Page 56 of Wifey
Cameron sighs and swallows his real emotions. “Tomorrow, we’ll meet with my weapons guy, Amil. I’ll have Que, Tesh, and Maria come up with a plan and I’ll bring Jay into the conversation. You won’t know about the plan, but you do need to learn from Amil.”
“What am I going to learn from Amil?”
“How to shoot a gun.” Cameron pauses for a beat. “And how to use a specific bullet. It’s the only bullet you’ll ever need to use.”
~~~~~~
Amil, to be frank, looks like a dork.
He’s Black, tall, and lanky. He spends hours playing video games, and gets into a not-so playful banter with other gamers over a headset. He looks like he could be around my age, but I’m guessing he might even be younger than that.
I don’t doubt this Tyler, the Creator doppelgänger blends right in. Or maybe I should say,whitein. N.E.R.D. plays overhead. There are empty bags of Cheetos, Hot Cheetos, Hot Fries, and every other variation of cheesy snacks. There is plenty of Mountain Dew.
We’re at a home in the middle of white suburbia, surrounded by other homes with white picket fences, flowerbeds, and clean driveways. There are children biking and walking their dogs outside. His place is not a mansion, but a very modest home.
And I’m supposed to believe he’s a notorious weapons dealer?
“I told you pussy-ass motherfuckers I ain’t the one and y’all still thought I was talking shit!” He yells into his headset. “Later, dudes. I’m about go fuck y’all moms and become y’all step-daddies. Yo, Corey…don’t forget to change your tampon, dude.” I overhear voices cursing him out before he logs out and drops the headset to the ground.
He walks over to us and does a bro hug with Cameron. “My man, Amil.” Cameron laughs. “You playing with the girls again and got whupped, huh?”
“Man, those bitches…” Amil catches my eye and rephrases. “…excuse me, thoseladies, work my damn nerve, man. Always gotta shoot my ass first and then get mad when I retaliate. Fuck ‘em.” He holds out his hand to me. “I’m sorry for being so rude, Mrs. Finesse.”
I shake his hand. “You can call me Taylor and I’m not Mrs. Page.”
“Okay, Mrs. Finesse.” Amil replies and Cameron chuckles. “I heard you want to take that bitch – and Mrs. Finesse, I’m sorry but she is one – you want to finally take that bitch, Jackie, out?”
“I need something that’ll stop her and her crew.” Cameron adds. “You got that heat for me?”
“Follow me,” Amil walks us throughout the house and stops at a bookcase. He briefly removes one book and the bookcase opens, leading to a well-lit basement. It’s about the size of a small home also.
Cameron and Amil gives me a headset while they put some on. Holding onto Cameron as I walk downstairs, I’m floored to see it’s a full-blown gun range. Tons of weapons hang on the walls and are in glass cases. Several people are doing target practice.
Amil walks past the crowd, nodding a ‘What’s up?’ to everyone he sees. Cameron also acknowledges those who say hello to him. It was an underground beyond the underground. A whole syndicate that went deeper than just street dealing.
We’re led to a private office where Amil closes the door. He types in a code, a space in the floor opens up, and file cabinet appears. He types in another code and one drawer opens. There are several bullets in a row covered by cushion pads stores use to protect fine jewelry.
Amil takes out one bullet and smiles at it. He also kisses it and gives it a hug like if it’s his child. I look at Cameron and he has a big smile on his face at Amil’s antics. What on earth is going on here?
“This bullet is called R.I.P. aka The Destroyer.” Amil stated as he held it in front of my face. It’s long and silver with a pointy tip. “This goes inside someone and it’s a guarantee it will not come out.”
Just looking at the bullet makes my insides shake. I don’t even want to touch it. “All bullets destroy.”
“Not like that one,” Cameron casually grabs the bullet like if someone offered him a stick of gum, “It breaks apart into shrapnel-like pieces once it’s inside. It’ll hit every major artery within seconds. A person will be dead before the 911 call is made.”
I always knew Cameron’s line of work was dangerous but this just took it to a whole new level. “Rest In Peace?”
“Rip In Pieces,” Amil clarifies and a shudder comes over me. “There are only a handful of bullets like these and they’re not meant for everyday use. They’re only meant if you need to kill someone and there’s no other choice.”
Amil emphasizes the last three words as if he’d been down that path before. I don’t even know why I’m learning any of this; I told Cameron I wanted no parts of his lifestyle and here I am, fully embedded in it.
“How would I shoot with that?” I ask.
“The same as you’d shoot with any other gun. Other guns, you might need to reload or keep shooting at your target. This baby?” Amil takes out another bullet and smiles at it like he won the lottery. “You don’t. One shot and it’s RIP happy face.”
I swallow my emotions and try to contain the bile that’s threatening to come out. I don’t know if it’s morning sickness or the thought I’m risking everything to take down the woman who destroyed my life. “I don’t know how to shoot a gun.”
“We’ll teach you.” Cameron adds. “You’ll practice all week.”
