Prologue #2
“I don’t need to alter my brain to have a good time,” she waved me off. Now where is Milani?”
“I don’t know where Milani is,” I replied.
My mind wandered to Milani’s whereabouts quite a few times since Mikel showed up without her.
Mikel said Milani didn’t answer the phone, and I texted her a few minutes ago, but still hadn’t received a reply.
Before I could voice my thoughts, Milani came strutting into the backyard with my mother leading the way.
Her warm hazelnut skin tone set off the magenta monokini and sarong hugging her waist. I promise she was the most beautiful girl I ever laid eyes on, and my cheeks heated when she smiled at me.
Milani’s hair was in extra small waist length knotless braids, looking every bit of vacation ready.
“Hey, Milani, I was just asking about you.” Aunt Bunny waved at her, then turned to hug me again.
“You better stop playing and tell Milani how you feel before she goes away to college. Bill told your dad who told your mom, and then she told me that Milani kissed you on prom night,” she detailed, referring to my driver and personal security.
I gasped, because I thought that secret died in the truck on prom night.
When we arrived at Milani’s house after prom, she leaned over and pecked my lips just as Bill opened the door.
I sat frozen from the brief feeling of Milani’s lips pressed against mine as she dashed toward her front door.
It felt like some runaway fairytale shit as Milani gathered her dress in both hands and ran toward her parents' house, her heels clacking against the pavement with every rushed step.
Bill laughed and shook his head before closing my door.
He stood guard until Milani was safely inside.
I brought up the kiss when we met up at school the following Monday, but Milani dodged the subject, so I left it alone.
“Mhhhhh hmmmm,” she smirked.
“Hi, Aunty Bunny,” Milani waved back once she was a few feet away from us.
“That bathing suit is everything,” Aunt Bunny complimented Milani before embracing her in a hug. “I’m going inside to chill with ya mama and Aunt Violet,” she informed me.
“Bye, Aunt Bunny.” I shook my head.
“Sorry I’m late, but I came bearing gifts,” Milani bubbled once we were alone.
“What is it?” I questioned, accepting the long black David Yurman box.
“Open it and you’ll see,” she smirked.
“Wait, I have something for you too. Come on,” I informed Milani, grabbing her hand. “Where is Levi and Terrel? I need to smoke. I spent the morning arguing with my dad.”
“Oh no. Was it about you declining UF and paying the deposit for UC Davis?” I inquired, watching the frustration lines on her forehead disappear.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I just want to enjoy the rest of the day. It’s your graduation party, I’m not trying to dampen the mood.”
“Are you sure?” I pried, squeezing her hand a little tighter.
“I’m good. I’ll be even better if you take me to my gift,” she sassed, her lips spreading into a smile.
I obliged, continuing across the grass. Unlike me, Milani didn’t have much autonomy over the next few years of her life.
College was a requirement, and she was leaving to attend the University of Florida in August. That was a serious point of contention between Milani and her parents because that wasn’t the future she wanted.
Milani’s dream was to attend UC Davis and become a veterinarian.
However, their family was without a dedicated lawyer, and Milani was extremely intelligent, so they wanted her to play her part in the family.
Either way, my aunty was right, I had to step up to the plate and let Milani know my feelings before she left for either school in the fall. That was exactly what I intended to do before the day was over.
We maneuvered across the backyard and up the small set of steps before reaching the sliding glass door. The music was blaring throughout the house, so I had to yell over it to garner my mother’s attention.
“Mom, where is the gift you wrapped for me?” I shouted once we were a few feet away from her and my aunts.
“It’s upstairs in my craft room,” she replied.
I nodded, leading Milani up the spiral staircase towards the office.
It was slightly quieter once we made it to the second level of the home.
My feet didn’t stop moving until we waltzed into my mother’s craft room.
I released the grip I had on Milani’s hand, and she claimed a seat in the plush, soft chair my mother had in there.
The large gift box that housed Milani’s gift sat atop the desk.
I custom ordered the wrapping paper, which was blush pink with flamingos, her favorite color and animal.
With a confident smile on my face, I passed Milani the lightweight box.
“This gift wrap is so cute, I almost don’t want to open it. What is inside?” She bubbled, running her pink stiletto nail along the edge of the wrapping paper.
I held the black box tightly in my hand, watching Milani pull the fuchsia ribbon loose on top of the gift box.
POW! POW! POW!
The thunderous sound of gunfire erupted in the front yard catching both of us off guard.
I instinctively ducked down and reached over to slam the door to the craft room shut.
Crawling over to Milani, I snatched her off the sofa because her head was visible through the back window.
She landed next to me with a hard thud, emitting a low yelp.
“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. But my God, what’s going on?” Milani fretted, snuggling next to me. Now that she was beside me, I could feel her body trembling.
The music that was previously the backtrack for the incessant gunshots suddenly dissipated, and you could hear the mayhem erupting outside of the house.
Screams, more gunfire, pounding footsteps, furniture scraping across the hardwood floors, and glass shattering sounded in all directions.
I was silently kicking myself in the ass because I was trying to be cute and didn’t have my gun on me.
My father always taught me to keep one within reach, but I was in the comfort of our family estate, or so I thought.
“I don’t know,” I replied, my voice low and steady, trying to provide Milani with a source of comfort. “We are going to have to make a run for it. The next room over has a safe room inside of it.”
“You want to go out there. Towards the danger?” Milani shrieked, her bottom lip quivering. She closed her eyes and allowed a few tears to slide down her cheeks. I sat up on my knees in front of her and grasped the sides of her face so we were peering into each other’s eyes.
“Milani, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?” I assured her, gently patting her tears away.
She silently nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. My blood boiled seeing how much fear the intruders caused Milani. Until that moment, I’d never seen her cry. She was always upbeat, smiling, and in a good mood. She was the Bubbles to my Buttercup, the control to my chaos.
“Come on, Milani. We have to make this run for it. If they come up here we don’t have shit but a few pairs of scissors between the two of us,” I whispered.
“Okay,” Milani nodded. She was terrified, but I could tell she had faith in me.
BOOM!
The door flew past where we were crouched down in front of my mom’s desk and smacked into the wall. Milani was lifted from the floor by her long braids, and she screamed, horror covering her face.
“Please, don’t hurt us,” I fretted, placing my hands in the air.
“I can give you money. Just let her…” I dramatically pleaded, frantically bouncing on the balls of my feet.
In the middle of my statement, I lunged towards the masked man, placed both hands on his shoulders, and lifted my knee to his groin twice.
He released the grip he had on Milani and doubled over in pain.
Milani ran behind me while I pulled the nine from the holster on his hip and put two through the side of his skull.
He collapsed on the floor like a sack of potatoes, his body giving one final twitch as blood soaked the hardwood floors.
The gunfire slowed, and I prayed it was because we were gaining the upper hand, not the other way around.
I passed Milani the nine and snatched up the rifle that fell by the man’s side. “Sneaux, you know I don’t know how to use a gun.”
“It’s just in case. I got us. But if it comes to it, you aim and shoot,” I assured her.
With the rifle perched on my shoulder and my finger resting on the trigger, I kept my eyes locked ahead.
The first time my father brought out a rifle for me to shoot, I was thirteen.
I remember joking that the rifle was damn near bigger than me, but that never stopped him from teaching me how to shoot one.
Now more than ever, I understand why my father started training me up at such a young age.
I was poised and ready to fight for our lives, a complete juxtaposition to Milani, whose father thought her only place was in the kitchen or laundry room.
“Sneaux, I’m scared,” she whispered.
“It’s going to be okay. You gotta put on a brave face. You can’t let them smell fear on you because the enemy will exploit it,” I recited a phrase that my father drilled into my head.
We maneuvered around the desk, and a second masked man stepped into the doorframe. I pulled the trigger twice, sending one bullet through his forehead and neck. He dropped to the ground, and Milani snuggled up to my back, her bare perspiring skin colliding with mine.
“Sneaux!” My father’s voice echoed through the silent house. “SNEAUXXXXX! BABY GIRL!” My father bellowed, pain and angst lacing his cracking voice.
“I’m in the crafting room! I’m fine!” I shouted.