Page 7 of A Boy is a Gun: Part I
Taylor
The last place I want to be is at my Granny’s house.
Born Sharon Eloise Taylor, her last name is my namesake. My Daddy named me in honor of her, and I kept up the tradition of naming Mia in honor of my father.
Granny is old-school. She still has plastic on the couches to preserve them. She has those old-school glasses that seemingly come with every Black household. She still drives a Buick, although she could upgrade to a better one.
She still lives in the same home she purchased back in 1975 for twenty thousand dollars. The house is dated and could use much refurbishing. The panels are falling off. The carpet is flat and stained from various traffic and spills. The wallpaper is peeling off.
Granny is determined to stay there. I know Daddy offered to pay for upgrades, and Granny refused every time. She’s happy with the way the home is. It’s her comfort zone, and she prefers that.
Low-key, I also think she doesn’t want to invite unwanted visitors. She doesn’t live in the safest part of town, and shootings have become more frequent. Everyone knew she was Daddy’s mother, and now people know of her connection (or none) to Cameron.
Granny survived the crack epidemic of the 80s and could remember it very well. She also lost many friends and family members due to it. My association with Cameron is the last thing Granny wants.
For a grandmother, Granny doesn’t look like she could be one. She has long hair with brushes of gray carefully woven as if God created it. Her light brown skin has no wrinkles, and she’s constantly mistaken for someone younger.
There is a regality about her that is cultured and not forced. She has monthly afternoon teas. She wears clothing straight from the department stores and not Fashion Nova. I have never seen her without her most delicate pearls around her neck and ears.
Granny isn’t poor by any means, but she’s far from wealthy. Still, Granny has been around plenty of rich people in her life. She cleaned their homes, watched their children, and cooked their meals. She knows how they act and how they operate. The Pages aren’t any different.
“So, where is he?” Granny stares down at Mia. After I was discharged from the hospital, I took a Lyft to see Granny. Cameron is still locked up, but I don’t know how long. Despite the bogus ones Ethan trumped up, I also don’t know what he’s being charged with.
Tesh called Hayley and me to tell us not to worry and that Que and Cameron would be out soon. It’s almost nighttime now, and still no Cameron. I know he and Que aren’t dumb enough to talk, but I also don’t know who else the police might have picked up and started singing.
To say I’m worried is an understatement. The financials will care for themselves, but I’m most concerned about Cameron. I know what it’s like to grow up without a parent, and I wouldn’t want that on Mia.
“I know you’re trying not totell me something happened with that pusher, and that’s why you’re over here in the hood and not with the white folks over at Buckhead?” Granny’s eyes slowly drift from Mia to me.
I swallow what’s left of my pride. And then again. “Cameron was arrested.”
“Hmm…” Granny gently rocks and hums a gospel song. It’s Yolanda Adams’ “The Battle is the Lord’s.” Oh boy. “…do I need even to ask what for?”
I take another deep breath. My forehead furrowed as I tried to make sense of everything and absolutely nothing. “Attempted murder.”
“Of who?” Granny asks as she turns towards me. “Of who?”
“A lady.” I look away. There’s no way Cameron would’ve done it. He didn’t even want to fight Jacqueline, so I know he wouldn’t have hurt an older woman. There’s no way he would’ve sent anyone to harm her on his behalf, either. That’s not his style.
Granny harrumphs with a thick disgust. “How old?”
I don’t want to say, but I have no choice. “72.”
Granny is silent for what seems like an eternity. She’s the same age. “Attacking old women, huh?” She glances down at Mia and shakes her head. “Letting my son be caught in whatever bullcrap was between him and that dead woman, and now this?” She glances over at me. “You are beautiful, educated, and you have your own business. You could’ve chosen any man you wanted, Taylor.Anyman. You chose the worst one out there.”
Granny’s words hit me harder than they should’ve, and I fold my lip to keep from crying. “He didn’t do it,” I defend Cameron, “he was with me the entire time in the hospital.”
“That’s the very least hedidn’tdo,” Granny sternly warns, and I look down at my feet, “you honestly think I have no idea about that man’s reputation? I’ve heard the rumors, Taylor. He coming from money isn’t the problem. It’s how the money isgoingto him, is where it gets a little funny.”
“What do you want me to do?” I turn towards her. “I know nothing about what he does. I know he owns businesses, and that’s it. I’m never around any drugs or any other nefarious activities. I don’t know anything, and that’s the point! I’m not trying to become some mafia princess or wifey type. I just…” I wish I had Alicia and my mom right now. They would know what to tell me. “…I don’t know. I have a newborn. Mia is barely a day old.”
“You can always leave him, child.” Granny hushes me, and I fold my lip again. “If you want to leave, you can. He can’t stop you. He won’t do anything to you or this precious baby.”
Au contraire, I wanted to say. Cameron won’t threaten me with violence, but he has enough money and power to threaten me in other ways. It’s not lost on me that he owns the surrounding businesses of Fresh Espresso.
He did it to protect Daddy and to give a bigfuck youto Jacqueline in the process. On the same tip, his protection in the coffee shop can also be used against me. He has eyes on me at any given time and doesn’t have to be in the area for anyone to report back. The shop is fitted with a state-of-the-art security system from one of the startups Cameron invested in.
Plus, I don’t know precisely how big his cartel, The Administration, really is. Cameron has been mum on the details, and I never pressed for info. I know he doesn’t just operate in Atlanta; he’s spread out to other states.
