13. Dominic Royal
B efore we got in too deep, there was somethin’ else that needed to be handled. I got word that Keondra had been makin’ all kind of post on social media tryin’ to get the Royal’s family attention in regard to Dique and his dick, which I planned on settlin’ this shit firsthand. If it weren’t for her havin’ a child, I’d go roll the bitch in the river, but we needed to go another route first. I was prepared to holla at him about it, but we was barely five blocks from the penthouse when Dique’s phone lit up for the third time with her name flashin’ across the screen.
I glanced over from the driver’s seat, with my jaws tight. “That’s her again?”
Dique huffed and hit decline, slidin’ his phone face down. “Man, I swear on everything, this girl gon’ make me snatch my own hairline off. Fuck be up with these women dawg, damn.”
Carmen laughed from the passenger side, while scrollin’ through her burner tablet, but she ain’t say nothin’ yet. She was in the ‘watch and observe’ mode where she gathered shit in silence and waited to strike with facts and legal threats. I didn’t have to say shit to her for her to understand where this was goin’. I hit a quick left and then made a sharp U-turn as the tires on the Bentley truck squealed over the pavement as we slid off Biscayne and dipped towards Liberty City.
“Nah,” I said, glancin’ at Dique in the rearview mirror. “Answer it next time she call.”
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “For what?! She just wanna yell, accuse, and tell me her cousin said the baby look like my granddaddy. Bitch ain’t never seen my grandaddy… hell I don’t even know who the fuck the man is.”
I smirked. “Nah fo’real ask her where she at. We gon’ pull up.”
Carmen finally glanced at me and lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, we going to see this baby now?” she asked.
“Hell yeah,” I muttered. “If we gon’ keep this war clean, we can’t have outside noise. Keondra gotta be dealt with.” I usually turned my cheek to the noise ‘cause I didn’t want to hear that shit. I had enough shit I was dealin’ with but anytime the Royal name was being tarnished, it had to be handled.
Dique was frustrated but he answered the next call. “What now, Keondra?”
“Boy, WHERE is my child support?!” she snapped sounding exactly how she looked. No matter how powerful Dique was, and no matter how much paper he was touchin’, he just couldn’t keep his dick in check. He fucked bad bitches, but they were airheads, nothin’ like the females I dealt with ‘cause ain’t no way I would’ve ever touched Keondra.
“You mean the child that look like Malcolm X and MLK had a baby together? That one?” Dique shot back, loud as hell. “Come on man, stop playin’ with me Ke.”
Carmen and I both cracked up and I damn near missed the light. Dominique had always been a fool even when we were younger, he ain’t take shit serious that’s why Pop always had to put his ass in the headlock or put the belt to his ass. He was the one in and out of jail, bangin’ and shit, and just had the ‘fuck it’ mentality. Carmen covered her mouth, but she was laughin’ too.
“Dique!” she hissed shakin’ her head.
“Nah cause this girl really thinks I’m the pappy. The baby got light eyes, red curls, and a gap wide enough to park my Hellcat through. I’m dark-skinned, baby! My babies gon’ be dark just like me.” He said wearing a serious look on his face, ‘cause truthfully, he was dead serious. I didn’t know what that baby looked like, but I had to see it for myself, and I was about to.
“That’s not how genes work though Dique. It could very well be your baby and then you’re gonna have to apologize.” Carmen retorted. “She can sue you for defamation and emotional distress.”
“Yeah, well I’ll cross that bridge when it gets here,” he exclaimed. “Until then, I’m not lettin’ up on shit.”
“WHERE YOU AT KEONDRA?” I cut in loud enough for her to hear me.
Keondra paused hearin’ my voice, one that not many heard unless I wanted them to, but they knew it too well. “Uh... I’m at the duplex off 62 Terrace and 17 th on the second floor. You betta not be trying to have me killed, Dominic!”
“Yeah, bet! Be outside.” I growled. Dique hung up before she could say more. I ain’t have time for this dumb shit. When we pulled up ten minutes later, it was like steppin’ into a different world, the same world that made us who we were today, the fuckin’ bricks.
The second we turned down62nd and 17th, the air changed, and you could feel that shit. It was the same air that ran through my blood. The heat and hood politics were all swirled into the smell of fried food, cheap perfume, and trash that scattered the streets. It was loud even when it was quiet. It was the type of neighborhood where music never really stopped, that shit just moved from speaker to speaker, porch to porch, and generation to generation.
This wasn’t unfamiliar to me and Dique. This was where we earned our respect and not with words or handouts ‘cause ain’t nobody ever gave us shit. It was earned with action. The blacked-out G-Wagon crept slowly over potholes and broken glass as the engine hummed low but powerful. The concrete was cracked up and the kids were runnin’ around, ridin’ scooters while the lil boys were shirtless. It reminded me of when we were jits back in the day. Somebody was bumpin’ Plies out a speaker with the loud Miami bass. The smell of grease and weed, filled the air the closer we got.
“Damn,” Dique muttered, pullin’ his shades down to peek out the tinted window. “Keondra still in the same busted-ass unit?”
Carmen didn’t say much. She sat with her legs crossed and her hands on her lap with her eyes already scannin’ the surroundings. When we stepped out, the heel of her Givenchy boots were were loud even on the concrete. As soon as we parked , the block boys clocked us, but none ever stupid enough to try no shit. Most of the niggas were fans of me and I appreciated it. Lil Dre, Tino, and a lanky dude from the 40’s, who name I couldn’t remember were all sittin’ on overturned milk crates by the corner store with their eyes focused, but mouths closed, and I knew they instantly recognized us.
Dre stood up first and nodded his head once. “Wassup, King.”
I nodded back. “You straight?”
“All day.” He replied before sittin’ back down without any further conversation ‘cause none was needed; it was all respect.
I walked like I belonged ‘cause I did wearin’ my black tee, diamond Cuban link, and my wrist gleamin’, but not loud enough to be stupid just in case a nigga thought they wanted to make a name for themselves. I always hoped they didn’t ‘cause they were gon’ fuck around and be famous fo’ real fuckin’ with me after their names were flashin’ across the screen in the breaking news. Every eye on that street knew what time it was. A few females on the steps of a nearby building watched us walk up. One of them was short with a thick frame and a bonnet slid halfway off her head. She nudged her friend hard.
“Ooh girl look, that’s Dominic Royal. I ain’t know he was that fine in real life.” She gushed.
Another one whispered, “Who that with him? His brother? Lawd, they got the same damn cheekbones on them and some strong ass genes.”
Dique smirked, clearly hearin’ all of it. He adjusted his chain and winked at the boldest one. “Appreciate the love, ma. But I’m allergic to drama and child support.”
They fell out laughin’. Meanwhile Carmen rolled her eyes and kept walkin’ tryin’ to ignore laughin’ at Dique. Carmen had dudes starin’ too but it was different stares. Her stares wasn’t thirsty and shit. She drew in the type of look men gave a female they knew they couldn’t afford to disrespect or get next to. She had power in her walk and her eyes said it all, ‘I got bail money, and I know how to hide the body’. Only reason I ain’t shoot a nigga in the eyeballs was ‘cause they didn’t know she was my wife, even if the shit was arranged. Carmen wasn’t allowed to fuck with no niggas… call me toxic baby, I’d wear that.
We finally reached the rusted metal steps of Keondra’s duplex. It was faded in green with paint chippin’ off the walls like the buildin’ was tired from years of neglect. I looked up and Keondra was on the second-floor balcony in a red bonnet, a tank top, and some fuzzy slides. She had one hand on her hip and a Juicy Couture diaper bag slung over her shoulder. She was actually a pretty girl, her mentality just sucked.
“Bout time!” She yelled, waving a finger like we owed her more than a paternity test.
We climbed the stairs, while Dique was draggin’ his feet the whole way with his guns visible on his hip. “Don’t say nothin’ slick,” he muttered to me. “I’m already fuckin’ traumatized.”
I didn’t know what the fuck he was salty with us for, hell, he the one who did it and now he wanted to call the baby a cross between Malcolm X and MLK and shit. If that baby turned out not to be his, he better had dropped to his knees and thanked God for dodgin’ that bullet. As we reached the door, a little girl with two high puffs and rainbow barrettes ran out.
“DAAAAAADDDYYYYY!” She squealed catchin’ us all off guard. The sound was so high-pitched, a few pigeons actually flew off the fuckin’ roof. The little girl slammed into Dique’s leg wrappin’ her arms tightly around his leg. I could tell she had been coached and shown pictures for her to really think that she was a Royal and Dique was her daddy. She wasn’t an ugly lil girl, she was actually cute in her own unique way, but she didn’t look like she belonged to us.
Dique stood stiff as hell; as stiff as I ever seen him be in his life. For the first time, Dique ain’t know what to do. I placed his hand on her tiny back and looked at us for help. “Uh… hey, baby,” he said soundin’ awkward with his eyes wide as hell.
I bit the inside of my cheek to avoid clowning baby bro. Carmen turned her head tryin’ to hide her laugh too. This was somethin’ we shouldn’t even had to do right now ‘cause it was already too much goin’ on. The stares from the people on the block were stares of those still admiring us, while also wonderin’ what we wanted with Keondra or how she even knew us to get this close to us.
In the midst of lil mama thinkin’ she was meetin’ her daddy, Dique looked at the kid real close and frowned. “Yo….”
“What?” I asked, already knowin’ where he was goin’ with this. He saw the same thing we saw. When he looked at her, he didn’t see us.
“This baby got green eyes, a birthmark shaped like Florida on her neck, and she got freckles. Bro, I’m allergic to the sun, this shit don’t add up! I swear to God it don’t.” Dique had agitation all over his face. I didn’t have to kick him while he was down, but I ain’t feel sorry for his ass.
Keondra stomped over with one hand propped on her hip. That mean bowlegged walk was somethin’ serious and that’s probably what got Dique… she was thick and stacked in all the right places. “Don’t be disrespectin’ my baby!” she spat.
Dique looked at her like she was crazy. Even though she was talkin’ shit, her eyes said she really wanted Dique to be her man. “I’m not disrespectin’… I’m just sayin’, this baby built like her real daddy drive a FedEx truck and eat sunflower seeds for breakfast.”
I stepped in before it turned left. “Alright…. look, Keondra,” I said, in a calm but firm voice. “Dique gon’ take the test. But until then, this harassment gotta stop.”
“I ain’t harassin’!”
“You been blowin’ his phone up like a scam call center. Lie to me again, I’ma show you why I am who I am.” I retorted and then turned to Carmen. “Carmen… Come here.”
Carmen stepped forward, pullin’ her iPad out her tote like it was a damn weapon. “I’ll be emailing you a legal cease and desist. Whether this is Dique’s child or not, you cannot speak on the Royal family. You cannot tag Dique, or reference the Royal family in any post, group chat, or Facebook rant. That includes Facebook Lives in bonnets.”
Keondra caught the shade and stepped forward. “Bitch!”
Carmen cut her off as she rose a brow without so much as flinchin’. “You speak to me like a woman, or you don’t speak at all. I’m here to protect his legacy, not argue in a fucking stairwell.”
Keondra blinked a few times realizin’ she was trippin’. Even if she thought she was gon’ touch Carmen, I would’ve broken her wrist before she even knew what happened. She calmed herself down and then held out her phone with an attitude. “Here’s my email…”
Dique covered his face. “This my life now?” he mumbled. “Cease and desist on child support I probably don’t even owe?”
The little girl tugged his pants leg again. “Daddy, can I have ice cream?”
Dique looked at her, then at Keondra, then at me with the most disgusted look in his eyes. He didn’t want to be rude to the child, he just didn’t know what to do. “This ain’t even about the ice cream no more. This about‘the lie’ Dom.”
It took a lot to make me laugh, but I fuckin’ lost it while Carmen damn near doubled over laughin’. Dique pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and slipped it in her tiny hand. He leaned down and told her, “you can have all the ice-cream you want sweetheart.” He said in a sarcastic tone.
Keondra rolled her eyes and snatched her daughter up. “Just wait for the results! And Ibet you gon’ be buying uniforms come August!”
At that point, she was talkin’ to our backsides ‘cause it was time to go. I didn’t have time to entertain no more of the baby mama drama, especially when I didn’t have none of my own. We made it to the truck before Dique threw himself into the backseat and groaned so loud it echoed through the whip. Keondra stood on the balcony watchin’ until we pulled off.
I turned to Carmen. “Make that email priority,” I let her know. She nodded while typing already. I then looked at Dique. “And Dique?” I said. He looked up at me and I continued. “No distractions man, you gon’ be front and center when this shit kicks off and I can’t have you duckin’ bullets and baby mamas.”
Dique sighed. “I swear, if this baby ain’t mine, I’m suin’ for emotional distress.” Dique was dead serious once again and me and Carmen chuckled.
Once we pulled away from Keondra’s duplex, I reached across Carmen’s lap and turned the A/C up. “I want the test done by the end of the week,” I told her.
“I already texted my lab guy,” Carmen replied, tappin’ into her phone. “Dique will get swabbed at noon tomorrow and get the results in forty-eight hours.”
Dique was still in the backseat groanin’ like somebody just snatched his chain or somethin’. “I don’t even like swabs,” he mumbled. “Make me feel like I’m pledgin’ a fraternity I ain’t ask to join.”
I smirked but didn’t say shit. Carmen’s professional ass just kept typing. “And I already sent the cease and desist draft to her email. I included a clause that even if the child is his, she’s not allowed to mention your name in public or private social channels. If she violates it, we can bury her in court,” she informed.
Dique leaned up and placed a kiss on Carmen’s cheek. “God, I love you,” he chuckled. “Not even on some nasty shit ‘cause I’m not tryin’ to be nasty to the girl. I just love you on some protection-from-wild-ass-women shit.”
Carmen didn’t even blink, she kept workin’. I said somethin’ instead. “Good,” I replied. “Now let’s eat.”
We hit upVersailles, one of the lowkey Cuban spots I knew had solid security and a back booth with shadows thick enough to keep the real ones like us outta sight. We walked in together, with our eyes movin’ checkin’ every angle. Dique scanned left, I scanned right, and Carmen followed behind, with her clothes clingin’ to her curves, but her eyes were locked onto the exits, just the same as us. My hittas had been on standby since we left Brickell. I sent out a quick encrypted message: Trail us in two cars and stay low, but don’t fall behind. A simple ‘Seen’ popped up, and that was enough for me.
We slid into a booth in the far back with red leather seats. I ordered ropa vieja, maduros, and a café con leche. Carmen ordered grilled fish and rice. Dique went straight for the Cuban sandwich, with extra mustard, with a Jupina. We didn’t say much at first, we just watched and ate with our eyes on every damn thing. Then my phone buzzed breakin’ the silence. It wasn’t one of my regular phones. It was from one of my older phones which I barely used. Only five females even had the number. I frowned when the screen flashed with a name I hadn’t seen in months. It was Katrina’s ass , one of my off-and-on flames with a big mouth and a bigger ego but she had some great sex. However, she was dangerous to keep around. I answered without thinkin’, still chewin’ my food, and hit speaker outta habit like I always did with this particular phone.
“Aye, wassup?”
Her voice came in low in a whispered tone. “ Mmm, I been thinkin’ about that dick all week. Where you been, daddy? You know I miss that tongue.”
Carmen’s fork froze mid-air while Dique damn near choked on his soda. I swallowed hard and snatched the phone off speaker. “Yo. Chill,” I growled into the receiver, glancin’ at Carmen. “Now ain’t the time.”
“Oh really?” she pouted. “Sound like you got company but I’m tryna see you… sit on your face. Whisper in your ear while I…”
“ Katrina… shut up man, fo’ real.” I groaned chewin’ the rest of my food. I stood from the booth, walkin’ a few paces toward the back hallway. “I don’t got time for none of that right now,” I said low tone. “When I want some pussy, I’ll call. Till then, don’t call this muhfuckin’ line unless blood is involved.”
She paused. “So, it’s like that?”
“Yeah… it’s just like that.” I hung up and slid the phone back in my pocket. When I returned to the booth, Carmen was stirring her coffee slow and just as calm as ever, but I knew her too well. That calm meant lava underneath ice. I slid back into the seat. “You good?” I asked.
She nodded. “Always.”
I gave her a long look and she didn’t blink so I let it go. I was findin’ myself givin’ more fucks about her feelings than I should. “Alright.”
Dique cleared his throat. “That was the most uncomfortable roast pork sandwich I ever ate in my life,” he said. “She really said ‘sit on yo’ face’ before I finished my bite. Felt like I needed to pray over the fuckin’ sandwich.”
Carmen finally cracked a half smile ‘cause being round Dique, it was damn near impossible not to. Once we finished eatin’, I tossed a wad of hundreds on the table and slid out of the booth. I stepped into the street with Carmen and Dique behind me. Our hittas rolled past slowly in the blacked-out SUV, with the windows barely cracked. They didn’t wave nor did they nod. They just moved like thieves in the night. I lit a blunt and exhaled slow allowin’ the smoke to circulate around me.
“It’s time.” I told Dique.
Dique looked over. “Time for what?”
“Time to strike. Ain’t no more waitin’ and no more defense. El Blanca thought he could pull strings behind glass walls now we ‘bout to show him how to shatter every fuckin’ window. ”
“You know I’m wit’ it… he bout to get a taste of his own medicine. Make his ass think the hit comin’ from the Morenos so we can have his ass runnin’ in circles too tryin’ to figure it out. We put the ball in our court while we figure everything else out, slime. I got you.” Dique replied as we bumped fist and headed off into the night with Carmen right next to me.