Free The Mike Black Saga; MOB by Roy Glenn Page B

could she do to get her niece, Brandy, out of that situation?
    Like so many others, Bruce had lost his job. To make ends meet he began to sell cocaine for some character who called himself Chilly. Nothing major; he could flip a few grams, maybe an ounce here and there if he already had a buyer. But then he would step on it so hard that they didn’t come back. You see, Bruce and his wife Natalie were big-time smokers, and having product around just made it worse because they would always smoke themselves in a hole. A hole that they continuously asked Me’shelle to dig them out of.
    The night before Bruce had come to her for help. It wasn’t that they owed anybody money. That would come later. They had smoked all they had and needed money for more.
    The calls began a little after 2:00 in the morning. She knew it was Bruce, and she knew what he wanted, so she didn’t answer the phone. But the calls continued about every ten minutes until Me’shelle unplugged her phone at 3:00 in the morning. By the time she had drifted off to sleep, it was after 4:00. That sleep was interrupted by a loud banging at her door accompanied by, “Me’shelle!” Bruce yelled at the top of his lungs as he continued to bang on the door. “Open the door, Me’shelle! I know you’re in there!”
    Me’shelle jumped out of bed and ran to the door. She had to shut him up because the last time he pulled a stunt like this, her landlord, Mrs. B., told her if it happened again, lease or no lease, she was putting her out. She swung the door open, snatched Bruce by his shirt and dragged him into the apartment. “Are you crazy, Bruce? What are doin’ knocking on my door like a crazy fool at four in the morning?”
    “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”
    “Did you ever think that I wasn’t home or had company and didn’t want to be bothered?”
    “Nope. Since that blockhead Trent dropped you, you never go anywhere,” Bruce said, looking around Me’shelle’s apartment.
    “He didn’t drop me. We agreed that we should see other people,” Me’shelle said, knowing Trent had dropped her.
    “Whatever, Me’shelle. That’s just some shit a muthafucka like him would say when he dropped your ass,” Bruce cracked.
    “Anyway, I still could’ve had a date.”
    “Who? You? Sister Mary-Me’shelle out on a date? I don’t think so. You never go anywhere, you never do anything. You just sit here every night readin’ them stupid self improvement books and gradin’ them kids’ papers.”
    “Books aren’t stupid!” Me’shelle replied angrily. “Never mind. And stop looking around here for something to pawn. How much do you need?”
    “Since you asked, I need two thousand dollars. But I know you ain’t got it like that, so just give me fifty and I’m gone.”
    Me’shelle sucked her teeth, but she went to get her purse anyway. “You know what, Bruce? This is the last time. I can’t keep supporting you and Natalie’s habit. If Mommy and Daddy knew you turned out to be a crackhead and I was supportin’ your habit, what would they say?”
    “I don’t know what your mother would say. And Pops wouldn’ta said nothin’. He woulda just sat in his chair and stared at the TV like he always did.”
    After that, she really didn’t get back to sleep, and once the morning flooded her bedroom with sunshine there was no longer any point in trying. By the time Me’shelle got to the Liberty Avenue exit on the Van Wyck Expressway, she felt tired.
    When she arrived at her aunt Miranda’s house, it was like a burst of energy came over her. Me’shelle unlocked the door and wandered through the house hollering, “Good morning, Aunt Miranda! Aunt Miranda, where are you?”
    “In the kitchen, Me’shelle,” Miranda answered.
    Me’shelle entered the kitchen and gave her aunt a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
    “Mornin’, Me’shelle. You look tired, baby. You gettin’ enough rest? Anyway, you’re just in time to help me pick and wash these greens so I