Fistful of Benjamins by Kiki Swinson Page B

breathing hard and thinking if I could be alone with this bitch for ten minutes what I would’ve done to her ass.
    â€œFoster care, wow, all because his mother is a fucking drug distributor who made pennies compared to the people she is choosing to protect. What a shame. Wonder what kind of story that little boy will grow up and tell his friends about his loving, wonderful example of a mother. Oh—and Mama Vasquez, she’s old with arthritis. Spending her nights in a cold, unforgiving jail cell will wreak havoc on her aching joints. What a shining-star daughter you are too. And all for those lowlives down the hall who are more than likely pinning all of this shit on you right now. Oh yeah, dudes like them will make you out to be the mastermind of this whole drug operation and then guess who gets one hundred years behind bars? You . . . not the so-called kingpins,” Agent Christy continued, her words feeling like a knife to my heart. I probably would’ve actually rather someone stab me a million times in my heart than to hear about what was happening to my mother and my son. It was all my fault. From day one, I put myself in this position. I was so desperate for love and acceptance after that horrible relationship with Andrew’s father that I would’ve done anything. My head immediately began pounding with an instant migraine. The harder I thought about it the worse my head ached. I started imagining my baby daddy picking Andrew up once the foster care system got in touch with him. I knew he would use my son against me.
    More tears started falling, but this time I put my head down on the table and hid my face. The feds were driving a hard fucking bargain, but snitching wasn’t an option for me. I would just have to take my chances with a court-appointed attorney and one who could get my mother off. They still didn’t know about the cash I had in safe deposit boxes at two different banks. It probably wasn’t enough for two lawyers, but it would be enough for my mother to have a good one.
    There was a long few minutes of silence in the room. I guess the feds were waiting for me to fold to their demands. I contemplated it, but it just wasn’t in my nature.
    â€œSo . . . what’s it going to be, Ms. Vasquez,” Agent Farmington asked. I still didn’t look at him. “Are you going to let your mother and son suffer?” he asked. I inhaled deeply. My anger was starting to well up like a volcano. The fucking nerve of him to use my family as a pawn in this game! This is what the feds did, though. I heard all about it. They broke up families and put innocent kids in the system just so that they could get stats and bonuses at the end of the year. I wasn’t giving them any more satisfaction over me.
    â€œGo fuck yourselves,” I gritted. My chest was heaving with anger by then. Sweat was dancing down the sides of my face. Agent Christy jumped up from her chair so fast and furious that the chair slid back and hit the wall behind her. I didn’t even flinch. I eyed her, daring her to hit me. I knew that she was going to do her bad-cop, intimidation tactics now. I smirked at her. She knew fucking better.
    â€œYou fucking stupid ghetto bitch. I hope you never see your son again. Bitches like you don’t deserve to be mothers. You’re fucking ghetto trash!” Agent Christy snapped. She was so close to my face I could see that her pupils were dilated. I didn’t back down or move back. I had come too far in this game to stop fighting now. I tilted my head at her as if to say, “Go ahead and hit me, bitch, so I can own you.”
    â€œC’mon . . . she’s not worth it,” Agent Farmington said, pulling his female counterpart away before she caught a brutality charge—or worse, a fucking career-ending lawsuit. I laughed as they started to leave the room. It was a crazy, maniacal laugh, but it wasn’t because I found anything funny. I