Here's an UNEDITED peek inside A NICKEL FOR A KISS By Traci Bee:
The door swung open, casting the knob deeper into the gash in the drywall. A shower of chipped white paint drizzled to the existing pile on the floor. Twenty-one year old Marlene bolted inside the apartment belonging to her twin sister, Charlene and screamed at the top of her lungs.
“No..., Charlene! No!”... She collapsed to the matted carpet.
Big Momma scurried passed Marlene and raced across the room to her daughter, lifeless at the dining room table, slouched in a chair with a needled in her arm.
“Lord, Marlene. Find the ba-”
Before Big Momma’s instructions could flee her lips, she spotted Ginger, her one year old grandbaby seated on the kitchen floor in a swollen, leaky pamper covered in the flour she’d managed to pull from the refrigerator. The puddle of urine beneath her mixed with the flour and formed a pissy, yellow tainted dough. Baby Ginger’s eyes sparkled at the sight of her grandmother. Her lips caked in white flour, curled into a grin.
“No, Charlene! No!” Marlene cried. Her hair-raising whine serenaded the deathly scene like a haunting melody from an eerie movie.
Big Momma eased her daughter’s cold, lifeless body from the chair, down to the floor, unsure of what to do with the needle prodded in her flesh or the rubber tied around her arm. She stood from the floor, scooped up the baby and grabbed the phone from the wall in the kitchen to phone 9-1-1. In a voice as calm as a Sunday evening, Big Momma said, “operator. I believe my baby don’ overdosed.”