Boss Bitch Swag (8 page)

Chapter 12

The next few years of my life were a blur
;
I bounced around from one chick to the next, never getting too close or too attached to any of them. There was Denise, Kelly, Yolanda, Olivia, Brianna, Jessica, a couple of Tasha’s, three Keisha’s
,
and a handful of strippers whose names I didn’t even bother to learn. There was no point. I never let thpannever lem stick around for too long. Once they served their purpose
,
it was time to go. Fuck spending the night. I wasn’t trying to repeat my past with Jazz. I wasn’t even trying to repeat the one I had with Gina.

Instead of wastin
g
my time and energy on shit that didn’t matter, I poured myself into my work. By the time I turned twenty-one
,
I was one of the biggest hustlers in the entire city. The only organization that was bigger than mine in St. Louis was The Black Mafia
, which
was run by two legendary old school gangsters
:
Hershey Aaron and Maurice “Big Moe” Darrin. They were my idols. I watched everything they did
- and
I especially kept my eye on Hershey’s daughter
,
Queen.

Queen Aaron was striking. Her eyes were the brightest shade of turquoise found anywhere in the world. Shorty was more than fine. She was so physically perfect
,
it was frightening. She was also linked to a few made men. There was no getting close to her
; v
ery few were brave enough to even try.

My cousin Pee-Wee did get that scholarship to play college ball
, and h
e was there for almost three years
-
when he tore up his knee during a big game. Because of that
,
he lost his scholarship and had to leave school. That’s when he decided he wanted to come work for me. I couldn’t turn the nigga down
; h
e was family.

Pee-Wee became my lieutenant. He watched my back from the time I got out of bed in the morning until I went to bed at night. I trusted him with my life and with my livelihood
; a
lmost every business decision went through him before it got to me. I even had him check out real estate agents when I decided it was time to invest in my first piece of land
.

I knew the five bedroom
,
seven bathroom mini mansion overlooking Lake St. Louis was going to be mine when Pee-Wee brought it to my attention. The pictures in the brochure didn’t do it justice
; y
ou had to see it in person to truly appreciate the craftsmanship. The attention to detail was incredible. The bad muthaf
uc
ka cost me half a million dollars, but it was well worth it. My home was a reflection of me
,
and I had an image to uphold. My driveway looked like a luxury car dealership
:
I had the Lambo, the Benz, the Beamer, the Jag
,
and every model of Escalade they made,
including
the basic, the EXT
,
and the ESV. My life was good.

Jasmine vowed never to let another nigga touch her
, and f
or the last five years she
’
d been living her life as a lesbian. Her mother was killed a few months back in a horrific car accident. She was so fucked up after her dude left her for another woman that she started back drinking. The night of the accident
,
she was driving drunk in an ice storm and wrapped her car around a tree
; s
he died instantly. I attended the funeral out of respect. Jazz was there with her live-in girlfriend. If you didn’t know Bootsie
,
you
’
d have thought she was a man
-
but you
’
d have been wrong. The chick wasn't much to look at
,
but she made Jas’she madmine happy. I respected her for that.

Gina was now the mother of three small children
-
none of which were in her care. She had become her mother
:
addicted to crack and sucking dick to support her habit. She was a joke in the hood. Niggas clowned her
,
and hoes she use
d
to call her friends turned their backs on her. It hurt my heart to see her like that
; e
ven though we went through some rough shit
,
I still had love for her. Whenever I was in the hood
,
I
’
d break her off with a rock or two simply because I didn’t want her out there selling herself, chasing that high. She always offered to give me some head in return
,
but I never let her. I couldn't. Her problems weren’t funny to me anymore
...
I guess I was growing up.

Chapter 13

A
s we got dressed for our cousin Marco’s funeral
,
Pee-Wee and I both moved in silence. At only twenty-four years old
,
he fell for the wrong man’s wife and was shot twice in the chest with a sawed
-
off shotgun. I was devastated when I got the news
;
I
’
d always looked up to my big cuz. Whenever he gave me advice
,
I listened. Even when he told me to watch Ren and Jasmine
,
I took him seriously
-
I just didn't follow through the way I should have. Marco left behind four children, two boys and two little girls
, and a
ll of his kids had the same mother. Marco and Jayla met in junior high and started having babies soon after
that
. Jayla was the kind of girl that everybody liked
,
including me. I had the u
t
most respect for her. Not too many women would put up with Marco’s cheating and late nights out with the fellas, but Jayla hung in
there
like a soldier.

“Boss, I can’t take yo money.” Jayla tried to pass the large envelope full of cash
that
I
’d
placed in her hand back to me. “There has to be ten or fifteen thousand dollas in here.”

“It’s twenty grand
,
and it’s for you and the kids. Marco was my cousin
; t
hat makes ya’ll my family
-
and I take care of my family.”

“I don’t know how I’m gonna raise four kids by myself.” She threw her arms around me and squeezed tight. “What am I gonna do without him?”

The church was empty except for
m
e, Jayla, the kids, Pee-Wee
,
and my cousin’s body. Everybody else had long gone. All that remained were lost souls. We didn’t know how to move on. It was like being stuck inside a bad dream, one we were never waking up from.

“Jayla, you know my number
,
” I
said,
finally allow
ing
myself to squeeze her back. “If you need anything
,
I got you. My cousin loved you. I know he fucked up sometimes
,
but you were his heart.” I tried my damndest to hold bknost to hack my tears
,
but I lost the battle. It finally hit me
: m
y nigga was gone
,
and he wasn’t coming back. Jayla continued to hold on to me as I cried for the cousin I lost.

After the funeral
,
Pee-Wee and I headed up the block to Kitty's with the majority of the people who were at the service. Kitty’s was a local bar owned by one of the baddest bitches alive. Katrina Jacobs was twenty-eight years
old with the face of an angel and a body created to make grown men cry. She was a half
-
black
,
half
-
Dominican beauty born in the city of Santo Domingo. She moved to the United States with her family when she was just four years old. Over the years
,
they moved from Miami to Atlanta
,
then to Memphis
,
before eventually settling in St. Louis
, which had been
Kitty’s home for more than twenty years of her life.

“Kitty, when you gon
’
let me wife you up?” I toyed with the sexy vixen while she stood before me
,
refilling my shot glass with Patron.

“I don’t know.” She put her free hand up on her bangin’ hips. “Maybe when you quit fuckin’ with all these other hoes and come at me like you got some sense.”

Pee-Wee laughed so hard
,
he damn near fell off his barstool. My cousin knew I
’
d been wanting Kitty every since the first time I saw her. Her dark bronze skin and slinky black hair looked so good together. She was about five
-
foot
-
nine and somewhere around a hundred and sixty pounds. I studied her silhouette. She was thick as hell
;
just the way I liked. Her breasts sat perfect
, and h
er round ass looked soft enough to bite. Everything about her drove me crazy
– and i
t had been a while since I felt like that.

“At least come over to my place tonight and have a glass of Moet with a nigga.” I came at her like I never came at any chick before. “I know you can appreciate a nice bottle of champagne.”

“I prefer Cristal.”

“I thought you might.”

She was hard to get, but she wasn’t playing. In the all the years I
’
d been coming to Kitty’s
,
I never once saw a nigga get so much as a cell number. She owned her own business, dressed to kill, drove a hot ride
,
and always looked her best. She was a Boss Bitch
, and s
he belonged with a Boss Nigga.

“I don’t close
‘
til two
,
”
s
he reminded
me
. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere
‘
til then.”

And neither was I. I waited patiently for her for damn near six hours
; f
or Kitty
,
I think I would have waited a lifetime. I recognized the hustler in her. She had enough workers there that night to cover her
, so s
he could have left anytime she
was
ready
-
and I knew it. She just wanted to seeytianted t if I would actually sit there and wait all that time
; i
t was a game I would have played myself. Kitty was in a whole other league than the broads I was use
d
to bangin’. She had class and a bank account big enough to support that classy lifestyle without having to come up off of some nigga. It was time for me to step up my game.

It was a quarter to three when we finally stepped out into the cool night air. I opened the passenger side door to my carbon black metallic BMW 750 Li, but she wasn’t having it. Kitty was the type of chick that had her own and liked showing it off.
So,
I did the gentlemanly thing and walked her to her ride. Her two-door Aston Martin coupe was killing the parking lot. Watching her slide behind the steering wheel in those tight curve
-
hugging jeans was torture to my dick. It was time to get up.

We were both doing at least ninety on the highway. There was no traffic out at that time in the morning
, so t
he highways flowed smooth all the way from the riverfront to the lake area. It didn't take long to make it back to my place. Kitty couldn’t believe my house
, and i
t did my pride some good to finally have something that impressed her. That was my opening.

A
s I began to give
Kitty
a tour of my kingdom
,
I popped a bottle of Cristal and handed
her
a glass. She went in and out of every room but one
: m
y bedroom. I couldn’t even get her to step one foot inside the door. She was going to be a bigger challenge than I first thought. If I didn’t think she was worth it
,
I wouldn’t even
have
bothered
-
but I knew she was my Boss Bitch
...a
ll I had to do now was get her to realize it as well.

After the tour
,
I poured us a second glass of champagne and led my guest to the dining room
,
where the Italian feast I
’d
ordered earlier that night was waiting. I knew the owner of Mariono’s well
;
I scratched his back
,
and he scratched mine. He never kept his kitchen open pas
t
eleven and rarely delivered his fine cuisine
-
but this was a personal favor. He owed me one
; a
ctually, he owed me a few
-
but if this went the way I saw it going
,
I
’
d be sure to invite him to our Boss wedding. A nigga was just that sprung
;
I hadn’t even gotten the pussy yet
,
and I was already trying to wife her up.

“You do this for all yo women, Boss?”
s
he tried to act like she wasn’t impressed
,
“
o
r you gonna try and convince me that I’m special?”

I pulled out her chair and waited until she took a seat. She didn’t need me to tell her she was special
; s
he already knew she was. She carried herself like she had royal blood running through her veins. It was the pedigree I wanted in my bloodline. She was the kind of woman I wanted to be the mother of my children. I was starting to think about shit like that. What good was all money, the big house, the cars
,
and all the other perks if you didn’t have anyone to share it with? usere it wNow that we were alone in my home
,
I had the chance to pick her brain and see if the vision I had for my future was anywhere close to the one she had for hers.

I kept the dinner conversation light. We talked enough about ourselves to keep it interesting, but not too much that it got entirely too deep for a first date. It felt good to be in the company of an intelligent woman. Kitty had been places I
’
d only seen in magazines
, and
I listened like an adoring fan while she told me all about her adventures. She made me think about taking my own trips.

After our three course meal
,
we took the conversation into the living room and let our tired bodies relax on my custom ordered caramel leather Natuzzi sectional sofa. Kitty looked good lounging in my usual spot
, and
I didn’t mind
;
I
’
d have let her sit on my lap if that’s what she wanted.

Our third glass of champagne veered the conversation in another direction. I sat back and listened while Kitty told me everything I needed to know about her. She was married before
(t
hat much I already knew
)
, but what happened and why she was now alone was still a mystery to me. I didn’t ask any questions
;
I just sat there with an open mind and paid attention while she told her story.

“His name was Christoff." She smiled as she began to reminisce. “Everybody called him Chris. He hated that name,
‘
Christoff.
’
” She looked at me and laughed at what was obviously an inside joke between her and her husband. “I met him when I was seventeen. My mother hated him
,
”
s
he laughed again
,
“
b
ut then again
,
my mother hates everybody.”
Suddenly, t
he look on her face went from one of joy to one of pain. “Anyway, Chris was twenty years older than me
, but o
ur birthdays were on the
exact
same day. When I turned eighteen
,
he turned thirty-eight.”

“That’s why yo mama hated him
,
” I
said,
offer
ing
up my first comment on her history. “That’s a big age difference.”

“Yeah
,
”
s
he agreed with me. “She thought he was too old for me
,
and she was probably right
-
but I didn’t care. I fell so hard for him so fast.” Tears began to well up in her eyes. “He saw something in me that nobody else did. He believed in me. He supported my ideas
,
”
s
he
said,
wip
ing
away the tears as quickly as they fell
,
“
n
o matter how silly they were.”