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Writer's pictureTracey Lampley

All Money Ain't Good Money Chapter 3, Scene 3




When I finally arrived at my bi-level home at the end of the cul-de-sac on Macon Drive, I decided I needed a relaxing bubble bath before maybe taking Arielle out to dinner—if my daughter hadn’t already eaten. Inside my garage, I inserted my key and pushed open the door and stepped inside the family room. Rustling sounds made me look up, and I inhaled sharply at the sight in my family room.

My daughter and her boyfriend uncoupled themselves on the black leather sofa and fell onto the light-brown carpet. Like a rocket, Conner shot to his feet, but Arielle took her sweet time getting to hers. Although they were totally clothed, my voice roared, “What the hell’s going on here?”

Conner’s face and ears reddened. He began straightening his shorts and T-shirt. Arielle calmly fluffed her locks. “Hey, Mom. We weren’t expecting you home so soon. You texted and said you’d be working late.”

I grimaced then shook my head. “I’ll ask y’all again. What the hell’s going on here?”

Arielle scoffed. “What does it look like?”

Conner’s blue eyes widened in surprise before they fixated on the carpet. He cleared his throat, then his gaze met mine. “Sorry, Mrs. Curry.”

“You bet your sweet ass you are,” I snapped. I pointed at the door. “Out!”

Conner blanched, then he skirted me and scrambled up the steps to leave through the front door. After I heard it slam, I turned to Arielle and regarded her five-foot-nine-inch-tall, athletically built frame.

She defiantly placed her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. “You scared him.”

“But not you?” I blinked rapidly then stared at her.

She shrugged.

I wanted to slap my fifteen-year-old daughter into next week, but I resisted that urge and jabbed my index finger in the air at her. “What did I tell you about not having company—especially boys—while I’m not at home?”

She scoffed, “Well, I’d never have company if I waited for you to get home because you’re never here.”

I glared at her and exclaimed, “You’re grounded.”

Arielle tossed her head back and giggled before returning her gaze to mine. “And how’re you gonna enforce it?” she taunted. “Look around, Mom. You’re never here. Haven’t been for a long time. I’ve been making my own dinners for two years now. When you finally—and I mean finally come home, you’re dog tired. You might take a bubble bath and ask me about my day. Then you fall into bed. All so you can play Charlie’s Angels the next day!”

“I gotta put food on the table,” I snapped.

Bullshit!”

“No, that’s serious shit, Arielle! Cuss at me again, and I’ll slap the taste out of your mouth!” I glared at her. Undaunted, she glared back. I dropped my purse on the carpet and circled her. She stood firm and defiant with her arms crossed over her heaving chest and her long legs in a wide stance.

She shrugged. “What’s up, Mom? So, you come home. And you’d probably say I still couldn’t have company because you gotta go to sleep. So, when can I have company?”

She had me there with her smart ass. A horrifying thought entered my mind. I don’t know if I really wanted to know the answer, but I asked the question anyway. “Are you and Conner sexually active?”

Arielle’s bee-stung lips curled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Then she turned away from me, lifted her high booty higher, and stomped up the stairs.


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