Money Over Everything

Can't Stop the Hustle

Moette

"And she said he's going to break your heart? Poochie is cool and all when she wanna be, but that was a little..." Juju went silent on her end of the line, waiting for me to fill in the rest of the sentence.

"Too much? I know, I'm still trying to make sense if it myself. A smart, fine, educated thug likes me, treats me like a lady, and the first thing she thinks is that he's gonna break my heart." I stopped pushing my shopping cart and looked at the pasta noodles, thinking about which one was the easiest for Poochie to not mess up. "What does she know that we don't?"

"Who knows? Maybe in her youth some nigga broke her heart 'cause he found out that she robbed his mans and shit." Juju paused thoughtfully. "Saying it out loud like that kind of puts it into perspective. But honestly, I don't think Swan's like that. He took you to church. Ain't no nigga taking you to church unless he wants to marry you."

"Girl, stop. We've known each other for all of two days. There are no wedding bells or nothing. Knowing Poochie, she'd probably plan a whole wedding only to run off with the presents."

Juju cackled. "Damn, Moe, she ain't that bad."

"I know, last night has me looking at this entire situation different. I've also been thinking about getting me and Roni our own place," I admitted, tossing a few boxes of lasagna noodles into the cart and keeping it moving to the meat department.

"Well don't have someone's opinion change the way you proceed with Swan. I think he'll be good for you and it's about time you're allowed to make decisions for yourself. Oh shoot, Quincy is here. Call me after dinner?"

"Of course. Later," I said with a laugh, thinking my girl is head over heels for this nigga.

With my attention undivided, I zipped through the supermarket, picking up the rest of the ingredients to make lasagna and Roni's healthy snacks. I was out in record time, rushing home so I could get ready myself. To my surprise, the house was spotless and Poochie was in the kitchen prepping for what looked like Thanksgiving dinner. Darion, her oldest son, was busy mixing the batter for a cake. When I entered he shot me a look of mock exasperation and rolled his eyes. I hid my laugh behind the shopping bags, unpacking them slowly to regain my composure.

"Damn, Poochie, you in here cooking like the Obama's are showing up or something. For somebody so convinced that Swan is no good, you sure are going through a lot of effort to make him a dinner fit for a king," I said, taking a seat at the kitchen island and watching as Poochie dumped the vegetables she had chopped up into a pot.

"I never once said that Swan was no good," Poochie countered, rolling her eyes. "I simply have some reservations about him and his intentions with you."

Darion cracked a smile and shook his head, the light bouncing off of his sandy blonde curls. He was usually Poochie's consigned, but he said, "You don't want him to mess up your money making. If Moe gets a boyfriend who will keep Damaris from getting herself killed?"

If looks could kill I'd be pouring out some cooking wine for Darion. Poochie shot him a heated glare and replied, "I see all of you kids as more than money. Trust me, I do. You think I wanted to be some fucking forty-year-old foster mother? I could've done bigger and better things with my life but I gave it all up for all of you! The least you could do is say 'thank you' every once in a while."

"Poochie," I said, growing nervous at how fast she was chopping the onion between her hand. "Darion didn't mean it like that. He was saying-"

"I don't need you to explain to me what my own child said," Poochie snapped, her mood suddenly turning sour. She dropped the knife. "You know what? How about you all finish this dinner while I take my money hungry ass upstairs and get ready."