lips. “Cause she was talkin' 'bout you two like a dog.”

“Excuse me?” I batted my eyes.

“Uhmm hmmm,” Samantha chimed in. “I do remember hearing something about her sayin' y'all was hos.”

“Yup, remember that?” Tamara said. “And she said that when she was sitting on our porch.”

“Fa'sho.” Mecca snapped her neck from side to side. “She said y'all wasn't nothin' but a buncha groupies.”

“And liars.”

“What?” I couldn't believe it.

“No, she didn't,” Naja said in disbelief.

“Yes, she did,” Tamara added.

“But you know I got yo' back,” Mecca said. “And I told her she needed to shut up, cause she didn't know what she was running her mouth about.”

“You know she a hater,” Samantha snapped.

“Wait 'til I see her ass,” Naja said.

“She can forget about saying anything else to me,” I added.

“Hmph. She's the one that encouraged Ciera to go after Jahaad,” Samantha pointed her finger.

“She did what?!” I screeched.

“What you care? You got like…” Mecca said, “the black president, sweatin' you.”

“So,” Naja interrupted. “That was still her boo.”

“True. So now you know not to even fool with that trick.” Tamara opened her car door. “Now that that's settled, can we bounce?”

“Yeah, forget her,” Samantha seconded the motion. “We gotta party to attend.”

And we stepped like five top models down the Paris runway as we walked toward the club, only to see that the entrance line was wrapped around the block.

“What in the…” I said as my mouth dropped open.

“Dang, this line is gon' take forever.”

“Line? I thought you had an in with Haneef!” Mecca spat. “Why we gotta wait in line?”

“She does have an in,” Naja snapped while looking at me like I was crazy. “We ain't waitin' in line. Let's go.” She ushered us toward the front of the club.

“Excuse y'all,” one of the bouncers said, lifting the red velvet rope and letting a group of teens in. “The line is back there.”

“Okay, but—” I said.

“No buts,” he interrupted and pointed. “Now hear what I'm telling you—to the back of line.”

“We're here for Haneef,” Naja snapped.

“And so is everybody else. Now move along.” He pointed toward the end of the line.

“Oh no, he didn't,” Mecca said.

Naja turned toward Mecca and Samantha. “It's not as bad as it looks. Bozo is new here and doesn't recognize us from the red carpet.” She turned back and looked at the bouncer. “I believe you have it twisted. We're not low-life groupies lying to get inside. We are here to see Haneef, understand? Now stop clownin' and let us through.”

The bouncer cracked up laughing, and so did everybody else standing here. “Move!” the bouncer said as he pushed Naja to the side, causing her to stumble. Catching her balance, she looked at him and smiled. “So what does that mean? You not lettin' us in?”

“Excuse me,” I said, taking over. Apparently Naja didn't know how to handle this. I batted my eyes at the bouncer.

“Sweetie, can you go get James? He's in Haneef's security.”

“Look, y'all wearin' my nerves now. I said stand ya li'l groupie behinds at the end of the line, 'cause in two seconds you're not getting in here period!”

“Groupie?!” Samantha said, taken aback. “Did he call us groupies?”

“I hope y'all didn't bring us all the way over here,” Mecca snapped, “to get played.”

“Would you shut up?!” I said. I promise you, I wanted to cop this whack ass crew and this bouncer dude in their faces. Punk azzes! I flipped open my cell phone and hoped like heck Haneef picked up his line. After three rings, he answered. “Where you at?” he spat.

Immediately I blushed at him having my number programmed. “Outside, but this line is crazy long. And Debo over here patrolling the door is straight buggin'.”

“Debo?” Haneef asked, surprised. “You mean the bouncer?”

“Exactly.”

“Ai'ight, hol' up a minute. I'ma send James outside to get you.” And he clicked off.

“He said,” I looked at the bouncer and smirked, “hol' up a minute.”

Naja shot the bouncer a snide grin. “That's what I thought.”

“That's more like it,” Mecca chimed.

“Uhm hmm,” Samantha and Tamara backed her up.

A tall and bald-headed muscular man walked outside the club and looked around. We waved at him and he smiled and walked over to us. “Are you Elite?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, come with me, please.”

We walked in the club and the place was beautiful. I felt like I had stepped into an ultra-modern showroom. The lower level had black-and-white leather couches placed sporadically around the room. Every corner, crevice, and spot on the floor was like something from
MTV Cribs
. The place was jam-packed from the bottom floor to the rooftop terrace where James led us to.

The place spoke volumes of class, and with each step I felt like I'd arrived. Once we stepped off the glass elevator, I couldn't believe my eyes. Everybody who was anybody was there. It was crazy. Our mouths gaped open as the likes of Rihanna, 50 Cent, Young Buck, Young Berg, Lil Wayne, and on it went jammed past us.

“One second,” James said as we stood amazed. “Let me retrieve Haneef.”

“Okay…” I said in awe, feeling as if I was walking on a cloud. The city lights made the night sky illuminate with hues of red and gold. I understood why the line was so long; it was obvious that this was definitely the place to be.