“Dating a thug doesn’t make you a thug. I dare you to shoot me.”
“If you take one more step, I will.”
“You think I won’t?” he questioned, but didn’t move.
My eyes were locked on his, and I saw so many things in his . . . sadness, anger, longing, and insanity. I kept my gun aimed at his head, ready to pull the trigger if he came any closer.
“Noelani! What the fuck!” one of my sisters yelled but I dared not look away from Kenai.
“Call the police before I have to shoot this bastard.”
“Do it! Shoot me! I dare you!”
I’d never pulled the trigger outside of the gun range. I was nervous and scared, but I was also angry, because how dare this nigga think he could bully his way into my life? Tears of anger and frustration fell from my eyes blurring my vision, but I could still see my target.
“Kenai, please don’t make me shoot you.”
“You won’t because you love me too. You know we could be good together.”
“You’re fucking delusional,” I spat.
“Kenai, you have five guns pointed at you. If you want to leave here alive, I suggest you back the fuck away from her and take your ass on.”
I didn’t know which one of the ladies gave him that warning, but he looked in their directions. I refused to take my eyes off him, not even for a second. When he looked at me again, his eyes pleaded with mine. It was hard not to feel sorry for him because he clearly had mental issues, but if I had to pull this trigger, I wouldn’t have an ounce of regret.
“Noelani, tell them we’re in love,” he pleaded.
“That’s not true. Please, Kenai, turn around and?—”
“If I can’t have you, no one will!”
As he shouted, he reached behind him while moving toward me. I pulled the trigger and hit him between his eyes. He fell forward, and his head landed at my feet. My sisters rushed toward me, wrapping their arms around me and moving me away from Kenai’s body. Police sirens could be heard in the background, getting louder with each passing second.
“Are you okay?”
“Did he touch you?”
“I’m calling Sonny.”
“I’m calling Breeze.”
“Somebody call Mama and Daddy.”
“What about Rowdy? Who has his number?”
My sisters rambled off questions faster than I could process. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. I felt lightheaded and nauseous. I grabbed the arm of the person closest to me to help keep my balance.
“Lani. Lani. Are you okay?” someone asked.
“I need—I need to—to lay down.”
“We’ll take her upstairs. Y’all wait for the police.”
I opened my eyes and saw nothing but commotion around me. I was lying on the couch, and surrounding me, people were talking. Finally, I found enough energy to sit up and ask what I wanted to know.
“What’s going on?” I asked, and the room went silent for a moment.
“Lani! Oh my God, sweetheart. Are you okay?” my mother questioned as she rushed to one side while Rowdy rushed to the other.
