Posted in Behind the Pen, New Adult Romances, News & Updates

#SundaySnippet: A Boy is a Gun (Finesse #3)


Unedited Snippet:

Checking my cell phone for the umpteenth time that day, there was no word from Taylor at all. I wanted to chalk up her emotions to the pregnancy and she was just all over the place. I knew that was bullshit. 

She really didn’t want to be with me at all. 

I wish I could say I didn’t know what the hell happened but I know better. Once Taylor had calmed down and got some clarity about everything, she packed up and left. No good-bye note. No big dramatic exit. No cursing or fighting. She packed up her shit and left. 

I can’t say I blame her. I put her and the baby in real harm and they could’ve been killed. Could’ve been. I knew they weren’t going to be and Taylor now knows that. But if she wanted to leave, she was going to leave no matter how I felt about it. 

I gave up the life for her and Taylor still left me on read. I love Taylor and want to be with her. She’s also having my baby. I need them both in my life. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get them back and I will. 

I walk back outside in the blazing Atlantic City heat and hopped into the awaiting Escalade, where Que is in the backseat. He’s on the phone with another contact and I just let him talk. He’s running things now and I’m just along for the ride. 

“Keep me posted.” He gets off the phone and tosses it on the seat. “We got a problem.”

“Oh?” I motion to the driver and he puts the truck into drive. 

“Atlanta P.D. has a newfound interest in the Administration because of what happened to Jacqueline. She was their contact for a lot of stuff.” Que scrolled through his phone. “To say they’re a little upset with her death is putting it nicely.”

I shrug. “Tell me why I should care.” 

“She had a contact with the police department, who has a contact at the DEA…” Que trails off and pauses for a moment. I don’t rush Que because I know he’s trying to collect his thoughts. He doesn’t like to repeat himself and always makes sure he says something one time with enough explanation where no one could be confused as to what he said. “…how close are you with your Pops?”

The hair on my neck stands up. My father and I have a complicated relationship. We’re close but it’s still a question if we’re close because we’re related or we’re keeping track of what the other does. I think it’s a combination of both. After all, how many fathers and sons can honestly say they’ve fucked the same woman?

Once my father got wind of me being a street pharmacist, he didn’t give me the good ol’ Just Say No speech that was so damn popular when white people in the White House were sprinkling crack in the Black neighborhoods, but didn’t want their white kids doped up.  

My father decided he wanted in and he was willing to do whatever he could to make sure he succeeded. 

A fellow Congressman has a cocaine habit? My father got the best, purest coke from me to convince his enemy to sign a bill that would cause more harm than good. Another senator loved molly? My dad always had a little something for him on the golf course in exchange for some lobbyists.

My only caveat was I don’t sell in the Black neighborhoods. I just don’t. It’s not a political thing, but rather, a monetary advantage. When a white person wants to get high, they’re willing to do anything and sell anything for that hit. I can make ten times as much off one white junkie than I do off 20 Black addicts.

I support my father in public, though I don’t agree with a damn thing he does with his politics. I know his reputation both in Congress and in Atlanta. When my father isn’t actively trying to go back to the glory days of segregation, I know he is dipping his dick in anything that wasn’t white. I also know my mother, Heather, couldn’t care less because nothing was going to ruin her All-American housewife image.

My empire has laced my mother with the finest and the best. Her home is filled with Hermes, Baccarat, and Lalique. Her closet is equally expensive with Gucci, Chanel, and Alexander McQueen. While other people try to downplay their wealth, my mother wants everyone to know how rich she is. 

Que asking me how close I am with my father has nothing to do with love or loyalty for that matter. He’s asking me in not so many words would I be okay with potentially murdering my father, Senator Eric Page, for betraying me? 

And honestly, I have to think about it. “Tell me everything you know in as much detail as possible now.” 


Release date TBD. Cover reveal coming soon.

Author:

I'm a lover and a writer. Damn good at both, I may add. Come and enjoy the Intoxication. I guarantee you, you'll be addicted....