MONEY
The whiskey burned going down, but I poured another glass anyway because the burn was better than feeling everything else that was tearing through my chest. I sat in my office at the mansion with the curtains drawn so it was dark, watching the amber liquid catch what little sunlight managed to slip through the cracks.
The bottle of Macallan was half empty, or maybe it was half full, depending on how optimistic a man wanted to be about his situation.
I gulped down what was left in my glass and let my head fall back against the leather chair.
Solei was in the process of getting out of her condo lease and that shit felt too real.
For the past two days, we’d been acting like twenty-something-year-olds in love again and something about that had me gone.
Between handing everything over to Check and Tip and getting my family back, I needed to celebrate with a few drinks.
But instead of focusing on the good, my mind spiraled into the bad.
The whiskey was making my thoughts fuzzy. I poured another glass even though I knew I should’ve stopped. I closed my eyes and the memories came flooding back. I could see myself at thirteen, skinny, hungry, and angry at the world.
The apartment smelled like old grease and cigarette smoke.
I sat at the kitchen table, my stomach growling so loudly it echoed off the walls, while my mother stood at the stove, trying to stretch one chicken breast into dinner for two people.
She looked tired in a way that went deeper than just needing sleep.
She looked like life had beaten her down so many times she had forgotten what it felt like to stand up straight.
“Montana, go wash your hands so we can eat,” she said without turning around. Her voice was flat and worn out like everything else about her.
“I’m not hungry,” I lied my ass off because I was starving, but I knew there wasn’t enough food, and she needed to eat more than I did.
“Boy, do not start with me tonight.” She turned around, and I could see the dark circles under her eyes and the way her dollar store uniform hung off her frame because she had lost weight from working two jobs and forgetting to feed herself. “I made dinner, so you gon’ eat dinner.”
“You made one piece of chicken and some rice.” I stood up from the table and felt my anger rising like it always did when I looked at her and saw what this life had done to her. “That shit ain’t dinner, Ma. That’s a snack.”
“It’s what we have.” Her voice cracked, and I hated myself for making her feel worse than she already did. “I get paid on Friday, and then I can go to the store and get more groceries, but right now this is what we have.”
“This is some bullshit.” I kicked the chair, and it scraped across the linoleum floor with a sound that made us both flinch.
“You work all these jobs all week long and we still don’t have shit.
We still live in this raggedy ass apartment in the projects with roaches runnin’ around all the time.
I go to school in the same few outfits while other kids have Jordans and chains and shit I want but can’t have. ”
“Watch your mouth in my house.” My mother’s eyes flashed with anger and pain. “I’m doin’ the best I can, Montana. I’m workin’ myself to death tryin’ to keep a roof over our heads and food in your belly, so don’t you dare stand there and tell me it’s not enough!”
“Why don’t you ask Pop for help?” I asked the question I always asked when I was feeling like this. “Why don’t you…?”
“Your father is gone, livin’ his own life and won’t help.
You know this.” She turned back to the stove, and her shoulders were shaking.
“He made his choice and I made mine. I chose to keep you, raise you, and love you, even when it was hard. So if you wanna be angry at someone, be angry at his ass. But don’t carry that anger for me! ”
I wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in my throat. My stomach twisted with shame and I felt my face burn. I was young, stupid, and too proud to admit when I was wrong. I grabbed my raggedy hoodie off the back of the chair and headed for the door, my heart pounding with regret.
“Where are you going?” my mother called after me.
“Outside.” I slammed the door behind me before she could say anything else.
The projects were alive with the usual chaos when I stepped outside.
Music blasted from open windows, kids played basketball in the court, and groups of niggas stood on corners conducting business that everyone knew about, but nobody talked about.
I passed Mrs. Johnson’s apartment, where she was yelling at her boyfriend again; the building where someone had gotten shot last week; and the playground with broken swings and a graffiti-covered slide.
I made my way to the basketball courts where the older niggas always hung out. They were there, leaning against the fence with gold chains, fresh sneakers, and pockets full of money. They looked like everything I wanted to be and nothing my mother wanted me to become.
“Yo, young Money!” Force called out when he saw me approaching. He was twenty-two and ran the Westside. “What you doin’ out here, lil’ nigga? Shouldn’t you be at home doin’ homework or some shit?”
“I’m tired of that school shit,” I said, trying to sound older than I was. “I’m tired of bein’ broke while y’all out here gettin’ money.”
The other niggas laughed, and Zoe grinned like I had said something funny. “You hear this nigga? He tired of school. Shit, I been tired of school since I was twelve.”
“For real though.” Big Larry stepped forward, smoking a blunt.
He was called Big Larry because he was almost seven feet and built like he could break someone in half without trying.
“I hear you. Fuck school, young blood. That shit ain’t gon’ get you nowhere.
You think any of us got where we are by sittin’ in some classroom learnin’ about dead white muthafuckas? ”
“School is for suckers,” another nigga added. “You want real money? You wanna take care of your mom’s and get fly and have bitches on your dick? Then you need to get in this game.”
I nodded like I understood, even though my heart was pounding.
I knew this was a turning point. If I walked away now, I could go back to school and try to make something of myself the right way.
But the right way was slow and uncertain.
My mother was literally killing herself working three jobs and we still couldn’t even afford to eat properly.
“I want in,” I said, and my voice did not shake even though everything inside me was shaking. “I wanna get money like y’all. I wanna help my mom’s.”
Force studied me for a long moment, and then he nodded slowly. “Aight. We’ll see. Come through tomorrow after school and we’ll talk.”
The next day, I sat in my social studies class, trying to focus on what the teacher was saying about the Civil War, but all I could think about was money.
I thought about the hundred-dollar bills I had seen Force pull out of his pocket all the time like they were nothing.
I thought about the way Big Larry’s chain caught the sunlight and how everyone in the neighborhood respected them because they had power and resources.
I thought about my mother’s tired face and her worn-out uniforms and the way she cried when she thought I couldn’t hear her.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t sit in class pretending like education was going to save me when my mother was drowning, and I was the only one who could throw her a lifeline. I stood up in the middle of class and grabbed my backpack.
“Mr. Madden, where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Patterson asked, looking up from her desk with that disappointed expression teachers always had when students did not live up to their potential.
“I’m leavin’,” I said simply, and the whole class broke out in snickers and whispers.
“You cannot just leave in the middle of class.”
“Watch me.” I walked out and didn’t look back. Looking back would have meant second-guessing myself. I couldn’t afford that anymore.
I went straight back to the projects and found Force, Big Larry, and the rest of the crew at the basketball courts, like I knew they would be. They looked surprised to see me because it was only one in the afternoon and I should have been in school.
“Yo, what you doin’ here?” Force asked, pushing off from the fence. “I told you to come through after school.”
“I left early,” I said, and I made sure my voice was steady and confident. “I’m done with that shit. I want in the game. I wanna get money. I wanna do this for real.”
Force and Big Larry exchanged looks, and I could tell they were trying to figure out whether I was serious or just some stupid kid who didn’t understand what he was asking for.
“You sure about this?” Big Larry asked, and his voice was serious now.
“This shit ain’t no game, young blood. This is real shit.
You get in this life and there ain’t no gettin’ out. You understand that?”
“I understand.” I didn’t really understand, but I was too proud and too desperate to admit it.
“Aight then.” Force nodded slowly. “But you gotta prove yourself first. We can’t just let anybody run with us. You gotta show us you ain’t a bitch ass nigga who’s gon’ fold the first time shit gets real.”
“What do I gotta do?” I asked, and my heart was pounding so hard I thought everyone could hear it.
“You gotta fight.” Big Larry pointed to a guy standing off to the side, whom I had seen around but didn’t really know. “You gotta fight Steez and you gotta win or at least you gotta show us you ain’t scared to take a beatin’.”