Page 1 of A Boy is a Gun: Part I
Prologue
Patrice Johnson loved her some Unsolved Mysteries.
She liked the old-school one with that handsome Robert Stack, not that new one on what was that thing called? That one that people always chill to? Whatever it was, that wasn’t her cup of tea.
She was an older woman who regularly dyed her hair and still went for pedicures and manicures. She was frail and stood over five feet tall. She made up for what she lacked in stature with her mouth and attitude. She took no shit from anyone.
Her home wasn’t a mansion, but she had nice things and was proud of it. She enjoyed her life and appreciated everything. A new episode began, and Patrice curled up with a blanket and a small glass of brandy.
She tried to figure out the mystery before the update if there was one. Sometimes, she got it right. Sometimes, she wondered if the person was safe. Most of the time, she knew the person was dead and hoped their death wasn’t horrible.
A few minutes into the episode, she heard a slight noise outside. She muted the TV and tried to listen to the noise again, but it was silence. Maybe it was her imagination. After all, it was a rather spooky episode involving a woman’s disappearance.
Patrice unmuted the show again and grimaced when she missed some information. It was probably just the neighborhood cats that prowled, looking for food. She’ll give them some food tomorrow. She was going to enjoy her show.
Several minutes later, the backdoor busted open, and Patrice was met with two male assailants. They zip-tied and pistol-whipped her before they rummaged through the home. They gathered some jewelry and credit cards while they tried to look for any cash.
Patrice barely opened her eyes as she felt blood pouring from her head. The room spun, and she felt like she was about to vomit. She tried to lift her head and locked eyes with one of the assailants. One was Black with locs, and the other was white with tattoos on his face.
“I don’t have any money,” she slowly spoke, “take whatever you want and leave me alone. Kill me if you have to.”
“Nah, old lady…we ain’t gon’ kill you.” The one with locs spoke. “We just want your shit, and we’ll be done.”
“I have none!” She yelled. “I have nothing!”
“Nah,” the white one spoke, “We heard you had all the shit! Where is it?”
“I have nothing!” She yelled again. “Go throughout the house if you want to! I have nothing!”
The older woman closed her eyes and bowed her head. She began praying quietly so they couldn’t hear her and interrupt. She prayed for protection. She prayed for forgiveness. She calmed her spirit when she heard them ransack her home, destroying precious items.
Patrice was so caught up in praying that she didn’t hear the men coming back into the room. They watched for a short time and smiled at each other.
“Hey, lady! Lady!” The one with the locs yelled at her and smiled. “We ain’t gon’ kill you, old bat. We want to send a message to you. Whoever asks you who did this, you tell them it was Que.”
“And Finesse,” the white one smiled. He pulled out a pistol and shot her.
Book I
Peace
One
Cameron
“That’s it….” I tightly grip Taylor’s hand as she bears down. After being in labor for 13 hours, with the last two hours being the most intensive shit I had ever experienced in my entire life, she’s about to give birth to our baby girl. Our lives as we know them are about to change forever. “… that’s it… push, push, push, push, push….”
Taylor grips my hand tighter and squats down. Sweat is pouring down her face, and she’s exhausted. She labored as long as she could at our home until the contractions were too much to bear, and she had to go to the hospital.
Still, she has the strength for the last stretch. I’m completely in awe of her. Whatever my angel wants, she’ll get it without question. It was already like that before, but now? Even more.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” Taylor’s best friend, Hayley, squeals as she holds the camera, videotaping the birth. “I see the head! I see Mia’s head! She has a lot of hair, girl!”
Taylor picked out the name because she wanted to honor her father, Lamont, by using a variation of his middle name, Michael. She also wanted something to go with Gray and Page, our last names. We’re not married, nor are we engaged.
I thought we would do at least one of those things once I got out of the game, but Taylor didn’t want to get engaged when she was pregnant, which meant she didn’t want to get married like that.
And we were very much split during the pregnancy. She still lived with me at the house. We did everything couple and family things, but Taylor made it clear we weren’t together.
