Coldhearted & Crazy by Michel Moore

starving. Let’s get something to eat. And then we can check out the campus at the same time.” Fatima rubbed on her empty stomach.
    London eagerly agreed with her roommate. “Okay, but let me try to call my sister first and let her know that I made it here safely.” She reached in a box and handed Fatima a picture of Kenya. “This was taken at the park this summer.”
    â€œDamn, this is your sister? You’re a twin? Girl, I thought that these other pictures were of you at the club or something with your hair down and makeup on!” Fatima couldn’t believe they were two different people. Fatima smiled at London. “Go ahead, girl, and make your call to your alter ego. I’ll be down in the lobby.”
    London picked up the phone, dialing home.
    Kenya
    Kenya slowly walked up the stairs looking back one last time as she saw her uncle and sister fade out of sight. She put her key in the door and started to make her way into the empty, sure-to-be lonely house. Stopping in front of the mirror in the front hallway, she took a good, long look at herself. “Well, it’s just you and me now. It’s time to do you, get your shit together, and hold yourself down.” Kenya said it over and over out loud as if she was trying to convince herself of it being true. Taking a deep breath, she had to smile thinking about London and all she did to make both their lives better since Gran’s passing. The house was clean as a whistle and smelled like it had been scrubbed top to bottom. London, thankfully, had washed all of the dishes and skillets, cleaned the carpet, and washed all of her sister’s “dirty for weeks on end” clothes. London always knew that housework was never really Kenya’s thing and had hooked her up one last time before going off to school. Good lookin’, sis. Kenya nodded as she passed by London’s graduation picture that was sitting on the mantle next to her own.
    Tired from partying from the night before and not having much else to do, Kenya went over to the new couch she’d bought and fell across it, feet in the air. She then reached for the remote to her high-definition plasma television that she’d had mounted on the living room wall. It had so many buttons on that damn remote it would take a brain scientist, let alone Kenya, a year to learn how to use them all. Kenya, almost penniless, against London’s advice, had used most of her insurance money Gran left her to freak the house out. It looked like a magazine layout. In between all the mall shopping and a used car that was on its last leg already, the wannabe hood diva was damn near broke.
    At this point, especially considering what had just taken place, Kenya knew that she had all but cut herself out of her uncle’s bottomless pockets. Luckily the household bills were paid up for a month or so, but Kenya realized she had to get on that money trail and make a few things happen if she wanted to continue to floss wherever she stepped out to.
    Never outside the hustle loop for long, Kenya already put up on a quick way to make some fast, easy cash in hand. Ty, with all his schemes and scams, claimed to have the inside hookup, so why the hell not! Shit, she wasn’t slow to the game by a long shot, but stripping? Kenya thought about it as she stared at her checkbook that was a few zeros from balancing out. Heads Up was the hottest strip joint up in the D. Everyone knew that it was the spot where real playas would meet and greet. It was no big secret that there was nothing but wall-to-wall loot in that motherfucker, and girls not half as pretty as Kenya, some not built like shit, getting paid out the ass. From flashy hustlers and blue-collar factory workers to plain-style fucking trick-ass niggas from around the way, they all knew that they had to come correct with their paper game to even walk through the doors of Heads Up, not to mention hanging out in the VIP. That was a