Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick
herringbone DKNY mini-skirt that exposed her thick legs and phat ass, with a pair of wraparound heels that made her look like an Amazon, and a tight sexy top that showed the outline of her nipples. Both women looked like divas.
    They talked to Nichols while waiting for Apple, and the three focused on MTV’s The Real World , admiring some of the cuties on the show.
    Ten minutes later, Apple stepped out of her bedroom looking fabulous in her Marc Jacobs drop-waist skirt, her thick legs looking like they were stretching to the heavens in her favorite six-inch red-and-white stilettos, and wearing a white one-shoulder top that laced up the back and made her tits look immaculate. And her long, sensuous hair fell gracefully down to her shoulders, making her look like one of the cover models for a men’s magazine.
    “Chick, you tryin’ to outdo us,” Mesha joked.
    Apple chuckled and replied, “Look at y’all bitches . . . fuckin’ divas and shit.”Mesha and Ayesha laughed.
    “Damn, Apple, you lookin’ like you thirty and shit,” Nichols commented.
    “I do, right?” Apple said with an exciting smile. She clutched her small knockoff Louis Vuitton bag and was ready to paint the city red. She hugged and kissed her sister good-bye then strutted out the doorway with her friends.
    The girls made it down to the lobby and rushed to get a cab, since they were running late. It was a change of plan. The girls didn’t want to be one minute late for the concert. They strutted to the cabstand to catcalls, pick-up lines, and compliments from block to block, but they walked close together and ignored the attention.
    They reached the cabstand on the busy Harlem street and asked the driver how much it would cost them for a ride to Giants Stadium.
    “Eighty-five dollars,” the driver informed them.
    “Damn! Why you lying?” Mesha barked.
    “It’s eighty-five dollars. That’s gas, tolls, and bridges,” the driver said.
    It was already a quarter to five, and the girls didn’t want to be late for the opening act.
    Mesha sucked her teeth and looked at her girls. “Yo, what y’all wanna do? I mean, it’s already almost five, and to keep it real, I look too fuckin’ cute to be gettin’ on a train or bus and be worrying about these thirsty-ass niggas dirtying me up.”
    “I’m sayin’, that fare is a little too steep, Mesha,” Apple let it be known.
    “Apple, look at us. I’m sayin’, how much you got to put up?” Mesha asked.
    “I got twenty-five,” Ayesha chimed.
    “A’ight, I got forty then.”
    Both girls looked at Apple to fill in the gap.
    Mesha said, “Apple, all you gotta do is put up twenty, and we good.”
    After spending money on clothes, her hair, and a few other expenses, Apple only had eighty dollars left. Though the bus and train were cheaper, she didn’t want to be late for the concert either. Reluctantly, she agreed, and the girls jumped into the cab and were soon headed toward the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey.
    With Sunday traffic, it was a forty-minute ride to Giants Stadium. The girls jumped out of the cab excitedly and were overwhelmed by the hordes of people and cars surrounding the stadium. It was Apple’s first trip outside of Harlem, and by the look in her eyes, Giants Stadium could have been Europe. Even though it was only a few miles from the city, it was something different for her.
    The girls hurried to the entrance. They didn’t want to miss a single thing. It was like they were in Hollywood, with high-end cars in the parking lot and celebrity buses and trailers parked not too far from the event. The diversity of people attending Summer Jam was something Apple didn’t expect. She noticed Asians, a few Indians, and even some Russians and Mexicans entering the building. There were also quite a few ladies dressed more provocatively than her and her crew. She knew what they came for—to catch a baller or maybe fuck a star.
    The groupies were lined up outside of the

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