Boss

by Tracy Brown

  They spent another hour in the purgatory that Fox’s home had become. A thick sense of sadness loomed over the place as the man and his staff made peace with the fact that his political prospects were over.

  Crystal and Troy walked into her brownstone afterward, feeling dejected. Troy, especially, looked like he had lost his best friend.

  “Are you okay?” she asked gently. She sat beside him on the sofa.

  He offered a weak smile. “Yeah,” he said. He looked at her. “You know what I feel the worst about?”

  She shook her head. She had no idea which part of it all was eating at his conscience the most.

  “It’s the relief I feel.” He saw the surprised expression on her face, just as he had anticipated. “I know. That’s terrible, right? My father’s career is in the toilet and I feel relieved.”

  Crystal frowned. “Why?”

  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and touched her cheek tenderly. “Because I don’t have to hide how I feel about you.”

  He pulled her close to him. With their noses inches apart, he stared into her eyes.

  “I love you.”

  She felt too choked up with emotion to respond.

  He stared at her, searching her eyes deeply. “I’m happier with you than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  Troy kissed her. His kisses traveled south until he tasted her sweet spot. She closed her eyes, fighting away the guilt and pain that tugged at her. She quieted her mind and did her best to bring herself back to what she was feeling, how it felt with him between her legs this way. She fought the urge to cum, reluctant to allow herself the satisfaction. She didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve the way he drove her body to heights she’d never known with any other man but him. Sensing her hesitation, he stopped abruptly. Crystal’s breath caught audibly in her throat.

  He kissed her, sliding himself inside her as he did so. She clung to him so desperately that he looked at her, wanting to lock in the memory of her face this way. Crystal’s expression was somewhere between helplessness and pure pleasure.

  He slowed his pace. Despite the physical desire he felt for her, this moment was more than just a physical thing. He connected with Crystal on a level he hadn’t with any woman before or since. With his body, he forced her legs wide and sank himself deeper inside of her, forcing her to moan in pleasure. She grinded her hips on him with such intensity that his eyes widened in the darkness of the room.

  Crystal pushed him back hard and he slid out of her. She pounced on him unexpectedly, mounting him and sliding her slick pussy up and down around his rock-hard warrior until she accommodated more of him than she ever had before. Troy groaned in pleasure as he felt her tighten around his girth, grinding mercilessly on him. Her nails dug into his chocolate skin and he felt them piercing, tearing at him. He kissed her and she bit his lip. Troy growled in response. It was on now.

  He smiled in the dark, though he wasn’t sure if she saw it. It didn’t matter. She had awakened a monster in him that he hadn’t unleashed on her before. She slapped him hard across the face, winding her hips on him erotically. He grabbed her neck, squeezing it firmly while she clawed at him and rode him like a stallion.

  “You love me?” His eyes bore into hers. He had said those all-important words to her and she had yet to say them in return.

  Crystal’s eyes welled with tears. She did. She loved him so much. But admitting that wouldn’t solve a thing. All it did was further complicate a situation that seemed more impossible by the moment. She pushed her hands toward his face, wanting to hurt him the way that she was hurting.

  Troy grabbed her hands and flipped her onto her back, pinning her down. This time, there was no use fighting back. He had her glued to the couch, his dick grinding deep until he came in violent shudders inside of her.

  He held her face in his hand firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Do you love me, Crystal?”

  She shook her head, shaking the tears free that had been waiting for the chance to fall.

  He loosened his grip, wiped her tears, and kissed her softly.

  She exhaled deeply, nodded, and answered breathlessly, “Yes.” She hated herself because it was true. She did love him, despite all the warnings in her head that she shouldn’t. She couldn’t.

  His smile seemed to illuminate the whole room. “I love you, too.”

  They lay together afterward in bed with their legs intertwined. She rested her head on his chest, rising and falling as the pace of his breath slowly steadied. He held on to her tightly, his fingers in her hair.

  Darkness enfolded them as they lay together on that final night. Crystal couldn’t sleep. She lay awake restlessly, consumed by thoughts of what lay ahead for them over the next twenty-four hours. She watched Troy as he slept, aware that it was for the last time. She chided herself for it. She knew it was torture, memorizing his face this way, his body. Inhaling his scent. Watching the rise and fall of his chest. She would recall all of it later, she knew. Later, when she would be alone with her thoughts, trying desperately not to let them linger on the euphoria of the past few weeks.

  Troy woke up the next morning and reached for her. She smiled as he smothered her neck and chest in feathery kisses.

  “I want you to come with me to meet my father today.”

  She saw the range of emotions he experienced. First surprise, then happiness as it occurred to him that this was a major step. He realized that Crystal seldom spoke about her family. As immersed as she was in the drama unfolding in the Mitchell clan, he couldn’t recall a single instance of her mentioning her own family. He was honored that she wanted to take that step.

  He nodded.

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  For the next hour, Crystal felt like she was in a fog. She showered, dressed, and did her hair in silence. Troy, on the other hand, was like a new man. He whistled along to the songs on the radio as they prepared to go. He was on top of the world. Meanwhile, Crystal had never felt so detached from reality in her life.

  As they left her home, she shut the door slowly, aware that when she returned she would still feel his presence there. That those four walls were no longer her own. That the home had become theirs.

  She climbed behind the wheel of her Audi and smiled at him.

  “Ready?”

  He smiled back. “I think so. Never been in a car with you driving before. I think I might be nervous.”

  Crystal laughed. “You should be.”

  During the drive, Troy asked questions about her dad.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Quincy.” She glanced at him, looking for a spark of recognition. But Troy simply nodded.

  “Quincy Taylor,” she said, turning onto Pitkin Avenue.

  Troy wasn’t paying attention. Otherwise the name of Crystal’s father might have rung an alarm bell. Instead he was focused on the neighborhood they had driven into. Crystal’s part of Brooklyn was on the rise. This was not Crystal’s part of Brooklyn. Abandoned homes and buildings dotted the street. Homeless people pushed shopping carts full of bottles and cans down the middle of the street. They passed bodegas with clusters of men in ill-fitting clothes holding court outside. Troy knew they weren’t in Kansas anymore. He tried his best not to show his discomfort. He didn’t want Crystal to feel embarrassed by the conditions her father was living in. He wondered if this was why she seldom mentioned her family. If they were struggling economically, she might be ashamed. He squeezed her hand reassuringly as they pulled up in front of an old run-down brick house. Troy looked at the tattered blinds hanging in the window and the thick overgrowth in the patches of grass at the front of the house. He forced a smile.

  “This is it?”

  Crystal could sense his discomfort, though he was doing his best to hide it. “Yup,” she said. “This is it.” She got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Troy could sense her tension and wondered about the state of Crystal’s relationship with her father. He had felt her anxiety ever since she
had announced that they were going to see her father that day.

  They walked up the stairs and rang the bell. Crystal avoided looking at him. Troy reached for her hand. Reluctantly, she gave it to him, and he squeezed it comfortingly.

  “You alright?”

  She nodded. “Yeah,” she lied.

  The door swung open and Quincy stood before them. He smiled at the sight of his daughter and pulled her into a warm hug. Stroking her back reassuringly, he greeted her.

  “There’s my girl. Come on in.”

  She stepped across the foyer and turned back to hold the door ajar for Troy. He followed her in and stood face-to-face with her father. Troy extended his hand.

  “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Troy.”

  Quincy nodded. “Troy,” he repeated. “Okay. Nice to finally meet you.” He gestured toward the living room and they all stepped inside.

  Troy pretended not to notice the peeling paint on the walls, the ratty, worn sofa with the stuffing poking out, and the dirty carpeting. He took a seat and smiled at Crystal’s father like nothing was out of sorts.

  She watched him, knowing what he must be thinking. His noble avoidance of the poor conditions only made her heart break more for him. He had no idea what he had just walked into. She sat beside him and prayed that it would all be over quickly.

  Quincy sat across from them.

  “So you’re the infamous Troy Mitchell.” Quincy sized him up. “My daughter has told me a lot about you.”

  Troy was visibly surprised by that. He smiled at her, happy that she had spoken of him.

  She tried to force a smile in return, but she couldn’t. Troy noticed and his own smile faded. “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded, though it wasn’t true.

  Quincy got his attention again. “You work together, is that right?”

  Troy nodded. “Crystal works for one of the magazines my family owns.”

  Quincy’s smile widened. “The Mitchell family.”

  Troy got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked at Crystal. Something about this didn’t feel right all of a sudden.

  “I’m very familiar with your family, Troy. You all have been very successful.”

  Troy shrugged. He thanked Quincy, but hoped they wouldn’t stay on the subject long. It seemed distasteful to speak of his family’s success while sitting in what looked like an abandoned home in a run-down neighborhood.

  “I was actually friends with your uncle years ago.” Quincy watched for Troy’s reaction.

  Troy’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked. “Uncle Don?”

  Quincy nodded. “Yeah. Good ole Don.” He smiled. “We used to get money together back in the day.”

  Troy frowned. He looked at Crystal. “Did you know that?”

  She glanced at her father and nodded, avoiding eye contact with Troy.

  Quincy was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Sure, she knew.” He laughed. “Ole Don and I go way back. Matter of fact”—he stood up—“come downstairs and let me show you something real quick. This will blow your mind.”

  Crystal exhaled slowly. Suddenly, she felt light-headed. Her pulse raced and the room felt like it had begun to spin.

  Troy stood up, completely unaware of what was going on. He followed her father toward the stairs. Quincy began walking down and Troy was right behind him. Crystal willed herself to stand up. On wobbly legs, she followed them downstairs.

  The basement was wall-to-wall cement with an odor that suggested no windows had been opened down there in quite some time. Cobwebs hung loosely in the corners as Troy ducked under the construction beams. Quincy led them down the length of it, then moved around a bend.

  As they rounded the corner, a pair of men came into view. Troy spotted a large man standing against the wall. The man was glaring at him menacingly, a gun clutched tightly in his right hand pointing toward the floor. Another man sat facing them in a chair. Troy stopped in his tracks and started to turn. But two more men were behind him now, shoving him forward. He got closer and realized that the bloody and badly beaten man slumped in the chair was his brother, Wes.

  His head whipped around in Quincy’s direction. “What the fuck?” He turned back to face her. “What’s going on, Crystal?”

  Quincy smiled. He gestured toward Wes and let out a laugh. “First of all, that’s not her muthafuckin’ name.” He shook his head. Without another word, he drew back and punched Troy dead in his face, sending him reeling backward.

  Instinctively, Troy came back at him, puffed up and ready for a fight. But Tyson stepped forward, looming large over Troy, forcing him to back down. He pointed the gun at his head.

  “You should sit down.” Tyson’s tone suggested that it wasn’t a request.

  Troy slowly sat in a chair beside his brother. Wes was bruised and bloody. His lip was swollen and one of his eyes was practically shut. He glared at Troy in silence.

  Troy looked at Crystal. “You want to tell me what’s going on here, Crystal?”

  Tyson frowned and looked at his uncle. “Why the fuck does he keep calling her that?”

  Quincy laughed. “Because that’s who he thinks she is,” he explained. He looked at his daughter, then at Troy. “All this time, I can’t believe you never figured it out. I think it shows how little you thought of her. Really, it’s insulting that you didn’t recognize her. Even after all the pain your family caused.” He looked at his daughter, his eyes narrowed. “I wonder if he even remembers what he did to you, Sydney.”

  Troy stared at her. He squinted his eyes, trying to see it. She watched the pieces slowly come together in his mind. The realization spread across his face like a virus. She watched his mind wander back ten years to several months ago, and then to the moments before they had arrived here today.

  Wes, too, groaned, aware now of why they were here. He had been ambushed as he stepped out of his apartment complex the day before. Heading toward his car in the underground parking garage, he had been knocked unconscious from behind. He had woken up here and suffered a brutal beating for hours at the hands of these strangers he had never seen before. He had thought it was some gunrunners from Yonkers who had been giving his uncle some heat. But now it all made sense. He remembered Sydney and how Troy had been heartbroken afterward, crying and distraught over losing her. The aftermath of that day had torn a hole in the brothers’ relationship that was irreparable. Wes remembered how savagely he had beaten Malik that day. He struggled against the restraints that held him in the chair, more desperate than ever to get out of there. He knew that he would never walk out of here alive.

  Troy’s heart galloped in his chest. His mouth went dry. He looked at Crystal and saw hatred in her eyes as she stared at him.

  Troy was still staring at her, dumbfounded. “I still don’t understand,” he said.

  Crystal sat down on a wooden stool that had been abandoned in the corner. She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “Let me explain.”

  I USED TO LOVE HIM

  Fall 2006

  Sydney tucked her anthropology book further beneath her arm as she headed across the Yard toward her dorm room on campus. It was Howard University’s infamous homecoming weekend. Everyone had caught the fever. The Phi Beta Kappas and Alpha Kappa Alphas chanted, stomped, and stepped, practicing their routines. Students milled about like a multihued wave of black excellence splashed across the canvas of Washington, D.C. Howard homecoming was a can’t-miss event for anyone in the DMV (D.C., Maryland, and Virginia) area between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. Sydney, though, wasn’t sure what all the hype was about.

  She clutched her books as she pushed stubbornly against the throng, anxious to get back to her dorm room. Boasting a 3.90 GPA, she was one of the top students in her freshman class. Sydney easily excelled at writing and public speaking and wanted to become a journalist. Math had been giving her a hard time, though. So she had posted on the bulletin board that she was in need of a tutor. Checking for a respon
se would be out of the question, though, as she saw the density of the crowd that had gathered. She just wanted to get back to her room.

  Going to the homecoming festivities wasn’t on her agenda. Sydney didn’t like the big crowds of intoxicated people that accompanied most college parties. She reached Drew Hall and pressed her way through the mob of students that spilled into the hallway from the stairwell that led to her room. As she inched her way closer, she could hear a voice above the fray.

  “Dress to impress! This is gonna be the party of the year. If you ain’t there, you ain’t nowhere!”

  A girl Sydney recognized from one of her classes forced a flyer into her hand and was gone as quickly as she had appeared. She spotted the girl a moment later, already further in the press. Others like her had fanned out and were passing out what looked like the same flyer. The party was going down that very night, according to the guy addressing the crowd with the booming voice as he stood atop one of the tables in the lounge. Sydney glanced at the flyer.

  Bison Pride! HU Homecoming Weekend kicks off with Yardfest with headliner Ludacris. Battle of the Dynasties Greek Stepshow will be Saturday night at 7 P.M. Fur party to follow at Look Lounge with performances by Lil Jon, Chamillionaire, Dem Franchize Boyz, and Bubba Sparkxxx.

  “You see me every day in class. And you know I’m the best student. So why didn’t you just tell me that you need a tutor?” a voice behind her demanded.

  Sydney turned, frowning, and laid eyes on a cute and familiar face from her math class. Troy. She couldn’t stand him.

  “Your name is Sydney, right?”

  She knew that some of the girls in her class would be flattered that he had taken the time to learn their name. She reminded herself then that she had posted a notice on the bulletin board with her name. So he didn’t deserve too much credit. This guy was too self-absorbed to learn anyone’s name. She cleared her throat.