Free The Banks Sisters by Nikki Turner

thought, Hell yes! Well, that would be the least you could do for me. You should have given me the money my dad left me. Instead, you manipulated my dad’s will, put me out of his own house and changed the locks on the doors.
    If it wasn’t for her mother’s mother, Me-Ma, Simone would’ve been homeless.
    Make no mistake about it, Simone loved and appreciate, herself some Me-Ma. Growing up, Me-Ma, was always generous, caring, and gracious. It was so sad, but true that Me-Ma was the closest thing to a mother figure Simone ever had. And besides a little more gray hair and a few more wrinkles, Me-Ma hadn’t changed a bit. But Simone had. She was a mature, educated, grown woman whose father had worked hard so that she would always be taken care of, even after he was gone. And now her stepmother manipulated everything and left her with nothing.
    It took every fiber of restraint and humility for Simone to answer Marjorie’s question. She took a deep breath; slowly, inside inhaled counted to ten before exhaling.
    At that point, she decided why not? What did she have to loose? It was simple, it was either yes or no.
    Calmly, she said, “I wasn’t here to ask for money but I could use some. I do need money right now. For the basics . . . gas and food. And I’m going to need to buy a new phone.” Doing a few calculations in her head, she figured she needed about seven or eight hundred to get by, but settled for the bare minimum. “Do you think you can give me five hundred?”
    The room, smelling like fresh paint and money, was a pin drop quiet for a few beats. Out of nowhere, Marjorie cackled like a witch with a black cat up her sleeve. The irritating bewitching laughter went on for a while. Finally, she stopped.
    â€œSo, you need me, huh,” she said. “Where’s your mother in your time of need?”
    This was a low blow even for Marjorie, thought Simone, bringing up Deidra.
    â€œWait don’t answer,” she said, “let me guess. M-I-A as always.” Marjorie added, “Besides pushing you out of her pussy that woman had never given you anything. It’s just mighty funny how she’s never around when you need her.”
    She was right. Deidra, Simone’s mother, had never done a thing for Simone, except pass her beautiful looks on to her, which she was grateful for.
    Simone bit her tongue, literally, ignoring Marjorie’s childish attempt to make her loose her cool. Simone knew what Marjorie was trying to do. If Simone, snapped on her, Marjorie would use it as an excuse not to give her the money. Nice trick, but that won’t work on me bitch, Simone thought.
    Marjorie, after not getting the results she’d hoped, scurried off toward the family room, the bottom of her robe including the fur trim flapping in the wind. Simone assured Marjorie was going to get the money she’d asked for. A few seconds later, Simone heard voices coming from the room Marjorie had just went into. She couldn’t make out the words but recognized that the tone of it was Marjorie and Maria, the housekeeper, who had worked for her father for years.
    Nevertheless, Simone couldn’t make out what they were saying. Simone walked into the foyer taking a seat in a newly purchased high back chair, so that she was closer to the door.
    Her thoughts drifted, off to a conversation she’d had with her father, in this very spot, when she was sixteen, about what time she was expected to be back home from her first real date. She’d made it home, thirty minutes before curfew.
    The trip down memory lane ended as suddenly as it had had begun. “Here!” It was Marjorie, pushing a crumple up a piece of paper into her palm.
    Twenty dollars.
    No, that bitch didn’t? The disrespect burned at the lining of Simone’s stomach like a shot of cheap liquor. “What I’m supposed to do with this?” She held the twenty-dollar bill by two fingers as if it