Boss Mama - Ashon Thadon (reading books for 5 year olds .txt) 📗

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What you do for friends

 

 

 

“I need a gangster bitch! Gangster Bitch! I need to gangster boogie with my gangster bitch! I need a…”

The ringtone and the cell phone buzzing on her night stand woke up Chardae Willows, alias Boss Mama, out of her slumber. She loved that ringtone because it described her to the fullest but at three o’ clock in the morning when she had a massive headache; it was like a church bell banging against her head.

“Whoever calling me this late must be dead already and waiting for me to bury them,” Chardae answered the phone.

“Boss, I’m sorry to be calling you but I…I…” Chardae knew who the person that was on the other end was and now she really mad she answered in the first place.

“What the fuck, Janice,” Chardae expressed her frustration. “Does your hoe ass know what time it is?”

“I...I…know but…but…”Janice was stammering over her words and it sounded like she was whispering.

“Look, hoe, I don’t have time for this especially since you calling me like it’s a booty call, talking all low and shit,” Chardae was fed up. She was missing precious beauty rest time.

“It’s To…Tony… he came home mad again,” Janice sounded like she was on the verge of crying as she tried to speak. “It…it was bad this time. He…”

“I don’t want to hear this shit again,” Chardae stated. “Unless you’re telling me you want Beyoncé to pay him a visit?”

Chardae smiled at the mention of her 9 millimeter chrome black Glock 17 she named Beyoncé because as Chardae once told someone “anytime it sings, people are going to listen and respect it.” Her moniker was embedded on the handle with the words BM. Chardae loved Beyoncé and anytime she went out, Beyoncé stayed right in her back waistline ready to start singing.

“I just need to get away,” Janice said and now Chardae knew Janice was crying.

“Listen, bitch, if I come over, it won’t be pretty,” Chardae warned. “Beyoncé will get on stage if that nigga still there and he acting crazy.”

“Just come get me before…”Janice was in the middle of the sentence when Chardae heard another voice in the background and what sounded like a door being banged on.

“Who the fuck you on the phone with?” Chardae heard the other voice say and more banging. “I know you ain’t calling another nigga while I’m up in this bitch. Open this damn door before I break it in and your face as well!”

Chardae knew automatically who the other voice was and her disgust immediately showed on her pretty face. The threatened voice belonged to Janice’s poor excuse for a baby father and a lover, Tyrel.

“I’m not talking to anyone,” Janice was now moving her voice away from the phone and talking to Tyrel who must have been on the other side of the door. “I’m just using the bathroom!”

“Who the fuck you thinking you yelling at?” Tyrel seemed more agitated. “You done lost your mind, bitch!”

Chardae could hear static like Janice was putting the phone down somewhere to address her irate boyfriend.

“I’m not….ahhhhh!” Chardae was already up and getting dressed when she heard what sounded like a door being tore off its’ hinges and Janice screaming as scuffling can be heard in the background.

Chardae was already out of bed. Chardae quickly put on some clothes and grabbed Beyoncé off the dresser as well. She checked to make sure Beyoncé was locked and loaded then grabbed her phone and car keys.

Chardae got into her car, a Toyota Roadrunner with the initials BM in purple lettering on the front hood and a graphic image of her face placed underneath it. She put her cell phone on the dashboard and started the ignition. She could still hear Janice yelling and screaming like someone was dragging her wherever she was from and beating on her. The more Chardae heard her friend cry out and get brutalize for it, the angrier she got. Chardae made a vow that night. The dude was not going to leave that apartment tonight unless accompanied by the paramedics and a gurney or the coroner and a body bag. They will be no other options tonight.

Chardae could hear Tyrel cursing and calling Janice all type of the word bitches and hard fists hitting something. Chardae couldn’t get to Janice’s house fast enough. She was already breathing real hard from all the adrenaline going through her body. She could picture the bullets going through Tyrel’s body. She would have to deal with the consequences later. The song ‘Love is blind’ by rapper Eve suddenly came on the radio and Chardae almost laughed at the irony. God must have known what was in her heart.

Chardae was out of her jeep and banging on Janice’s front door at record speed. She didn’t even know how fast she was driving until she saw that she got there in less than ten minutes for an almost thirty minute road. Chardae was hammering her fist on the front door of Janice’s apartment complex. Noisy neighbors were peeking their heads out or looking out the peephole but no one was calling the police or intervening and Janice’s screams can be heard throughout the whole building. Chardae hated people like that. They’re the first to observe an accident but will do nothing to help.

“Open the fuck up, you bitch!” Chardae shouted as she continued to pound on the front door.

The screaming stopped inside the apartment and she heard footsteps walking towards the front door.

“What the fuck you want?” Chardae heard the peephole open and a voice speak from behind the door.

“Open up Tyrel or you going to be explaining to housing why they had replace a door full of bullets,” Chardae replied back.

Chardae heard locks being taken off the door and Tyrel opened the door in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. She saw a little bit of blood on his knuckles.

“What you doing here, bi…” Tyrel never got to finish that sentence because Chardae hit him in the bridge of his nose of the gun she pulled out from her waist causing him to fall back.

Chardae rushed in and saw her best friend laid out on the floor with a busty lip and two swollen eyes. Her clothes were covered with bloods and it looked like she was missing teeth.

“Why the fuck you hit me, bitch?” Tyrel said holding his nose and getting up off the floor.

Chardae looked at her friend laying there unconscious on the floor and then at Tyrel. Chardae knew she had to keep good on her promise.

“You hear me talking to you, bitch?” Tyrel asked coming towards her.

Chardae pointed Beyoncé right at him.

“What you going to do with that?” Tyrel inquired with a smirk on his face. “You really think you a boss bitch. You’re just riding of your brother’s name and fame. You think you the shit, huh? Now put the gun down and maybe I'll let you suck my dick. And tell that lazy hoe to get up and stop getting blood on my floor.”

Chardae took the gun off safety and Tyrel heard the click.

“You ain’t going to do shit but put that gun down and say sorry for interrupting me handling my woman,” Tyrel said squeezing his nose and sneezing blood from his nostril. “You lucky I like your pretty ass or you would get the same thing she just got for pulling that little stunt of yours. “

“Lucky me,” Chardae remarked then pulled the trigger.

When the police finally arrived, Chardae was on the floor kneeling over Janice rocking Janice’s body back and forth. Tyrel was found dead with two bullets in the head. Chardae had her gun placed beside her.

“Freeze!” the officers said as they entered the apartment with guns drawn. “Put your hands up!”

Chardae ignored the officers and just stayed focused on her friend. Chardae wiped the hair strands out of Janice’s bruised face.

“I love you, girl,” Chardae whispered to her friend and kissed Janice on the forehead. ‘I got that nigga. Boss Mama got him.”

Chardae heard one of the officers kick Beyoncé from beside her and repeat his original order.

“Late busters,” Chardae spoke softly to her friend whose eyes were both closed shut. “Don’t worry. Boss Mama took care of it. Boss Mama will always take care of it.”

 

 

 

 

 

Boss Background

Chapter 2

 

 

Chardae was a person of her word. She believed your word was everything. Your word is what made your character. Without it, you was nothing, at least nothing important. If people couldn’t take you at your word then why did they even need to fuck with you in the first place?

Beside just your word being ideal, Chardae respected someone that ‘keep it real’. Not just spoke the words but did the actions. She met a lot of people, men and women, who claimed they were quote on quote real and was softer than dog shit in the rain. Over the years, he learned to distinguish the two very fast and very easily. One simple way was real people don’t have to talk much about what they going to do, they just do it. Anybody can talk your ear off about what they going to do to you but a real personis not wasting that many syllables, they already making moves while you busy still talking.

Chardae learned that definitely on her own block where the so called thugs hung out thinking they were so tough. She never believed in any of them and she made it clear she didn’t. They were false gangster and Chardae didn’t believe in anything artificial. Everything about her and on her was real and came from something authentic from her clothes, to her jewelry, to her footwear. She was light skin, slim waist, with long luscious legs to match. She had long natural blonde hair along with her arched eyebrows and small smile made her look a mixed Caucasian lady but she was in fact half Puerto Rican, Columbian and black. Her features alone made her a model type and every dude wanted her on his arm and in his bad but then they never got that chance because in her eyes, they weren’t real enough for her.

 Chardae would stay around long enough to hear those lame dudes’ weak lines so she can remember them later so she can laugh with