Notice: This is an excerpt from a fictional novel in progress that is being developed exclusively for  richbitchitch.com. This work is copyrighted. You may not reprint without permission.

Money is everything. I used to hear my grandmother say that practically every day as I was growing up. Not that she needed to say it for it to be reinforced. Growing up poor, you come to understand very early in life that money is everything. But one thing a lot of people don’t seem to understand about money is that how much or how little of it you have comes down to a question of how badly you want it and what your limits are as far as what you will and will not do to get it.

Everybody wants money. Well mostly everybody anyway. You have your rare folks who genuinely have no use for money; and more power to them. But I knew by the time I was ten that I would rather be dead than stay poor for the rest of my life.

I used to tell my grandmother that I was going to buy her a house in the Hamptons and a Chateau in the South of France when I grew up. My grandmother used to work as a housekeeper for a rich woman named Francis Berkley; and she would always talk about how Francis, whom she called a rich bitch, would find any and every opportunity to talk about her house in The Hamptons and her Chateau in the South of France as if to rub her obscene wealth in my grandmother’s face.

Whenever Granny B would complain about Francis Berkley I would say, “Don’t worry Granny B. I’m going to buy you a house in The Hamptons and a Chateau in the South of France when I grow up and you’ll be able to tell that rich bitch Francis Berkley to get somebody else to clean her stinking toilets.”

But Granny B died tragically when I was thirteen. She was stabbed to death over one hundred thousand dollars that she was keeping in her lock box to help toward future college expenses for all five of the grandchildren she was raising. She was killed by my seventeen-year old cousin Devon, one of the grandchildren she was saving the money to help put through college. Devon killed Granny B because she refused to give him the twenty thousand that she was saving for him. He had decided he didn’t want to go to college but wanted to invest in starting up a record label with some of his friends. Granny B wouldn’t hear of it. She said the money was for college and if he wasn’t going to college she’d just divide his twenty thousand amongst the other four of her grand-kids.

In his confession Devon described how he gave into pressure from his friends and broke into the apartment one night disguised as a cat burglar. Granny B woke up and caught him trying to break the lock box. She grabbed the knife she kept under her mattress and came at him. He wrestled with her and got the knife away, and while they were wrestling his ski mask came off. He panicked and just started stabbing Granny B thinking killing her was going to be the only way he would avoid going to jail.

Notice: This is an excerpt from a fictional novel in progress that is being developed exclusively for  richbitchitch.com. This work is copyrighted. You may not reprint without permission.

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