The Massa (Part V - B)

Two hours later, the floor of the kitchen was freshly mopped, the pantry was reorganized, and the fridge was cleaner, but to really do it justice would take a full day, Elizabeth thought. It was odd, back in her own home, but as a stranger this time. It was the same oversized fridge, with different foods. She wondered how Consuela had took it when Elizabeth had made her own fateful decision ... replacing Douglas with Moses. Despite all that had happened, she still wouldn't undo that outcome if she'd had another opportunity, she thought.

She felt Moses before she saw him. It was an oppressive, almost weighty aura to the man as he walked in, looking at his ex-wife dolled up as a maid. He smiled broadly.

"Welcome to the household," he said in that suave tone, ever the politician.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, polite but uncomfortable.

"Thank you ..." he let the words hang.

"Sir?" Elizabeth said tentatively.

"Massa," he said, firm, confident, in complete control.

"Master," Elizabeth repeated, her voice growing more timid, more frail as Moses advanced.

"Massa," he repeated. "Are you a hood bitch, or some prissy white cunt I grabbed from a block over?"

"I'm a hood bitch," Elizabeth said, a flush coursing up her body.

"What do you fuck?" Moses growled.

"Just brothas," Elizabeth breathed out.

"Fucking right, you are. You live in the hood, you fuck the hood. You a hood bitch. So don't bother with the proper vernacular. Embrace what you are. You being a white bitch cause of your skin ...and hair ... that ain't you. Now follow, bitch."

"Yes, Massa," Elizabeth whispered.