It almost knocked Keisha unconscious, but she managed to stay awake out of fear for her life. Somehow, a man—a stranger—came between them, and it was the split-second Keisha needed. She hurried out the front door bloody, exposed, and badly beaten. She screamed at the top of her lungs and ran fast, fearing for her life. Bacardi had snapped and it felt like she was going to kill her. In fact, she knew they were going to kill her. She barely made it out the apartment alive. Just as the front door slammed, the countdown to a New Year started—5, 4, 3, 2, 1—HAPPY NEW YEAR! And the party continued.
Meanwhile, Chanel had locked herself in the bedroom with her friends, Landy and Mecca. The girls could hear the music from the party thumping through the apartment. They knew better than to leave the bedroom and chance running into the many perverts Chanel’s parents had over.
They were having their own private party in the bedroom. Chanel adored her friends’ company, and it wasn’t every day that Mecca came back to the projects. The three girls were devouring snacks, drinking sodas, and talking about the things they would do, the places they would go, and the men they would date if they were celebrities.
“Girl, I would date Idris Elba with his fine fuckin’ ass,” Mecca proclaimed.
Chanel wagged her finger Mutombo style. “Uh-uh, you can’t be taking my man like that. We gonna get married in Barbados, and I’m gonna give him the best honeymoon he’s ever had and some of the cutest babies. You know I’m saving myself for him,” she replied in jest.
“Well, we gonna have to fight for him, cuz you know I likes me a dark skin and tall, fine-ass man . . . and I would suck his dick,” Mecca lightheartedly replied.
They both couldn’t help but to laugh and roll around on Chanel’s twin bed.
“Girl, you’re so silly. I bet you would too,” said Chanel.
“Damn right I would.”
Landy wrinkled her nose at the thought of fucking an old man like Idris. “Y’all bitches insane. I would shoot my shot wit’ 6ix9ine or Lil Yachty.”
“Ewwwww!” Both Chanel and Mecca screamed at Landy’s choices.
Mecca continued with, “Those tats on 6ix9ine’s face and those braids and beads on Yachty make my skin crawl. Neither could ever get this tight pussy!”
The girls went from talking about Idris Elba and other celebrity men, to talking about colleges. Chanel couldn’t wait to get away from her family. She got decent grades and she wanted to go to college in North Carolina—maybe Wake Forest, Duke, or the University of North Carolina. She wanted Landy and Mecca to attend a college in North Carolina too, so they could be close to each other. The girls were sixteen and had two years to plan for college.
As they talked and finished off another liter of Pepsi, it was then that they heard the ruckus in the living room. The music stopped, and they heard a series of thumps coming from the living room.
Landy jumped up and ran to the door and said, “Shit, I think they fightin’ out there.”
Chanel sucked her teeth and shook her head. There was always some kind of drama happening in her home.
“Don’t open the door, Landy,” Mecca warned.
Landy put her ear to the door to try to hear what was going on. “I’m not.”
“Just let them fight. I’m not trying to get involved in their mess,” Chanel said.
***
In the living room, the party went on like the Keisha incident had never happened. The music was loud, the drinking became heavier, thick weed smoke permeated the air, and Bacardi licked her wounds and praised her daughters for having her back. But all that was soon going to come to an end.
At first, the banging on the front door went unnoticed, but eventually, someone heard it and opened the door. Four uniformed cops marched into the apartment with their guns drawn and immediately flexed their authority inside the apartment. With them was a shaken and badly beaten Keisha. Instead of going to the hospital to treat her injuries, she wanted to exact revenge on Bacardi and her family and have all of them arrested.
“Turn the music off!” one of the cops shouted with weight in his voice.
The music ended and all eyes were on the officers and Keisha, who looked like she was going to fall apart and pass out. Everyone sobered up—cops were bad news. It wasn’t even a full hour into the New Year, and the drama had already started.
“Is there a problem, officer?” one of the guests asked.
“Yes, there is a problem. A woman was assaulted at this party,” Officer Krokowsi replied.
Keisha pointed them out for the cops—Bacardi, Claire, Charlie—the three culprits she believed tried to kill her. They were standing near the window, angry that Keisha had brought the police into their home.
The officers approached them.
Bacardi could only glare at her friend in disgust and shout the words, “Fuckin’ snitching-ass bitch!”
“Bernice Brown, you’re under arrest for aggravated assault and attempted murder,” said Officer Krokowsi.