Page 36 of Nocturnal Sins
The thought made me wonder what he’d say if he knew about Santana and I being together. Who the hell was I kidding? I knew what the fuck he would say. He would disown us.
Santana and I were never raised as stepsiblings. We were a solid family. Mama and Papa were our parents and that was it. “What are you two doing in here?” Papa asked.
“Talking about the fact that Uncle Dom brought over a gun for Santana,” I smirked.
“You opened the case, Santana?” Papa frowned.
“No,” Santana chuckled and held on to the pillow he held in his lap to mask his erection. “I put it in your safe but I’m not stupid. I know what was in the case.”
“Well…yeah. I thought it was time you had something for protection, mijo.”
“What about my protection? When do I get a gun?” I asked, batting my lashes at Papa. His narrowed eyes crinkled at the corners as he regarded me.
“You don’t get a gun, Samira.” TheRrolled off his tongue with passion as he stared at me. “Come, mija. Let’s talk in the den please.” He guided me downstairs with his hand on the small of my back and I fought the urge to look over my shoulder at Santana one last time.
I did want to talk to Papa but I wanted Santana to be there when I did it. Something about his presence made me feel confident. He made me feel like I could take on the world.
Papa sat in the brown leather chair across from the couch and I sat on the couch, my legs crossed and my foot bouncing with nerves. I knew I wouldn’t have much time to organize my thoughts but I had to be ready to speak my mind. It was now or never.
“Sam, I know you have questions,” he began.
“I do,” I nodded.
“We’ll never move past this if we don’t get everything out in the open so ask away.” He made a grand gesture with his hand and I sucked in a breath.
“Why is it okay for Santana to work with you but not me? What’s the defining qualification that he has but I don’t?” I quizzed. My words were more ordered than I expected. I pulled my shoulders back and made my spine straight as a pin.
Papa squeezed the bridge of his nose as his lips moved in silent prayer before opening his eyes. “You’re not cut out for that kind of life. You’re soft and beautiful and so smart. You have a lot going for you and I don’t want you to fuck it up by doing sinful shit like me. Like Santana.”
“Like Mama?” I blurted, putting a pause in his words. His mouth hung open partially as he searched for something to fill the silence. There was nothing though. Papa ran a palm down the length of his face and groaned.
“Your mother was different. She chose to stand beside me.”
“I want to be able to make my own choice too. I want to see what you and Santana do.”
“I told you. We do dark and sinful things, Samira. This shit is not for the faint of heart. It’s not a TV show.
We move under the cover of night all the time. We project a façade during the day. Shit gets ugly and ruthless and everyone doesn’t make it out alive. Hell, most people don’t.
You think I want that for you?”
“No, but what about what I want? I just want to see things, Papa. I’ve always felt like something was missing from me. Like there was something constantly restricting me. Like I had to do what you and Mama wanted me to or else I’d get in trouble. I never thought I had an option.”
“You don’t!” Papa’s voice exploded making me shrink back. I was trying to speak my mind, not cower. I was tired of second-guessing myself and going with the flow.
“I do!” I shouted back, thrusting my chest outward. Things fell to silent scraps lying between us as Papa’s breathing returned to normal. “Papa, I don’t want to go to Dartmouth.”
There.
I said it.
“What?” That time he didn’t yell, he whispered it. That put more fear in me than anything. I still held my own though. “You will go to school, Samira. You will get your degree and you will be as far away from this shit as possible.”
“I never said I wanted to be involved in the drug game but I need to figure out what I really want to do. Papa, I have no idea who I am outside of school, cheerleading, and being your daughter.”
“What do you mean, Sam? You’re brilliant and beautiful and…” He couldn’t even finish his statement.
“And what, Papa? What do I like to do besides shop?” I quizzed. I really wondered if he might have an answer that would give me insight to myself.
