“What we looking like, son?” Melvin inquired, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from his son.
Tiaz was sifting through the money and counting it under his breath. Having heard his father’s voice, he looked up at him and held up one finger, signaling for him to give him one minute before he answered. His father obliged him and went about the task of rubbing the wetness from around his neck and ears.
Once Tiaz finished the count, he stacked the bills up neatly and tangled a rubber band around them. He then tossed the stack of money over into a pile where he had the rest of the money.
“That’s ninety racks, pop.” Tiaz told his old man, pulling an ink pen from behind his ear and grabbing the small black book from off the nightstand. Inside of this book was all of the money they’d
