Project Queen (Urban Fiction)

Chapter Three

"To the windows! To the walls! 'Til the sweat drop down my..."

The thin walls of the apartment vibrated.

"God, Toby. Turn that music down. People can't even sleep." Shae groaned and rolled over. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 5:14 AM. "What the hell he doing up this damn early?" she mumbled and reluctantly got out of bed. She found the robe she'd flung on a chair earlier and slipped it on.

"Get low! Get low! Get low!" The song continued to pound into her head. Her face tightened as she stumbled toward Toby's room.

She charged in without knocking. "Toby, what's yo problem, boy? You know people trying to sleep this time-" Her hand flew up to her mouth and her eyes widened. Marijuana and cocaine covered the bed spread.

Toby jumped, causing some drug paraphernalia to fall off the bed. "Man, you forgot how to knock?" he yelled. He didn't bother covering up the drugs.

"What you doing with this shit? So, you gonna start selling drugs like the next common thug, right?"

"I ain't just started- I been doing this So what? Just mind ya own business," he told her. "Touch ya nose." Now Shae understood why Toby could afford the latest urban wear and the newest, most expensive shoes.

"What the fuck wrong with you and this noise early this morning?" Mrs. Byrts' voice boomed louder than the music. She parked herself in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. She held a glass filled with brown liquor and ice.

Toby's mouth opened, forming a circle. He unsuccessfully tried to pull the comforter over the drugs before she saw them.

"Toby, what is that?" she asked. Her eyes swept the floor where the small plastic baggies littering it. "And what's under that bedspread, boy?"

"I, uh, I c-can explain," he stammered.

"Just shut ya damn mouth. You must think I'm a fool or something. I can see what's going on. I ain't blind." Her eyes were cold and hard. "You know damn well I don't play this shit. You must have lost what lil fucking brains God gave you." She entered the room, threw back the cover, and picked up some of the crack. "Look at this shit." Before Toby could blink, she caught him upside the head with an open hand slap. "No, you didn't start this. You taking ya ass back to school. That's what you gone do and I mean that. Now get this shit out of my house."

Toby kicked the edge of the bed. He gathered up the drugs and paraphernalia from the floor.

"Big ass bitch," he mumbled, low enough for only Shae to hear.

"What the fuck did you say?" Mrs. Byrts screeched. Her eyes turned red. "It ain't gonna take too much mo' for me to get on ya ass. So, ya best bet is to shut ya fucking mouth. I will rearrange this room up with ya sorry ass." Shae felt the fear that always came when their mother went on one of her rampages. In the end, someone always ended up hurt. She prayed that Toby would just be quiet before he ended up getting tossed to the floor and kicked unmercifully.

"Mama, I'm tired of you yelling and cussing at me all the time," Toby yelled. "You always telling me what the hell I can and can't do, and I'm sick of it."

"Toby, what's wrong with you?" Shae asked. Her eyes darted from Toby to Mrs. Byrts. Mrs. Byrts face tightened, turned a few shades darker, and the hand not holding the glass clenched into a fist. A large jugular vein throbbed.

"Ain't nothing wrong with me. I'm just sick of this shit. I'm tired of living in these sorry ass, roach infested projects. I'm tired of being poor." His eyes narrowed before he continued. "Mama, something's wrong with you. You ain't like nobody else's mama I know. It's one thing for kids to get beatings, but hell, we get beat downs. That's messed up. It ain't supposed to happen."