Boss Bitch Swag

by Cynthia White

  I had one of the guest rooms all fixed up and ready for Pee-Wee’s arrival. He had a king-size bed, a 42’ plasma TV, a Blu-ray player with surround sound, his own phone line, and a private luxury bathroom with a very deep, very relaxing Jacuzzi tub. Boss even hired a private nurse to tend to his every need. I didn’t need to know what all that entailed, but I had my suspicions. In addition to the six trained guard dogs, Boss brought in five private security guards. I thought it was overkill, but I only saw what he let me. I knew his business was dangerous. I also knew that he worked hard to keep that danger away from me and from Malaysia. With Pee-Wee down, he would have to overcompensate. The guards didn’t bother me. As long as we were all safe, I was good.

  Chapter 32

  Malaysia’s first birthday came around so fast. My little baby was turning into a big girl right before my eyes. Boss and I decided to throw her a huge party at Chuck-E-Cheese to celebrate her special day, and Uncle Pee-Wee was even well enough to come. Mama was also there, along with my little brothers and Angie. The big surprise arrival of the day, though, was Boss’ sister Monique. I mailed her an invitation, even though Boss told me not to. She arrived with her three children, who didn’t know their uncle the same way Malaysia didn’t know her aunt. When Boss first saw his sister, he turned and looked at me like he wanted to whoop my ass. I didn’t care; I wanted our daughter to know her father’s side of the family. I also wanted my husband to reconnect with them so he could finally start to heal.

  “Hi, Malcolm,” Monique spoke up first. “Thank you for invitin’ me.”

  “I didn’t.” He was as cold as I’d ever seen him. “Meesh, what the fuck did I tell you?”

  He was mad, and I understood where he was coming from, but he also had to see my side of things. Our daughter had nothing to do with the mistakes he and his sisters made. I know it hurt him when Monique and Michelle turned their backs on him; it hurt me, too, and I wasn’t even around back then. But it was time to move on. He could take all of his anger out on me if that’s what he needed to do. I could handle it; it wouldn’t break me.

  “Hi, Monique.” I completely ignored my husband’s question. “I’m Meesha, Malcolm’s wife.” I politely introduced myself to my new sister-in-law.

  “Nice to meet you,” Monique returned my politeness. “And thank you so much for invitin’ me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I could feel Boss’s eyes burning through the back of my head. I knew he was pissed; he always was when I did what he told me not to - but I didn’t care. I wasn’t his child and wasn’t doing anything wrong. What was so bad about wanting us all to get along? People hurt each other every day, and they get over it. Nobody knew that better than me. Boss hurt me all the time. Every piece of himself he gave to another woman was a piece he was taking from me. That killed me, but I got over it every single time.

  “This is Patience.” Monique began introducing her children. “This is Fantasia.” She then took a deep breath for some reason, as if she knew that what she was about to say would change things in a major way. “And this li’l man right here is Malcolm.”

  I was speechless. How could Boss not come around after hearing that? I turned around just in time to see the look on his face. He was shocked that his sister - who he thought had forgotten all about her little brother - had named her son after him. The years they lost didn't matter as much anymore.

  “This is ya’ll uncle Malcolm,” Monique formally introduced the three little ones to her little brother, who wasn’t so little anymore.

  “That’s my name, too,” Li’l Malcolm announced, so excited to tell everyone.

  He even looked a lot like Boss. The little boy looked up at his namesake, thrilled to have a male role model in his life. Boss knew what that was like. He never met his own father. Neither did I, and neither did Li’l Malcolm; we all shared that painful bond. I watched with pride as the man I married took his little nephew over to the hoops, put in a few tokens, and began to rack up on tickets. I couldn’t take my eyes off the two of them. That was the day when I knew I was going to give Boss a son...our family wouldn’t be complete without him.

  While the boys played, Monique and I sat down in a booth and got better acquainted. She kept a close eye on Patience and Fantasia the entire time. We had a lot in common; I didn’t go more than a few seconds without zeroing in on Malaysia’s exact location. She was safe, though, in her uncle Pee-Wee’s arm, and he had her laughing up a storm. I loved him for that. It wasn’t just the laughing or the tossing her in the air; he loved her as if she were his own. That touched my heart, and it seemed to touch Monique’s, too. She watched her cousin and her niece with the biggest smile on her face. Her family was growing, and I understood how good that felt.

  The party lasted for almost five hours, and everybody had a good time - especially Malaysia. She dug into her Sponge Bob birthday cake with her bare hands, then fed it to Boss. She loved Sponge Bob Square Pants, but she loved her Daddy even more. I just sat back and enjoyed the show. I couldn’t hate on my baby for being a Daddy’s Girl. Maybe if my own father had stuck around, I’d be a Daddy’s Girl, too. I was so grateful that I had a man in my life that took care of his child. Most girls my age weren’t so lucky.

  Pee-Wee had the entire party recorded on his digital camcorder. He wanted to remember every moment of that day. We all did. Watching Malaysia open her birthday presents was hilarious. She seemed to grow more excited with each one, but her absolute favorite was the pink Power Wheels ride-in Cadillac Escalade given to her by her uncle Pee-Wee. It was complete with two seats, chrome wheels, and personalized plates that read “May-May.” That’s what Pee-Wee called her. He was going to spoil that girl rotten; I could already see it coming. After one last song and dance with Mr. Chuck-E-Cheese himself, it was time to take little worn out May-May home. She fell asleep in her daddy’s arms on the way to the truck, and I walked behind the two of them with the biggest grin on my face. Malaysia was a lot like her mama: Daddy’s arms were always where I wanted to end my nights.

  Chapter 33

  I was nineteen years old when I gave birth to my second child. Mariah Clark was the spitting image of her big sister; they looked so much alike, it was astonishing. Boss and I were so blessed. We had it all, and we appreciated it. We came from a place where people didn’t live happily ever after, so we knew better than to take what we had for granted. I thanked God every day for my beautiful family; they were the only thing that really mattered. I came from much of nothing, so if we lost the money, the house, the cars, and all the other material possessions, I’d survive. Losing my family, though, was another story. My brother’s murder was still an open wound; not a day went by that I didn’t think of Anthony. At least I had good memories of him. My little brother was always happy, and that’s how I’d always remember him.

  Pee-Wee stopped fucking with Sabrina and got serious with a new woman. Kylee Winters was a twenty-one-year-old pre-law student who worked part time as a paralegal to help pay for school. That girl was as real as they came, and we clicked instantly. We shopped at the same clothing stores, we liked the same types of movies, and we read all the same books. She was the female best friend I always wanted. Within no time, we were as thick as thieves. Best of all, I finally had somebody in my life I could cut loose with. Kylee knew how to have a good time. We went to the movies damn near every Saturday, then had dinner at a different restaurant each time. She got me into clubs that I’d never even heard of. She even got me in at her beauty salon, and Plush was as exclusive as a country club. Kylee’s cousin Lamar was one of the owners, though, so we got the VIP treatment. When we walked through the door, a waiter greeted us both with a chilled glass of champagne; I knew then that was the only salon for me.

  Boss and I were doing so well – and then I got another phone call. This time, the bitch’s name was Peaches and she had proof of their tryst. Those pictures broke my heart; I couldn’t even conjure up the strength to argue, let alone fight. It seemed like
every time I forgot about the past, a new hoe popped up to drag me back. I confronted Boss, and of course he denied it. I didn’t show him the pictures, though; I didn’t see the point. Boss was the kind of nigga that went down with the ship; he wouldn’t admit to shit - not even pictures of him sleeping naked in a strange bed with a stripper named Peaches at his side.

  The next few days were tense. Boss was mad at another bitch for calling our house, and he took it out on me. It wasn’t my fault he didn’t know how to cover his tracks. I was getting so sick of his bullshit. Every time he committed a crime, I got punished for it.

  “Meesha, what the fuck’s wrong with you?" Boss yelled at me like I was one of his daughters. “Are you fuckin’ stupid?”

  He damn near had me in tears. My heart couldn’t take much more; to have somebody I loved talk to me like that stung. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was stupid, but not for accidentally locking his keys in his truck; if I was stupid for anything, it was for putting up with him.

  “You don’t have to talk to me like that.” I decided to fight for my dignity. “How would you like it if I said that shit to you?”

  “You need to go sit yo li’l ass down somewhere and shut the fuck up.”

  “Shut the fuck up?” I repeated his cold, callous words, not believing they came from the mouth I’d kissed so many times before. “That’s how you talkin’ to me now?” I asked but got no response. “Then we might as well just get a divorce.”

  It may have been sudden, but I was dead serious. Boss was becoming a stranger to me, and I didn’t much like his new persona. The man I fell in love with never would have hurt me like that; he never would have talked to me like I didn’t matter. I was sinking fast, and I knew I had to get a grip. My two daughters needed a strong a mother, not a beatdown shell of one.

  “I ain’t got time for this shit.” Boss dismissed me and my feelings. “Just call a fuckin’ locksmith,” he commanded, “if you can manage.” His tone reeked of sarcasm.

  When he walked out and shut the door behind him, a rush of relief swept over me. I was so glad to see him go. I couldn’t believe the man that once made me feel so special now had me feeling low and worthless. There was nothing else for me to do; if he wanted Peaches, Asia, Risha, and all the others, he could have them. It was time for me to cut my losses...it was time for me to go.

  “You okay, baby?” Mama asked with concern. “You don’t look so good.”

  Her house was my retreat; I ran there whenever I needed to get away. It was usually only for a day or two, but this time felt different.

  “How’s your husband?” she asked, like she could read my mind. “Does Boss know you and the girls are here?”

  “Does he care?”

  “Meesha, I don’t know what happened, and I really don’t wanna know, but -”

  “Mama, if you take his side -”

  “I’m not takin’ anybody’s side.” She raised her voice at me for the first time in many years. “Ya’ll both silly. Married with two babies and actin’ like fools.”

  “I thought I could handle it. I thought I could handle his life, but I can’t. One woman I could compete with, two I could deal with - but ten...twenty...I...I just can’t do it.” The tears arrived right on cue. “And then the way he talked to me today...I felt like he hated me.”

  “But you know he doesn’t,” Mama reminded me. “Baby, Boss loves you.”

  “My mind knows that, but my heart...Mama, my heart’s another story.”

  “What are you sayin’, Meesha?”

  “I don’t think I wanna be married to Boss anymore.”

  As soon as I heard the words come out of my mouth, I knew they were true. It made me sad that I felt that way about my husband, but I knew it was time to let go. The longer I held on, the worse it would get. My love for Boss was still as strong as ever - but my love for myself was even stronger. I couldn’t just sit back and take his shit anymore. Lately, I didn’t feel like Boss loved me back. If he wanted to be free, then I wasn’t about to try and hold him prisoner. I loved my girls too much to let them grow up in an environment like that.

  The following week, I went to see a lawyer. I thought long and hard about what I was doing. On one hand, I wanted our girls to grow up in the same home as their father; on the other hand, I knew it wasn't good for them to see and hear us going at each other like we had been. As their mother, I had to set a better example; I didn’t want them to grow up and think it was okay for some nigga to treat them that way. It took me three hours of wavering back and forth, but I finally came to a conclusion: I filed for divorce.

  It didn’t take long for Boss to respond.

  “What are you doin’ here?” I asked him through a small crack in Mama’s front door. I could see he was upset, but so was I. It hurt me to my core the way he took my love for granted. He made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, and that wasn’t an easy thing to just get over.

  “Can I come in so we can talk?”

  “I can hear you just fine right here.”

  “Meesha, please?” he begged.

  I tried to be as cold to him as he’d been to me, but I couldn’t. My heart wouldn't let me; it remembered all the good times. I saw him beside me in the operating rooms when the doctors pulled Malaysia and Mariah from my stomach. I felt him hold my hand at my little brother’s funeral. I heard him tell me he loved me in the dark of night as our sweaty bodies recovered from an hour of passion and pleasure.

  “Come in.” I caved. “We’re gonna have to sit down and talk about this sooner or later.”

  He followed me inside, then shut and locked the door behind him. I sat down on Mama’s loveseat and began to prepare myself mentally for what was about to come. I knew Boss; he looked calm on the outside, but inside he was fuming. Our bad tempers were one of the few things we had in common. When he came and sat down on the loveseat right beside me, I got a little nervous. I was expecting him to sit on the couch, or even the chair. It was too hard to concentrate with his body that close to mine. That was a huge part of my problem: I was addicted to that nigga.

  “Why?” His mouth spoke that one word like a dictator. It wasn’t a question - it was a demand. He wanted to know my reason, and he wanted to know it immediately. I knew then that he’d received the divorce papers. It was time to hash it out. If I wanted to leave for good, he wasn’t about to let me go quietly.

  “Boss, life with you is too hectic.” I rationalized, trying to leave my emotions out of it. “It's not good for me, and more importantly it's not good for the girls.”

  “You know I love you, Meesh.” He decided not to play fair. “I love you like I ain’t never loved anybody else.”

  I almost lost it. I knew he loved me. That wasn’t the problem; it never was. He had an addiction that I didn’t think he could kick. He loved me, and I knew that - but he loved pussy more, and I knew that, too.

  “Boss, I love you, too, but it’s not about you and me anymore. I know it’s hard to put somebody else’s happiness ahead of yo own, but that’s what we have to do as parents. I want Malaysia and Mariah to have a happy childhood...and if that means I have to sacrifice...then so be it.”

  “So you just gonna leave me like everybody else did?” He looked at me like I stank. “After everything we been through, Meesh?”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized, not only for everything we were going through, but also for everybody who had left him before me. “Boss, I’m so sorry we have to go through this. I really am.”

  “You fuckin’ somebody else?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously right in my direction. “Who?” He demanded to know the name of a nigga that didn’t exist.

  “Don’t even come at me with that bullshit,” I whispered through clenched teeth. He pissed me the fuck off, but I wasn’t about to yell. Not with my children sleeping nearby.

  “Who?” he repeated, this time grabbing my arm and damn near snatching me up out of my seated position.

  “I ain’t fuckin’ nobody.” I snatched by bruis
ed arm back and took a moment to compose myself. My temper was trying to get the best of me, but I wouldn’t let it. I took a deep breath and continued to try and have a logical conversation with a very illogical human being. “I just want my life back. That’s all.”

  “Life? What fuckin’ life?” Boss began to prepare his venom to spit in my face. “You ain’t have shit before you met me. Ya’ll was broke as hell, eatin’ bologna seven days a week and heatin’ up the house with the muthafuckin’ oven.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed with him. “We were poor, but we were happy.”

  “Fuck all this dumb shit.” He dismissed me and my feelings like he had so many times before. “I wanna see my daughters.”