Page 13 of A Boy is a Gun: Part I
“Nothing. I want to commend you on a fine job, that’s all.” The director yells cut, and the smile quickly disappears off my father’s face. “I don’t know your game plan, but whatever you’re up to, please stop it before somebody does something they might not regret.”
Ethan shifts his stance and sucks his teeth. “I see the apple doesn’t fall too far from the rotten tree.” He ruefully replies.
“I don’t need to repeat myself. If you’re going to play this game, stop any investigation now. My family isn’t the one you want to be after, and if I were you, I would start practicing the fine art of ignoring. Final warning.” The smile reappears on my father’s face, and it’s like nothing ever happened. “Okay, everyone!” He announces to whoever is in earshot. “Who’s hungry? Breakfast is on me!”
Eight
Taylor
There are different levels of fame: famous, infamous, and notorious.
Famous is like a YouTuber or Beyonce. I don’t mean to put them in the same category, but it works for what I’m saying. It’s someone you know and someone who’s known for something good.
Infamous is known for doing something terrible, like 99% of the rappers out today. Like the occasional celebrity that couldn’t just shut up and eat their food and have to go all homophobic, transphobic, racist, misogynistic… you get the point.
And then there is the Page family, who is notorious.
I don’t have to explain why the Page family is notorious. Senator Eric Page, and his wife, Heather, are lifelong Republicans. Every issue that’ll set back minorities another hundred years, they support.
The pediatrician and oldest son, Robert, is primed to follow in his father’s footsteps. He’s networked with the right people, kissed the right asses, and will be set as long as his drug-addicted wife, Claire, is in check.
Then there’s Jamie, the youngest child, who now lives in San Francisco and is as liberal as possible. Every time Eric makes a damning decision (which happens rather frequently), Jamie makes an equally damning post on social media. Good cop, bad cop.
And finally, there’s Cameron, but the streets know him as Finesse. He’s one of Atlanta’s most ruthless drug lords and hides it under Loro Piana and Moncler. He plays the part of a wealthy and successful spoiled child to a tee and doesn’t pander to any specific voting demographic.
He knows better than anyone that drugs and money don’t care whom you vote for as long as you’re addicted.
Here I am–caught all in the middle of it. The one place my father warned me about, and I swear I listened to him, but all reason went out the window once he died. Gosh, I’m such a stupid train wreck.
As I stare down at Mia, I wonder what I will tell her about her family. Her Black side is nothing but pure and innocent. The ‘All my life, I had to fight!’ type of folks who understand the value of a dollar. Relatives who know what the country was like pre-Civil Rights Movement can honestly say we’ve come a long way.
And then there’s her white side. Can I say the Pages are evil? No, I can’t. They’ve donated to many charitable causes and have given money to many minority groups. It’s also apparent where they stand. It’s veryus v. them,and that’s how they prefer it.
As I contemplate my life choices and wonder exactly when I put on a clown suit and wear it permanently, Mia’s soft laugh jolts me out of my FML conundrum. She’s the perfect mix of Cameron and me, and she was made of love.
We haven’t talked about marriage or engagement since the kidnapping plot, and honestly, I’m not sure if that’s something I want right now. My mind is still trying to process everything. Gabe betrayed our family. My parents are dead. Alicia is dead. Jacqueline’s death wasn’t enough for all the damage caused.
Aborting Cameron’s baby was never a consideration. Something of me wanted to have his baby and be forever connected with him, despite what he did and his family. I love that man and can’t see myself with anybody else. But I also know that I have to take everything to accept Cameron.
My mind is still telling me no.
The talk I had with Granny did precisely what she wanted it to do – it lingered. No amount of Burberry, Chloe, and Chanel’ll make me forget what Granny said to me:
You could’ve chosen any man you wanted, Taylor. Any man. You chose the worst one out there.
I understand that long, played-out saying thatthe heart wants what the heart wants, but sometimes the heart can be stupid AF. Many intelligent women have done some rather stupid shit, all in the name of love.
I hope I’m never to the point where I’m wearing an adult diaper as I drive halfway across the country to confront my ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend type of stupid.
Heading into the massive walk-in closet that’s the size of a one-bedroom apartment, I have no shortage of clothing. While breastfeeding has worked wonders in making me slimmer than I was pre-pregnancy, I haven’t lost all the baby weight, so I need something to hide the pouch.
I’m not fat, but I’m far from snatched. Slim thick is what I am. Cameron always tells me how much he appreciates my booty, and I sometimes catch him eyeing me when he thinks I don’t notice. It makes a sista feel a certain kind of way.
I packed away all the maternity clothing, and I have nothing but flowy dresses and skirts with tank tops so I can pull them down for Mia. I need to invest in some yoga pants because there’s no way I can wear a skirt at Fresh Espresso.
I’m anxious to get back to work. Don’t get me wrong; I love being a mom, and Mia is simply the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But I like working. I love interacting with customers, and I love just being outside.
Cameron’s home has everything anyone could want – a movie theater, a basketball court, a wine cellar, bedrooms and bathrooms, and a nursery with an attached playroom for Mia. It’ll be the perfect place for her to become a princess.
