Whoever said 'preacher's kids are the worst' obviously haven't met Beyoncé Knowles or maybe they have because when the bad boy Shawn Carter aka Jay-z comes to town he turns this good girl into her parents worst nightmare. She starts falling for his...
I dialed up the phone number I knew very well and like always I could never bring the words off of my tongue to form a decent sentence. It had seemed all my ears yearned for was the soft and delicate breathes my mother would take each time I called her without saying a word. I wondered I did if she knew it was me calling all these weeks without a word.
Did they miss me?—or was I completely forgotten about like yesterday's trouble. How were Isaiah and Zendaya doing? And had she grown the courage to tell our parents what she had tearfully told me in her room that day? Was the church still up and running?? So many questions had filled my mind till suddenly going back home didn't sound like a want but a must.
Flicking the cigarette between my ring and index fingers, I continued staring out into the garden at the dead flowers from my chair on the balcony where I sat wrapped cozily in a crochet blanket.
It was very easy for my sadness to turn into anger and soon it did.
I became frustrated with myself and my inability to mother a child. It had gotten to the point that I couldn't even look myself in the mirror without feeling like something other than a woman. I wiped my eyes again and tried to figure out for the dozenth time, where exactly did I go wrong.
"Food is ready."
My head whipped towards Jay who stood in the doorway. I put out the cigarette on the chair watching intently as the smoke fizzled out.
The old Beyonce, the good one, wouldn't have guessed in years she'd become a heavy smoker—but it was a stress reliever she wouldn't know anything about that instead she'd suggest praying it away like the pathetic child she was.
Jay placed his warm palm on my shoulder "I want to hear more about the bank." I said to him.
He hasn't spoken a word about it since the miscarriage. I had gotten him to dig it back up, and before either of us knew it he couldn't shut the hell up about it. I could tell he was changing on me. It made me sick, I wanted wild & carefree Jay, not the over protector Shawn, was becoming.
The thing was I was in love with the new me who really knew what freedom was and recognized it like it was my middle name.
Freedom meant no fear.
We went over several plans the following weeks on how to execute the perfect bank robbery. We drove by the place scoping out the scene watching who came in and out of the huge brick building. Discovering the opening and closing hours, the number of employees, the name of the owners, and the model of the safe.
There were three entryways inside excluding windows.
We loaded up on weapons of all kinds we brought from a hardcore gang banger in the belly of Brooklyn.
My favorite a PPK I named Bondie.
I was down in the basement practicing with Bondie as Jay looked on; he was still skeptical of the way I held my weapons. But he didn't get that it was only because I was left-handed. "When we get to the main floor, what do we do?" He quizzed.
I moved in a rush while pointing Bondie at an imaginary bystander, "order everyone onto the ground!"
"What else?"
"Turn off the cameras."
"Then..." I glanced over at him trying to remember yet nothing came to mind—he laughed when he noticed before standing and moving towards me where his breath blew down my blouse like a cold breeze causing me to shiver. "If this was real life you'd be just standing there confused, and we would've been caught by now."
I slammed the weapon against Jay's chest. "Maybe you can show me the right way to do it then since you know so much."
"My pleasure."
He stepped back before going over to this metal box he had in a chair as he took out a rifle.
Just like a man to try to show off with something bigger.
"Bigger doesn't always mean better, baby," I told him.
"I don't recall you saying that the other night." He smirked while cocking the weapon forward and going over each step of our plan perfectly. I placed my pointer finger on the front of the rifle before dragging it along.
"No name?" I wondered, admiring the craftsmanship of the weapon.
He fired a shot which made me jump. "Basquiat."
Well, it was a work of art let's just hope it worked like one.
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A/N: Please don't forget to comment and vote on the 2 chapters (34 and 35) that were updated today. This book will be updated next Thursday and remember there are 5 more chapters left of this story then it will be completed.
If you all leave enough feedback I might update twice next week which would be 2 chapters on Wednesday and 2 on Thursday but that's only if these chapters today do well.
