A Project Chick (18 page)

Tressa's old neighbor, Joan's sister, Shelly, owned an interior decorating firm. Now, Shelly was so much different from Joan. Shelly was in her late fifties, had been 116

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divorced three times, and all her ex's were very wealthy men. Each husband paid off like Big Game lottery tickets, which left her bank account as big as Texas. She possessed much attitude and spunk. She weighed a hundred and twenty-five pounds, had dyed dirty blond hair, and a beautiful flawless red tan, that made her complexion resemble that of a light brown black woman. Shelly stood 5'4", and had tried every kind of plastic surgery to enhance her physical appearance, from liposuction, tummy tuck, breast implants, face lifts to hormone shots to enlarge her behind. The physical enhancements, combined with her money, made her hell on wheels. Shelly loved to brag about and spend her money. She may have looked like a bimbo or a kept woman, but she was a hell of a businesswoman.

With Shelly's cold, bitter attitude, there would always be someone fed up with Shelly and eventually they would quit her. So, Joan managed to convince Shelly that Tressa would be the perfect candidate for the receptionist position, which later, the responsibility of buyer was eased into her lap, though there was no wage increase.

Although Tressa had no prior experience in interior design, Joan always admired the eye she had for decorating the house that she used to reside in with Lucky. Shelly was certain that Tressa would just mess up, but as a favor to her sister, she gave her a shot. And to her surprise, Tressa, the lowest paid employee, worked harder than any other staff member Shelly employed.

It took everything in Tressa to give her social services income verification forms to Shelly to fill out. She was so embarrassed that the cat was out of the bag that she received welfare benefits. Shelly would surely let Joan know exactly how hard life was without Lucky. She didn't want anybody feeling sorry for her or looking down on her. The humiliation really sat in, when she thought about how Shelly would look at her as a charity case, and maybe dog her out concerning her job responsibilities. She thought Shelly would try to talk down to her, and lose all respect for her because she knew Tressa needed the job.

Frustration filled Tressa's body after examining the whole scenario. Her pride was fighting her to not give the forms to Shelly, and just doing without the benefits. Then next, she thought about how there was nobody else to help 117

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her provide for her children, and her low paying job was barely enough to make the basic bills. Taking those things into consideration, she swallowed her pride and handed the forms to Shelly to fill out.

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'