Boss Bitch Swag

by Cynthia White

  I honestly couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not. Boss had a way about him that made you believe every word he spoke, even when he was blowing smoke up your ass. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was tired. Between him, his drama, going to school, handling my business around the house, and taking care of my baby, I was wore the fuck out. I couldn’t even argue with him anymore; I just wanted to get away.

  “I’ll see you later,” I told him as I clutched my car keys tight and headed back for the door. “I’m going to my mama’s house to pick up Malaysia.”

  “Don’t you think we need to talk about this?”

  “I don’t really see the point right now.”

  “The point is, I don’t wanna lose you over no bullshit.”

  That was exactly what I meant: he was good. I wanted to believe him; I wanted to stay there and hear him out - but something inside wouldn’t let me. I stood in limbo for a few seconds. My heart wanted me to stay, but my head shook back and forth and told me to leave. It said I was being a damn fool for this nigga – and even my heart started to believe it was right. I didn’t have another argument in me, and I damn sure didn’t have another knock-down, drag-out fight. So, I did the only thing I could for myself: I left...it was the only thing I did right the entire day.

  Chapter 29

  I ended up staying at my mother’s house for three nights. The space did me some good. I didn’t call Boss once, but I knew he was keeping tabs on me: his cell number was all over my mama’s Caller ID. It wasn’t like I was trying to hide from him; I just wanted some room to breathe. I thought he of all people could understand that. I loved my family, and I appreciated them to the fullest, but I thought my man needed to see what it felt like to miss me. It didn’t take long for him to catch on to what I was trying to do; three nights without me, and that nigga was foaming at the mouth.

  My old friend Derrick had come over and was getting me caught up on all the latest gossip. D knew everything about everybody, but his vast knowledge didn’t prepare him for the day he came face-to-face with a pissed off Boss.

  “Can I help you?” I heard D’s deep voice answer Mama’s front door all the way from the bathroom.

  I was taking a quick shower after Malaysia had thrown up all over me and my clothes – and the instant I heard Boss’ voice, I knew I had to get out there. D had a smart mouth, and I didn’t want him to start popping off. I didn’t even take the time to dry off. My hair was soaking wet, and my body was dripping water all over Mama’s bathroom floor, but it didn’t matter; I threw on somebody’s white cotton robe and bolted towards the door.

  “Nigga, who the fuck are you - and why the fuck you holdin’ my baby?” Boss snapped at D, just like I knew he would. “You know what happen to niggas that fuck with -”

  “Boss!” I got his attention before he could finish his threat. “That’s my friend Derrick. I told you all about him. Remember?”

  He didn’t respond. I’d seen him mad before, but I don’t think he ever looked at me with such anger in his eyes. If he thought I was fucking Derrick, he was definitely barking up the wrong tree; D liked dick more than I did. I tried to calm Boss down, but it was no use. It was like he couldn’t even hear me. He just charged towards me like an angry bull. That nigga grabbed me by my arm and pulled me into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind us.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I snatched my sore arm away from him. “You hurtin’ me.”

  “That why you been trippin’ wit me?” he asked, more furious than I’d ever seen him before. “You fuckin’ that nigga?”

  “Derrick?” I couldn’t believe the irony. “You think I’m cheatin’ on you? And with Derrick?” I shouldn’t have laughed, but I couldn’t help it. “Nigga, I got suspended from school for fightin’ a bitch you probably did fuck - and you wanna clown with me about a nigga I’ve been friends with since I was seven years old?”

  “Why you got the nigga over here playin’ Daddy to my child?!” he yelled so loud in my face that I wanted to slap his ignorant ass. There was nothing wrong with my ears. I could hear him just fine, but he just had to show his ass.

  “Nigga, fuck you.”

  “Fuck me?”

  “That’s what the fuck I said.” I got just as loud and just as ignorant. “Fuck you, Boss!”

  He grabbed the robe I was wearing and ripped it off my wet, naked body; the sick thing was that it kind of turned me on. When he pushed me up against the wall and kissed me hard, I started to suck on his tongue like it was filled with some kind of sweet nectar. Before I knew it, his dick was inside me, and we were fucking against the wall of my mama’s bathroom. I wrapped my legs around his waist and took every inch of that dick. He felt so damn good; he always did...that was part of the problem.

  “Yeah, you like this rough shit, don’t you?” he grunted in my ear as he continued to grind and thrust inside me. “Take this dick...yeah...take all this dick.”

  “I hate you,” I whispered as tears fell from my eyes. It was the most confused I think I’d ever been. I didn’t really hate him; I just hated the way he made me feel sometimes. He was like a drug. One minute I was so high that nothing could touch me, and the next I was being fucked like a common street whore. It didn’t feel so good anymore; it just felt dirty.

  That night, I took my baby and went back home with my man. Boss wasn’t perfect, but neither was I. Looking for perfection was a guaranteed way to end up miserable. I wasn’t ready to give up on us yet. Call me a fool, but I still even wanted to marry him. All the drama didn’t change the one thing I knew from the first day I saw him: Boss was my destiny. I wasn’t sure where he would take me, but I did know it would be one hell of a ride.

  Chapter 30

  I married Boss on Valentine’s Day. Our wedding was perfect; it wasn’t huge, and it wasn’t flashy, but it was everything I dreamed it would be. On that day, I looked into my man’s eyes and promised to love him for the rest of my life. I really took that shit to heart. No matter how many women claimed to share a one-nighter with him, I just couldn’t bring myself to let him go. I wasn’t wearing blinders any longer: he cheated on me, and I knew it. It wasn’t a one-time thing; it was ongoing. I didn’t dare try and count how many there were, though. As long as he kept them away from me and our daughter, I could deal. Boss was just Boss. He never changed. He was the same man on our wedding day that he was on the day I first met him.

  After the reception, we boarded a plane and flew to Mexico for our honeymoon. Cozumel was paradise. An entire week of nothing but tropical drinks and making love on the beach was just what we needed. Boss left Pee-Wee in charge of his entire operation. Whatever came up, he was to handle it. We were not under any circumstances to be disturbed. Most days we didn’t even leave our room. I was already in love with him, but after those seven days I was dangerously in love. Nobody knew my man’s heart like I did, and he trusted only me with it. That made me feel so damn special.

  It didn’t take long for things to go back to normal once we returned home. I was back in school and stretched to my limits. It seemed like the baby was always crying; Boss wanted home cooked meals; the dogs needed to be walked, and their big asses wouldn’t act right for anybody but me; Mama wanted me to help her redecorate her bedroom; Angie wanted me to take her to the park all the time; I had the SATs to study for; I was tired all the time, both physically and mentally. There was just always so much to do, sometimes I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I got woke up at five am and sometimes didn’t get to bed until one or two the next morning. My schedule was tight. If I was barely surviving high school, I had no clue how I was going to tackle college.

  I decided to skip prom; dancing with Boss at our wedding was enough for me. It wasn’t like I was your typical high school student: I was married with a child. Besides, being home with my family was enough for me. I didn’t feel like I was missing anything. Instead, it was the exact opposite: I felt like I was far ahead of the crowd. Yes, it was hard, but it was
worth it. My husband and our daughter were worth all the missed sleep. They were even worth all the stress headaches. The moment I walked through the door and saw that big man lying on the couch with our daughter sleeping on his chest, I knew they were worth the struggle.

  “Hey,” I spoke softly into Boss’ ear. “I’m gonna go put her in her bed.”

  “Will you come back and put me in mine?” His eyes weren’t even open, but I knew he could see me. He saw how hard I was working, and he praised my work ethic. He saw how much I loved our daughter, and he told me how good a mother I was. He also saw how much he meant to me, and he appreciated it a lot more than I gave him credit for. It wasn’t easy to love Boss, but it also wasn’t easy for Boss to be loved. He was so used to being left behind that he was always expecting me to leave, too. Even when I did, though, I never stayed gone long. I knew he was miserable without his family, so I always came back home. I couldn’t bear to think of him in pain.

  I took Malaysia to her room and laid her in her crib. As soon as I tried to walk out of the room, she started to fuss. I placed my hand gently on her back and began to rub in small, soft circles – and she was out in fifteen seconds flat. Her night was over, while Mama’s was just beginning.

  “My dick hard as a muthafucka,” Boss declared as soon as I closed our bedroom door behind me.

  We had the same thing on our minds. The mood was set. The lights were off. The blunt was already rolled. All I had to do was let myself enjoy it, and being with Boss made that easy. I treasured every moment I got with him. Other women might have had his body, but they would never have his heart.

  “I hope that’s some fire.” I was ambiguous on purpose.

  “The dick or the chronic?”

  “I already know that dick’s fire.” I sashayed my way over to our bed. “Fire up.”

  He put the blunt between his thick lips, then flicked the lighter and created a spark. Watching him smoke was like watching porn. He turned me on in so many different ways. I wanted him every hour of every day. Our relationship was flawed, and our love sometimes wavered - but our sex was perfect. It was the one thing we never got wrong.

  As soon as I was sure that Big Daddy was good and high, I straddled his chocolate body, then took the blunt out of his hand. It wasn’t even on my lips yet, and he was already unbuttoning my blouse. He stripped it from my body, then threw it to the floor. My bra was next. I was so horny that by the time he started rubbing and palming my breasts, I forgot all about the lit blunt in my hand; Boss was all I needed to get high.

  “Let me up.” His weed-smoker’s eyes were filled with passion. “I wanna eat that pussy.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. Boss’ face game was extraordinary. When he ate the box, I came every time. The mixture of weed with his tongue was enough to send me straight to the heavens and back. That night, we were better than good: we were astounding. I did all the freaky little shit he liked, and it wasn’t just sex; it was something far greater and much more meaningful. We connected on a whole other level, and no words were needed to communicate; our bodies did all the talking for us. I sucked that nigga’s dick so good that I put him to bed for the night. It felt good to finally knock out the champ.

  Chapter 31

  Graduation day was a turning point in my life. My entire family showed up to support me, and Boss was front and center. He was so proud of me. Finally, I felt like all the hard work was starting to pay off. When the principal got in front of the entire student body and called my name, I felt this incredible rush of pride; it was like I could do anything. The nerves didn’t hit me until it was time to give my Valedictorian speech. Standing up on that stage in front of all those people was paralyzing; I almost started to doubt all the progress I’d made in my fifth period Public Speaking class. My teacher, Ms. Harris, told me I was ready, but as I looked around, Ms. Harris was nowhere to be found. That’s when I began my frantic search. Boss was the only person who could get me through. When I looked out over the sea of judgmental faces, his stood out like a beacon of light. He just smiled at me and gave me the Boss nod, and I knew everything was going to work out fine. It always did with us.

  After my speech, Boss took everybody out to dinner to celebrate. We waited a while for Pee-Wee, but he never showed. That wasn't like him; he usually never missed a family event. Boss knew something wasn’t right, so he called his cousin’s cell a dozen times - but got no answer. He even called some chick named Sabrina's house, who apparently had been sleeping with Pee-Wee for some time; no luck there either. She told Boss she hadn’t heard from him in two days, and that wasn’t like the sex junkie she knew. All I had to do was look at Boss to know what he was thinking. The satisfied smile he wore earlier that day was gone; he was preparing himself for the worst.

  We were walking out of the restaurant when he got the call: Pee-Wee had been shot seven times and was in critical condition. We rushed to the hospital to be at his side, the same way he was always at ours.

  Pee-Wee had so many tubes and wires connected to his body that it was downright shocking. Boss could barely stand, so I stood beside him while he sat in a chair beside his cousin. It was all I could do. This problem couldn’t be ignored. I couldn’t just sweep it under the rug and pretend it wasn’t there. Pee-Wee wasn’t just some chick with a grudge; I knew that if Boss lost him, he’d be losing so much more than a cousin or an employee: he’d be losing a large part of who he was. I hoped and prayed for the best, but I feared the worst. I asked God to please spare my husband’s lieutenant and most trusted friend. Boss had already lost so many people close to him, I didn’t know if he could take another loss - especially one that big. Pee-Wee had been there for him for most of his life, and he was the one person Boss trusted with both my life and Malaysia’s.

  “How can a nigga that big look so fuckin’ helpless?” Boss questioned aloud. “He supposed to be fightin’ - but the nigga just looks like he sleepin’.”

  “Baby, he’ll be okay.” I tried to comfort him by rubbing his knotted shoulders. “You have to believe that. Pee-Wee’s strong. He’ll get through this.”

  On the outside, I was being as strong as possible for Boss’ benefit, but inside I was still begging God to let him survive. I had to do it. My husband needed me. There were so many times before when he was the one being strong for me. It was the very least I could do.

  “Meesh, I know I don’t tell you this enough, baby.” He took his eyes off his ailing cousin and placed them lovingly on me. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” My eyes filled instantly with what felt like a million tears.

  “I don’t know what I would do without you.” He gripped both of my arms in his big hands like he was never going to let them go.

  “You’ll never have to find that out,” I promised my husband, cradling his aching head in my trembling hands. “Baby, I swear you won’t.”

  We stayed the entire night at the hospital. Boss didn’t want to leave Pee-Wee, and I wasn’t about to leave him. Mama had Malaysia, so that was one thing I didn’t have to stress about. I didn’t like being away from my daughter at night, but I did what I had to do to in order to support my husband and our family. Pee-Wee was a very important part of that family, so whatever he needed, he would get.

  The next few days were hectic. We took shifts at Pee-Wee’s bedside. One of us would go home to shower and change clothes while the other stayed and made sure nothing went wrong. The doctor told us that we should talk to Pee-Wee, so that’s exactly what we did. When Boss would leave to go home and change, I’d pull the chair up right beside his bed and read him freaky stories. I could have sworn that one day while I was reading him “The Sex Chronicles” by Zane he moved his hand. From then on out, I gathered up every freaky story I could find and read to him constantly. He wasn’t the only one who got something out of it; Boss also grew to love freaky story time.

  It was a long and difficult few weeks, but Pee-Wee finally opened his eyes. His doctor examined him and told us that
he would eventually make a full recovery. He was very weak. They’d loaded him up with painkillers, but it was obvious to me that he was still hurting. Boss, though, was too happy to notice. He didn’t normally show a lot of emotion, but that day was special: that day I got to watch my husband smile, laugh, and joke with the cousin he’d come so close to losing. That day was special. I filed it away in my memory bank and vowed never to forget it.

  Six days after Pee-Wee woke up, he was moved out of ICU and into a regular hospital room. I filled that room with beautiful flower bouquets and colorful balloon clusters. Boss brought him a brand new iPod Touch, which I filled with every single 2-Pac song I could find; he was Pee-Wee and Boss’ favorite rapper of all time. Some believe that music is therapy, and that must have had some truth to it because a few days later we were told we could take the big man home. I insisted that he come and stay with us, and I wasn’t taking no for an answer.