A Sick Life by Tionne "T-Boz" Watkins

Author:Tionne "T-Boz" Watkins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rodale
Published: 2017-03-16T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

BC/AC

My life has had two eras: BC and AC. They are divided by the birth of my daughter, Chase, who changed everything for me. Before she arrived, I was a very different sort of person. I’ve always had a quick temper. If someone comes at me, it won’t turn out well. Same thing with a 6-foot man. I should run or be afraid, but I’m not, and that’s the problem.

I’ve come home with black eyes or with blood dripping down my head. I’ve had to say, “Wash this out; it ain’t my blood.” I’ve fought in the street. When things weren’t working exactly like I wanted them to, I got pissed. I was a time bomb, continuously ticking. My mama always said, “Tionne, your temper’s so bad. You can die like that!”

There are a few infamous stories about my temper, all incidents that happened during the BC era. In recent years, I’ve heard people use the phrase “Don’t make me T-Boz you,” which is apparently now slang for a physical threat. But it’s true—I’ve gotten myself into some situations.

My worst moment of rage came in 1996, at the height of TLC’s early fame. To this day, my mama believes that I broke my hand because it was slammed in a car door. But that’s not the real truth.

Dalvin, who was my boyfriend at the time, was visiting Charlotte, North Carolina, where he was from. He was staying in a hotel and had an adjoining room with this girl Kim, whom he called his cousin. She wasn’t actually his cousin—she was a recording artist he’d known for a long time and he’d worked with. That night, way past midnight, he got drunk and fell asleep while we were on the phone. I was trying to get him to wake up and go take a shower. Evidently, he had way too much to drink, and I didn’t know what that was like since I don’t drink.

“Dalvin,” I said firmly, “get up.”

Nothing. I tried this for almost 15 minutes. But he wouldn’t wake up. He just kept sleeping with the phone apparently still in his hand.

“No, no, no.” I suddenly heard Kim’s voice in the background. She sounded stressed out. “You can’t come in here,” she was saying. “What are you doing?”

There was a moment of silence and some shuffling and someone else picked up the phone.

“Hello?” It was a girl’s voice. “Who’s this?”

“Angel,” I lied. “Who’s this?”

“Mimi,” she said. Ah, shit. It was that bitch he used to go with when he was younger. (For the record, Mimi is not her real name. But let’s call her that for the sake of the story.) She was always trying to get back with him and always talking crap about me. I put up with her talking trash for years and always turned the other cheek, but this time I’d had enough. Here was an opportunity and I was taking it.

“Why are you there?” I asked.

“I’m ’bout to get my man back,” she replied.

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