Boss Lady

by Omar Tyree

I said, “How do you think Mercedes reads you?”

  “Oh, she suckers me all the time,” Tracy admitted with a laugh. “Mercedes always knows that I still look up to her as that big sister. So she’ll continue to use that angle whenever she needs to. But she’ll protect me, too. And she’ll fight for this movie whether she’s concerned about her role in it or not. Because if it’s a bad role, she knows she can squeeze me even more for it.”

  “What do you think about Bruce as a grown man?”

  I was intrigued by what my cousin thought of people, so I just kept it rolling.

  Tracy said, “He seems bitter. He’s a loser. But that doesn’t mean he’s not right in what he says. He has a lot of valid points, but when you’re a loser you tend to have less optimism. You just don’t believe in good things happening. So he didn’t believe in Kiwana.”

  “Do you believe in her?”

  “Of course I do. She’s my girl. I have to.”

  “Did you call her back again and ask her about the movie yet?”

  “Not yet, but I will.”

  * * *

  We arrived at Germantown Avenue near Victor’s store, and I became nervous again.

  “Are you nervous around him?” I asked my cousin.

  Tracy smiled at me. “I get nervous right before I see him, but that’s only because I still want him to look good. I mean, I’m not nervous to talk to him or anything like that. I’m too grown for that, and I’ve known him for too long. But I do get nervous when I think about whether he’ll still be attractive to me or not.”

  “How do you think he feels about seeing you? How do you even know he’s gonna be here today? Did you call and tell him you were coming?”

  She said, “I have people who check in at his store for me to make sure he still works in and out of the store. So I know he’s going to be here. And no, he doesn’t know we’re coming. That’s a part of the nervousness for me. What if I catch him on a bad day?”

  I smiled and shook my head. She seemed to be very superficial about him.

  “I know you don’t only think about his looks,” I stated rhetorically.

  She said, “Oh, of course not. I was just answering your question about nervousness. Victor’s a brilliant man, no question about it. He’s really grown into his role as a grassroots-type leader, and he can speak on every issue through experience.”

  I said, “It seems like he could run for politics or something. He has a lot of likability.”

  Tracy agreed with me. “Yeah, he does.”

  Our black limo pulled up to the curb of the commercial storefront property of Germantown Avenue near Chelten, and we both took a breath before we climbed out to approach Victor’s store.

  “Well, here we go,” Tracy commented.

  As soon as I stepped out of the limo and walked toward the store, I didn’t feel nervous anymore. My nervousness was wiped away as we approached our goal.

  It was an everyday store with a plate glass window, health foods on counters to the right, drinks inside of freezers to the left, and a tall order counter toward the back center where you ordered hot and prepared foods from their menu.

  An attractive honey brown woman was behind the counter in a white headdress. All we could see were her face and hands behind her clothes, but her skin, eyes, nose, and lips were as perfect as you could get. I was nearly staring at her.

  “May I help you sisters?” she asked us. She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. I was guessing early twenties. I believed she only looked like a teenager because she was so naturally attractive. No makeup or additives were needed.

  Tracy said, “Actually, we were wondering if the owner Qadeer Muhammad was available this morning.” It was after eleven o’clock by the time we had arrived. The plan was to arrive closer to ten when the store first opened. The fight at the hotel with my girls ruined that plan.

  The sister nodded to us and said, “You’re Tracy Ellison Grant, aren’t you?”

  Tracy nodded back to her. “And you are?”

  “I’m Felicia,” she answered. She extended her hand to Tracy over the counter. That’s when I noticed that she was pregnant.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Tracy told her.

  She nodded and smiled. She said, “I’ll go back and get him for you.”

  As soon as she left the counter area to slip into the back, I looked at Tracy.

  “Who do you think she is?” I whispered.

  Tracy said, “I don’t even want to think about it. But I know she’s not his wife. Victor has two sons that are nearly ten years old by now, and I know she’s not old enough for that.”

  I said, “You saw that she was pregnant though, right?”

  “Of course I did.”

  I had some ideas, and I’m sure that my cousin had hers, but before either of us could get out another word, Victor “Qadeer Muhammad” Hinson walked out from the back to greet us.

  He grinned and said, “I figured it was only a matter of time before you made your way back over here. I heard all about the film you’re about to shoot.”

  Tracy smiled at him and said, “Not yet. We’re just in the preproduction stage.”

  Victor was clean-shaven and a healthy dark brown, wearing a basic gray sweat suit with white sneakers. He was still wearing his white apron from the back kitchen area and plastic gloves.

  He nodded and said, “It’ll happen. It’s only a matter of time. But let me finish up what I’m doing back here and I’ll be right back out.”

  “Okay,” Tracy told him with a nod.

  Felicia, the sister behind the counter, continued to smile at us.

  She said, “You have a lot of courage, my big sister. And your writing is phenomenal.”

  Tracy grinned and said, “Thank you.”

  Felicia nodded. She said, “I would love to read more of your poetry. Your poems in For the Love of Money were so uplifting and usable for a young woman. Are you going to publish a whole book of your poetry by itself? I would be the first in line to support it.”

  Tracy said, “I’m flattered, but I would really need more time to sit down and think about that. I mean, I just have so much going on right now. But the poetry book is always on my mind.”

  Felicia maintained a look of understanding and peace as she continued to nod.

  She said, “I don’t believe enough of your fans pay attention to how well you write. And your spirit is just . . .” she shook her head and said, “so strong. I really admire you,” she told my cousin.

  I don’t think Tracy was ready for that. She looked stunned by it.

  She said, “Okay. Well, I admire sisters who really work within the community to make it a better place for us to live. I admire what you do. We all have to be supportive of the higher cause.”

  My cousin was just running off at the mouth. Not to say that she didn’t mean what she said, but she was just trying to flatter Felicia back for balance. I understood. I understood it perfectly.

  Victor walked back out from the kitchen area with no apron or plastic gloves on and led us to the front door.

  “Let’s talk out front.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I told Felicia. Tracy told her as well.

  “Nice to meet you,” she responded.

  We followed Victor out the door. By then, our limo driver had found enough room to park right out in front of the store.

  Victor noticed it and joked, “Now where are my customers supposed to park?”

  Tracy told him, “We’re not going to stay long. I just wanted my little cousin to meet you. She’s my personal assistant for the film process, and I wanted her to actually meet most of the real people that will be a major part of turning Flyy Girl into a successful film for the community to enjoy and learn from.”

  Tracy was still attempting to patronize them.

  Victor only grinned at us. He said, “That’s a strong film you’re about to make. I had to sit up and read the book again once I heard what you were about to do with it. And it’s abo
ut time, too.”

  Tracy asked him, “You’re not concerned about your portrayal in the film?”

  He said, “Hey, the truth is the truth. I was a wild man back then. It’ll make me proud to have these younger brothers see how far I’ve come, and how far we still have to go. That movie’ll be good for all of us.”

  Wow! I had no idea how cool and down-to-earth he would be. I had no reason to be nervous around him at all.

  “Hey, Mr. Muhammad,” a young boy riding a bike in a Sixers baseball cap greeted him.

  “Hey, family, you watch them cars when you hit them corners now.”

  “I know,” the boy responded.

  “Hey, Q,” a man hollered from a moving car in the middle of the street.

  “Hey now,” Qadeer hollered back.

  I didn’t know if I should refer to him as Victor or Qadeer, but his community had definitely accepted him as Mr. Muhammad, so I figured that “Q” for Qadeer was right.

  He smiled and said, “You know you had a hot can of beans cooking for me on that sequel book you wrote.”

  Tracy grinned and looked away. I’m sure it was embarrassing for both of them.

  She said, “Hey, the truth is the truth. But most people still say that you played me.”

  He said, “Yeah, I know. But I did what had to be done that night. A lesser man would have run from it, or bent his own will to serve your personal lust. And I just wasn’t that man for you.”

  Tracy nodded to him and looked back into the store at Felicia. I knew it was coming. I was waiting for it. Tracy was thinking the same way I was thinking.

  “Who is Felicia married to?” she asked him. She was assuming that a pregnant Muslim woman would be married. I was assuming the same thing. Muslims believed very strongly in family bonding and responsibility. Or at least we all believed that they did.

  Qadeer said, “If you’re taking the time to ask me that question, then I do believe that you already know.”

  “So you divorced Malika?” she asked him.

  “I don’t believe in divorce,” he answered plainly.

  We all paused for a moment.

  And I ended up asking the obvious question, “Felicia’s your second wife?”

  Qadeer answered, “She read your sequel book while she was still a student at Temple University, and she came after me. You know I own a lot of properties around Temple now,” he commented to Tracy. “So she caught up to me at one of my properties and said, ‘I’ll be your second wife.’ And I explained to her that I wasn’t necessarily looking for a second wife. That was only my proper response to your advances to me. But Felicia went on to tell me that she was thinking about becoming a Muslim woman, and that she wanted me to be her husband.”

  He said, “She explained to me how mature she was for her age, and how she wanted to be linked to someone who was more spiritually involved in the community. I told her that I was flattered, but it doesn’t quite work that way. I told her she would have to come into the mosque on her own, and go through a proper courting process that I may not be a part of.

  “Well, she stayed in touch with me, kept doing what she needed to do in school, joined the mosque on her own, and she actually approached Malika,” he told us. “Now, I still have plenty of women who find themselves attracted to me. And it makes me feel good just to know that I still have those attractions, but I don’t pursue them. Nevertheless, we all have our moments of weakness, and before I went there and fell a victim to that, Malika told me she thought marrying Felicia would be a good idea. We were adding a lot to what we were already doing, and Felicia was a skilled and educated young woman who was dedicated to helping us in the task.”

  Tracy was still stunned. I could see it in her eyes.

  She said, “So this girl actually approached you after reading that chapter in my book?”

  It seemed unreal, but I could imagine it. Qadeer still lived in Philadelphia, and he was still very handsome. Why wouldn’t a girl read the book and wonder about him?

  He said, “You still have no idea how much power you have in the pen, do you? Women still approach me about that letter from jail that I wrote you in the first book. People read, Tracy. And after they read it, it becomes the facts.”

  My cousin was speechless. She stood there dumbfounded.

  I broke the silence and asked him, “Does it wear you out to have two wives?”

  What the hell, the question was on my mind, so I asked it.

  He looked at me and chuckled. He said, “Busy married folks may not have as much sex as some of us believe. And that goes for one wife or three.”

  I said, “Well, somebody is pregnant.”

  Tracy looked at me and frowned. “Show some respect, Vanessa,” she told me.

  But Qadeer didn’t sweat it at all. I felt like I could talk to that man about anything.

  He smiled and said, “It only takes one good time to impregnate a fertile woman.”

  Tracy looked and stared at him. She said, “So you went ahead and actually did that. Isn’t that against the law?”

  “Whose law?” he asked her.

  Tracy stood there in a daze. The man still had that power over her.

  I nodded my head to him and said, “Well, congratulations.” There was no reason for me to be upset about anything. Felicia sure seemed happy. Tracy, on the other hand . . .

  She asked him, “Well, what does Malika think about this pregnancy?”

  “We’re all looking forward to the new family member,” he answered calmly. “Felicia will have an experienced mother around to help her.”

  Tracy said, “And everybody knows about this?”

  Qadeer nodded his head and grinned.

  He said, “Your pen is also a double-edged sword. You have the power to make everything known through publication. So I guess now that I’ve told you, everybody will know. But we don’t hide it. We understand that not everyone will agree, but it is what it is. The black community has lived with these kind of extended families without them being organized for years. So we consider it a plus to be able to organize our union into something that will benefit us all.”

  Tracy was still amazed by it. He had actually gotten away with having two wives, and they were getting along with it.

  My cousin finally broke her silence. She said, “Okay.”

  She didn’t know what else to say to him.

  “Well, we have a busy day ahead of us,” she commented. “Like I said, I just wanted to stop by and introduce my cousin to you.”

  I reached out my hand to him and said, “You’re a very interesting man, Mr. Muhammad.”

  Tracy eyed me sternly again. But she declined to speak on it.

  Then she told him, “Let me go back in and say good-bye to your second wife before we leave.”

  Qadeer nodded to her.

  When Tracy walked back inside the store, he looked at me and said, “It looks like I’ll be a heavy reference in her book for the rest of her life, and she’ll be a heavy reference in mine.”

  I told him, “You’ll also be a heavy lead in this movie that we’re about to make. There’s just no getting around that.”

  “I know that already,” he agreed. “I already know.”

  When Tracy walked back out from the store, she was suddenly in a big hurry to get away.

  “All right, well, we’ll be in touch if we need you to help out with our cast. You know, we want everything to be as authentic as we can make it.”

  Qadeer nodded to us one last time while opening the door to his store to walk back in.

  “You always know where to find me,” he said.

  “Okay,” Tracy told him. And we climbed back into the limo.

  Family Affairs

  Tracy stared at me inside the limo and asked me, “Do you believe that? I don’t believe that just happened. Tell me I’m dreaming, Vanessa. Tell me I’m dreaming.”

  I smiled and said, “If you are, then we must be in the same dream together.”

  “And that
girl is just as happy as she can be, talking about how she admires me,” she said of Qadeer’s second wife.

  “What did you say to her when you walked back in?” I asked my cousin. You know I had to ask her.

  “I asked her if it was true.”

  “You thought he would lie about something like that?”

  “Maybe. Just to get a rise out of me,” she answered.

  I shook my head at the idea. “He doesn’t seem like that kind of man. But what did she say to you?”

  “She said it was true, she is his second wife, and then she said she loves his behind with all of her heart and soul. I didn’t believe they made women like her anymore,” Tracy commented.

  “Women like what?”

  “Women who will be that damn happy to have a piece of a man, and the leftovers at that.”

  I said, “Well, what if Qadeer had divorced his first wife, Malika, to marry Felicia? Would that make it any better for you?”

  “No. He still would be married to some other damn chick.”

  I chuckled at my cousin’s obvious envy of the situation. “So, you wouldn’t be happy unless he married you somehow, and as his first wife.”

  “He should have come to me years ago when he first got out of jail,” she told me. “That would have solved everything. But no, he gets out of jail and marries the first Muslim chick he gets his hands on.”

  I said, “I doubt that. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who would make that hasty a decision.”

  “Vanessa, please. Cut the shit. You just met the man all of two minutes ago, and you’re in here giving me advice about him. ’Cause see, I knew him when he would hop from one girl’s bed to the next and wouldn’t even take a bath in between. Now that’s just plain nasty.”

  “But you liked him,” I reminded her. And she still did.

  She took a breath and said, “Yeah, I just needed to outgrow that whole situation.”

  I thought about it and said, “Which one?” My cousin had had plenty of situations with Victor/Qadeer.

  She snapped, “All of them.”

  She was talking out of sheer frustration at that point. Then she calmed down and shook her head.

  She said, “I could never be that kind of woman. She doesn’t look like she would try and challenge him at all. Why would a man pick a woman like that?” she pondered.