Boss Bitch Swag

by Cynthia White

  “They’re sleepin’.”

  “You can’t cut me outta they lives.” He jumped up all rowdy and amped, like he was preparing for battle. “You think I’m just gonna let you take ‘em away from me?”

  “Boss, I would never try and take them away from you. You’re their father. They love you.”

  “Do you?” He broke my heart with just two little words. “You don’t love me no more, Meesh?”

  That was exactly why I didn’t want to let him inside in the first place: he didn’t fight fair. My heart was always his prime target; he knew that was where I was the weakest, so that’s where he hit hardest. I couldn’t keep my love and admiration for him separate from my pain. They all merged into one big emotion that I couldn’t control.

  “I think you should leave now,” I suggested in a voice so low and broken, I wasn’t even sure he heard it. “Please just leave?”

  “And go where?”

  “Go home, Boss.” My desperation escaped through my pleas for mercy. “Go home.”

  “I ain’t got no fuckin’ home!” His yell damn near shook the entire house. “Ain’t no home without you or without my kids.”

  Before I was even aware enough to know what I was doing, I had my arms around him. It killed me to see him hurting like that. All I wanted to do was make him feel better - even if that meant making myself feel worse. I looked up into his eyes and saw a reflection of a broken young woman. She didn’t know what to do or where to go. That young woman was me. I was so confused. How do you let somebody go that makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt in your entire life? How does that feeling not haunt you at night? How do you move on when you really want to stay put? There were too many questions, too many “what ifs.” But the scariest one of all had to be: what if I never felt with anyone else the things I felt with Boss? What if I never got that high again?

  The sensation running through my body was insane. My breasts were pressed firmly up against his chest in an all-too-familiar way. I wanted him to push me down on the couch and fuck me like he used to. Then when it was over, he’d apologize for every hurtful thing he ever said to me. We’d live happily ever after in our beautiful home with our two adorable daughters, everything would be all sunshine and roses, and there would never again be a cloud over our blue sky...that's what I wanted more than anything - but that's not what I got.

  “Meesh, don't make me do somethin’ I don't wanna do.” Boss’ voice sounded like a stranger’s; it was cold and emotionless. Where was his head? What was he referring to? I couldn't breathe. I knew he wouldn’t hurt the girls. Maybe he was threatening me. After everything we’d been through, all the love, the pain, the good times and bad, was he really going to let it end on a note like that...?

  “Boss, we...” I shivered, “we can work out a...a custody arrangement...that’s good for everybody.”

  With that, I fucked up big time. That was the worst mistake I could have made: showing fear. A man like Boss knew how to take advantage of that. He was a mental warrior. He would never hit me. Slaps and punches weren't his style; instead, he’d give me verbal lashings. Humiliation and self-doubt could keep even the strongest woman in shackles, and I was no exception to the rule.

  “Fuck a custody arrangement!” His words pierced my flesh like a razor-sharp dagger. “Go get the girls, and let’s take ‘em home.”

  “I can’t do that.” I tried one last time to find my inner strength. His words and his actions were confusing the shit out of me. I just wanted him to love me the way that I loved him. I didn’t want there to be any other women. Why did he even need them? I tried my best to give him everything, my love, my whole heart, my body, and my soul. I kept wishing that one day it would be good enough, but that day never came. My love wasn’t enough to satisfy him. I wanted to set his ass on fire so that I didn’t have to stand there and burn all by myself.

  “Oh, you can’t do that, huh?” He was at his sarcastic best. “You can’t do that for me, Meesh?” He didn’t even bother to wait for my response. When he walked out of the room, I knew exactly where he was headed. Angie was at school, but her room wasn’t vacant. I cursed myself for opening the door in the first place. What the hell was I thinking?

  “You comin’ or not?” He breezed past me with Malaysia sleeping across one of his shoulders and Mariah sleeping across the other. “’Cause either way, we out.”

  I didn’t want to leave with him, but I didn’t feel like I had a choice. One way or the other, he was leaving out the door with our daughters. I could either stand by and watch, or I could put on my shoes, grab my purse and other belongings, and go with them. Of course, I chose the latter.

  In the truck, I realized something tragic: I wasn’t in control of my own life. I hadn’t been since I was fifteen years old. Boss meant well, but by taking care of everyone around him, he was also demanding an absurd amount of control over their lives. What if I decided to leave him and he decided to stop helping my mother? She couldn’t make it without that help, not without me or Anthony around. My decision was made: I would do whatever I had to do for my family - even if it meant suffering silently as my young life passed me by.

  Chapter 34

  “Where ya’ll goin’ tonight?” Boss questioned me and Kylee as soon as he saw the way we were dressed. “You tryin’ to catch something, Meesh?”

  He didn’t approve of the sexy little low-cut Emilio Pucci dress I was wearing, and the look on his face blew that book wide open; too bad I didn’t care. I ignored him and his little disapproving look. That night wasn’t about Boss. It wasn’t even about our daughters. It was about my girl knowing that I needed to get away for a few hours and making it happen. Kylee didn’t give a fuck; she wasn’t about to leave that house without me.

  “We goin’ to Elite,” I told him while doing my best Beyoncé booty bounce. “Nelly’s holdin’ auditions tonight for his new video.” My joke didn’t go over too well; Boss and Pee-Wee looked at us like we were crazy. Kylee couldn’t hold a straight face for shit, and she laughed so hard, it spread to me - but that’s where it ended.

  “I’m glad ya’ll think ya’ll funny.” My husband just shook his head from side to side like we made no sense to him whatsoever. “You need to go and find the rest of that dress...why you up in here tryin’ to be Sommore?”

  Sommore was my favorite female comedian. Monique wasn’t far behind. I watched their comedy shows all the time. Laughing was the only way I could keep from crying. I knew that once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Tonight, the club was having their generic version of Queens of Comedy. I knew there wouldn’t be any Sommores or Moniques, but I hoped I could at least get a few laughs out of it. So, I put my makeup on to cover my war wounds and headed out in search of a temporary fix for my permanent problems.

  “I know you ain’t tryin’ to catch nothin’?” Pee-Wee asked Kylee as his eyes inspected her skin-tight jeans and low-cut blouse.

  “Baby, I already caught what I was fishin’ for,” she said, then sealed it with a kiss tossed in his direction. “I already got my Big Daddy.”

  Pee-Wee laughed. He was just a big ol’ teddy bear when it came to Kylee. He treated her with the utmost respect; they never fought. Our relationships couldn’t have been more different. Boss and I were fighting all the time. If we weren’t fighting, we were fucking – and that was the only time we seemed to get along...that, and when we were sleeping.

  “I need some weed.” I put my hand out in front of Boss like I was his daughter waiting for my allowance. “Either give it to me, or I’ma drive down to the hood and get some myself.”

  I knew exactly how to work him. Being nice got me nowhere; he liked bitches, so a bitch I became. When I was nice and sweet, he couldn’t see me - but when I was in Boss Bitch mode, his eyes were wide open.

  “Look in the safe in the den.” Boss gave in reluctantly. “You know the combo.”

  I turned and headed down the hall, wearing a look of victory on my face. I wasn't really a weed
smoker. Not like Boss. It was more about him giving in to me, even if it were something so small. Portraits of Bob Marley, Eazy-E, 2-Pac, and Biggie lined the walls of Boss’ den. I removed the one of Pac and paused for a moment to recall the combination. It started with twenty-one (of course), then ended with Malaysia and Mariah’s dates of birth. Inside, there were several large stacks of cash, some important papers and documents, and a large brick of marijuana, which was not to be sold. It was Boss’ private smoking stash; that nigga stayed blowed.

  When I came back into the room, the vibe was different; something didn’t feel right. Even Kylee looked upset, and that wasn’t like her. Nobody wanted to look at me...I felt another storm brewing.

  “What’s wrong with ya’ll?” I asked, even though I was afraid to hear the answer. “Who died?”

  “Meesh, yo moms just called.” Boss looked at me like he knew he was about to wreck my world. “Angie’s in the hospital.” He eased in as gently as he could. “Baby, she got raped.”

  I couldn’t even respond. So many things began to race through my mind. My little sister is only nine years old. What kind of monster would prey on a child like that? How could anyone look at a baby and see anything sexual? How could life be that cruel to one family? I had to get to the hospital. Mama was going to need me there with her. She was going to need both me and Boss now more than ever.

  Pee-Wee and Kylee offered to stay home with the girls while Boss and I rushed to the hospital. I didn’t say a word in the truck; I was too busy crying. Angie was my little girl way before I had Malaysia or Mariah. I found myself wondering if this would have happened if I were still living at home. Then my mind went somewhere much darker: I thought about my tiny little sister being violated while she cried out for her family to save her. I couldn’t even remember why Boss and I had been fighting so much lately. My husband took good care of me, and he kept me safe. What if the next man didn't? No one could love Malaysia and Mariah the way their father did. What if no one loved me like Boss did either? I made myself promise right then and there to give it one last try. No more games. No more bullshitting. Life was too short.

  “Mama, what happened?” I asked my mother as I sat down next to her in the waiting room.

  “I don’t know.” She looked over at me with the blankest stare on her face. “Angie asked me if she could walk to the store with her friend Britney. I said no, but she kept on askin’. The boys was sayin’ I been too overprotective since Anthony got killed. They said I need to let them have some fun sometimes. I felt bad, so I said yes.” She closed her eyes and took a moment to calm her nerves. “Angie wanted an ice cream, so I gave her some money. Meesha, she was only gone for ten minutes.”

  “How is she?” I asked, even though I was afraid to hear the answer. “Is she...is she...”

  “She’s asleep.” Mama put me out of my misery. “The doctor gave her a sedative. Her beautiful face is all messed up. As if rapin’ her wasn’t bad enough - he had to beat her up, too.” Her sadness started to turn into anger. “I shoulda never let her go to the store by herself.”

  “Mama, it’s not yo fault.” I put my arms around my mother and tried my damndest to comfort her. “We’ll get through this,” my tears flowed once again, “just like we’ve gotten through everything else.”

  “They know who did it?” Boss began to plot taking the law into his own hands. I remembered what he did after Anthony was murdered. I remembered what he did for me. When I asked him to punish my brother’s killer, he didn’t think twice. This time was different; this time, we had two daughters at home who needed both parents. Even so, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

  “Ashley said it was some man who used to live around here.” Mama searched her memory high and low. “Ren, I think.”

  Boss looked like he’d seen a ghost. I didn’t know Ren, but by the look on my husband’s face he was one dirty muthafucka; my little sister’s current condition was further proof of that. I cried like a baby the first time I saw her, and I didn’t do much better the second or the third. Her pretty little face was twice its normal size, and the cuts and bruises looked evil. I changed my mind about Boss. If he wanted to find that muthafucka and make him pay, not only would I support him, I’d also be grateful to him. They say that time heals all wounds, but I didn’t see it healing this one. My sister was forever changed that day. Gone was the fun loving little girl who loved to jump rope and go to the skating rink with her friends...she was replaced with a scared, quiet soul who didn’t trust anyone but Mama. She never left her side. My little sister was now a hood statistic - and just like so many other young girls in the ghetto, she’d lost her innocence far too early.

  Chapter 35

  Boss

  Me and Pee-Wee searched the entire city for Ren, but the nigga was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t shake the image of Angie’s battered face from my head; it reminded so much of Jazz’s. I hadn’t let myself think about her or what happened to her in years. I thought that shit was an isolated incident, but obviously I thought wrong. That nigga wasn’t just obsessed with Jazz - that nigga was obsessed with me. He knew Meesha was my wife, just like he knew Angie was her little sister. There were no secret identities in the hood. I didn’t know what the nigga’s beef with me was, and frankly I didn’t give a fuck. When I found him, his ass was mine. The problem was, I couldn’t find the nigga for shit. So, I decided it was time to pay a visit to the one person I thought might be able to help me out with my search.

  “Well, look what the cat done dragged in.” Gina opened the front door of her apartment looking sexier than she’d ever looked in her entire life. “How you doin’, Boss?”

  She’d cut her hair and gained about thirty pounds, but it was in all the right places. She was pretty like she used to be when we were kids, back before she started sucking on that glass dick.

  “I’m good, Gina.” I wrapped my arms around my ex and pulled her into a hug. “How you doin’?”

  No matter what went down when we were trying to be something we weren’t, I still had love for the girl. Gina had a grimy side, but don’t we all? I did a lot of shit back in the day I wouldn’t want to be judged on in my present. All I knew about her was what I’d heard, and that was some positive shit.

  “Go on and tell a nigga what you been up to.” I set her up to brag on herself a little. “I see you lookin’ right.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled the same exact way she used to back in the day when I’d toss a compliment her way. “I went to school and got my Associate’s degree. Now I’m a Pharmacy Technician over at Barnes Hospital.” She beamed with pride.

  “That’s good, Gina. I’m proud of you,” I told her in my most sincere tone of voice. “Damn, somethin’ smells good.” I caught a whiff of some down home soul food coming straight from Gina’s apartment. “You cookin’?”

  “Fried chicken, mac and cheese, greens, candied yams, and homemade honey butter biscuits,” she teased, knowing how much I’d always loved her cooking.

  “Damn!” My stomach started turning flips, just like in the old days. Nobody got down like Gina. Her chicken was better than KFC, Church’s, and Popeye’s all combined. Meesha cooked, but not like that; she made grilled steaks, seafood, pasta, and healthy shit like that. It was good, but nobody wanted to eat healthy every single day of their lives. Gina had that down south thing going on. I might have been married, but my stomach was a free agent.

  “Come on in here and get you a plate.” She disappeared inside her apartment, leaving the door open for me to follow her inside. She still had that ass. I tried not to look, but I was only a man; my flesh was weak. I loved Meesha to death, but Meesha was nowhere around. Looking at ass wasn’t a crime. Out of respect for her, I didn’t do it in front of my wife - but it was hard for a nigga like me. Being faithful wasn’t realistic. People fuck up. Dicks get hard, and pussies get wet, but that was no reason to dismantle an entire family. That’s the difference between niggas and bitches: bitches put they heart in a fuck; n
iggas just put they dicks in it.

  I went inside and sat down at the table with the woman who years before had given birth to my stillborn son. We talked for a little while about my family. Gina had seen Meesha around the hood when she was younger, but she really didn’t know her. I even whipped out the Gucci wallet my wife bought me for Christmas and showed off a few flicks of our little girls. Gina then went on to tell me about her new man, Curtis. They’d been together for the last two years, and in about seven months they’d be married. She was never able to get her kids back, but she did get visitation. She was satisfied knowing that they were adopted into a good family. Sheila and Marcus Winston were good churchgoing people who provided an excellent home and a strong foundation for the kids. They knew Gina was their biological mother; the Winstons never tried to hide that from them. Gina just hoped that one day when they were older they’d be able to understand why she gave them up.