Free The Banks Sisters by Nikki Turner Page A

was a solid dagger. Now Marjorie was just toying with her. She had never felt so belittled in her life.
    Marjorie, judging by the twisted smile and the spark of delight simmering in her eyes, made no effort to conceal the joy she felt at Simone’s expense. “Darling . . .” she said, bubbling with self assertion, “you need to take that, twenty and run along. “I have a date”—making an exaggerated gesture of checking her watch—“and I’ve waste enough time with the likes of you.”
    Simone and Marjorie had never really liked each other, they tolerated one another for the sake of Simon. Growing up, Simone had always gave the respect she gave to all adults, like she was taught. But Simone quickly learned that respect wasn’t something to be given, it had to be earned. And this trick hadn’t earned a damn ounce of anything.
    Simone decided to take Marjorie’s advice, and get the fuck away from her. As she get up from the high back chair, Marjorie, adding insult to injury, said, “No more freebies here.” And she didn’t stop there. “You’ve freeloaded your whole life—Ohhh . . . daddy’s little, precious girl. Well, that shit is over.” She raised her voice, “Done! Finito! Your daddy’s gone and that twenty dollars is the last thing you’re ever going to get from me.” The smile off glee was replaced by one of unadulterated hate. “You will never see another penny of your father’s money. I’m gonna see to that little girl. And what are you gonna do about it? Nothing! That’s what.” Marjorie went on, “Because I have the best lawyer in the state and you don’t have shit . . . not a gotdamn thing! Good luck with that in probate court. Now if you don’t mind, get the fuck outta my house and try to figure out how you’re going to feed your grown-ass self.”
    Simone seriously considered cracking Marjorie upside her poorly done surgically-enhanced joker face, but she wasn’t a violent person. The last fight she’d been in was the third grade with a girl named Charlotte. Charlotte, a white girl, had told another girl that Simone dad looked like the monkey Curious George from the book the class had to read. After Simone was done wearing Charlotte’s butt out on the playground by the sandbox, Charlotte would never even say the word monkey again.
    â€œHow dare you,” Simone said with disdain of her own. “You have the unmitigated gall to tell me, that I need to work while your selfish-ass is running around spreading me and my father’s hard earned money like its going out of style.
    â€œYou mean my hard earned money,” said Marjorie, hands on her wide hips. “You haven’t the slightest clue to the shit I had to put up with.”
    Simone gave Marjorie a sideways look as if she was crazy.
    Unapologetic, Marjorie said, “I not only had to play mother to your spoil-ass, acting like I actually give a fuck if you win this pageant or that you have the nicest dress for the many proms and homecomings. Chile please. If that wasn’t enough, I also had to deal with your dear daddy’s tiny-ass dick. That alone should be worth all the tea in China, having to fake, having to fake orgasms and please myself for twelve, long years. That man’s dick was smaller than a two year old baby’s.”
    Before Simone had realized it, she’d smacked Marjorie so hard sparks came from her face. The skin—so tight from surgery—nearly ripped to pieces. Yet, the expression on her face never changed.
    Simone had no idea what had come over her, but she wasted no time taking advantage of Marjorie’s temporary shock. Simone cocked back as far as she could and blasted the witch one more time just because. It felt so good. One of Marjorie’s fur slippers heel’s wobbled, lost her balance, and busted her ass on the marble floor.
    â€œYou