Boss Divas by De'nesha Diamond Page A

climbs a few more notches. The level of disrespect from Profit is straining the fuck out of my patience. The line rolls to voice mail and I disconnect the call and rush over to the bedroom window. “His car isn’t parked in his drive,” I tell Mason. “Maybe he already knows.”
    â€œKidnapped.” Mason is visibly shaken. Dribbles has always had her problems but there is no doubt that Mason loves her. “Alice Carver.”
    I glance back at hearing him say his mother’s name. He’s struggling to keep his emotions in check.
    â€œLet’s roll,” Mason orders.
    We take thirty minutes to shit, shower, and change before scrambling out. I’m aware that the second we walk out the door that all hell is gonna break loose. Fat Ace’s miraculous rise from the dead will be official.
    We take two steps out the door and see Profit’s ride blaze down Ruby Cove toward his crib.
    â€œWait. There he goes.”
    I spot his girl Ta’Shara in the back seat and Dribbles riding shotgun. The anxiety rolling around in my gut relaxes a bit even as Mason and I break out into a slow trot toward Mason’s old place.
    When the car is parked, Dribbles climbs out and the first thing I see is the battery of bruises on her face.
    â€œWhat the fuck?” Mason takes off.
    As we’re rushing toward the house, niggas around us stop dead in their tracks. Next comes the finger pointing—and then the whispers.
    â€œPROFIT—MOM,” Mason barks when he’s inches from the driveway.
    Profit climbs out of the car and freezes.
    Mason quickens his pace.
    Dribbles removes her shades. “Oh my God.” Her mouth falls open and then, in the next second, she slaps a hand across it in stunned disbelief. “Mason.”
    Profit is still unable to move as his mother takes off running.
    Mason grins from ear to ear as he sweeps his mother up into his arms and swings her around.
    â€œMy baby! My baby!” Dribbles shouts. She doesn’t give a damn about the crowd they drew. She keeps peppering Mason’s burned face with kisses. “You’re alive! You’re alive!”
    Profit moves away from his car door like a rusted robot, his eyes dilated with shock. He takes in the afro, the beard—and the eyes. “How in the fuck?” At last, he accepts that his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen monopolizes his face.
    Mason sets his mom back down in time to receive a quick one-armed hug and a shoulder bump from his little brother.
    â€œI don’t understand? How in the fuck are you alive? Where the fuck have you been?” Profit fires off.
    â€œWell, I fuckin’ missed you, too.” Mason sweeps both his momma and his brother into his mountainous arms.
    â€œOh, shit. It is that muthafucka!”
    A lone voice shouts from behind us. A thick mob, about fifty deep, creeps toward us like the zombies on Walking Dead . Their eyes are wide. Their mouths open.
    â€œYo, Fat Ace is alive,” another voice shouts.
    â€œFat Ace! Fat Ace!,” they chant at the top of their voices until his name rings out from every inch of Ruby Cove.
    Sixty deep.
    Seventy deep.
    Eighty deep.
    This Lewis family Kodak moment transforms into a city-block celebration. Shots are fired in the air and somebody cranks up the music. It’s official. Memphis’s chief Vice Lord is back.
    The streets will never be the same.

Skeletons

16
    Qiana
    â€œY ou need to get rid of that damn baby,” Li’l Bit says, shaking her head. “It was all over the news last night that they found that bitch and Tyneshia’s bodies last night.”
    â€œI know. I know.” I sit across from her at my kitchen table, tryna spoon-feed Jayson this yucky oatmeal stuff, but he’s more interested in playing in the shit and splashing it everywhere.
    â€œYou know?” Li’l Bit asks. “Then what’s the plan? You’re