Not to the Swift

Chapter 4

Billie Holiday crooned out Easy Living between piano riffs over the tinny speaker system in the Washington's family room, and George leaned back in his chair. His eyes hid in the shadows of his traditional Poker Night plastic visor—clear emerald green, with the four suite symbols stenciled on. The gray tuft of hair popped up off his deep brown skin. He took a long satisfying drag from the convenience store cigar before laying out his hand. "I call. Full house, jacks over sevens. Whatchu all got?"

Thomas gave him a stoic face for a moment, then flopped his cards on the table. "At least I got more pride than to wear that god-awful hat." He cackled and pointed, his gold tooth gleaming in the light.

James joined in, and George cocked his head with a glare. "Oh, this how it's gonna be?"

Muscle-bound James shook his head and revealed his hand. "Two pair. Dayum, G-Dub, I thought I had somethin' good this time."

"You thought, JJ." George shook his head. "You know better than to start doin' that."

"Come on, deal the next hand and we'll see." James tossed a couple pretzels into the pot. Thomas and George followed suit, and George offered the deck for James to cut.

"Lord give me strength, Herbert!" LaTasha strode through the room to open windows, waving her hands like an archaeologist sweeping away cobwebs. "You tryin' to give us all cancer already?"

George smiled and dealt out cards. "Just enjoyin' the finer things, baby! The sweet fruits of my labors all week long."

LaTasha drew near and slipped her arms around George. "Fair enough. My man done good." She moved to peck him on the cheek, but George managed to get his lips in the way.

Chris and René entered the room. Chris moved to the door to put on his sneakers, but René froze. "Eewww. Gross, Dad."

Muffled by the kiss, George muttered, "No way, Lil' Ray." LaTasha pulled back, and George smiled. "I am a happy, happy man."

LaTasha flashed a playful glare at the guys. "And he's my man. I'm only loanin' him to you incorrigible louts for a few hours. Do stay out of trouble."

"Yes, ma'am," Thomas and James answered in unison.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Taz," a new voice said from the hallway, standing with another young man and Chris, who held the door open.

"What up, Cee?" George called without looking up from the cards.

"Oh dear Jesus, Clarence," LaTasha said. "I know you too damn well to buy that. My God, is this tall man my little nephew Dre?"

The young man smiled and nodded. "Good to see you again, Auntie 'Tasha."

Clarence gave him a soft backhand to the arm. "Don't you go gettin' on her side, boy. She'll have you spyin' on us with promises of home cookin'."

Dre mumbled, "I'm okay with that."

Clarence dragged him to the table. "All right, boys, Dre just hit eighteen an' got himself thinkin' he's grown. Been runnin' dice on the street with guys from the Disciples, lost him some serious cash."

The men shook their heads and made appropriately disapproving noises. George glanced at LaTasha out the corner of his eye, and saw folded arms beneath a raised eyebrow.

Clarence seemed to notice as well. He laid it on thick. "So I told his mama I'd teach him a lesson about gamblin'—but with pretzels an' peanuts, not Lincolns and Jacksons. You boys know how to hustle better than any of them brothers on the street. Do your worst."