Pretty Girls in the Vip (9781617730283) (19 page)

I
met Darcel at her college campus at four in the morning. We needed to be in New York in four hours. It only took two and half hours to get there, but she said we were going to get caught up in a lot of traffic.

“You're sure you don't want me to drive down there?” I questioned her. It seem more convenient to drive than to get on a bus.

“No, it is easier just to take the bus. It is cheap. We can just take the Mega Bus, talk and sleep, and I can type my paper up. There is Internet on the bus.”

“All right. So, who is the artist?”

“I don't know exactly. The casting e-mail said video girls wanted for a hip-hop video. Usually, when you get there, they pick who they want. And if you are selected, you get like three to five hundred for the day.”

“Did you ever get picked before?”

“Yeah, I was in a few videos, but the camera flashed past me so fast. I have to push PAUSE to see myself.”

“Well, not today. We getting in a video.”

We both fell asleep and awoke in the Holland Tunnel to the bus driver jerking on the brakes every few feet. I looked out the window to see cars moving slowly in every direction.

 

Once we finally made it to the bus station, we caught a cab to the casting call. It was early in the morning, and all the girls were already made up and ready. They were all beautiful and appeared to be flawless. Their legs and asses were perfect; they all had big, perky boobs, lots of makeup, and pounds of silky Brazilian weaves.

Eyeing my competition, I asked, “Are all of these girls auditioning for ten spots?”

“Yes. Don't worry, half these girls look too much alike. Me and you have a different look,” Darcel answered.

An hour after waiting in line, a guy came out with a clipboard and said, “If your name is not on the list, you are not going to be seen today. I repeat, if you are a walk in and you don't have an actual invite, we don't have time to see you today. Thank you for coming.” Hearing that news, I stepped out of the line and told Darcel I would wait outside for her.

“You don't have to. Don't worry, he will see you. Trust me.” She pulled my arm toward the guy with the clipboard and said, “Joel, this is my girlfriend. Her name is Shanice, see if you can add her name.”

“What's up, Darcel? You're looking good, girl. I don't know, it is so many girls today.”

“Please, Joel, do it for me,” she pleaded with him. He looked over at me and smiled and agreed to add my name. I was so happy Darcel knew people, because right after he spoke with us, he got rid of about a hundred girls who didn't have invites. They moved the rest of us to this big area with mirrored walls. A woman came out with a list and began calling off names. I noticed a few of the girls doing splits and ballerina squats, like they were preparing to break into serious dance moves.

“You ain't tell me we had to dance, Darcel.”

“This is not dancing. Just follow what she does. You just have to look cute and swerve a little to the music.”

I was becoming increasingly nervous and wasn't so sure I was cut out to be a video girl.

The women choreographers stood up and began showing us this side-to-side move, and they told us to put our own sexy spin on the dance and dip low like she had. We all had to line up and I thought of what I could do quickly. They started the music, and every girl began fighting for their position. I didn't know what to do, so I just did this twist-and-drop move I used to do when I worked at the strip club, called twerk without a pole. The music started, and I twerked my ass and dropped it to the ground a few times to the beat.

“Girl, you act like you did this before.” Darcel laughed.

“She said be sexy, so I was just doing what I thought was sexy.”

“Well, you sure got it.”

 

By the afternoon, they had got us down to twenty-five girls. I felt proud of myself. This was my first audition, and I had made it this far. The director's assistants brought us some cold water and asked if we were hungry, but told us if we went out too long for food, we wouldn't be guaranteed to get back in. So Darcel and I stayed put.

 

We waited two more hours, and they informed us that the actual video was being shot today, because the rapper Wellzo was only available today. Everyone wanted to be in the video, so only two girls left to get food and they and another ten girls got the boot.

When they were sent out, we had to dance again in front of all these important-looking people sitting at a table. I felt like they were judges on a reality show. Darcel said that the video director was really famous. He did all these videos for Jay-Z, T.I., and Ludacris. I had never heard of him, and I was growing tired of dancing. They needed to come on. They started the music again, and the director got up and walked around us. He came over to me and said, let me see you do that again. I did my twerk without a pole for the five-hundredth time.

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Shanice.”

“Is that all you, Shanice?” he asked as he tapped my ass. If he wasn't the video director, I might have punched him in his face.

“Yes, all natural.”

“Hmm, what do your friends call you, Shanice?”

“Everybody calls me Shani.”

“Where are you from?”

“Philly.”

“Okay, Shani from Philly. Shani, I need more of that ass. Shani, love you more. Yeah, 'cause you got more ass than a lit bit. No, Shani, more, more.” It became a joke, and we were all laughing. The director and casting guy were funny. Then he said lustfully, “Shani Amore.”

“Shani Amore, I like it. I might use it,” I joked.

“Shani Amore, thank me later for your name, and you are the lead girl, Shani Amore. I need you to do that dance all up on Wellzo when he gets out here.”

 

So that was it. I had a new stage handle, Shani Amore, and Darcel and I, we had made it to the video. They finally brought us a sandwich. I wasn't even hungry, I was too excited that I was about to be in a music video and I didn't want my stomach puffing up.

The stylist brought out someone from wardrobe and makeup. They didn't ask us what our preference was, they just came over to us, telling us to squeeze ourselves in these small, silver sequin dresses that they promised would look better on camera.

 

We dressed and drove in a van to another studio. I couldn't believe the lights and the cameras were on us. We were against this bright green screen. All these people were around us directing us. I was a little nervous, but I didn't let it show. I was moving, and the attention was all on me. I got to stand next to the rapper, Wellzo. I never heard of him. He was from South Carolina and he was becoming popular for his remixes and mix tape downloads that he was putting out. The name of his song was called “Slide It Down.” They had me dance up against his arms while he just stood there in this hard gangster pose. The director wanted me to do my twerk with no pole move nonstop when the chorus came on:
“Slide it down, girl. Slide it down. Slide it. Show me you want was in my pockets. Got them fifty. Got them hundreds. Slide it down, girl, show me that you worth it.”
I was dancing as hard as I could, but the director positioned me closer to Wellzo and the ground and told me to bounce harder and pout my mouth out more. I was tired, but Darcel kept cheering me on every time we had a little break.

It was exhausting doing the same thing over and over again, but we were having fun. Between takes, the other girls were rolling eyes and being catty. I heard one girl say something like the bitches with the fake asses always get picked. Real bitches don't never get no recognition. I acted like I didn't hear what she said and kept it moving and waiting for the next scene. Until she repeatedly kept saying, “I hate fake bitches.” And she was looking directly at me. That I wasn't about to let go.

“I'm ready to smack this shit out of this bitch,” I shouted, standing up.

Darcel grabbed me and said, “No, you are not about to give this opportunity up. She is just mad she is in the back.” Darcel was right. I couldn't be acting up and hitting people. I got calm and went back in position, waiting for the music to turn on again and the director to start filming.

When we left, they cut us checks for two hundred and fifty dollars. We had been there damn near twenty-four hours. The pay wasn't good, but I didn't care because I was the girl in the video.

“P
lease ice that ankle and take something so the swelling can go down,” I yelled at Jabril as he lay in his bed taking in a blunt. He coughed a little and said, “It's not swollen anymore. It doesn't feel like it is broke. I think it is just a sprain. I just wish I wouldn't have come down on it like that,” Jabril said, inhaling some more smoke.

“You won't know exactly what's wrong until you see the specialist next week. Until then, the doctor told you to stay off of your leg, and you never listen. It might be broke, and you could aggravate it. Then smoking is not going to help it.”

“I know what he said. And this helps to relax me. I told you that. He said it was okay to put a little weight on it if I felt like I could take it, but it doesn't feel like it is broke. I don't feel pain. I don't need ice or medicine.”

“You're not taking the medicine because you think you are Superman, but you can't psych yourself out of an injury.”

“No, Kiya, really, it doesn't hurt and it can't be broke because if it is, that's it for me for the rest of the season.”

“Well, at least it happened at almost the end of the season.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I don't want to miss the playoffs. But I tell you, it feels good to be in my bed. That's the one good thing that has come out of this. I hate being in hotels every night.”

“I'm glad you are here, too!” I didn't want to express to Jabril how happy I really felt about him being stationary for once. I was secretly ecstatic about Jabril's injury. We hadn't spent this much continuous time together ever. I knew it was selfish to feel that way, but I couldn't help being happy that my man was home.

Claudette barged in our bedroom as usual and asked if we wanted anything else from the market.

“I'm okay, but can you make your son put ice on his leg and take his medicine?”

Jabril jumped up to show us both that he could walk, and he almost fell asking his mother not to forget his Fruity Pebbles cereal and chocolate milk.

“Sit your butt down before you be sitting on the bench,” Claudette ordered Jabril.

“Never, I'm going to play regardless.” He limped around the room acting like he was shooting an imaginary basket.

“Zakiya, babysit this fool. I have to go and get this long list of food he said he wants.”

“Okay, I'll let her be my nurse as long as I'm the doctor and my nurse gives me an exam,” Jabril said, cupping my boobs.

“Stop it in front of your mom,” I said, smacking his hand off of me.

“She know we working on a little Bril. Right, Mom?”

Claudette turned her head away and said, “Do whatever you have to do to get the baby here, but not in front of me. I'll be back. I'm going to go get your stuff.”

“Don't forget my Berry Cap'n Crunch, too, Ma.”

 

I didn't have anything planned for the day but to love on my boo and plan for Christie's baby shower. I dialed Nichelle to go over the details while Jabril took a shower.

“Hey, lady, what are you doing?”

“I'm in the middle of doing Alana Clarke's hair. She's married to Dontae Clarke. You know her, right?”

“No, we haven't met.”

“Oh, well, she nice and says hello. Put her on the list for the baby shower.”

“What do you need from me? I'm kind of busy. I'll do the decorations, flowers, and cakes. Just tell her to register online for whatever she wants and we'll buy it. I'll pay half, but I'll call you later. Oh, and tell her to get her list together.”

“Okay.” I called Christie as I wrote my list out. “What's up, Mama?”

“Hey, Zakiya. I'm tired and feeling a little out of it. How is Jabril's ankle?”

“It's sore, but he goes to the specialist to see what's going on on Monday. I was calling you to tell you to get your list of friends and family for the shower.”

“Okay, I will.”

I hung up with Christie and began looking at the cute baby stuff on the Babies “R” Us website. Jabril came over my shoulder, snooping.

“What are you doing, looking at all this baby stuff?”

“It's for Christie's baby shower.”

“She needs to be planning yours.”

“Soon, very soon. When hers arrives it will be practice.”

“Hmm, well, I hope she is around when the baby comes.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Bril?”

“I don't know. Omar said she is really annoying. She rides and calls him all the time and just is in the way. I'm glad you not like that. No one wants a woman down they throat all the time. Especially because Omar be chilling. He's not that kind of guy.”

 

Claudette came back from the market and cooked her baby boy, Jabril, a big feast. He barely enjoyed it because his two phones kept going off back to back like they were possessed.

“When you get another phone?” Claudette asked Jabril, and then looked over at me.

“I had this phone awhile. This the phone number I give all the party promoters and people I used to go to school with. They can't say I'm fronting because they have a number for me. I'm just never going to answer.”

“I'm so tired of people thinking you owe them something. Please tell them to go get a job and find their own success.” Just as Claudette spoke, the phone began ringing again. This time I said something about it.

“Turn off that phone, Jabril, it's annoying and disrespectful.”

“All right, no problem.” I didn't really care about his extra phone, but I didn't want it to prevent us from enjoying our meal and our family time.