26. Azalea
26
Azalea
I loaded my revolver, then locked the cylinder into place. Satisfied, I reached up and pressed the button to send the little paper man a hundred feet away from me so I could kill him dead.
With my feet planted, I let off all six rounds and hit the head, chest, and torso of Mr. Paper.
Mission accomplished. Next up, my 9 MM.
I always shoot when I’m stressed. Something about the cool, metallic feel of the gun in my hands grounds me in reality when I’m tempted to let my emotions take me away.
Nothing .
That’s what the man I called my man told me I could do for him.
He might as well have called me out my name.
I’m a helping person. It’s literally who I am, as well as what I do. To have a part of me denied threw me for such a loop, I spent the rest of the night spiraling.
I suppose that’s a dramatic way to describe what I actually did—watch Grey’s Anatomy while eating ice cream and oreos—but it felt like spiraling at the time.
Next to me, an AR rang out. The harsh hammering sounds would startle most people, but I welcomed the intrusion.
I picked up my Glock and turned it over. When I locked the clip into place, the harsh click was like the crack of a whip. I took a deep breath, focused on the target, and perfected my stance, grip, and aim.
Mr. Paper died again, this time from several well-placed shots to the groin. But I was alive, and I’d managed to push Isaac out of my mind for the moment.
He found me again, though. As soon as there was a lull, he tracked me down and took up residence in his usual spot inside my head.
I wondered why he even bothered to come to me if he wasn’t going to listen. Here I was risking my job and losing my sister’s respect just to be in a situation with him, and he didn’t have enough respect for me to heed my advice. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
To a lesser extent, my feelings were also hurt. Maybe Mina was right. Maybe I am gullible. Maybe I do live in rainbow gumdrop land instead of the real world.
Imagine thinking this would ever work. Imagine thinking Isaac could change.
I stared at Mr. Paper and felt utterly deflated. But only for a few minutes. Because disappointment was fuel to me.
Imagine shutting down your woman when she believes in you.
The sun was setting when I left the range to walk back to my car, casting long shadows across the parking lot. I dodged them, hopscotching over each one with a newfound resolve.
I settled in and turned on the car to get the air going, taking a deep breath as I worked myself up to do this. It was the last thing he’d ever want me to do, but this was a dire situation, and when I’m I know I’m right about something, I refuse to back down. Besides, if I could take that giant monster dick like a champ, he could take this damn help.
I found the number online and pressed the phone icon next to the listing. Two rings later, I got an answer.
“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “This is Azalea Davis. I’m calling to speak with Taurus Jackson.”