Dear Yvette by Ni-Ni Simone

Author:Ni-Ni Simone [Simone, Ni-Ni]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

22

Ah Ya Know What . . .

It was the night of the concert, and me, Ebony, Reesie, and Tasha were all in Tasha’s room, gettin’ our fly on.

We wore matching light blue jeans, white tee shirts with our names airbrushed in bubble letters on them—courtesy of me, Vette-B—and crisp white, high-top Reeboks.

The only thing different was our hair. Reesie rocked a black lace bow tied around her ponytail. I wore my hair straight, spilling over my shoulders, with a stretchy sparkling gold headband. Ebony rocked her braids, and Tasha’s hair was hooked up with crimps in the front and cascading coils in the back.

“This is my jam!” Tasha said as Dough E. Fresh’s hit, The Show, blasted through the radio.

Reesie, at the mirror and applying hot pink eye shadow, free-styled: “We’re just some fly chicks, that’s gettin’ right for the night. ’Cause when Dough E. Fresh rock up on the mic, he gon’ rock the mic right!”

We all stopped what we were doin’ and did the whop dance in agreement.

“Yo,” I said, now helpin’ Ebony lay her baby hair down. “What if Dough E. Fresh calls me up on stage?” I twirled around.

“He will call you,” Reesie said, “right after he calls me.”

“Y’all know he could call any of us,” Tasha said.

“That would be stupid ill!” Reesie screamed, then popped her glossy lips.

“We should make a pact,” Tasha said, “that if any of us get wit’ Dough E. Fresh tonight, we hook everybody else up with one of his friends.”

“What if some of his friends are broke?” Reesie curled her upper lip. “We don’t know if all of his friends are rappers. Some of ’em might be project kings. And I already have one of those.”

“Who?” I asked.

“My baby, Jerelle. That’s who,” Reesie said.

“You’re still talking to Jerelle?” Ebony frowned. “I thought his phone was disconnected.”

“I told you that in confidence! Not for you to diss my man and put him on Front Street. And for your information, it’s back on now, thank you.”

“Can we get back to Dough E. Fresh’s friends?” Tasha said, “’Cause I don’t wanna hear y’all arguing about Mr. Telephone Man, Jerelle. Now, let’s scratch Dough E.’s friends and change it to rappers. So, if any of us get hooked up with Dough E., we have to hook the crew up with another rapper. I got Hammer.”

“Eww,” I said. “No way. ’Cause I got Rakim, baby! Yes! What! Umm-hmm! I ain’t no joke.”

“And I got Slick Rick,” Reesie said in a bouncy British accent. “Just call me Sally.”

We all cracked up.

“Since you all are all choosing someone else, then I might as well claim Dough E. Fresh,” Ebony said.

“Don’t even try it; we all have a chance at Dough E.,” I said to Ebony.

“Yo,” Tasha said, “we better take one last look in the mirror. Li’l Herman just beeped me 0377; that’s code for he’s on his way to get us.”

We rushed over to the mirror, pressed shoulder to shoulder, and after we reassured one another

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