"I can't believe you're doing this." My best friend, Matt said, as he rode in the passenger seat. His full name is Kenneth Matthew Gibson. Obviously, I call him by his middle name. I'm the only person that is allowed to call him Matt or Matthew, besides my sister, Solange or his mom. His dad was never around, and still isn't, so it makes sense that his mom him her last name.
Anyways. Me and Matt have been best friends since we were five years old, in kindergarten. The first day of school, we became best friends. We were coloring. He had the markers that I wanted, but he didn't want to share, so I took them and ran to another table. He sat next to me, and made fun of my ears. I did the same to him. It's been history since that day, you rarely us without each other.
Matt and I are practically the same person. He plays on varsity basketball, we both do. His jersey number is three, like mine. We have the Roman numeral number three tattooed on our wrists, we're that close. We both go to Crenshaw High in South Central, California.
"Because I need the money, Matt." I stressed.
"I've been telling you fast food place is a good-"I made a left turn.
"I keep telling you that eight dollars an hour isn't enough. Plus I don't have anymore room in my busy schedule." I'm eighteen, senior in high school, taking college prep classes, honor classes, and I'm on the varsity basketball team.
"There are ways around-"
"What I'm doing is fine, and it's fast. Just what I need. No one, besides you and I, know that I'm making this money. Perfect way to keep the money that I'm making to myself. You know how they are." I glanced at him.
He sighed. "I know, but I wish there was something less risky where you could make the same amount of money."
"I have to do what I have to do." I shrugged and made a right turn.
"You can't ask your brother for help, with the money situation. He did buy this car, right?" I have an older brother, Darian, that lives in Las Vegas, Nevada. He's twenty-five years old.
My mom loss our townhouse home, about eight or nine months ago. She was doing so well, very well. She is a home daycare provider. The money was great! We had everything we wanted and needed. Everything went south when her parents start losing their jobs, due to the lay off quota.
Losing children, means losing money. Money we no longer had, but desperately needed. Our house went into foreclosure, because she couldn't make the payments. We were living in a middle class neighbor in West Hollywood.
She had to find another job, waitressing at Outback Steakhouse. My mom is a teacher by day, and a waitress by night. She's barely home, so imagine who runs things around the house.Her tips went towards gas, and lunch money for my sixteen year old sister, Solange. That's if it doesn't go to her boyfriend's new found drug habit.
They've been together for about seven years now. When they started dating, I was skeptical about their relationship. That's because I missed my daddy being around, but that's a story for another time. Her boyfriend, my stepdad, is annoying, but he wasn't always that way. Two of us used to be really close and I thought he was a cool guy. He treated my mom like a Queen, and that's all that really mattered to me.
"My brother doesn't know, and he doesn't need to know." I glanced at Matt.
"Wait...So he doesn't know about Chico and John?!" See, Chico and John, are men in their mid twenties. They work at the warehouse, where my stepdad, Timothy, used to work. They live in our garage. We have a three bedroom house, what I like to call a shack. In my opinion, it's small. I guess that's because I'm used to a huge, spacious home.
"No." I said simply. "No one knows. I plan to keep it that way."
"Gis, you have to tell someone." Sadly, Matt said.
"I did tell someone." I looked at him. "..You.."
"I mean like someone that can help. You know, someone with authority."
"No. I'm fine--We're fine. I can handle it."
"You can't handle everything." He spoke softly.
"Yes, I can. I can handle this, and I will."
"You're the most stubborn person that I know."
I chuckled. "You and I, are like a PB&J, therefore you have no room to talk."
"That's true, but-"
"Aaaah, but nothing." I joked as I was pulling up to my destination. "Are you coming?"
Matt unbuckled his seat belt. "I'd never let you do this crazy shit by yourself." He opened his door. I got out of my car and grabbed my bag from the trunk. I have green 2007 Honda Civic, by the way. In my neighbor, black or red cars will get you blasted. You know, shot up or shot at. To be safe, I look around carefully, before walking into the building.
I did what I had to do to get paid. Twenty minutes, I had my money. The money is needed for me and Solange to runaway from this hell hole. Far away from my careless mother, and her drug addicted boyfriend- or husband. Whatever they consider him to be.
"How much did you make this time?" Matt asked me, when got back into the car.
"The same as last time." I said simply.
"Why don't you open up a bank account?"
"I don't trust anyone with my money. Banks are bullshit."
"It's safer in a bank, than in a bag in your ceiling."
"I doubt it."
"I don't want that base head to steal it...Just think about it."
"I'll think about it."
"Wanna shot some hoops before we pick up Solange?"
"Yes!" I got excited. "See, this is why I keep my gym bag in my trunk."
We headed to open gym at the Boys and Girls club. It wasn't totally full, thankfully. We ran threes for at least two hours.
It's Sunday night, which means I have to pick my sister up from her best friend's, Ingrid's house. They're just as close, as me and Matt are.
Solange spends the weekends at her house. Ingrid's parents are really cool. They know our situation, so they don't trip about Solange staying the weekends at their home. Or any day of the week for that matter.
I pulled up to Ingrid's house, and went to knock on the door. Ingrid's mom, Auntie Pat answered. Yes,she has us calling her Aunty, and we love it because we don't have much family. She's the sweetest woman you'll probably ever meet. I love her to pieces. She just celebrated her fiftieth birthday not too long ago. But black don't crack, so she looks much younger.
"Hey, baby. How are you doing?" She greeted, and stepped aside to let me in.
"I'm good." I stepped inside and we hugged. Her home has a welcoming smell. It always smells like soul food, fresh off the stove. I love the warm and toasty feel you receive as soon as you walk through the doors. I wish my house had this feeling. I wish had two loving, married parents, to make the house a home. That's just wishful thinking. "How are you, Aunty?"
"Oh, you know I'm doing just fine, sweet pea. These kids are driving me nuts with all that singing and rapping they think they're doing." We shared a small chuckled. Solange can sing, nice voice. Ingrid is the rapper. They're a perfect duo, those two.
"I dunno, Aunty. We might to use their talents and get rich." She laughed along with.
"You might be right." Uncle David came out of the bathroom. "Hey, pumpkin." We hugged.
"Hey, Uncle David." I smiled.
"You looking a little hungry, pumpkin." He looked at my stomach. "You and that big eared boy come and put those feet underneath that table. I know he's in the car, yapping on the phone to that girl again." I laughed. My Uncle knows us very well.
"Okay." I laughed then went to get Matt from the car. Solange, Ingrid, Matt, Aunty Pat, and Uncle David ate fried chicken, cabbage, rice, cornbread, with fruit punch kool-aid. It felt good, to have this "family". Home away from that shit hole. When was over, I drove Matt home. Solange and I went back "home", to my mom and Tim arguing. Oh, great. Here we go again.