Coldhearted & Crazy by Michel Moore Page A

given, flat out.
    Kenya, trying to get in the zone, switched to the uncut video channel on cable and turned the surround sound up on double bump. “Fuck that shit!” She was hyped as she moved around the room as if she was the star of the evening. “I can do all those dances and make my ass bounce too.” She pranced in the mirror and turned around to watch that motherfucker move. “I’m the shit, fuck ’em hoes! They can eat shit and die! I’m gonna make my ends up in that place as soon as I get my foot in the door!”
    Exhausted from performing for herself, Kenya started to run her bathwater while she continued to get her dance on. When the water was just right, Kenya slowly undressed and eased her sweaty-ass into the hot, bubble-filled tub. Kenya, trying to get turned up as she daydreamed about her new desired profession, lit her blunt of Kush and lay back. I guess I can call Ty’s ho-ass tomorrow and see what’s really good with Heads Up. Lost in her thoughts as she listened to the music still echoing off the walls and got buzzed, the house phone rang twice as she was soaking. “Fuck whoever it is,” she mumbled, blowing smoke rings into the air. “I’m chillin’ the most.”
    Kenya, caught up in her own new world, had missed her twin sister’s call.
    London
    â€œHey, girl, let’s go.” London found Fatima talking to a group of other students who also lived in the dorm. They all introduced themselves and talked for a minute or two.
    Fatima, having had just met her roommate, could easily tell by the look on London’s face that something was wrong. Without reservation, she questioned London. “What’s the deal, black girl? Is everything all good on the home front?”
    â€œNaw, nothing much is wrong. I was just wondering where my sister is, that’s all. She didn’t answer the phone.” London then got it in her head that she had to stop worrying so much about Kenya and let her live her life. After all, from this point on she wouldn’t be there every day to watch over her. “Hey, girl, come on. I’m hungry, let’s roll out.” London changed her expression and attitude, while trying to sound cool. “She’ll call when she calls!”
    The pair of new roomies left the dorm, laughing and joking all the way to a twenty-four-hour greasy spoon on the edge of campus that some of the other students, all upperclassmen, had told Fatima about. After a long meal filled with conversation about both of their lives, including what had tragically happened to London’s parents and her beloved grandmother on graduation day, the girls took their coffee to go. Although London really missed Kenya and her best friend Amber, she had a feeling Fatima would stick by her side no matter what.
    â€œSo, girl, I see all these pictures of your family, including that fine-ass uncle of yours, but I don’t see not one picture of you and your man. What’s up with that? You don’t strike me as the lesbo type, so spill. What’s the deal with that?” Fatima was waiting for an answer as London sadly started to look down at the floor. “Wow, I’m sorry, girl, did I say something wrong?”
    â€œNo, not really. It’s just that people always ask me that. My sister was the one born with all the style and flair. She has all the good looks and gets the guys. I guess I’m just used to blending in the background when it comes to me and Kenya.”
    â€œOh hell naw! You must be high or something. Y’all look exactly alike. So how can you think that she’s the shit and don’t think you are?” Fatima damn near snatched her roommate in front of the door mirror leaning against the wall and pulled the rubber band out of London’s hair. “You need to open those pretty eyes and see what everyone else sees. That flawless skin, a pretty smile, and this long-ass hair! Girl, most