Love Trumps Game Read Free Page B

waywardness stemmed from a poor environment. The Crenshaw District, the area where Neema lived, was infested with people who had long given up on the idea of doing better. As a result, many lived in poverty, their normal lives filled with baby-making for a payday, prostitution, drugs and violence. “Is that how your mama teaches you to behave?” Her tone softened. “Nita, of course you can have more cookies.” Then to Brandon, “And you, young man, you need to work on your attitude. You hear me?”
    Hattie was waiting for the boy to say something smart back when she heard her screen door being closed gently. Just one more sassy word from that boy’s mouth and she’d whack him one good time to show that she meant business. Next came the sound of a car engine starting up, and the peel of tires spitting dirt as they sped away.

THREE
    â€œW hat?! I know that trifling Neema didn’t tip out my…” Hattie put her cookie jar down, hurried to her security door, and stepped outside in time to see Neema’s 2006 black Range Rover burning rubber away from the house.
    â€œNeema! You get yourself back here right now! Neema!” Furious, Hattie tried running a few seconds behind the car, but it was hopeless; not to mention dangerous with all the heat. Besides, she didn’t see the sense of giving her nosey neighbors something to talk about. Her legs ached, and smoke and dust stung her eyes.
    â€œDamn her!”
    After a cloud of dust cleared, she pursed her lips and headed back to her house to discover Raynita and Brandon arguing over a cookie.
    â€œCut it out, you two.” Hattie went straight to her phone to call Neema’s cell phone. How dare she pull a kid-dumping stunt?
    â€œIt’s mine, give it back!” Raynita screamed, about to clobber her brother.
    â€œMake me, ho.” Brandon was daring her with a clenched fist. A cookie was clutched in his other hand. “Don’t make me hurt you!”
    Hattie hung the phone up and stared in disbelief. “Brandon! What’s wrong with you?” This wasn’t the first time she’d seen thetwo argue over something so trivial, but it was the first time she’d heard the boy call his sister a derogatory name. “Young man, I don’t know what your problem is, but we don’t talk like that in this house.”
    The two were at her house a mere three days ago and Brandon had seemed fine. She couldn’t imagine what had transpired enough to change his attitude in such a short time frame.
    â€œNanny, he snatched my last cookie!” Raynita yelled loud enough for her neighbors to hear. “He’s always doing stuff. That’s why I hate him.”
    â€œAlright, you two. Nita, you don’t hate your brother, and Brandon, if that’s her cookie, give it back.”
    Brandon tossed the bitten-off cookie to the table. “Crybaby. That’s why I can’t stand you either. You nothing but a snitch. That’s why Daddy likes me better than you.”
    â€œBrandon, stoppit! Nita is your baby sister and you’re supposed to look out for her.” Lord have mercy. This was exactly what she wasn’t in the mood for—kids bickering back and forth, and acting like baby hoodlums. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I’m tired and it’s too hot for all this.” She loved her grandkids to the core, but sometimes, after spending a day or two with them, she was ready to yank out her own hair.
    â€œI can’t stand her; that’s why.” Brandon looked ready to throw some blows.
    â€œThis is what happens when mothers spare the rod.” Neema was forever claiming that she was doing her best to provide structure and discipline for her offspring, but Hattie was having a hard time seeing the evidence.
    Brandon yelled, “It’s too hot in here! I wanna go back to Daddy’s house. I didn’t wanna come to your stupid house no