Cigarette Money (excerpt)

....The “Woods” is what everybody calls the Carter G. Woodson Projects. They ain’t the worst in the world, but I really don’t like the idea of my babies living there when they could be living with me in the house my Mama and Daddy left me. Vicki won’t hear none of that though. She’s a good mother and I see my kids whenever I want to, but not letting ‘em live with me is her one way of fuckin' with me.

I finally get there and damn if they ain’t here. I know I’m in the wrong about this shit, but I’m kind of pissed that I walked my ass all the way over here. It’s hot as a sonofabitch out here and I had to climb up three flights of rickety stairs and they ain’t even here. Goddamn!!!!

As I’m leaving the complex, I see Kenya and Malik playing on the swings. They must have just got back from the store. “Hey babies - where’s ya Mama????” I ask as I kiss them on the foreheads. They’re trying to “mean mug” me so they don’t say anything. They just point over to the building where the mailroom is. I go over there and surprisingly, she ain’t quite as pissed as I thought she would be, but she is a little salty.

“Nigga where have you been???? Anyway, if we leave now we can get back down there before they close. All the good stuff’s probably already gone though. I hope you late 'cus you stopped by Curt’s to get my money.” She said without looking up as she fingered through the stack of bills and junk mail.

What the fuck is she talking about???? “Have mercy - I knew that “bad boy” was gone fall….Malik, Kenya, let’s go!!!!” She calls to the children as she continues to rattle on”…..814 my lucky day, my lucky number.” All of a sudden I realized what she was talkin’ about. In my post pussy funk, no sleep gettin’, elbow cutting in my back, early morning stupor, I didn't realize that the slip for the number Vicki told me to play was also gone from under the ashtray too. Just a few dollars for cigarette money my ass. Goddamn!!!!....