Boss Divas (8 page)

H
e's alive.

I'm scared to go to sleep, afraid that I'll wake up to an empty bed, like this is all a crazy dream. I can take a lot of shit, but I won't be able to take that. I lost him once—I can't do that shit again.

Mason must feel the same way because after a long session of lovemaking he's lying beside me and staring into my eyes. Only Mason knows how to transform me from a stone-cold killer to a passionate woman.

I'm his bitch.

I'm his woman.

I'm his everything.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Dawn comes too soon. At any moment, the real world outside my window will intrude. There's so much to tell him—so much has happened since his “death” that I don't know where to start. The wars, the infighting—the deaths.

“Whassup, Willow?” He brushes a kiss against my lips. “What's got you thinking so hard?”

“Bishop,” I whisper, my voice shaky as fuck. “He's dead.”

Mason stiffens. He waits as if expecting a punch line; but after reading the truth in my face, he bounces out of the bed with an explosive, “FUUUCCCKKKK!” When that isn't enough, he grabs my lamp from the nightstand and launches it toward the wall.

He looks around for something else to break, but then forces himself to stop. He stands next to the bed, huffing out his rage and pain. He and Bishop were like brothers. I know the news of his death is ripping a hole in his heart.

“WHO?”

“The Grape Street Crips.”

He twists around, his face incredulous. “Those crooked-walking muthafuckas came hard at us like that? Where the fuck did they get the balls?”

“The shit took us by surprise.”

“Nah. Nah. Those niggas were on the come-up 'cause they thought the king had fallen. They tested your skirts—”

“And they're all gonna feel my blade for that shit,” I shout back. He's making it sound like I couldn't handle the job. “Bishop fucked up and let the wrong bitches get too close to him at Da Club. It was a setup to jack him and his boys' poker game, and the shit must have went to the left.”

“A couple of bitches took my man out?”

“The hardest lesson for y'all niggas to learn is to trust no bitch,” I tell him. “There were six muthafuckas involved. Five Crippettes and a getaway nigga that I sliced up last night.”

Mason cocks a brow. “You put in work last night, Willow?”

“And I will every night until I cut the head off their leader—that fuckin' double-flaggin' snake, Shariffa.”

“Why do I know that name?”

“She's one of Python's ex-wifeys.”

“So she's a Queen G?”

“No. She was kicked off her throne a while back so she slithered over to the Grapes and locked down their chief.”

“That takes talent. I didn't know Lynch's ass was into recycling.” Mason sneers, shaking his head. “The whole damn world has gone crazy.”

“Crazy or not, I'm gutting every one of those bitches—nice and slow.” My anger has me simmering again. “That Crunk nigga I sliced up sang like a bird. Lynch's chick got the wrong understanding on who runs these streets. I'm fuckin' duty bound to formally introduce myself. You feel me?”

Mason bobs his head, though I can tell that the news is still eating away at him. “A'ight. I'll let you handle that.” He climbs back in bed.

My body instantly welcomes his warmth.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, softly. He knows better than anyone that despite all the sibling bullshit, the love between me and my brother ran deep.

“I'm all right—better now that you're here.”

He takes my chin between his fingertips and tilts up my head. “You're always the strong one.”

“I don't know how to be any other way,” I confess.

“I wouldn't want you any other way.”

We kiss. It's one of those slow, mouth-exploring kisses and it makes me melt into his arms all over again. His hands drift down my body, caress my belly, and then encircle my waist. He pulls back with a soft chuckle.

“My lady has gotten a little thick around the middle while I was gone.”

The baby.
I still haven't told him about the baby.

“Hey. Don't worry.” He pulls me closer. “I love a woman with a little meat on her bones.” He nibbles on my bottom lip.

“Is that right?”

“Um, hmm. More cushion for the pushin.” He slaps me on the ass and then squeezes it.

“I don't know. Maybe we need to ease up on all that pushing,” I say.

“What? Don't tell me that I've already wore your ass out.”

“Ha! Check your ego at the door. I'm giving your ass a break since you've been rehabbing out in the woods like a black Grizzly Adams.” I roll him onto his back and then climb up to straddle his monster cock. No words can describe how good it feels to ride his smooth, satiny dick. His shit stretches and fills me up.

Golden morning sunlight slices through my venetian blinds and gives me a better view of my king—in the streets
and
in my bed. Gently, I run my fingers over his burned skin. His gaze locks onto my mine and I know that he's tryna see whether I find him repulsive, but the opposite is true. He's the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen.

Squeezing my pussy muscles as I ride, I watch him squirm and writhe beneath me.

“Aw, shit,” he pants.

“You like that?” I pick up the pace until our bodies slap together, giving me a nice sting against my ass.

“That's right, Willow. Fuck me. Fuck your nigga. Show me how much you missed this fuckin' dick.”

My grip on his dick tightens. His breathing becomes choppy as he grabs my waist so that he can control our rhythm.

I knock his hands off, but then pin them down on opposite sides of his head. “I got this.”

Mason chuckles and moans at the same time. I can see in his face that he wants to shoot off, but he's fighting it.

“You wanna fuckin' come, baby?” I tease him.

He growls while sweat beads across his brow.

“Answer me, baby,” I lean forward and lick the side of his face. “Don't you want to come in my sweet pussy?”

“Grrrrr.”

“Ain't this the best pussy you ever had?”

“Fuck yeah.”

I find the strength to grip him tighter. “Then come for me. Show me how much you love this pussy.” I love him for submitting to me. Some niggas don't know how to let a woman be in control. A smile creeps across my face when his bottom lip quivers. He's about to nut.

“That's it, baby. C'mon. Come for momma.”

“AHHHHHHHHH!” His arms break free from my grasp as he sits up and wraps his meaty arms around my waist.

Within seconds, my body explodes and honey gushes between my legs, sticking us together.

Exhausted, I curl up against his chest.

Mason keeps his arms wrapped around me and peppers the top of my head with kisses. “I love you, Willow,” he whispers.

My eyes fly back open.

“I had to get back here so I could tell you that. I have always loved you.”

Lifting my head, I look up into his eyes. “I love you, too.”

My cell phone rings, but I don't have the strength to answer it.

“Don't you think that you should get that?” Mason asks.

“Nah. There is such a thing as voice mail.” As soon as the ringing stops it starts up again. “Shit.”

“It may be important,” he says.

“It's always important. These soldiers need constant babysitting. But right now, all I want to do is sleep, fuck, and sleep some more.”

“Yeah?”

“Um-hmm. We can work out the other shit later.”

“What other shit?”

“Like, how are we going to handle your whole return-from-the-dead situation?” I say, resting my chin in the center of his chest. “Everyone is going to freak out.”

“First, we'll call a meeting with all our top people, and then we put the word out to all the foot soldiers and corner boys. They'll spread the shit far and wide in the streets that I'm back.”

I smile. “Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that. I'll be a legend.”

“You
and
Python.”

He flinches and diverts his gaze from mine.

“I don't know if you know, but he survived that crash, too.” I watch him, trying to catch a flicker of emotion. He doesn't know that I found out about his family's dark secret—that he and Python are brothers. His mother spilled the beans. How and why he kept something like that from me for all these years, I don't know.

“No. I didn't know that.”

“Yeah. Profit and I sniffed him out after his wedding, if you can believe it. He married that crazy bitch, LeShelle. We drove by to pay our respects, replaced the confetti with bullets.”

“Let me guess. He survived that shit, too?”

“What can I say? You two have a lot in common.”

He stares at me.

“You both have nine lives,” I answer, intending the double meaning.

“Humph. So the war continues,” he grumbles under his breath. “I'll catch up with that muthafucka sooner or later.”

I nod, but get nowhere trying to read him. Gangster Disciples and Vice Lords were beefing long before there were eight-tracks. I've always thought, Mason's main drive to defeat the GD's head nigga was about the shoot-out that cost him an eye, but now I'm wondering if it has more to do with Python killing Melanie. Not because she was Cousin Skeets's daughter, but because he was in love with her.

My heart drops into the pit of my stomach. After all, he didn't crawl into my bed until after she was out of the picture. “Well,” I break in to change the subject. “I think the first person we need to talk to is Profit. He isn't too happy with me nowadays and he ain't shy about lettin' my ass know it.”

A goofy smile breaks out across Mason's face. “Is that right? Lil man missed his big bro?”

“Fuck yeah. He was tore up over the shit. I can't wait to see his face when he sees you.”

He sits up. “I can't wait to see his ass either. Maybe we should do that shit first thing. Call him over for breakfast.”

“
If
he takes my call.”

Mason frowns. “It's
that
serious? What went down?”

My cell phone goes off again. “Fuck.”

“Answer it.” He slaps my butt. “Clearly, whoever it is is going to keep calling until you pick it up.”

Annoyed, I stretched over and grab the phone. “Yeah. What is it?”

“HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD!”

I almost didn't recognize my momma's wailing. “Momma, calm down.”

“HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD.”

“I know, Momma. I know.” I climb off of Mason and swing my legs over the bed. “But Bishop wouldn't want you to be crying like this,” I say soothingly, though I have no idea if that shit is true or not.

“No. Not Bishop. It's
Melvin
. He's dead. It's all over the news,” she screeches.

“What?” Did I hear her right? “Cousin Skeet?”

“OH, GOD. WHHHHYYYYY?”

“Holy shit!” I bounce out of bed and hit the television from across the room.

“Whassup?” Mason asks.

“Barbara Lewis,” Mason responds, catching his mother's name. “What the fuck? Has the whole damn world gone crazy since I've been gone?”

“M
aybelline, can you wake up for me?” a man's voice floats somewhere above me. I wish that he would go away. This sleep is feeling too good. In fact, I wouldn't mind lying here forever. “Maybelline?” he persists—to the point that I don't think that he's ever going away. “Maybelline?”

“Whaaaat?” My small grunt irritates my dry throat and I erupt into a coughing frenzy—which makes it worse.

“That's it. That's it. Here. Drink some water.”

Someone helps tip my head up and I lean and take a sip from the cup. Sweet Jesus, it's the best water that I've ever tasted.

The spasm disappears and I collapse back against a hard bed and a flat pillow.

“Feel better?” the voice asks.

I nod and start to drift back to sleep.

“Maybelline, do you think that you can wake up and answer a few questions for me?” the voice asks

“C'mon, Maybelline. I need you to wake up,” he insists. “C'mon.”

Since he's working my last nerve, I go ahead and fight to open my eyes, but they fuckin' weigh a goddamn ton.

“Thata girl.” A blurry face is now attached to the voice. It's an old white man with cotton-white hair and beard. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” I croak and then remember my vow to turn over a new leaf. “I don't feel well,” I amend.

“I'm afraid that you're going to be feeling like that for a while,” he says, flashing a small light into each of my eyes. “I'm Dr. Berg and I'm going to be your primary doctor during your stay here at the hospital. Do you remember how you came to be here?”

I hesitate. I haven't had time to come up with a story or at the bare minimum sync my shit up with that crazy, baby-stealing bitch, Dribbles. Should I play dumb and say Alice was plum crazy and I don't know why the fuck she did what she did, or confess the truth and let the chips fall where they may? I should send that white bitch to jail.

That's a dangerous question because I don't like the answer. The truth would draw
waaaay
too many secrets out of the closet and have them play out on the evening news—and what's the point in that?

Alice is dead.

Python is dead.

Mason is dead.

“It's okay if you can't answer right now,” Dr. Berg reassures me. “Judging by the trauma you've sustained, it's not unusual to suffer some memory loss
.
”

A lie of omission—I can roll with that for now.

“Rest. I'm gonna do all I can to take real good care of you.” He opens a folder. “If you're feeling sore, it's because we had to pump an awful lot of nasty toxins out of your system. Somebody upstairs must be looking out for you. It's a miracle you're still with us.”

I smile.
You have no idea.

“
But
. . . you have sustained some kidney damage, though I don't think you'll need dialysis. We can probably fix it with medication. You also have two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder.

“The good news is that you'll survive. We're going to work hard to get you through this,” he reassures. “Now is there anything else that I can do for you? Are you comfortable?”

“All right. Save your energy.” He presses a hand against my good shoulder. “I'll be back to check on you later.” He steps away from the bed only to be replaced by a female cop. She's not in a uniform, but I know a cop when I see one. My mood goes from bad to worse.

The chick stares at me, to the point that I think that she's waiting for my ass to say something first.

“Uh, hello,” I say.

She snaps out of her trance. “Hello, Mrs. Goodson. I'm Captain Hydeya Hawkins with the Memphis Police Department. I was hoping that I could take a few minutes of your time and ask you some questions—I need a statement from you about exactly what happened between you and your sister over the last few months?”

“I . . . I . . .” My throat spasms out and I start coughing again.

A nurse appears out of nowhere and helps me get down some more water.

“Captain, maybe this can wait for another time,” Dr. Berg interjects, saving my ass.

She hesitates, and then gives me a stiff smile. “All right.” She reaches inside her jacket, removes a card, and places it on the table beside my bed. “I'll be back later—but if you want to talk sooner, give me a call.” She flashes me another fake smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

As she turns and heads for the door, it hits me that she reminds me of someone, but I can't put my finger on who.

The captain opens the door and allows the doctor to walk ahead of her. She pauses and we exchange a long stare before she finally walks out.

I stare at the closed door and review what just happened. “Mrs. Goodson?” No one ever calls me by my married name—not even my no-good husband who's currently serving a bid in the federal pen.
Maybe she's already done her homework on me. Lord knows I have a lifetime of arrests to keep her entertained.

Tired, I dismiss the incident and close my eyes for a second. When I open them again, it's three hours later and there's a bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. Curious, I reach for the small, white envelope nestled in the center of the arrangement.

D—Dribbles. I roll my eyes. It's gonna take more than flowers to make up for what she's done to my family.

“Knock, knock,” a voice singsongs.

I look up and see Dribbles, walking in with another bundle of flowers. Her face is banged up, but it doesn't stop her from spreading a smile across her busted lip.

“Oh good. You're up.” She enters, waving in people behind her.

In comes a tall, good-looking young man who has me lifting an interested brow. Behind him, a young fresh-faced little girl with sad, troubled eyes.

“I hope you don't mind,” Dribbles says. “But Ms. Maybelline Carver, I'd like to introduce you to my son, Raymond, and his girlfriend—ah, I'm sorry, what is your name again?”

“Ta'Shara,” the girl answers. “Ta'Shara Murphy.”

I choke.

“Oh, goodness.” Dribbles rushes to the bed and quickly prepares me another cup of water.

Now I'm coughing and drowning at the same time. Tilting me forward, Dribbles gets the bright idea to whack me on the back.

“Mom,” Raymond says, coming forward, hopefully to save my ass. “You're hurtin' her.”

“Oh.” She stops. “I'm sorry. Are you all right?”

“Fine.” I croak, holding out my hands and signaling for her not to touch my ass again. I glance back at LeShelle's sister, confused.
Wasn't she locked up in a mental hospital?

“Anyway,” Dribbles says, “we didn't get a chance to formally meet and . . . after you saved my life like that I . . . wait. Where's my head? I'm Barbara Lewis.” Unable to keep her hands to herself, she grabs my hand and squeezes it tight. “I thank God that you were there last night. I mean, I hate that you went through all that you went through with Alice and everything, but—”

“Mom. She gets it,” Raymond cuts her off with a smile.

Nice dimples.
The old cougar in me sits up and takes notice. If I didn't look a hot mess, I'd give his young girl a run for her money.

The ceiling lights flicker. Remembering God can hear my thoughts, I wipe the smile off my face and mentally apologize for my impure thoughts.
Oh God. This shit might be harder than I thought.

Raymond takes my hand from his mother's and instantly my body is infused with lust.

“Thank you for saving my mom's life.” He glances at Dribbles and sighs. “I'd be lost without her. We've already suffered an incredible loss in the family and—”

“Mason.” My eyes wet up.

Raymond blinks. “You knew my brother?”

My gaze shoots to Dribbles.

She places a hand on my good shoulder, while panic enlarges her blue eyes.
Fuck
this bitch. I don't owe her damn thing. “Mason was my nephew. Your mother stole—”

“Raymond, honey, can you give us a few minutes alone please?”

“—him from us. Your momma should be in jail.”

Raymond drops my hand like a hot poker.

“Raymond, please?” Dribbles insists, her voice squeaking.

Silence fills the room as Raymond backpedals. He looks stunned, but not surprised. Suddenly, he turns, grabs his girlfriend's hand, and bolts out of the room.

“You didn't have to do that.”

“Fuck you.” I look her up and down. “I don't understand how you could just take Mason like that. The whole city was looking for him. We thought he was dead.
I
thought he was dead. You didn't hear all the names I called my sister—or how I turned my back on her.”

Dribbles sighs and lowers her head. “Let me explain.”

“You ain't got to explain shit.Your ass needs to be locked up.”

Dribbles shakes her head. “You don't understand. You weren't there. Alice was fuckin' out of her mind. Doped up and knocked out. We found Mason screaming his head off inside the fuckin'
oven.
Who does that shit? I mean . . . I'm no fuckin' angel and I had the same monkey on my back and I wouldn't have never done no shit like that.”

“The oven?” I flash back to that day when I'd showed up at Alice's apartment. She was knocked out with her crack rocks lying everywhere and Mason nowhere to be found.

“Me and my man kept thinking: what if she'd turned it on?” Dribbles asks. “What if we didn't show up when we did?”

Her question gut checks me, but I still can't let go of my anger. “You didn't have the fuckin' right to keep him. He had a family. I was his family. I would've taken care of him.”

“I get that you're upset, but, at the time, with all the media attention, it would've brought a lot of heat on us and our situation.”

“You mean you didn't want to go to jail.”

“For doing the right thing?” Dribble snaps back.

I can't fuckin' believe this bitch. “You don't get it. You stole my sister's baby. You stole her life. You stole her sanity—what was left of it. I turned my back on her over this shit.
That's
why my ass was in that fuckin' basement.
That's
why she beat and poisoned my ass, because of
you
.”

“You need to bounce out of here,” I tell her. “I made a mistake in saving your ass because the way I see it right now, you deserve to be in that fuckin' grave Alice was about to put you in. What you did is unforgiveable.”

Dribbles's eyes fill with tears, but the fuckin' waterworks ain't gonna work on my ass. “Are you going to tell the police?”

I let the question hang in the air for a long time. “What's the point? They're all dead now. Every last fuckin' one of them.”

Dribbles reaches for my hand, but I jerk it away.

“Get the fuck out of here before I finish what Alice started.”