When Yoshi got to the fifth floor, the first thing she heard was the blare of music. Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina” vibrated through the walls of apartment 5F. Yoshi let herself in and immediately smelled the pungent odor of marijuana. At the end of the hall she could see her cousin Selma ass popping in front of the living room mirror.

Selma was fifteen years old and dying to catch an STD. Like Yoshi, she was a mix of Latin and black. The difference was Yoshi’s father was Puerto Rican, while Selma’s was Salvadorian. They both had long dark hair, but where Yoshi stood five foot five, Selma was only five feet even.

Selma was the type of impressionable young girl who believed what she saw in rap videos. Yoshi or one of her cousins were always chasing Selma from one set or another, trying to keep her from the wicked things that lurked there. It was said that a few niggaz had tasted her fruit, but she wasn’t totally out there. Selma had G to be so young, but without guidance, she would be carrion to the vultures who stalked the New York underbelly.

Selma was standing in the middle of the living room, going through a series of moves she had picked up somewhere. The denim shorts she wore barely covered her tight little ass, letting just a hint of cheek show. On the front of her tight T-shirt was a quote from the Pussy Cat Dolls: Don’t you wish your girl was a freak like me?

“Look at you,” Yoshi said, coming into the living room. “This is what you do with your free time?”

“Don’t start, Yoshi,” Selma said over her shoulder, never breaking from her routine.

“Girl, you’re only fifteen and trying to drop it like it’s hot.” Yoshi slapped her on the ass playfully.

Selma turned around and planted one hand on her hip. “Ain’t nobody dropping nothing. I’m just staying on top of what’s up.”

“You need to stay on top of school instead of them trick dances,” Yoshi said, flopping on the couch.

“I know you ain’t preaching. Don’t you strip?” Selma shot back.

“I’m an exotic dancer, not a stripper, smart mouth.”

“If it walks like a ho,” Selma said slyly.

“You keep playing if you want to, Selma. When I punch you in the fucking mouth, I guess you’ll be satisfied. Besides, I’m grown and you’re still a child. You need to try acting like one.”

“Whatever, Yoshi.”

“Where’s Grandma?”

Selma sucked her teeth. “Obviously she’s not here.”

“Keep running your mouth, and I’m gonna slow it down for you,” Yoshi warned her.