thought Powerhouse was the
baddest thing in the world, I can’t
even front. I had no friends, I loved
dogs, and muscles were cool—that’s
where I was working from. I had
Powerhouse everything, the full
range, five of the same outfit in five
different colors. It was easy. The
pants came with the top, so I knew
how to make it work.
Bongani, the other middleman
from my CD business, found out I
had a date, and he made it his
mission to give me a makeover.
“You need to up your game,” he
said. “You cannot go to the dance
looking the way you look—for her