The Boss

by Aya De León

  A bartender rushed over to help him.

  “She better not drink anything he gives her,” Kim said, as she watched from the car.

  “A vodka shot for my friend,” Ivan ordered.

  “I’d rather have a beer,” Jody said, and grabbed a closed bottle. She banged it open on the edge of the bar.

  “That’s not very ladylike,” Ivan said.

  “But a vodka shot is?” Jody asked.

  “Let me show you around,” Ivan said.

  “What?” Jody said. “You gonna show me the nursery? The playroom?”

  “Actually . . .” Ivan began.

  “If you say bedroom, I’m calling my chauffeur,” she said.

  “How about the hot tub?”

  She shook her head. “I live in a house twice this size. What can you show me that I haven’t seen before?”

  “How about I show you my uncle’s office?” Ivan asked.

  Jody raised her eyebrows. “Really?” she said. “That does sound interesting.” She downed half her beer and set the bottle on a side table.

  Ivan took her by the hand and led her down a long corridor. At the end of the hall was a large door. Ivan produced a key and unlocked it.

  “Do the grown-ups know you’re in here?” Jody asked.

  “Maybe,” he said, and swung the door open.

  The room was dark mahogany and leather, a deep burgundy that was almost black. It had an oversized antique wooden desk. On the walls were several oil paintings in large frames. Rural landscapes and nude women.

  “Nice,” Jody said. “Now where does your uncle keep the good liquor?”

  She opened several cabinets and peeked behind a few pictures. Inside the limo, the three team members shared a simultaneous intake of breath as they caught sight of a safe’s dial behind one of the landscape paintings.

  “I don’t see any good booze,” Jody said. “Let’s go back to the bar.”

  “I thought maybe we could look around some more,” Ivan said.

  “Who are you, Dora the Explorer?” she asked. “I told you I’m not your date. Now let’s get back to the party.”

  “I was thinking maybe we could have our own little private party in here,” he said, pulling a bag of white powder from his pocket.

  “Oh, please,” she said and walked to the door.

  “What’d I do?” he asked, pocketing the bag and scrambling after her.

  Jody paused in the doorway, with her phone out. “You don’t get it, Junior,” she said. “I came in my family’s limo. I’m not one of the party girls out there who’s ready to drop her panties because there’s an open bar. If I wanted coke or heroin or ecstasy or whatever’s in your little bag there, I would call my dealer and get stuff that’s ten times better quality.” She turned her back on him and strode down the hall. Pulling out her phone, she commanded, “Claudette, bring the car, I’m leaving.”

  Tyesha climbed into the front seat and started the limo.

  Back in the house, Ivan hurried after Jody: “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said.

  “Save it.” She waved a hand over her shoulder and walked out the front door, with him trailing after her.

  Tyesha stood outside the limo with a blank expression. She held the back door open. Inside the limo, she had raised the partition between the middle and rear compartments, so Marisol and Kim were completely hidden. Sometimes Marisol had used this kind of limo when a pair of dates wanted privacy to have sex in the car.

  “Please,” Ivan begged as Jody slid in. “Heidi, give me another chance.”

  “This was already your second chance,” she said.

  He handed her his card. “Look, call me and tell me how I can make it up to you.”

  She took the card. “That’s unlikely,” she said and slammed the door in his face.

  Chapter 12

  The next evening, Tyesha sat around the kitchen table with her nieces, finishing up some Vietnamese takeout.

  “I like this Sunday dinner thing,” Deza said. “It’s like something on TV. With Mama and Zeus we never eat together.”

  “So your mama left for Chicago yesterday,” Tyesha began.

  “Can we get some news we can use?” Amaru asked.

  “Well,” Tyesha said, “I mention it because she said she’s been calling you both and you haven’t picked up.”

  “I been busy,” Amaru said sullenly.

  “I haven’t,” Deza said. “I just don’t want to talk to her. Would you pick up her call after that shit she pulled?”

  “No comment,” Tyesha said. “But she came by my office this week because she had something she thought was important, and for once I agreed with her.”

  “Papers to make me an emancipated minor?” Amaru asked.

  Tyesha shook her head. “A DNA test,” she said. “For Zeus.”

  Amaru leaped up from the table. “Oh, hell no,” she said.

  “It’s just a saliva swab,” Tyesha said.

  “I ain’t got even a drop of spit for that cause,” Amaru said.

  Deza agreed. “It’s just part of some bullshit plan of hers to make herself more valuable to him because she’s a legit baby mama. Fuck that.”

  “Actually,” Tyesha said, “Jenisse was thinking it might be a good time to send you to that athletics academy you were interested in, Amaru.”

  “Now?” Amaru said. “She trying to get me in that boarding school now? I begged her all through middle school. Begged. But she needed us around. Now that we ain’t around anyway, she don’t mind letting me go? Besides, I heard them talking about it years ago. Zeus refused to get the test back then. Only now that there’s money involved is he gonna be bothered. He never really wanted us. He only wanted the boys. Took them everywhere with him. Did everything with them. Look how that turned out. Fuck him. And his test. Fuck them both.”

  “But Amaru,” Tyesha said, “this could be good for you.”

  “I got my plan already,” Amaru said. “I’ma stay with my friend in Chicago. I don’t need shit from them. I don’t even want to be his kid.”

  She knocked her chair over, and then ran to the front door, slamming it behind her.

  Tyesha rushed after her, “Amaru, wait!”

  Deza came up behind her aunt. “Let her go,” she said. “She’ll walk for twenty minutes to let her food digest, then run a few miles, then her endorphins will kick in, and she’ll be fine.”

  “And then she’ll do the test?” Tyesha asked.

  “With her stubborn ass?” Deza said. “No chance. In seventh grade Mama said that she might be able to go to that school, and she got her hopes up. She’s way too afraid of being disappointed again.”

  “But we need these DNA results,” Tyesha said.

  “What if it shows we ain’t his?” Deza said. “Fucked up as he is, he’s the only daddy I ever had.”

  “First of all, that’s ridiculous,” Tyesha said. “You look just like him. Second of all, your mama is crazy in a lot of ways. But we both know that her life plan has been to be Zeus’s number one woman. She wouldn’t mess that up by having some other man’s baby. I’m convinced she would have had that abortion if there was even a chance either of you wasn’t his.”

  Deza nodded. “That sounds like Mama.”

  “So what do we do?” Tyesha asked. “Can you get some of Amaru’s spit in her sleep?”

  “Hell, no,” Deza said. “Can’t they test hair?” Deza picked up the test kit. “Call the lab.”

  As it turned out, the lab could test hair. Tyesha gave them her office address to send the test kit for hair instead of saliva.

  * * *

  The following afternoon, Tyesha, Marisol, Kim, and Jody sat around in Tyesha’s office, looking over the floor plan of the mobster’s house that Jody had drawn.

  Serena knocked at the door, and Tyesha flipped over the floor plan.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Serena walked in and handed Tyesha the DNA test kit that the lab had sent over.

  “A
re you testing your ancestry?” Kim asked. “Turns out I’m not just Korean, but also part Chinese, Japanese, and a little bit of French. Thank you, colonization.”

  “No,” Tyesha said. “Some family drama.”

  The four of them waited until Serena had closed the door behind her.

  “Anyway, back to the planning.”

  Jody drew X’s on the floor plan where she had observed cameras. “You shoulda let Serena stay,” Jody said. “None of us knows how to do something this sophisticated.”

  “I’m starting to think that maybe Jody’s right,” Tyesha said. “We need Serena. We’ll just have to trust her.”

  “And she finally got her papers,” Kim said. “So we don’t have to worry about immigration anymore.”

  “It’s not only about trusting her,” Marisol said. “Even though she finally has her residence status, she’s still a trans woman. If we get caught, they’ll send her to a men’s prison. Have you thought about that?”

  “Then we need to make sure not to get caught,” Tyesha said. “And we need to make sure that she’s only helping us with the tech stuff, not actually out at the job.”

  “Besides,” Kim said, “Serena can decide for herself which risks she wants to take.”

  “I agree,” Jody said.

  “So everybody’s in favor but you, Marisol,” Tyesha said.

  Marisol’s mouth was tight. “I can see that,” she said. “But you only see one side of her. You see the efficient computer whiz and the perfect assistant. None of you were there when Serena came into the clinic as a client. She was running from a homicidal boyfriend and on the verge of suicide. Do you know what the life expectancy is for immigrant trans women? When I took away her razor, I promised her that she could have a good life. A safe and peaceful life. Don’t make a liar out of me.”

  “Serena has that now,” Tyesha said. “But she also wants to help keep other sex workers safe. Don’t underestimate her.”

  Marisol didn’t like it, but she didn’t object when Tyesha went out into the reception area and asked Serena to come in.

  * * *

  Serena sat on the couch between Marisol and Kim. She was so petite that she fit easily between them. Her light flyaway hair had a bright green streak among the auburn.

  Tyesha looked at Marisol to start the conversation, but Marisol looked back, eyebrows raised.

  Tyesha took a deep breath: “Serena, you know how things have been a little crazy with the strippers’ union.”

  Serena nodded.

  “Well, we might need a little . . .” Tyesha searched for the words. “A little technical assistance.”

  “Sure,” Serena said. “How can I help?”

  “It’s . . . ah . . . sort of more like—” Tyesha began, but Kim cut her off.

  “Like hacking,” Kim said.

  Serena’s eyes lit up. “I got a few skills in that department,” Serena said.

  “But really it’s more than that,” Tyesha said. “We need technical assistance to gain entry to a physical location.”

  “Count me in,” Serena said. “I—”

  Marisol cut her off. “I don’t want you to feel pressured,” Marisol said. “After all, you just got your green card.”

  Serena tilted her head to the side. “Seriously, Marisol?” Serena said. “I sent donors up to your escort service for years. I knew there was other stuff going on. But I kept my mouth shut because I’m loyal, and I figured you’d tell me when you were good and ready. Besides, maybe I’m off the streets and have a green card, but plenty of folks around here are ass out. I’m not gonna play it safe when they depend on us. Just tell me what you need.”

  Marisol opened her mouth to protest, but Tyesha spoke first.

  “Can you help us hack a security feed?” Tyesha asked Serena.

  “What type of system?” Serena asked.

  Tyesha nodded to Jody. She pulled up the photos on her phone of the security system at the mob mansion.

  Serena sat looking at the images for a long time. She blew up the photos and peered intently at some of the details.

  After a couple of minutes, Tyesha began to get uncomfortable. She looked over at Marisol, who had raised an accusing eyebrow. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe she should have taken more time to consider whether or not to involve Serena.

  “I need to get my laptop,” Serena said.

  “Why yours?” Tyesha asked.

  “I have better cloaking security for some of the searches I need to do,” Serena said.

  Marisol’s eyebrow went down, but Tyesha still felt uneasy.

  Half an hour later, Serena closed her laptop and set down Jody’s phone.

  “I can’t hack it from my computer,” Serena said. “It’s an old-school system—analog. I’d have to actually splice into the feed through the wires.”

  She pulled up a picture from Jody’s phone that showed the front of the mob mansion. Jody looked almost ghoulish with her pale skin and platinum hair. Serena blew up a section next to the stairs as large as she could make it.

  There was a slight L-shaped shadow. Serena snapped a screen shot of the area and blew it up three more times.

  “The photo isn’t that sharp with the low light,” Serena said. “But I would bet that this is the box.”

  “That makes sense,” Jody said. “It’s right outside the security guards’ room.”

  “I can’t see the detail well enough, but there’s probably a lock on it,” Serena said. “If one of you can get past that, I can hack the feed and it’ll be online. I should be able to monitor if we have a nearby van.”

  “One of us can definitely get through the lock,” Tyesha said, glancing at Kim. “Then what?”

  “Someone would need to distract the guards for a moment while the video system resets,” Serena said.

  “Will the screens go blank?” Jody asked.

  “Maybe,” Serena said. “Maybe a glitch. Maybe snow. We just need them looking away for a moment.”

  “Okay,” Tyesha said. “So we just need to pick the lock, hack into the system, distract the guards, get a van, and you can monitor and hack it from there. Anything else?”

  “My laptop doesn’t have the hardware or the software needed to hack a feed,” Serena said. “I’ll need some pretty sophisticated equipment.”

  “Our benefactor isn’t going to like this,” Tyesha said, thinking of Teddy Hughes.

  “Nope,” Marisol agreed. “But we’ll just have to sell him on it.”

  “Okay,” Tyesha said. “Let’s flesh the plan out, do up a budget, and set a meeting with our benefactor and his better half.”

  The five of them worked on brainstorming late into the night, and after several hours, they had a workable plan. They’d just need a medical van, a pile of video hacking equipment, another limo, and a strong, quick-acting sedative that wouldn’t completely inhibit sexual performance in a man.

  * * *

  Tyesha showed up at Thug Woofer’s house with a bag of takeout and a DNA paternity hair test kit in her briefcase.

  “Sorry our dinner turned into a midnight snack,” she said. “I had to work late.”

  “It’s all good,” Woof said, sitting down on the couch. “But this is definitely a Melvyn type date, not a Woof date.” He gestured to the takeout on the coffee table. “None of this could go in a rap video. Where’s the yacht?”

  “Well, if we had a fireplace instead of a fountain, it could be a nineties R and B video,” Tyesha said.

  Woof laughed, and leaned back on the couch, pulling her with him. She lay back against his chest.

  “I like it,” Tyesha said. “This is more everyday and less larger than life. Just two people eating some food in a Brooklyn apartment. Is this a sign that you live here permanently now?”

  “I’m here for the foreseeable future,” he said. “But I haven’t put anything on the walls because I don’t know how long I’m staying. Nothing’s permanent. I’m learning that in my meditation. Everything changes. And our a
ttachment causes suffering.”

  “My fucking sister causes suffering,” Tyesha said. “And it doesn’t seem to matter how unattached to her I get.”

  “Breathe,” Thug Woofer said. “Feel the connection, and then release.”

  Tyesha laughed. “What kind of meditation is that? Your dating habits? A philosophy of not getting attached?”

  “My previous dating habits,” Woof said. “With you I’ve always been serious. At least after that first date, where—it was professional.”

  “Why me, though?” Tyesha asked. “You meet thousands of girls. There’s like five billion women on the planet, and most would say yes to you. Why me?”

  “First off, I only really like black women, so that cuts down several billion,” he said. “And then it’s always something. A lot of those women are just gold-diggers. I could be any guy with money or fame. They just want a piece of the shine.”

  Tyesha leaned back and gazed at the potted plants. She didn’t recall anything like that in his old apartment.

  “Then there’s the career women. And I’m too hood for a lot of them. I mean, they think I’m sexy, but I don’t fit at their dinner parties. I even met this one chick at a meditation retreat. She wasn’t bourgie, but, you know, I use the N-word sometimes.”

  He paused for a moment, and all they could hear was the trickle of the fountain. It had clear stones in it, bright colors, but clear glass and not blingy.

  “I mean, I know all the history, but I also grew up using the word, and it’s got a history with me personally. Like this one guy Darnell I grew up with. I mean, that’s my nigga. Plain and simple. I’ll punch any white boy who tries to use it, and I stopped using it in my music. Bitch and ho, too. I get it now that I have a responsibility to young black people. But if it’s the weekend and I’m kicking it with my niggas, I’m kicking it with my niggas. I mean my baby uncle used to call me his favorite li’l nigga and he’d hug me. It’s a private conversation.”

  “The meditation chick didn’t get it?” Tyesha asked.

  “She gave me this lecture,” he said. “Seriously talking down to me. Like that same day at the meditation retreat we wasn’t talking about how life is a paradox. Nigga is a paradox. It’s a part of me, just like it’s part of our history. Black people always taking ugly shit and finding ways to put love in it. I choose my words carefully when I make music now, but I’m not gonna censor myself when I’m with my woman.”