She hung out, played pool, gambled, and got sloppy drunk almost every night. Shae couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother sober. She had probably already started drinking earlier that morning. Shae knew she kept a stash of bourbon or cognac on hand.
She shook her head in order to stop the thoughts. Drinking all the time couldn’t be good for anybody. Plus, it was probably the reason her mother was always angry.
Shae turned to her grandmother, now oozing sweetness. “Ma Violet, will you wash the dishes for me?” she asked.
“Why should I? After all that sassin’ you done? Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Grandma, please. I can’t do everything she told me to do before she gets back,” she complained.
“If you stop standin’ there whinin’, you could done started by now.” Her grandmother had no sympathy for her.
“You old goat. I hope you swallow ya teeth.”
“I hope you get ya hot tail beat and that’s what’s gone happen if you don’t do what ya mama told ya,” Ma Violet replied. Shae rolled her eyes and her grandmother chuckled.
Ma Violet went back to her knitting. She glanced at Shae and thought, what happened to that little, skinny, pigtail-wearing gal who had been so sweet? Just an angel, yes she was. No one could tell her that her granddaughter wasn’t the prettiest, smartest little girl in the world.
She remembered taking her granddaughter to a store called Dr’s Pharmacy, back in the day. If anybody asked her, that store had outdone any Kash N Karry or Winn Dixie. It had been owned and run by black folk. Couldn’t find too many establishments like that around anymore.
She took Shae there and bought her all types of candy and bows and whatnots for her hair. Occasionally, she purchased some of them jacks or a bolo bat so she and her little brother could have something to play with. She got tired of them climbing in her grapefruit and orange trees. She even caught them in the neighbor’s mango tree. Those kids had been so rambunctious.
She smiled as she reminisced. The holidays had been the best. It had been family time and a reason to celebrate and feast on all types of foods. She loved to cook, especially during that season. Her favorites were collard greens, chitterlings, potato salad, dressing and sweet potato pie.
She usually started picking the greens the day before and would get started on the chitterlings because they took so long to clean. Boy, she loved her some chitterlings and hog maws. They didn’t smell too good during the cleaning and cooking, but the finished product made her mouth water. She’d throw in a tad of baking soda and a top of lemon juice to take away the smell.
She’d cut up all her onions, celery, and bell peppers, too. Then she’d boil the eggs for the potato salad, make the corn bread for the homemade stuffing, and boil the sweet potatoes for the pies. The next morning, all she’d have to do was concentrate on the ham and the turkey. It had been such a great time of celebration.
How she missed those days. She’d cherished her family, always wanting to keep them close. It didn’t matter to her that Jimmy B was a Hispanic. He’d been the one her daughter had chosen to marry, so she had accepted him wholeheartedly.
When he’d run off and left her baby, she’d watched Bertha change. She started drinking that brown liquor, hanging in the streets, and whipping on her children.
Even though she believed in “-spare the rod, spoil the child,-” she didn’t go for that. No matter what’s going on inside you, you don’t ever take anything out on your own flesh and blood. She’d tried to make Bertha understand that but, Bertha didn’t want to hear nothing anybody had to say to her about raising her kids. Instead, she stopped coming around, stopped bringing the children. They stayed holed up in those god-forsaken projects not even calling to see if she was still alive. The shame of it all.
It had just about broken her heart. The only time she saw one of them kids was when the oldest one started running away. She tried to help, but from a distance. It hurt her to the core to hear about Vivian leaving home for good. She couldn’t much blame her, though. If you keep kicking a dog, one day that dog is either going to get up and bite the hell out of you, or it’s going to haul tail. Bertha should have done right by that gal. Now, nobody knew where the child had gone. She hadn’t heard from her in almost six years. Her heart truly ached from missing that baby. Vivian had run off to get away from the projects because she saw first hand what they did to her mother.
Now, here she was. She was in these dreadful projects right along with her evil-hearted daughter. She had to try so hard not to let her own heart turn to stone. It would serve no purpose to become bitter. If you focus too much on your own woes, how can you find time to think about helping anybody else? The Bible says, “count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptation.” She found herself still waiting for the joy to come. Maybe it would just sneak up on her suddenly.
Ma Violet sighed. She missed her house. Her home had been paid for. It had been safe, clean and quiet. She had peace there. She didn’t worry about gunshots disturbing her sleep or drug addicts trying to break in. She didn’t even have to listen to that loud rap music that her grandson loved to play each morning. At those moments, she almost wished she’d been afflicted with a hearing problem.
Her home had been her pride and joy. Her husband built that house from the ground up. She raised four children there and had helped raise her grandbabies there, too. She sure did wish she could have kept it. She just hadn’t been able to keep up with the maintenance of it after the accident.
But, it wasn’t anybody’s fault that she slipped in the kitchen and fractured her hip. If she wanted to blame it on something, she could blame it on old age. God had His reasons. He’d sent her to live with her daughter to serve a purpose. She hadn’t figured out just what that purpose was yet, but she’d wait patiently on the Lord. He’d let her know in due time.
Ma Violet put her knitting to the side and got up slowly from the rocker. She then grabbed her walker and eased onto it.
“I’ll wash the dishes, child,” she told Shae. “It’ll give me somethin’ to do besides look out that darn window. Ain’t nothin’ out there but dry grass and po’, pitiful negroes. What’s wrong with the next-door neighbors? All they do is fuss and fight all the time. They got too many negroes under the same roof, if you ask me. And what’s the deal with the man wearin’ all them clothes? Ain’t he hot? It’s near ‘bout ninety degrees out yonder.”
“He dresses like that all the time, no matter what temperature it is,” Shae said. “They call him the Jacket Man.”
“Well, he need a straight jacket.”
Shae laughed and felt the relief brought on because of it. Her nerves had been strung so tight lately because of her mom’s constant hounding and complaining about everything. She didn’t know how much more she could take.
Mrs. Byrts could be ruthless when she wanted to be. It was all about control. If they didn’t do things her way, she’d make sure they regretted it. That usually came in the form of a firm, ass whipping. It didn’t matter to Mrs. Byrts that Shae was grown and Toby was a six-foot-tall fourteen-year-old. It was her way or the highway.
“Thank you Ma Violet,” she said. “I’m going upstairs to get the twins’ room cleaned up.”
“Okay.” Ma Violet watched her granddaughter run up the stairs. She could picture that little girl wearing pigtails once again and it brought her joy. Where had all the years gone? If it was one thing she could testify to, it was that God had been good to her. For more than eighty-eight years, she’d been truly blessed.
“Lord, I thank you,” she shouted and made toward the kitchen.
Shae turned the knob on the first door she approached and cracked it open. She took a step back because of the smell. She held her nose, opening the door all the way.
“Whew.” The strong, unwelcoming scent of urine assaulted her nostrils. Her six-year-old, twin brothers had wet their beds again. That made the second time in a week. She resented the extra work, but knew she had to do i
t because her mama sure wasn’t going to. Shae had long since resigned herself to the fact that her mama looked on them as her personal servants. She still didn’t like it, though.
Going over to the window, she threw them open, hoping the circulating air would help. She snatched the identical Sponge Bob sheets off the bunk beds and tossed them on the floor. She figured she’d just as well wash the pillows and pillowcases, too. Both boys slept curled around them and they smelled just as bad as the sheets.
Loud music interrupted the quietness of the morning, signaling that her brother, Toby, had awakened. He always blasted his music, not having concern for anybody else in the house.
“Toby. Turn that shit down,” she yelled, but the volume only increased. She grabbed the soiled items and took them to the laundry room. She threw them into the washing machine with some detergent. “Toby,” she called again because the loud music was beginning to give her a headache. She slammed the lid on the washing machine closed and turned the knob to the correct setting. Once she heard the water running into the machine, she went to Toby’s room.
Shae tried the knob but found the door locked. She knocked a few times but got no answer. Finally, she pounded on the door with her fist. She knew he heard her and it pissed her off that he wasn’t answering.
“What?” Toby opened the door so abruptly that she stumbled into the bedroom and almost fell. His lips turned up in the corner. “That’s what you get,” he teased.
“Shut up.”
“What the fuck you want? Why you knocking like you the po po?” Toby was tall and thin. At fourteen, he was still maturing. His seemed to be all arms and legs. “What it do?”
“Mama wants you to clean out the refrigerator,” she said.
“So what?” He shrugged.
“So what, my ass. Clean it out, damn it. I’m not getting in trouble because of you.”
“Get outta my face.” He pointed his finger as he advanced toward her. His sister knew he was only playing. He towered above her, but she would bust his ass if he ever tried her. Shae had a vile temper when somebody set her off. He’d witnessed her beat down quite a number of people. She’d even had his back more than a few times. She didn’t take shit off of anybody except for Mrs. Byrts, but only because their mama was slap crazy.
“Come on, Toby. Please,” she pleaded.
“What I get out the deal?”
“You can hold any of my CDs for a week.”
“Even the new ones?”
“Well, okay,” she relented.
“Eminem?” he pressed.
“Yeah, that one too. I said any of them.”
“I don’t wanna hold CDs,” he said. “I want money.”
She put her hand up. “Whatever.”
“I’m serious. You want me to clean out that refrigerator, you gonna have to pay me. Otherwise-” He pretended to chop her in the throat.
“How much?” she asked. She really needed his cooperation. The last thing she wanted to do was clean a damn refrigerator on top of everything else.
“Twenty.”
“Boy, you must be on hard drugs. Where you think I get twenty dollars from?”
“I know you got money. You was with Larry and James last night, and I know at least one of them upped a few duckies.” His smirk grew wider. He knew he had his sister in a bind. She’d give him the money because she could get more where that came from. “So, what’s the deal?” he pressed.
“You need to get a job. I’m tired of being blackmailed by you.”
“You giving me the money or what?” he asked.
“Ten dollars and not a cent more.”
“Ten?” He contemplated it. “Do I get to hold the CDs?”
“Yeah. You make me sick with ya lazy ass.”
“You still love me though.” He began dancing around the room to the rap song that blasted from his stereo.
“Do the cupid shuffle,” he chanted. “To the left, to the left…”
“Toby, stop clowning.”
“To the right to the right…”
“Toby, I’m trying to talk to you.”
“What girl?” he asked. “You messing up my flow.” He stopped dancing.
“You know you really ought to be in school,” she said.
“Why? You don’t go,” he said. A defiant glint seeped into his eyes.
“I’m eighteen-years-old. You are only fourteen.”
“So what? I hate school,” he spat.
“You didn’t used to hate it. You were popular in middle school and then you get to high school, and you hate it? What happened?”
He shrugged. “I was the shit in middle school, but things were different in the ninth grade. The older kids picked on us all the time. I felt like punching niggas out.”
“They do that to all the underclassmen. You’ll get your turn next year when you become a sophomore,” she said.
“No, I won’t because I ain’t going back to that bitch,” he snapped. He would never tell her about how the kids taunted him about his no-name shoes and bargain store clothing. He wouldn’t dare step foot in that school again to deal with that because he knew he would go off on any and everybody there.
“Then what you gonna do with the rest of ya life, huh? If you don’t get an education, how you figure you gonna get out the projects?”
“How you gonna get out?” He threw the question back at her. He wanted to end the conversation. Thinking about how the kids had picked on him touched on a soft spot. It irritated him because he thought he was over all that.
“I’m a woman. I have what men want and they’re willing to pay for it. That’s how I’m getting out,” she stated.
Toby threw back his head and laughed. “In that case, you ain’t going nowhere. You gonna be a project ho ‘til you die.”
“You don’t what you talking about, dumb ass.” His insulting words cut into her. “You’ll see. And it might be sooner than you think.” She flounced out of his room, slamming the door behind her.
“Don’t be slamming my door,” he yelled. “Heifer.”
Shae went into her own room and locked the door. She pulled up the carpet in one corner, reached underneath the padding, and retrieved the stash of money. It made her tingle when she counted out the tens, twenties, and even a few fifties. She’d conned all of it out of lovesick, dumb ass men. When she finished counting, she had close to fifteen hundred dollars. That wasn’t bad, for somebody else’s money.
With a self-satisfied smirk, she added another fifty dollars to the pile. She’d easily gotten James Wallace to give her thirty bucks when she let him fondle her breasts. She’d even gone so far as to let him suck on the delicate nipples. When he tried to go further, she made an excuse about it being that time of the month. With a disgusted look on his face, he pushed her away.
She got the other twenty from Larry Walker to buy some chicken from Churches. He’d been so drunk she doubted he remembered giving her the money. Larry never expected anything in return. He was always a respectful, gentleman.
Shae remembered how James played with her breasts and it caused a warm sensation between her legs. James was extremely handsome and sexy as hell. She knew he wanted to get with her, but she wasn’t ready to give up her virginity, especially not to anyone from the projects. She considered herself much too good for any of the neighborhood thugs.
Besides, James was twenty and he still lived with his mama. He’d gotten several girls pregnant and would shack up with one or the other until they kick him out. Then, he’d go right back to his mama’s place. He had no motivation, no skills, and seemed happy to drift from one dead-end job to the next.
No, she wasn’t about to give in to James. It didn’t matter to her how good looking he was or how he made her feel. The urge to have a hard, stiff dick would pass. If it got too intense, she could always rely on the vibrator she kept on the top shelf in her closet. It was a slim vibrator that she used to stimulate her clit. She’d occasionally insert it inside slowly, but not far enough
to rupture her hymen. She didn’t want to lose her virginity that way, so she was careful.
She felt like taking it out at that moment, but knew there wasn’t enough time to get any real pleasure. She had too much to do, thanks to her fat ass mama.
She sighed, put the money back into its secret place and walked over to her jewelry box. In the little drawer, she kept a few bucks. She grabbed a five dollar bill and five ones for Toby. She really didn’t care about giving him the money because she could always get more. She ignored the twinge between her legs and left the room.
CHAPTER TWO
After Shae left his room, Toby locked his door to make sure no one else would enter unannounced, like his mama. He didn’t need the ten dollars that he got from his sister. He had plenty of money.
He pulled a shoebox from under his bed and lifted the lid. Money spilled over the edges, and a gun lay on top of the pile of cash.
He didn’t know how he’d gotten mixed up in the dope gang and talked into selling drugs, but somehow that’s exactly what happened. Now, he had to sell or face some serious consequences.
He sat on the edge of the bed and let his head fall into his hands. How could he get out the game without dying? He didn’t want to sell drugs anymore. It had been all glitz and glamour for a minute, but now it had lost its appeal. Even though he would never admit it to Shae, he wished he could just go back to school and lead a normal life.
Shae wouldn’t understand if he told her. She’d try to talk him out of it, as if it was that easy. And his mother had never been the kind of mother that he could confide in. Besides, if and when she found out, he would probably get the hell kicked out of him. He was determined not to let that happened.
His home life had prompted him to get involved with drugs in the first place. He began hanging out with some boys he went to school with just to get away from his mama. He’d been introduced to all kinds of drugs at a young age.
Before he could let common sense stop him, Toby began smoking marijuana and associating with drug dealers. He became the look out, alerting crack and weed dealers of anyone suspicious in the area.
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