by Nikki Turner
After facing the humiliation, mortification and embarrassment of her bourgeoisie boss having to find out she was a welfare recipient, the social worker still had not completely processed her food stamps application. Tressa still was forced to execute her street survival skills and take matters into her own hands. On that note, Tressa slipped on her 9 West slides, grabbed her cordless phone and ran down the steps of her third floor based brick style, government subsidized apartment. She stood in front of the building, scooping out the area, looking to see whom she saw.
"Rosey!" She yelled. "Girl, who out here got some food stamps they trying to sell?"
Nosey Rosey, a.k.a. Mouth All Mighty, a.k.a. Mouth of the South, was a short, stubby bright skinned girl, with fat cheeks who walked around the projects all day, every day with the same print scarf wrapped around her head.
You would think she would get another damn scarf, being that it's a permanent part of her everyday attire. If she wears it every single day, when does she ever wash it? I know it has got to stink!
Rosey sat on the bench in the front of apartments, and positioned herself so she could be in view of who came in and out of the main entrances, and basically every building of the apartments. Nosey Rosey looked around the neighborhood, took a deep breath, and smacked her lips as she began to talk.
"Girrrrll, you know food stamps came out like seven, eight days ago, so it's pretty dry round here. The only person I know who haven't got theirs yet is Meechie. Hers should be coming today, I'll let her know you're looking for some. "
"Thanks, girl."
Meechie was really somebody that Tressa did not want to deal with, she was larceny-hearted. She lived right under Tressa and could not be trusted. Meechie was a dirty girl, who had six kids, but only two of them lived with her.
Her whole existence was getting high all night and 118
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scamming people all day. The two kids that lived with Meechie, never even had the bare necessities. They were ashy and dirty kids. The only clothes they ever had was hand-me-downs. At first, Tressa used to try to look out for them since she felt so sorry for them. Their constant begging got to be too much for her to handle.
As Tressa was about to walk up the steps, Meechie walked up and asked Rosey. "Do you know anybody who wanna buy some food stamps?"
She turned to look at Tressa. "Or Tressa if you know somebody, let me know."
"How much you trying to sell?" Tressa asked.
"Well, I wanna sell 'bout $200.00 for $100.00." When people sell food stamps, it is usually double the amount of food stamps for the cash money.
"No problem, I'll get them. Are you trying to do that now?" A relieved Tressa was happy to catch the break even if it was from Larceny Meechie.
"Well, in the next hour when the mailman comes, I'll be ready."
"Well, I'll be in the house, just come upstairs when you get them."
"You sure you going to get them?"
"Yeah, I am sure." Tressa assured her that she wanted them. She knew she had to really act pressed, because if she didn't, Meechie would sell them to someone else.
Lord, thank you! She said, to herself.
Tressa went back into her ghetto, but plush apartment that was like a home featured in Better Homes and Gardens magazine. Although Tressa lived in the ghetto, she didn't live like she was ghetto. When people visited her place, they would have never known they were in one of Richmond's most cracked-infested projects. Even the landlord could not believe what she had done with the place, and often used it as a model to the top officials.
Tressa may have had twin boys, but that wasn't a valid reason why one wouldn't be able to eat off the apartment's floor. She had upscale brown expensive leather furniture, with leopard print pillows and curtains. On the opposite wall, she had two mini brown leather recliners made for her twins. She had removed the dingy shades the complex 119
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supplied in the windows and replaced them with matching vertical blinds in her living room and kitchen. The brown and black marble lacquer dinette set, with the hutch to match, had leopard placemats on the table. She had even went as far as getting a mini kiddie lacquer table to match her sons.
When people asked how she could afford the expensive furniture, she wanted so bad to say, because she lived in the projects that how. Her rent was cheap, that was why. But she mostly shopped at scratch and dent departments, that way, she could afford what things she wanted. Then to add to it, when she first moved, she wanted new furniture so bad that she combined the boys and her social security numbers together to make up a fresh social security number so she could get the furniture she really wanted.
The original kitchen floor had wax build up. So she stripped it, re-stained it and finished it with a high gloss.
Tressa had worked wonders with that apartment.
She had done every stitch of the work herself. She had three bedrooms and two walk in closets. One of the closets was in her room and the other was in the hall. The hall closet was turned into a sewing room. She sewed as a hobby, which was a skill she picked up from her grandmother. The other closet in her bedroom was filled from top to bottom. As much as she tried, it never stayed organized. Her bedroom furniture was filled with French dovetailing, and an impeccable quality wood bedroom set that took up practically all the space in the room. Her curtains, comforter and Persian rug matched. The twins shared a room with two blue Little Tikes car beds, dressers and desks. The decor was race cars. The border, carpet, bedspreads, curtains, lamps, light switch cover and pictures on the wall had race cars.
The third bedroom, she transformed into the boys playroom. There was two of everything so the boys wouldn't fight, and there was a television. The room was painted blue, and in the middle of the floor was a plastic Little Tikes playground. The playroom was a privilege for the boys.
They had to earn the right to go into the playroom. She never allowed her children to play outside on the playground, because at any given time, there would be 120
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roaring gunshots, or just drama at the playground. The type of drama that would tempt her to have to beat one of the ghetto chicks down and violate her probation. The only time her boys got to play outside was if she took them to a playground elsewhere, or if they were over Wiggles' house.
Tressa was a good mother to her children, in spite of her circumstances. She just didn't spoil the boys materially, she spoiled them with knowledge, books and learning toys. As any devoted mother would, she spent time with them reading and showering them with love. Her boys were now three years old and were developing nicely.
Tressa was in the house sitting on her leather sofa, when the doorbell rang. That must be Meechie.
"Who is it?" She stood beside the door. There was no need for her to look out of the peephole, because she had a wreath on the door blocking it.
In a rough women's voice. "It's Meechie." Tressa opened the door partially. "Oh, you got dat?" Meechie, with a pitiful look responded. "Girl, I don't know what I am gonna do. The mailman came and didn't have my food stamps, and I ain't got no food in my cabinets or refrigerator. I called my caseworker and she said they should be here tomorrow."
"Well, I can wait until tomorrow." Tressa said briskly.
"But, could you go loan me like $30.00, and I would take it off the money for the food stamps tomorrow when I get them. I really need to go buy my kids something to eat, plus I wanna get me a beer and some cigarettes." Tressa hesitated for a minute I really don't trust this bitch! I don't think she'll really burn this bridge because I live right over her. Plus, I don't wanna say no cuz if I do, then she won't sell me the food stamps tomorrow.
"Look, I was going to have to run to the bank and get the money anyway, but I do have like $15.00 that I can give you. Hold on."
Tressa shut the door and went to get the fifteen dollars. She came
back to the door and handed her the money. Attentively looking Meechie in the eyes, she said in a subtle tone. "See you tomorrow, right?"
"Yes, Tressa thanks." Meechie replied as she turned to walk away with a big Kool-Aid smile on her face.
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As Tressa put the dead bolt, bottom and top locks on
her
door,
her
phone
rang.
Rinnnng...Rinnnng...Rinnnng. I hope this is the damn worker calling me so I won't have to be dealing with that larceny ass bitch Meechie.
"Hello."
"What's the deal baby?" She had heard this greeting so many times from this familiar voice. She paused for a minute, surprised that he had acquired her number after so many months had passed.
"How you manage to fall off the dead beat dad wagon to make this call?" She said in an abrupt tone as she caught an instant attitude.
"Oh, you got jokes, huh. But I'm going to let that one slide cause I know I've been carrying it real fucked up concerning the boys."
She listened because she didn't know what to expect next. Lucky was so unpredictable and was capable of anything at this point. She wondered just what it was that he wanted.
"Look, I got some stuff for the boys. I am downstairs in front of your building. I know I am not welcome in ya house. Oops, I meant ya project!"
That low blow really packed a mean punch! She'll never let him know that he hurt her feelings. Plus, she just fantasized about the things Mr. Big Spender had for her sons as she listened to him continue.
"So, just please come downstairs to get the stuff. I'll pay one of these nickel and dime niggas to help you carry all the stuff back up stairs."
So, she slipped on her 9 West slides, glanced in the mirror to make sure her hair was in place, and exited the apartment.
As soon as Lucky caught sight of her, Damn my baby still look good, still fat to damn death. Shit, it don't look like she starving. I guess she probably got one of these lil'
neighborhood busters looking out for her.
"Hurry up cuz my car getting hot sitting out here in this war zone." He said to her as she walked over to his big body style LS 400 white Lexus on eighteen-inch chrome rims that the fellas around Richmond hadn't even been introduced to yet.
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She didn't comment, she only grabbed the huge shopping bags from Hecht's, the Gap, Nordstrom's, Macy's and Foot Locker. He motioned to one of Pondee's workers.
"Shawdy, come help her carry this stuff up the steps. I'm a look out for ya."
The worker grabbed the bags, as Lucky told her.
"This is some boxes of fish sticks, chicken tenders, some steaks and some other things. I figured the boys would probably want some of their favorite foods to eat. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention, it's about $200 worth of roach motels and raid so those roaches can check in, but won't be able to check out!" Khalil snickered.
She walked away not showing one ounce of emotion towards him. That in and of itself pissed Lucky off, because he wanted to see a reaction from Tressa. At least some small talk to open up the doors of communication between the two of them. She didn't show the slightest bit of appreciation after he'd gone out of his way and spent his $3,500.00.
"Damn, you mean to tell me a nigga can't even get a thank you?"
Tressa stopped in her tracks, gave a slight giggle, made direct eye contact with Lucky. "A thanks shouldn't be required because these are the type of things you're suppose to do for your kids. I don't get a thank you when I feed and clothe your children every day, now do I?" By the expression on his face, she could see she had him where she wanted him, now she went in for the kill.
"Oh, and by the way, we may be in the projects, but guess what boo? This is our safe haven away from Alcatrez, the prison we used to call home, just minus the bars. I know your Don Coleon, shoot' em up, bang-bang ass not afraid to sit out here in this hood. Let me find out I got more heart than you."
Tressa turned to prance back up the steps, never looking back at Lucky. She knew she had gotten up under his skin and knew all the right buttons to push when it came to him. Once back in her apartment, she realized at that moment, that all the items that boys brought over were not because he wanted to do right by his boys, it was simply his way of letting her know that she couldn't hide from him, and he knew exactly where she lived. She was 123
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certain that Lucky was about to set it off. She was still unsure what he had up his sleeve, but whatever it was, she wasn't taking it lying down. Her guards were up and her game face was on.
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-14-
Lucky's Lucky Day
Tressa ran into "Bills Bar-B-Que" to pick up some food, leaving Wiggles in the car with the children. As Tressa gave her order, she overheard some screaming that sounded like Wiggles. She looked out the window and saw a flatbed tow truck. She observed through Wiggles body language that she was having an intense dispute with the tow truck driver. She gave the cashier her money and ran outside to see what all the chaos and commotion was all about. By the time she reached the door, the tow truck driver was attaching what looked like a chain to her car. It was then she realized the man was towing her car!
"What the hell you are doing with my car?" She screamed at the fat white man with a big belly that was hanging over his belt.
"What does it look like?" He screamed back at her.
"Why?"
"I don't owe you no explanation. I'm just doing what I was hired to do, get the car. Remove your personal possessions." He said to her in a nasty tone with a giggle and continued to hook her car up.
"Get this fucking car down, so I can get my kids out." She screamed at the top of her lungs, wanting to punch him so badly.
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She ignored the police siren as a police car rolled up behind her. She didn't care about any police car. There wasn't a police officer in the world that could stop her from getting to her children.
As the tow truck driver went back into the truck, he started pushing buttons to lower the car. The children were in the car screaming, but not because they were scared, they actually enjoyed the lights and movements on the tow truck. Then all of sudden the screams of excitement turned into screams of being afraid, because they could see their mother's frustration and they could tell something was wrong with her and their aunt Wiggles.
One of the police officers approached Wiggles first, trying to make heads of the matter. They next went to talk to the crowd of folks that had come out of Bill's Bar B-Que to be nosey. The other police officer approached Tressa and the tow truck driver.
"Sir, what seems to be the problem?" He asked the driver, but Tressa spoke before the driver could.
Screaming at the top of her lungs, Tressa excitedly replied. "The problem is I wasn't parked illegal, over the lines or anything. And this man is towing my car with my children and belongings in it, and won't give me an explanation!"
The officer looked at the car and saw Lil Hadji in the window screaming, and Lil Ali trying to escape through the passenger side window. Wiggles was running trying to rescue him. When they realized he was on his way out of the window, everyone, except the tow truck driver, ran over to the window as the other police officer told the driver to shut the truck off.
Once the children were out of the car, the police officers were too frustrated with the tow truck driver. It took everything in Tressa not hit the tow truck driver with a right hook. The driver handed some papers to the police.
The officer looked over the papers thoroughly.
"Both of you wait here." He instructed the tow truck driver and Tressa, while the officer proceeded to his police cruiser to dissect th
e writing on the papers. He used his cell phone, as well as called over the cb radio, to try to gather the necessary information.
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The officer returned after fifteen minutes with a disappointed looked on his face.
"Ms. Shawsdale, I regret that I have to tell you that this bill of sale for the vehicle, in exchange for dog food, is very legal." He said, as he held out the bill of sale to her. "I will let you gather your valuables out of the car."
"But I don't understand. It has got to be a mistake." She said to the police officer, totally upset, but still trying to stop the tears from rolling down her face.
She looked at the bill of sale in depth, and at that very moment, abhorrence, disgust, revulsion, hostility and hatred for Lucky filled every bone in Tressa's body. Tressa couldn't believe how desperate and determined Lucky was to make her life without him a living hell. Wasn't it enough that she had to fend for herself? Wasn't it enough that she had to be on welfare to make ends meet? Wasn't it enough that she had to explain to her kids where daddy was and why he wasn't there with them? Wasn't it enough that she lived in a roach infested housing project, taking a risk everyday, not knowing at any given moment, if her or her sons were going to get hit with a stray bullet? Wasn't all this humiliation and agony enough?
While he's rolling around in his array of cars; Lexus', B'mer's, trucks all suited up, living the life of luxury, we're over here with the bare necessities struggling, scrambling, scuffling and barely making it. All he can do is to continue to find ways to try to bring me down. I can't believe this dude hates me, the woman who bared his two sons, the woman who rubbed Preparation H on his ass when he had hemorrhoids, the woman who was his best friend, who listened and consoled him through the good and bad, happy and sad. He hates me so much that he's going to sell my damn car for a car that he wouldn't dare drive around the block in or be caught dead in. A car that his children gets from point A to Point B in, for a bag of fucking Purina Dog food and two cans of Alpo! I can't believe he did this! Why?