Page 9 of A Boy is a Gun: Part I
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he begins with another heavy sigh, “I don’t know what that was about, but I’m getting to the bottom of it now.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I ignored the unmistakable growl in my tummy, and Cameron reached for the tray to place it over my lap. I didn’t stop him. “What are you going to do?” He shakes his head as he cuts my steak into bite-size pieces and does the same with the green beans. “Cam, I need to know.”
“You don’t need to worry about anything other than Mia, Fresh Espresso, and healing.” His voice is low as he takes a bite of aged white cheddar.
He confirmed everything I needed to know. I bite the filet mignon before the conversation makes me lose my appetite. It is so mouth-watering and delicious. I took a few more bites as I didn’t realize the stress of everything made me not eat anything at the hospital. “Did Ethan say why he arrested you?”
“He knows why.” Cameron takes another bite of cheese. His voice is calm, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve heard Cameron kill a man, and he didn’t break a sweat. Why wouldn’t he do that now?
I take a few more bites of my dinner and quickly swallow. “Maybe if I talk to Ethan…?”
“No,” he lowly demands, and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up, “you will do no such thing. If you talk to Ethan because he approached you first, got it?”
My second-worst fear is already happening before Mia has her first bath. “What if he wants to see the baby?”
“He can see her here or at the shop.” Cameron lets out another breath. “You are to never go to his home. If you want to meet someplace, someone else will accompany you.”
I already know what the deal is. He wants to be sure I don’t slip and say something that would prompt a search warrant or anything else. “I can’t live like this, Cam.”
“It’s only temporary until everything gets figured out,” he gives a promise I’m not sure he even believes.
I shake my head. “Ethan is a longtime family friend, Cam. He practically raised me alongside my dad. They were best friends. He went to every game and every performance, gave me a police escort on prom night, and was there at my graduation. He gave me money for my college graduation. He’s like another uncle to me. I can’t just turn my back on him.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Cameron eats another bite of cheese. “I’m telling you, youruncleruined one of the best days of our lives because he wanted to get me in handcuffs in any way possible, and there’s a price to pay when you’re wrong.”
The question is on the tip of my tongue and my heart. I know Cameron is capable of anything, but I have to know for sure. I have to know for my sanity. “Are you going to kill him?”
“That’s not a question you ask, angel,” Cameron locks eyes with me, “it’s also not a question I would answer.”
The coldness of Cameron’s voice sends a shiver through me. When Cameron doesn’t want me to know something, getting the information out of him is like breaking into Fort Knox. “I take that as a yes,” I deftly reply.
“I don’t get rid of threats, Tay,” his eyes are serious, and there’s no hint of emotion, “I get rid ofproblems.”
Cameron’s anger makes me scared forhim. I know what Ethan can do, but there is no limit to what Cameronwilldo. If Ethan thinks he has a problem with the local drug dealers who think they’re hot shit, he won’t be nearly prepared for Cameron’s revenge.
Cameron has connections that go beyond East Atlanta or even the United States. He can call in reinforcements to make something look like a tragic accident when it was a cold-blooded murder.
The fact that Cameron dresses like he’s straight outta prep school and wears Oxford loafers is merely a clever and deadly cover. No one would think the senator’s baby boy is a ruthless drug lord, and it’s a carefully crafted image.
Behind the Maison Margiela is a man who is deadlier than the logo-hungry drug dealer who flashes his wealth. “When did Ethan become a problem?”
Cameron smiles at me. “When he stopped being a threat.”
Six
Cameron
This coffee is my new lifeline.
After averaging about three hours of sleep (not consecutive, either) every night for the past few weeks, I finally got into a routine. Mia and I stay up as Taylor rests. We walk around the compound, check the security cameras, and unbeknownst to Taylor, we plot my revenge against my enemies.
Between Mia watching the best of Sesame Street, I started researching all the newest alleged cartels in Atlanta. There are about a dime a dozen popping up every minute. The beautiful part about all this is that most of them have beef. Only one has a clear beef with me.
It’s stupid, and honestly, I’m more bored. I haven’t been in the streets in damn near a year, and apparently, that’s too long for somebody. The actual crime and the false charges were just the tip of the iceberg. They won’t stop until they get whatever they want.
They don’t want my territories or even the money. Money isn’t shit in the street game if the opportunity to make more is always present. What’s even more hilarious is that fools are fighting for corners and property they don’t own. They want to intimidate those in the area by just giving up the space, and sadly, it works.
No old lady will fight a street gang, and they know this. No family will start packing heat when they’re up against a few dozen. People live in fear and are forced to keep to themselves and pretend everything is okay. It only happens in specific neighborhoods (read: Black and brown ones.)
