The Boss

by Aya De León

  “I think so,” Marisol said. “I haven’t seen her in years, but she was always good folks. Why?”

  “She’s Etta Hughes now,” Tyesha said. “She’s married to Teddy Hughes.”

  “The owner of the One-Eyed King?” Marisol said. “How did I miss that?”

  Tyesha explained Etta’s offer, the gun in exchange for Teddy backing the union.

  “But can we trust her?” Tyesha asked. “To keep him to his word.”

  “Definitely,” Marisol said. “Etta was always very persuasive with men.”

  “You’re not really gonna do this, are you?” Eva said.

  “I think we have to at least try,” Marisol said. “We can’t have girls getting shot at by these mobsters. The only way to get them to leave the girls alone is if they don’t have a stake in the business.”

  “Okay,” said Tyesha. “I guess we’re robbing the mob.”

  Book 3

  Chapter 10

  Several days after Marisol came back from Cuba, Tyesha walked into her own apartment, heavy-lidded and still slightly sex-drunk.

  She had come home after that first night with Woof to check on the girls. They had bounced back from their parents’ fight. Staying at their auntie’s house lifted their spirits—Jenisse and Zeus could act crazy, but they didn’t have to stay and witness it. Tyesha had given them spare keys and told them to make themselves at home.

  Now she was back a few days later, and creeping into her own house at five a.m. Deza and Amaru were asleep side-by-side on the fold-out couch. Deza lay on her stomach, her hand flung out over the edge and hovering in space. Amaru’s elbow was bent next to her head and her forearm pressed down her short hair. She snored slightly.

  Tyesha recalled babysitting them when she was young. How relieved she was when they finally fell asleep. She wasn’t that much older than them. Just twenty-nine to Deza’s nineteen and Amaru’s fourteen. But it was this nostalgic memory—along with the sex—that made her feel generous and forgiving toward them.

  The place was a mess, but she couldn’t quite get mad about it. Several pizza boxes littered the coffee table. In the kitchen, Tyesha learned that pizza delivery seemed to be the plan B, as every scrap of edible food in the fridge had been eaten, along with all the ramen, canned tuna, and crackers.

  The sink was full of dishes. The kitchen table was cluttered with pressing irons, fake hair, and debris from a home perm.

  The tubes from the perm just reminded Tyesha of lube and had her smiling to herself. She couldn’t seem to get mad. Even when a glance at her closet showed that the girls had raided it. Likely Deza for the femme clothes, although a sniff of her overcoat revealed that Amaru had worn that particular garment. She always smelled of peppermint soap, whereas Deza wore a trendy department store perfume.

  Tyesha saw the orchid from Woof, nearly hidden on the coffee table among the girls’ mess. She swooped it up and took it into her bedroom. The light wasn’t as good, but she didn’t want it to get knocked over. Or worse yet, crushed under a sodden basketball jersey.

  The bathroom was a wreck, with blue hair dye pooling in standing water at the bottom of the sink. Tyesha’s hairbrush was a tangle of hair, various colors and lengths, as if both girls had used it.

  But she lost it when she saw the curling iron still plugged in, still hot. Only an inch away from a crumpled tissue and a ball of fake hair.

  She tore into the living room and woke the girls up.

  “No, no, no, and hell no,” she said. “Wake the fuck up, Deza, I need you to see this.” She waved the curling iron in front of the two girls. “You really need to clean this place up, but I coulda waited til daylight to tell you that. On the other hand, this curling iron? Hot? Left on for hours next to tissue and fake hair? Hell, no. Hell motherfucking no. You wanna stay here? I need to NEVER see any shit like this again. I bought this co-op apartment, and I’ll be damned if it I let you burn it down.”

  “I didn’t do nothing, Auntie Ty,” Amaru said. “You know that was Deza.” She groaned and rolled over.

  “I know you get up to pee at least once every night, which means you walked right by that curling iron with its little red light on.”

  “Sorry, Auntie,” Amaru said, and buried her head under the covers.

  Deza, however, was more awake.

  “You been at Thug Woofer’s this whole time?” she asked hopefully.

  “No,” Tyesha said, the heat from the curling iron in her hand inspiring malice. “I spent the last few nights with Clarence.”

  * * *

  The next day, Marisol and Tyesha walked down to the waterfront to meet the strip club owner and his wife.

  “Even though she knows me, I want you to take charge of the meeting,” Marisol said. “You’re the executive director now.”

  The day was hot and humid, but a cooler breeze came up off the river. It brought the briny smell of polluted water. A ferry glided by in the distance.

  After a gaggle of tourists set off on a walking tour, Tyesha could see Teddy and Etta Hughes headed toward them. He had that distinctive Grecian Formula black hair, and she had her sandy brown hair piled up on top of her head. As the couple approached, the wife’s face broke into a big smile, and she stepped forward to hug Marisol.

  “Let’s get right to it,” Tyesha said. “What does the mob have on you?”

  “I’m just supposed to tell all here?” he asked, his craggy face pinched into a frown. “Like these two girls are supposed to help me get out from under the entire Ukrainian mafia?”

  “Don’t waste our fucking time,” Tyesha said. “You wanna be squeezed between the mob and a well-organized group of sex workers who have the New York Times on speed dial, be my guest.”

  “Teddy, she’s right,” his wife said. “I called them because I know they can help. You gotta trust somebody.”

  “Your wife told us that they had evidence to connect you to a homicide,” Tyesha said. “Is it true they have the weapon?”

  He blew his breath out. “They have the gun. I didn’t do it, but it has my prints.”

  “We don’t care if you did it or not. If we get it, will you agree to our unionization demands? Sick leave. Worker’s comp, unemployment, and health insurance. Overtime pay for holidays. No fees for dancing. Bring back the second dressing room. Plus a retirement fund.”

  “You have my word,” he said. “If you can really get the mob off my ass.”

  “Your ass is your own business,” Tyesha said. “All we’re agreeing to do is get the gun. No guarantees.”

  “And if you don’t get it,” he said, “you can kiss your union good-bye.”

  “Obviously,” Tyesha said. “But we won’t be refunding any of the expenses.”

  “What expenses?” he demanded.

  “The expenses of setting up the heist,” Tyesha said. “You think the head of the Ukrainian mob will give us your gun because we’re cute and we ask nicely? Or maybe he just leaves it laying around and we can swap places with the house cleaners?”

  “Think about it,” Marisol said. “He’ll probably have all kinds of security we’ll need to get past.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll authorize a few hundred.”

  “Hundred?” Tyesha said. “Try a few thousand. We don’t even know his security setup yet.”

  “I’m not gonna let these chicks hustle me,” Teddy said. He turned to walk away.

  “No, baby,” Etta said, grabbing him around the waist. “This is an investment in our future.”

  “But I could spend all this money and they still can’t get the gun back,” he said.

  “It’s cheaper than hiring a lawyer if that gun ever turns up,” she said.

  “I don’t wanna take that risk,” he said.

  “You don’t wanna take that risk?” Tyesha said. “You? Losing a few thousand dollars? You know what? Fuck this bullshit. We’re gonna be the ones risking our lives. Risking jail time for breaking and entering or worse if the mob catches us. And for what? To get
you out of a mess you got yourself into. And what’s our reward? To get you to follow the fucking law and let these workers unionize, just so they can then fight with you to get you to stop treating them like shit? As far as I can see, this is one big fucking charity mission to clean up your mess, and you want us to do it on our own dime? You’re just one entitled motherfucker, aren’t you?” She turned from them. “Come on, Marisol.”

  “Wait!” Etta said, as Marisol turned and fell in step with Tyesha.

  “It’s not your voice I need to hear, Etta,” Tyesha said. “Your man needs to act like he’s the one getting rescued, not the one doing something for us.”

  Etta ran up and grabbed Tyesha’s arm to stop her. She turned back to her husband. “Say something!” Etta yelled.

  He stood silent, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight.

  “I can’t do it,” Etta said, her voice cracking. “I can’t watch you sabotage our only chance to get out from under this. What about me? What about our kids? Maybe she’s right. Maybe you are a selfish, entitled son of a bitch. Maybe I should be the one walking out.”

  She linked her arm through Marisol’s, and the three women turned to leave.

  “Etta, get back here!” he yelled.

  “Why?” she demanded, tears streaming down her face. “So you can sabotage our family with your stubbornness? No, Teddy. You need to make a choice.”

  She turned and followed Tyesha and Marisol.

  “Okay,” he said.

  When Tyesha turned around, his mouth was contracted into a tight circle and his eyes were focused far in the distance past the river.

  Etta ran back to him. “Oh, thank you, baby. You won’t regret this, I promise. These girls are gonna make it right. I know it.”

  Tyesha and Marisol walked slowly back. “Fine,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll agree to your demands.”

  Marisol looked at Etta. “But how do we know we can trust him to keep his word?”

  “We been together almost two decades,” Etta said. “All he’s been talking about these last few years is getting his club back.”

  “Well, I don’t trust him,” Marisol said. “But I trust you.”

  Etta nodded.

  “And I don’t trust either of you,” Tyesha said. “But I trust Marisol, so we’re gonna figure out how to get this gun back. But don’t cross us, or you’ll see that a bunch of pissed and well-organized strippers is a hell of its own.”

  They shook on it, and Tyesha and Marisol headed back to the office.

  * * *

  “You did great,” Marisol said in the back of the cab. “You were tough, direct. Good threats, too.”

  “Sure,” Tyesha said. “I’m fine when it’s just a few people. But that press conference . . . That’s the biggest group I’ve ever stood in front of. I used to get nervous at school, but never quite like this.”

  “Do you wanna maybe talk to Eva about it?” Marisol asked. “It’s not an everyday thing, but part of the job is talking to the public.”

  “Maybe before the next press conference,” Tyesha said. “But right now, we got our hands full running the clinic and trying to rob the mob.”

  That night, Tyesha, Marisol, Kim, and Jody met to plan the mob heist.

  “Just like old times,” Kim said. “Except our mark is the mob and not one of those Ivy Alpha guys.”

  “And we don’t have Kim on the inside,” Jody added. “What’s our point of entry?”

  “Probably our best shot is for somebody here to seduce one of the mob guys,” Marisol said.

  “But it can’t be any of us, because we’ve all been seen in the press conferences,” Kim said.

  “Wait a minute,” Tyesha said. “Jody’s only been seen as herself: short, spiky, sandy blond hair, no makeup, butch clothes. If we do her up as Heidi Honeywell, they’ll never recognize her.”

  Heidi was Jody’s escort persona, a femme fatale.

  “Brilliant,” Kim said.

  “And if we do her up as a blonde, that should give us access via the mobster’s nephew—Ivan, the one who grabbed the girl at the club,” Tyesha said. “She’ll be just his type.”

  “Be careful, baby,” Kim said. “He’s a predator.”

  Jody laughed. “I got something for him. I’m gonna dust off my dominatrix personality. And my Taser.”

  Chapter 11

  The following night, Tyesha and her nieces were playing spades in the apartment when there was a knock at the door.

  “Are you expecting Thug Woofer?” Deza asked, jumping up off the couch and putting on a fresh coat of lipstick.

  “No,” Tyesha said.

  Deza opened the door to find Jenisse.

  “Okay, girls,” her sister said. “Babysitting time with Auntie Ty-Ty is over. So pack up your shit, because we’re going back to Chicago.”

  “What?” Amaru said. “School doesn’t start for another month. I’m just getting into a workout rhythm here.”

  Tyesha came over and put her arm around Amaru.

  “Yeah, Mama,” Deza said. “Auntie Ty’s gonna get me the hookup in my music career.”

  “I know y’all think your Auntie can work miracles, but I’m sure she’s tired of your little slumber party. Especially when she can’t just send you back. Like I said, we’re going back to Chicago. I got your plane tickets. Now go get yo shit and come on.”

  “Mama,” Deza said, “this is some bullshit. We came to New York with no notice, nothing. You were just like, ‘pack yo shit, Zeus is going to New York.’ So we get something going here, and now you’re like ‘let’s go.’”

  “Don’t you cuss at me, little girl,” Jenisse said. “And when you pay the bills, you can make the rules.”

  “It’s not like you pay the bills,” Deza muttered.

  Under her arm, Tyesha could feel Amaru tense.

  Jenisse turned her head sharply. “Excuse me?” Jenisse asked pointedly. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Deza said.

  Jenisse put her hands on her hips, and any pretense at politeness fell away. “Now you listen here, you little ungrateful bitches,” Jenisse said. “That motherfucker doesn’t just pay for shit out of the goodness of his heart. Just because he got money don’t mean we got money, and it certainly don’t mean you got money. I been fucking that nigga and stroking his overblown ego for thirty years to make sure his ass is in a good mood when it’s time to throw down money for his kids. So yes, I do pay the bills. Now get yo asses ready and let’s go.”

  “We’re not going,” Deza said. “You and Zeus have a fucked-up relationship, but that’s not our fault. Auntie Ty said we could stay, and we wanna stay.”

  Amaru swallowed hard and nodded.

  “You think Auntie Ty is ready to take on a pair of no-job heifers like you all?” Jenisse said with a laugh. “Think again.”

  Tyesha looked directly at her sister. “They can stay if they want.” Her voice was gentle, but not apologetic. “It’s up to them.”

  “Oh, so now you want them,” Jenisse said. She turned to her daughters. “You about fifteen years too late. Just so you know, it was your precious auntie who told me to get an abortion when I was pregnant with Amaru. And when I told her I wouldn’t, she said she was sorry I had Deza. That’s right. I gave you life. Life, you ungrateful little bitches. And she thinks you both a mistake. So I’ll be at the hotel, and our flight leaves Saturday. But if you don’t come tonight, you’re on your own to get back to Chicago.”

  Jenisse turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

  Tyesha was stunned. Jenisse’s revelations left her as mute as when she had stood at the podium.

  Amaru was crying, her eyes on the floor with tears dropping down onto the lacquered hardwood.

  Deza’s eyes were focused out the window, staring out as a police car came shrieking up the street, lights flashing, engine roaring, wheels splashing down the slick pavement.

  “Is it true?” Deza asked quietly.

  Tyesha struggled to fo
rm words. “I—it’s—it’s not how it sounded,” Tyesha said, curling her arm tighter around Amaru. “I love you both. It’s—I was just worried about the kind of mom Jenisse was. And I thought . . . she was having kids for the wrong reasons. To keep your father. I mean, when she got pregnant with you, Amaru, your brothers were running the streets and getting into trouble and—”

  She broke off and looked at Deza sitting on the floor against the front of the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees. “Deza, you were barely in kindergarten and Jenisse seemed to think she could just keep having kids and give them to Mama and it was all good, but I knew Mama’s health wasn’t great, and it was only a matter of time before Jenisse was gonna have to actually take care of you, and that looked like a bad plan. The only people Jenisse seemed to be able to think about were herself and Zeus.”

  “You’re right, I guess,” Amaru said. “When we lived with Grandma, it was cool. But since we been living with Ma, it’s been all bad.”

  “But now you got me,” Tyesha said, a tear sliding down her own face. “And getting to know you these past days, I’m so glad you were born. I can’t believe how much I love you both.”

  “But if I got pregnant today, you’d tell me to have an abortion, wouldn’t you?” Deza asked. “Don’t lie.”

  Tyesha blew out her breath. “I—it’s a paradox.” She searched for the words. “It’s like the idea of a child isn’t the same as an actual child. Jenisse having more kids was a bad idea. But then you were born, and you became real. Beautiful, precious human beings.”

  Amaru’s face was still puckered in a frown. “But how can a good life come from a bad decision?” she asked.

  “It’s not about good and bad,” Tyesha said. “It’s about making a commitment to raise a child. Like Deza, if you got pregnant, I’d hope you got an abortion because I know you’d resent the hell out of a kid coming between you and your basketball career. It’s like . . . I believe in protecting and supporting the life that’s already here. So once you got here, I’m committed to making sure you fulfill your dreams . . .”