Blood: About the money

Tasha looked tired. She always looks tired, but she saw the book I'd brought in and wanted to know what it was about.

"It's about the dwindling middle class," I explained, which it was. "The basic premise is the economy is in the toilet because you have a weird culture of social competitiveness going on between the wealthy. "

She seemed less interested, lanced my finger and filled a little tube with my blood.

"The rich get richer, the poor get poorer," she said.

"Well, yeah, but it gives a reason why."

"The rich don't want none of the rest of us to have any money." She sighed. "I could use some."

It seemed a funny thing to say, given where we both were in this particular scene.

"I thought you guys did ok," I told her. "One guy was telling me about building a big house."

She tilted her head, annoyed.

"Oh, him," she said. "His stepfather has a construction company and his mama is an accountant."

I nodded, understanding.

"Yeah, he can build a house if he want to. " But maybe, she thought, he should go to hell first.

"So, I guess it's not so much what you do it's where you came from?" I asked.

She shrugged.

"It might be. I ain't making no money here."