(Mario in the MM)
Monday, March 31st
3:00 a.m.
For the seventh time, my phone rang.
I was tryin' to ignore it, cause I was tired as hell.
It was spring break and I was trying to get as much rest as possible.
I finally picked my phone up and seen that it was Jamar who kept calling me and texted me 3 times.
mine🙈💕: Paris answer the phone 2:37 a.m
mine🙈💕: u probably sleep but I need to talk to you ASAP🤦🏽♂️ 2:49 a.m.
mine🙈💕: u know somebody named Mario??
2:52 a.m.
That last message made my heart drop. I ain't seen or heard from Mario since my momma's birthday party, which was in January.
I've never mentioned Mario to Jamar; not 'cause I was hiding the fact that he was my uncle or nothing, but because I don't feel the need to speak on him no more 'cause that bitch ain't family.
I finally FaceTimed him after reading the messages and he picked up after the second ring.
"Hello??" I said worried, still sounding hella tired.
"Aye Paris, who is Mario?" He said looking concerned.
I hesitated. "I had a— uncle—named Mario.."
"Had?"
"I don't claim him. But why wassup?" I said not wanting to get into it.
"Man I don't know what the HELL he got going on but he's fucking crazy"
I felt myself getting pissed. "What you talkin' about?"
"So basically, I'm sleep right? And all of a sudden I hear a 'BOOM BOOM BOOM' on the front door. Then my ass was scared as hell finna piss my pants and shit, so I walk in the living room and my dad opened the front door hella slow wit' his gun in his hand. So ain't nobody out there, but it's a box on the front porch,"
...Boy I when I tell you I was HOT!
"So my dad picks it up real slow, and he closed the door and shit. So then he put it on the table and take the top of the box and it's this lil note with a picture of me and you on it and a bullet in there Paris."
I didn't know what to say. But I what I did know is that I wanted to kill Mario. And I meant that with everything in me.
"...What did the note say?" I said sounding irritated. "And WHAT PICTURE?"
He went to open the folded piece of paper up.
"It look like he took this from far. It's when we was walking out of the gas station." He said showing me the picture through the phone.
He started to read the note.
"You might not wanna fuck with the Brooks family cuz. And I'm not asking you, I'm telling you, homie. I don't wanna see you talking to Paris no more, and ion' wanna see you at her house no more. If I catch you wit' Paris, Young, Kam, Aaron, or any of my family, ima put a hole in you. So I suggest you distance yo'self from them. ASAP. And don't you tell Paris or nobody a DAMN thing.
~Mario" he loudly sighed and balled the paper up and threw it on the ground.
"Who is young?" He asked after a long moment of silence.
"That's my dad's 'street' name." I said, sounding clearly irritated.
"I don't know how or WHY he knows you or-or how even knows when or why you're with me." I said stumbling with my words. "I don't fucking TALK to him, I don't TEXT him, I don't CALL him, I- I don't do none of that! I don't fucking communicate wit' his bitch ass! We made it clear to him that HE IS NOT FUCKING FAMILY NO MORE! He crossed the wrong FUCKING line! I haven't spoken to him in 3 months—-and that was the first time in ELEVEN FUCKING YEARS! I swear to God bruh this nig-" I angrily shouted, not realizing how loud I was.
"Paris!!!!!" Jamar yelled, cutting me off through the phone. "Calm d-"
"PARIS AMEERAH!" My dad yelled at me while opening my door.
When he called me by my first AND middle name, I knew I was in trouble.
I hung up quick as hell.
"What's yo' goddamn problem girl?!" He said, referring to my loud ass mouth.
"I-"
"Who you on the phone with at 3:30 in the mornin' cussing at like you grown?" He sternly said to me.
"I was-"
"YOU TRYNA MAKE EXCUSES BUBBA!" He cut me off—for the second damn time.
"YOU NOT LETTING ME TALK WHAT DO YOU MEAN??"
I didn't mean to get loud like that...
"Lose some of that tone in yo' damn voice." He said sternly, ONCE AGAIN.
I calmed down.
"Daddy Mario left a box with a letter and a bullet in it at Jamar's house."
His whole facial expression changed.
"What?"
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To Live and Die In L.A. (FINISHED) Pt. 1
Teen FictionSeventeen year old Paris Brooks, born and raised in South Central L.A., is struggling to get over the murder of her mom which she witnessed when she was only six years old. She's not happy like she used to be and goes through many obstacles because...
