Using What You Got: A Novel - Softcover

Daddy, tell Tiara to get out the bathroom! I gotta pee!"

"Oh, shut up, Jo-Jo! You always gotta pee! You're such a little pain in the ass." Tiara carefully twirled the black eyebrow pencil just below the corner of her lips, making sure her new beauty mark was perfectly placed. Deciding it was barely noticeable against her smooth chocolate complexion, she gave it another twirl, pressing harder. She used the same pencil to outline her startling hazel eyes, then started moving her shoulders to the new Usher song. I look damn good, she thought. Better than them light, bright, and damn near white video ho's they're always having up BET. If they ever shoot a video over here at the Foster Projects, I know they'd spot me in the crowd and make me a star. 'Cause I got it like that. She snapped her finger at her image in the mirror, then ran her fingers through her long ebony weave, striking a couple of quick poses. How did the old song go? Five-five with brown eyes -- smile like the sunshine. Yeah, that's me. I'm the shit.

"Tiara!"

"Jo-Jo, shut the hell up, and wait until I get out," Tiara snapped.

"Daddy, Tiara's cursing in the house again!"

Ignoring her little sister, Tiara picked up the tweezers to pluck an errant hair on one of her otherwise perfectly arched eyebrows. She grimaced as the tweezers pinched her skin.

"Quit the noise, you big baby. You're making me mess my face up!" she shouted as she leaned over the sink to get closer to the mirror.

"Daddy, Tiara's calling me a baby again. Tell her to stop!" Jo-Jo started banging on the door again. "Let me in!"

Tiara rolled her eyes. God, she wished Daddy would hurry and buy a brownstone like he'd been talking about for years so she could have her own bathroom and her own room instead of having to share her space with Jo-Jo. Here she was, almost nineteen, and she had to put up with a twelve-year-old brat. Maybe she could even have her own floor in the new brownstone, maybe the basement level, so she could have her own entrance and everything. She'd miss all her friends here at the Foster, but after all, they could visit. And maybe she could talk her father into buying her a car for her next birthday, so she could cruise down to the projects whenever she got the urge. Yeah, she'd be real fly, cruising down Malcolm X Boulevard with the top down on her red convertible. A two-seater so a buncha people won't be trying to push up on my ride and shit.

"Daddy!" Jo-Jo hollered at the top of her lungs, while still banging and kicking at the door. "Daddy, make her let me in!"

Damn that girl, Tiara thought. Tiara snatched open the door, causing Jo-Jo to tumble in and onto the bathroom floor, and the heavy scent of Victoria's Secret Pear Glace Body Splash to rush out into the hall. "Okay, satisfied now? You're in. Now shut up."

"Creep." Josephine scowled at her sister then sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "That's why I can't stand you. Why do you have to put your makeup on in the bathroom, anyway?"

"'Cause the light's better in here, stupid." Tiara started stuffing makeup into her already bulging cosmetic bag. She took another quick look in the mirror, turning her head from side to side to make sure she looked good from all angles. Then she grabbed her CD player and headed down the hall to her bedroom. Just as she figured, Jo-Jo was right on her heels. The girl was taller than her by almost four inches, but she still wanted to follow Tiara like a puppy. A noisy -- and nosey -- puppy at that.

"I thought you had to pee." Tiara sat down in front of the gold- trimmed ivory-colored vanity and started brushing her European Straight weave with a wooden hairbrush.

"You made me wait so long I don't have to go anymore."

"Jo-Jo, why don't you admit you wanted to get in because you wanted to watch me make myself up?" Tiara teased. She reached over and straightened the snapshot of herself that she had stuck in the upper right-hand corner of the vanity mirror. She glanced at the collage of pictures of herself she had pasted on the wall, and made a mental note to add the snapshot. She also had to hang her new poster of Michelle from Destiny's Child to go along with the ones she already had posted of Aliyah, Ashanti, and Jay-Z. Another, slightly tattered wallet-sized photograph of a smiling, petite dark-skinned woman with dark hair flowing onto her shoulders fell from the mirror onto the dresser. Tiara looked at it with near disinterest. She might as well throw the picture out. It wasn't like she was ever going to see her mother again after all this time, anyway.

"Don't nobody wanna look at you." Jo-Jo plopped down on a twin bed covered with a blue quilted bedspread printed with images of basketball stars. Above her, on the wall, were posters of Mark Jackson, Michael Jordan, Shaquille O'Neal, and Allen Iverson, along with pennant flags from the New York Knicks and the New Jersey Nets. She balled up a piece of paper lying on the pillow, and made a perfect shot into the tin wastepaper basket five feet away. She clasped her hands over her head and jiggled her shoulders. "She shoots. She scores. And the crowd goes wild!"

"Whatever." Tiara rolled her eyes. "Just don't be shooting your air balls on my side of the room. You still owe me for the perfume you knocked over last week."

"You shoulda had the top on tight." Jo-Jo plopped down on her stomach and started flipping through the pages of a Sports Illustrated.

"Yeah, uh huh. That's why you owe me twenty bucks for the perfume."

"Oh yeah, and you really think you're going to get it, huh? And it's not like you bought it outta your money anyway. Just get Daddy to give you the twenty bucks like you always do. You going out with Keith tonight?"

"Nope." Tiara walked over to the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the closet door and did a slow twirl, checking over her shoulder to make sure her butt looked nice and full in her size two Pepe jeans. Her black see-through shirt was unbuttoned down to her midriff, so that the purple camisole she wore underneath was framed almost in the shape of a valentine.

"Michael?"

"That doofus? Puleeze."

"Why's he a doofus? I think he's cute."

"He's broke."

"Hmmph." Jo-Jo propped herself up on one elbow and looked at Tiara curiously. "So who are you going out with then?"

"Me and Shakira are going to Club New York, downtown. They're having a private party for some new rapper." She popped in Jay-Z's CD and started dancing in front of the mirror, making sure she could execute the Harlem Shake in her black stiletto heels. Yeah, she was on. "Ain't you gonna go to Shakira's little sister's party at the rec center tonight? I thought it was supposed to start at six. Ain't you late?"

"I ain't wanna go to Asia's dumb old party," Jo-Jo said sullenly.

Tiara stopped dancing and turned to look with disbelief at Jo-Jo, who was rapidly flipping through the magazine pages. "I know that little nut invited you, right? Y'all in the same class and everything, and me letting her old stuck-up sister hang out with me and shit, I just know she invited you."

"Yeah, I got invited. I just don't wanna go. The Knicks are playing tonight." Jo-Jo pushed aside the Sports Illustrated and eyed her older sister. "You look nice. But how you gonna get in? I thought they took your fake ID last week when you tried to get in that club in Brooklyn."

"I got another one, if you gotta know, Miss Nosey." Tiara moved back in front of the mirror. "You need to stop worrying about me and start taking your little butt outta this house sometime instead of always being holed up in front of the television watching some stupid basketball game."

Both girls turned as they heard two short taps on the door. "Are you two dressed?"

"Yeah. Come in, Daddy." Tiara straightened the spaghetti straps of her camisole under her blouse.

At six-foot-six, Reggie Bynum had to bow his head slightly to clear the doorway. He rubbed his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. "Mmm, you're looking good, Princess. I can see you're planning on breaking some hearts tonight. Where are you heading all dolled up?" Not waiting for an answer, he strode over to Jo-Jo's bed and lightly swatted her on the head with the rolled-up newspaper he held in his hand. "Why you always gotta make such a racket, girl? People probably heard you all the way down the street, talking about you gotta go pee."

Jo-Jo scooted away from her father and folded her hands over her chest with a pout. "See that?" she said. "You heard me and you ain't even tell her to get out or anything? Man, you let Tiara do anything she wants."

"Oh, you going to go say she's my favorite again, huh, Little Girl?" He reached over and ruffled her shoulder-length braids, being careful not to get his thick gold-link bracelet caught in her hair.

"You know she is. She's a spoiled brat." Jo-Jo poked her lips out further.

"Oh, shut up," Tiara snapped.

"You shut up," Jo-Jo retorted.

Reggie grinned. "Oh, I guess since she's my favorite I'm going to ask her if she wants to go to the game tonight."

"What game?" Jo-Jo quickly sat up on the bed. "You got tickets to the Knicks game?"

"On the floor, Sport. We'll be so close you'll be able to smell their funky underarms." Reggie smiled. "Or we would be if I were taking you to the game."

"Ooh, Daddy, you're the best father in the world!" Jo-Jo grabbed him around the neck and kissed him loudly on the cheek.

"So, now, who do you think is my favorite?" Reggie said teasingly.

"Me!" Jo-Jo jumped up from the bed, ran over to the brown bureau on her side of the room, and started pulling out sweatshirts, athletic socks, and boxer shorts, and throwing them on the floor. "I've gotta find my Mark Jackson jersey."

"Hey, hey, Sport, you're making a mess!" Reggie said, kicking at the growing pile of clothes forming near the bed.

"Daddy, she's always making a mess. That's why I can't stand sharing a room with her." Tiara sat down on the bed next to her father and leaned her head on his shoulder,...