The Boss

by Aya De León

  “You uppity little bitch,” he said. “Think you too good for a nigga like me. I’ma fuck you then wring yo princess neck.”

  “Zeus will kill you if you lay a single finger on me,” she said, unsure if it was true but trying to bluff.

  “Are you kidding me?” he said. “Zeus will think it’s the Ukrainian mob and start a war with those white boys. He’ll probably get his ass killed and then I can take over the business. Being ‘like a son to him’ and everything.”

  “Reagan,” she said. “You’re right, we’re like family. So don’t do this. My boyfriend is coming over any minute. Just back off and we’ll act like this never happened.”

  “Boyfriend, huh?” he said. “Then you probably wore some lingerie for him. I guess I’ll have to work fast.”

  Their eyes locked. He had her trapped behind the table, but if he didn’t move quickly enough, she could get away. She stood, coiling internally to spring left or right, depending on which way he lunged. As she stood there, she noticed a warm feeling next to her left hip. It took a second to realize that Deza had left the flatiron on. Again.

  She glanced down for a split second to see which end was hot. The handles were facing her. She kept her eyes locked on him and her ears open for any sound of Woof.

  Outside, she heard horns, a siren, a truck rolling by, but no sound of footsteps approaching her door.

  Slowly, she reached for the flatiron. Finally, she had it in her hand.

  “Reagan,” she said, all the pleading out of her voice, “seriously. Don’t do this.”

  “Quit stalling, bitch,” he said, and tossed the entire table to the side.

  She kept her hand gripped tightly on the handle of the iron, and when he came at her, she pressed it to his face. He screamed and jumped back, covering his burned cheek with his hands.

  “You gotdamn bitch,” he screamed and ran toward her, half-blind.

  With the flatiron in one hand, she looked around wildly for another weapon. Off the stove, she grabbed the cast-iron skillet and swung it at him, connecting with the side of his head.

  He went down in a heap, and she backed into the living room. The skillet and the flatiron lay on the kitchen floor near him, as well as the overturned table, and the orchid, which lay upside down and crushed, the blood from his temple oozing toward the spilled dirt.

  * * *

  Tyesha turned from the sight in the kitchen when she heard a noise. When the half-open front door swung wide, she expected Thug Woofer, but it was Zeus standing there. He nearly filled up the doorway.

  “Baby girl?” he said. “Is everything all right? Did another one of those mobsters try to fuck with you?”

  “It was Reagan,” Tyesha said.

  “That’s crazy,” Zeus said. “Reagan left for Chicago this morning. I was on my way to the airport, but I just came to say good-bye.”

  “He’s knocked out on the floor of my kitchen,” Tyesha said.

  In three long-legged strides, Zeus had crossed the living room and saw his right-hand man, his face burned, and the side of his head bloodied.

  “What the fuck?” Zeus stepped back out of the kitchen.

  “He said he was gonna fuck me and wring my princess neck,” Tyesha said, her voice flat with shock. She slumped down onto the couch.

  Zeus pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

  “I’m over there now,” he said. “Get me on a later plane and come by here. Bring supplies. I have a mess to clean up. Okay, I’ll see you in fifteen.”

  As they waited, Tyesha and Zeus sat across from each other in silence.

  Tyesha felt rattled beyond words.

  “He was like a son to me,” Zeus said.

  “No Zeus,” Tyesha said, her body shaking with both residual terror and swelling rage. “No, he wasn’t. He wanted to kill me so you would go to war with the Ukrainians, then get yourself killed and he could take over.”

  “But I been knowing him since he was a boy,” Zeus said.

  “You don’t need any more sons,” Tyesha said. “You have two kids. Two daughters.” The word caught in her throat as she added in a whisper, “Three.”

  She began to cry. Not sobbing, not making a sound. The tears just flowed from both eyes, down her face. They pooled under her chin and dripped down her neck into the collar of her T-shirt.

  “I don’t understand daughters,” Zeus said quietly, all his gangster affect dissolved. And in that moment, she looked more like him than she had ever looked like anyone. It was his unguarded face that looked almost identical to hers. A face he rarely showed. “I told Jenisse I didn’t understand daughters,” he said. “I was in a group home, then the military. That’s what I understand.” He banged his hand on the couch. “I understand lieutenants and soldiers and generals and loyalty. I understand sons.”

  Tyesha was still shaking, but the rage made her bold. “It’s not like it’s gone so well with your two actual sons.”

  “Of course it has,” Zeus said. “They’ll be out in a few years. Meantime, they’re safe. I take care of them. I put money on their concessions. No one fucks with them. I even got them married with conjugal visits.”

  “That’s your plan?” Tyesha said. “Either they’re on the streets selling with you or they’re in jail?”

  “That’s the business I run,” Zeus said. “That’s what I got to offer. Other boys was begging to get in with me.”

  “Like Reagan?” Tyesha said.

  Zeus shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with daughters,” he said. “Only with sons. I know how to reward loyalty and punish traitors.”

  “What about Jenisse?” Tyesha asked. “How you gonna reward her loyalty?”

  “I don’t know,” Zeus said. “I give her everything she wants. She don’t wanna get married.”

  “Like hell she don’t,” Tyesha said.

  “She told me she didn’t,” Zeus said.

  “What?” Tyesha said. “Fifteen years ago? Try asking again.”

  “You think she’d say yes?”

  There was a knock at the door. Zeus put a hand up and stood to answer it.

  “Who’s there?” he asked.

  “It’s Woof,” a man’s voice said. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “It’s okay,” Tyesha said, and went to open the door.

  Woof walked in with an expression that was equal parts quizzical and pissed.

  “What’s going on, Tyesha?”

  “Woof,” she said. “Meet Zeus, my father.”

  “Oh,” Woof said, putting out a hand. “Melvyn Johnson. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  They shook hands.

  “He’s also Deza and Amaru’s father,” Tyesha explained. “They don’t know. I didn’t know til last week.”

  “Right,” Woof said. “I won’t mention it.”

  There was another knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” Tyesha called.

  “Zeus here?” a woman’s voice asked.

  Zeus rose to open the door.

  Tyesha saw the same woman who had shot the Ukrainian thug in the leg. She walked in quickly, followed by the driver who’d picked her up. He had an oversize suitcase.

  “What’s going on?” Woof asked, as Zeus and his two employees walked into the kitchen.

  “You don’t want to know,” Tyesha said. “Come on outside. I need some air.”

  Five minutes later, the two employees came out and carried the suitcase out to the street.

  As they loaded it into a dark sedan, Zeus came out of the apartment.

  “I’m sorry,” Zeus said. “I wish I could stay longer.”

  She leaned toward him awkwardly, and they hugged. Really, he reached around and patted her back, as she hung onto his neck.

  As they pulled apart from the mismatched embrace, they heard a shout.

  “Daddy!” Deza yelled from down the street. She and Amaru ran toward them.

  In the moment before they arrived, Woof turned to Zeus. “Sir, I want you to know that my intenti
ons toward your daughter are very serious.”

  “Thank you for letting me know, son,” Zeus said, and then he had the two young women hugging him.

  “You came to say good-bye to us?” Amaru asked.

  “And to give you the good news,” Zeus said. “Your mama convinced me to send you to that athletic school.”

  “Are you serious?” Amaru asked. “Are you serious right now?”

  “Yes,” he said. “And to congratulate your sister on her record contract.”

  The double-parked sedan honked. “I got business to take care of,” Zeus said. “I’ll see my girls soon.”

  He hugged the two young women, and then he was gone.

  The girls bounded into the house, elated. “Do I smell pizza?” Amaru asked. “Is it almost ready?”

  “Any minute now,” Tyesha said. “But let’s eat in the living room, okay?”

  * * *

  Later that night, Tyesha and Woof went over to his house. The moment they were inside, he asked, “Is everything okay? What the hell was that?”

  “That was—” Tyesha searched for the words. “That was my family.”

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

  Tyesha looked him in the face. “No,” she said. “I just want you to hold me. Just let me have a moment where I can relax and there’s nothing I need to do.”

  “I can do that,” he said.

  He unzipped her jacket. He took off her shirt, her bra, and her jeans. He left on her underwear and undressed himself. Then he laid her on the bed and slid behind her, curling his body around her like a shield.

  Chapter 23

  The next day, Teddy Hughes formally signed the contract between the strippers union and the One-Eyed King. Tyesha used their leverage to get Teddy to close down the Brooklyn club for a private party. All the dancers plus all the clinic’s employees and their guests came to celebrate.

  To kick off the entertainment, Deza performed one of her songs and promised she’d be back on stage later with some of her rapper friends. But meanwhile, one of the dancers also worked as a DJ, and she was spinning deep house music and Afrobeat.

  For party favors, Tyesha had shredded all the sign-in sheets into confetti. She also had stacks of Monopoly money all over the club.

  Tara and Giselle had tied ribbons to the center pole and several of the girls were skipping around it like a maypole, tossing the confetti. Kim and Jody were dancing together on one of the stages, barefoot and in their underwear. Kim was putting Monopoly singles in Jody’s boy shorts, as Jody made it rain rainbow-colored cash over Kim’s head. Both of them were laughing hysterically.

  On one of the tables was a giant red velvet cake that said “VICTORY!” with a sexy lady justice holding up a scale, and two strippers hanging off each side.

  Lily was cutting the cake, but when the DJ mixed into a Calypso song, Lily shrieked and leaped up to dance. She snatched up the T-shirt Jody had taken off and was whipping it in circles over her head, like the blade of a helicopter.

  When the song faded out, Deza took the microphone.

  “Give it up for the DJ,” she bellowed as she strode back onto the stage.

  When the applause died down, she spoke into the mic more quietly, almost conspiratorially: “Next up, I want a round of applause for the woman behind the union, representing for Brooklyn by way of Chicago, my auntie, Tyesha Couvillier!”

  The girls stood and cheered. Lily blew a police whistle. The DJ scratched on the record.

  “So we promised to bring some of my rapper friends, and here they are,” she said. “First off, fresh off his Melvyn: The Real Me tour, Thug Woofer!”

  The cheering was nearly as loud as it had been for Tyesha, but the screams of surprise were certainly louder.

  “What’s up Brook-LYNN?!” he boomed, strutting onto the stage, and the crowd roared back.

  “So this is a ladies’ night,” Woof said. “And I don’t think I have anything to add to this incredible evening. But the young lady behind it all is someone very, very special to me. And recently, due to some technical difficulties, I was unable to be with her for a very special show. So I asked a friend of mine to join us tonight, because I thought you all might wanna be part of it, too. So without further ado, please welcome. . . Nashonna!”

  Before Tyesha could stop herself, she was out of her seat and shrieking.

  Nashonna strutted onto the stage in a buzz hairstyle and cutoff army fatigues.

  “This union is a victory for all of us!” she shouted. “I couldn’t wait to come celebrate with y’all. Get my beat, DJ!”

  When the opening beats of the song came on, the ladies went crazy, all their voices singing along with the star:

  You didn’t care what the stripper had to say

  You let the pole get in the way

  You had some kind of jones

  to see me dance to some weak hip hop with fake-ass moans.

  Nashonna began a moan, and halfway through stopped abruptly and cackled with laughter.

  Into the mic, she said: “You paid to see me make it clap.”

  And then she pointed the mic into the audience and all the women yelled back:

  “WELL, MOTHERFUCKER, NOW YOU GONNA HEAR ME RAP . . .”

  The dancers went crazy. Nashonna leaned back and trust-fell off the stage and crowd surfed.

  Tyesha made her way through the melee to find Woof. He was leaning up against the wall near the DJ booth.

  She ran over and threw her arms around him.

  “I can’t believe you got Nashonna to come,” she said.

  “Are you kidding me?” he said, laughing. “My stock went up with her once she found out that I’m your man.”

  She leaned into an openmouthed kiss.

  “But seriously,” he said. “We were supposed to go to that show together. It was my fault for fucking up with the Car Willis situation.”

  “I shouldn’t have gone with Drew,” Tyesha said. “That was just petty of me.” She kissed him again.

  Woof bit his lip. “That straining sound is me breathing mindfully and not saying amen.”

  “So I guess we’re both petty,” Tyesha said, laughing.

  “No, baby,” Woof said. “We’re just in love. I love you, Tyesha.”

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her close. She could feel his heart beating hard.

  “I love you, too . . . Melvyn,” she said.

  He laughed and pulled her into an intense kiss, so deep that they didn’t notice when Deza and Amaru began to shower them with sign-in sheet confetti, like rice at a wedding.

  Except it was at a strip club, with a stripper’s union. And an ex-stripper-turned-rapper rapping about being a stripper. So really it was more like a Vegas wedding.

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  THE BOSS

  Aya de León

  ABOUT THIS GUIDE

  The suggested questions are included to enhance your group’s reading of Aya de León’s The Boss.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. Tyesha and her sister have a contentious relationship. What are some of the factors that have pitted them against each other? Do you have female peers in your life with whom there is significant conflict? What might be factors outside of the relationship that contribute to the conflict?

  2. Tyesha had to step in repeatedly to rescue her nieces, Deza and Amaru, when their parents were unable to function in a healthy way. Was that a good choice for her? For them? Do you have people in your life who call you to come rescue them? How do you handle that?

  3. Thug Woofer is the number one rap artist in the U.S. How does that impact the relationship dynamic between him and Tyesha?

  4. What were some of the warning signs that Thug Woofer had difficulty respecting women? What were some of the positive signposts that he had changed? Is that type of change realistic? What are some of the risks when a woman trusts a man with a history of anger issues?

  5. In the book, the mob was a major o
bstacle to allowing the strippers to unionize. In the real world, however, the owners and managers of strip clubs often mistreat the workers, even if organized crime is not involved. Are there ways that you or other workers are mistreated in your industry or workplace? What can you do about it?

  6. The dancers in the union were divided. Some favored greater security and protection, but some favored greater independence. As a worker, do you favor more security and protection or independence? Can you have both?

  7. The sex industry is the only industry in which women workers are consistently paid more than men. And yet there are many men who mistreat their workers in an attempt to make as much money off their labor as possible. How do you see women workers being mistreated in your workplace, industry, or doing domestic labor (housework/childcare)?

  8. The mob boss’s nephew was a sexual predator. He had a history of paying hush money to women he’d assaulted, and we saw him attempt to assault Jody. Was it justified to frame him for the robbery, even if it got him killed?

  9. Car Willis is an artist who has a history of sexually predatory behavior, as well. In the real world, should artists be judged by their behavior offstage, or simply based on their art?

  10. Tyesha is afraid to speak up publicly. Where does this fear come from? Were her fears justified in the present or based in experiences from the past? What are some areas in your own life where you are afraid to speak? Do you think your fears are about present danger or rooted in the past? What can you do about it?

  AYA DE LEÓN is a writer/performer whose work has been acclaimed in the Village Voice, the Washington Post, and American Theatre magazine. Her recent freelance work has been featured in xoJane and Bitch magazine, and she was recently a guest on HuffPostLive. Visit her online at ayadeleon.wordpress.com, on Twitter @AyadeLeon, or on Facebook.