Boss Divas (3 page)

I chest-bump his ass, but it's like bumping steel and it doesn't give me any additional room. It doesn't matter. I'm heated and determined to get his ass to see reason. “We stay. We fight, goddamn it. That shit is real, that shit is life. You don't get your fuckin' feelings tripped up over nobody in this game. Fuck them dead niggas—and fuck you if you're afraid to ride this shit until the world blows.”

Python's face purples. “I ain't afraid of shit.”

“Ain't nobody gonna believe that shit if we turn tail and run to Mexico. Trust and believe.”

“Why the fuck can't you understand?” he huffs.

“Oh, I understand. You just need to understand that I ain't going no-muthafuckin'-where. Adios.”

Python wraps his large hand around my throat. “You will do exactly what I tell you to do,” he growls.

“I'm not leaving Memphis,” I rasp with what little oxygen I have.

He squeezes tighter. “You always gotta try me. You know how easy it would be for me to snap your goddamn neck right now?”

“Do what you gotta do.”

He slams my head against the wall—a signature move for him that makes stars dance around my head. “I tell you what's real. As long as you got my last name, I fuckin' own you. You got that shit?”

More stars. But I'm still running on adrenaline. I hock up some spit and launch that shit in his face.

“Fuckin' bitch!” A right hook sends me crashing to the floor. My jaw feels like it's been unhinged and blood pools into my mouth. Before I can react, Python is back on me like white on rice. My fists are smaller, but they pack a powerful punch as I land one blow after another. But Python isn't interested in fighting me anymore, he's ducking and dodging as he yanks my clothes off.

“I fuckin' own you, bitch. I fuckin' own you,” he growls.

I'm as bad as he is because somewhere along the way my anger has turned into lust. I'm on fire for his ass and I start wrestling his shit off, too. When his monster cock slams inside my pussy, I damn near come on the spot. There ain't no fuckin' foreplay. He's murdering my shit and rattling my teeth.

“Say it, bitch. Tell me who this shit belongs to.”

Our bodies pound so hard I revel in the pain and pleasure.

“Say it, goddamn it,” Python demands, jacking my legs up over my head. At no point does his hand ease its grip on my neck. The lack of oxygen intensifies the nut building in my clit.

“SAY IT!”

“I—I—” My brain goes dead. I forgot what jumpstarted this shit. All I know is that I don't want it to end.

“Who's your nigga, Shelle? Whose pussy is this?”

When I still can't answer, he pulls his dick out until just the mushroomed head teases my pussy lips. “Whose is it, Shelle?”

“Yours.” I grab his ass. “Don't stop.”

“Nah. You're a bad bitch. Maybe I should leave you to finish off by your damn self.” He glides his cock over the top of my clit. “Would you like that?”

“Pythoooon,” I whine.

He dips his dick in for one thrust and then backs off again. “Let me hear you say it.”

Going out of my mind, I wrap my legs around his waist in an attempt to fuck
him
instead.

Python presses me back to the floor. “You don't want your man, baby? Huh?”

“Y-yes.” I wiggle my ass and pound on his chest. “Give it to me.”

“Then tell me.”

If my mind was right and I wasn't horny as hell, I'd hold out longer, but at this point I'm one hundred percent his bitch. I tell him what he wants to hear. “It's yours. Yours,” I admit.

“Mine? You sure?”

“Yes! Yes! Stop playing and fuck me,” I shout.

“There you go again.” His dick dives back in and then drills me into the floor. “I'm gonna get that fuckin' mouth under control,” he says, sweating and pumping.

“AHHH. FUCK!” My clit explodes, my pussy come hoses his dick down while my body convulses like I'm in the middle of a grand mal seizure. I'm soaring so high I can't see Earth.

Two more strokes and Python loses his shit, roaring as he whips his dick out and hot, thick globs of come skeet all over my body. He collapses leaving a sweaty, funky mess on top of me. “I swear to God, Shelle, if you ever try to leave—or do me dirty . . . ,” he whispers while nibbling on my neck. “I'll fuckin' kill you.”

I
wake up choking on rancid air and burning oil and then struggle to lift my head and open my eyes. I can't see shit and every bone in my old body hurts. Coughing makes my chest feel like it's on fire and my head feels like it's stuffed with bricks.

SQUUUUEEEEEKKK.
A door's rusted hinges threaten to pop my eardrum as a whoosh of cool air eases the burn in my chest.

“Lady. Lady. Are you all right?” a frantic woman asks, shaking my shoulder.

“Aaaaagh!” I knock her hand off of me. “What are you tryna do, kill me?” I glare at her, but I'm confused as to why she looks like a blurry smudge. I blink, but it gets worse.

“I'm sorry, but do you know what you just did?” she asks. “You saved my life.”

“I did? Well, who the hell are you?” I blink again. “Why in the hell can't I see shit?”

The smudge inches closer. “You were in a car accident,” she says.

I was?
I think for a moment and memories come rushing back to me. Darkness. Pain. Hunger.
Alice
—my sister.
The crazy bitch kidnapped me.
I remember now. Alice snatched me from my own house after she killed Cedric. I've been locked up for months. More memories race by until I'm nauseous and I start to dry heave. Every muscle in my body locks up. I haven't eaten in a long time.

“Are you sure you're all right?” the woman asks, sounding shaken up herself.

I nod and peel my eyes open.
I need to get to the hospital.
Everything remains a blur—but I'll live. Thank God. Pushing away the deflated air bag, I turn in my seat and attempt to climb out of the van. But I forget I only have one leg and I hit the ground.

“Aw, shit!”

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“Yeah. Just help me up.” I swing an arm around her shoulder. Despite my ass being thin as a rail, it takes some time and work to get me propped up. By the time I'm up on my good leg, I'm a sweaty mess—but at least my vision is clearing up.

The white woman in front of me has blond hair and large, frightened blue eyes. But she's fucked up with a busted lip and a purple bruise over her left temple.

Dribbles.
I remember now. She stole my nephew Mason.

“Look. We gotta get out of here,” Dribbles says. “We need to find help. Okay? Let's go!”

I ignore her hysterics and look around. “Where is Alice? I need to see her.”

“Forget about her.” Dribbles directs me back to the van. “She's dead. All right? We have to go.”

“There she is.” I swat Dribbles's hands away, brace myself against the van, and then hop toward the hood. By the time I make it, my vision is twenty-twenty and I take in the bloody scene in front of me.

The top half of Alice's body is folded over the hood of the van while the rest of her is pinned against the oak tree. But she's not dead.

Not yet.

She's trembling while small bubbles of blood form around her mouth.

“Alice,” I gasp, shaking my head.

“Leave her,” Dribbles begs, tugging my arm. “We have to go.”

With my gaze locked on my baby sister, I fight off the woman's grabby hands again. “Child, go on and sit down and calm your nerves,” I tell her. “We'll get out of here soon enough.”

Dribbles sobs, but falls back to let me do what I gotta do.

I hobble up close and brush back globs of Alice's hair so that I can see her face better. Under the moonlight, Alice resembles the fragile twelve-year-old girl I remember nearly forty years ago—the same little girl who was raped by my former cokehead boyfriend, Leroy. He ripped her world apart and despite killing him, she was never the same.

Years later,Alice was a strung-out junkie who dumped her first kid on me and then bounced.When she popped up again, she was delivering a second baby, Mason. That time, she claimed she was going to take care of him. Convinced herself that she was going to be a good mother. That was until I showed up one day and found her strung out in her nasty apartment and Mason missing. There was a city-wide search, but everyone believed she'd sold the child for a few crack rocks—including me.

Guilt sinks like a jagged rock in the pit of my stomach as I look at my broken sister. Despite the hell she has put me through, I'm fucked up about the way this shit has gone down.

Alice convulses and more blood bubbles around her nose and mouth. Her body is shutting down. Whatever the fuck I need to say, I better say it now—but I'm speechless. This situation got my head and my heart fucked up.

“Please, let's go,” Dribbles whines.

Ignoring her, I lean toward Alice so that I can be in her line of vision. When I'm close enough for her to hear me, I speak from the bottom of my heart. “I hope you rot in
hell
, bitch.”

Like in a horror movie,Alice shoots out a bloody hand and grabs a patch of my hair.

Dribbles screams.

“Shit!” I jerk back, but she has a death grip on my shit and almost snatches it clean off.

With a force that belies her condition, Alice pulls me back down to her eye level.

She works her mouth for several seconds before her voice stutters, “I—I'll meet y-you in h-hell.” She chokes, gurgles, and then, at last, goes still.

The light in her eyes fades under the moonlight.
It's over. She's dead.

“Help me,” I shout, struggling to pry myself loose.

Dribbles hesitates, but when she finally sees that Alice isn't moving, she rushes over. “Can we
please
go now?” Dribbles begs, pulling me along. “I'll drive,” she announces and then shoves me into the passenger seat. Once she slams the door, my gaze returns to my sister through the cracked windshield. The scene is surreal, but I'm ready to put this shit behind me.

Dribbles climbs in behind the wheel and fights with the deflated air bag before turning the ignition. The engine plays like it doesn't want to start. “No. No. No. Please, don't do this, God,” she begs. She tries it a couple more times and just when I think our asses are going to have to hitchhike, the engine roars to life.

Dribbles shifts into reverse and jams the accelerator—but our asses don't move. The tires just spin in one spot.

“Shit. We're stuck,” she states the obvious. “I don't fuckin' believe this.”

“I do.” It's the kind of luck I've been having lately.

She tries it again—but nothing. “One of us is going to have to get out and push.”

I glance down at my leg and then back at her. “And which one of us do you suppose that should be, chile?”

“Fuck!” Dribbles shifts back into park and climbs out of the van.

I struggle and fight my way back over into the driver's seat.

At the front of the van, Dribbles's face twists in disgust as she gets next to Alice and places her hands on top of the hood. “Ready?” She shouts.

I shift into reverse. “Ready!”

The petite white woman shoves her entire weight against the van while I floor the accelerator. The tires spin and kick out dirt, but nothing happens.

Fuck.
I take my foot off the accelerator while my mind scrambles for a solution. We need to place something underneath the tires. I glance back at my nana Maybelle's old, desolate house.
There's no fucking way I'm going back in there.

“Let's try it again!” Dribbles shouts, after scooting even closer to Alice's dead body.

I floor the accelerator with a fevered prayer, “Please Lord, one more miracle.”

The tires spin.

The van rocks.

The van rockets backward.

Dribbles face-plants into the dirt while Alice's body remains pinned to the van. When I'm clear of the soft earth and hit gravel, I slam the brakes.

“Thank you, Lord. Thank you.” Tears race down my face. They've been pent up for more years than I have time to count.
It's over. Thank you, Jesus.

Dribbles picks herself off the ground and runs to the van. She stops for a few seconds to stare at Alice, then cautiously walks over to the body and pulls it off the hood by the shoulders.

Alice collapses with an audible thump. My stomach pitches acid up my throat, and I throw the van door open in time to empty it onto the ground. My abdominal muscles twist and cramp to the point that I can't straighten back up.

“Are you all right?”

I can't answer her. It hurts too much.

Dribbles shoves me over to the passenger side while she climbs behind the wheel again.

If I weren't so weak, I'd curse this bitch out, but right now I want to curl up and go to sleep for ten years. However, there's a voice in the back of my head that says to resist because I might have a concussion. Relying on my survivor skills, I force my eyes to stay open. It's hard to keep my shit together while the van jostles violently down the rocky gravel road. It feels like forever before Dribbles gets us on smooth asphalt and mounts distance between us and that house of horrors.

“Hang in there,” Dribbles says. “I'll get you to the hospital.”

Nodding, I force myself to relax. Headlights, street lamps, and niggas mobbin' ten and twenty deep all zoom by my window. I'm finally back among the living.

Minutes later, Baptist Memorial Hospital comes into view.

Dribbles jumps out of the van under the EMERGENCY sign and hollers for help.

A team rushes toward the van. Even one of Memphis's boys in blue tag along. I can honestly say that I've never been more thrilled to see a cop in my life.