22. Riot St. James #2
“I’ve heard so much about you, Riot. I knew that Dominique had a girlfriend when I would call him, and his voice just sounded much softer.
He was calmer. Happier. I just knew. I know the effect that a woman can have on a man.
We’re going to sit down and talk all about it.
Me, and you,” she said to me, and I just smiled, not knowing what else to do.
“You can call me Raquel too,” she said, and I nodded, letting her know that that was fine.
“You baked a cake?” she perked up, asking me. That’s when I let out a nervous giggle, and shook my head no.
“My mom did,” I said to her.
“Okay. Tell her that we said thank you. We are a family that loves sweets. Can you bake too?” she asked me, and I looked over at Dolo, who had this smirk on his face, as if he was dying to see if I was going to lie to his mother.
“No. I can’t cook,” I was honest with her. She giggled at that. I thought she was going to shame me because Dolo told me that his mom was a great cook.
“That’s okay. Your still young. You have time to learn. Come on in the kitchen, so that I can introduce you to everyone,” she said to me, pulling my hand, as if she was happy that I was the girl that her son had chosen.
When we made it to the kitchen, I sat the cake down on the counter. Some of Dolo’s family was in the dining room area, and some were sitting in the living room. Diego was here, and he was already sitting at the dining room table, stuffing his face.
Dolo’s family wasn’t as big as mine, so it didn’t take his mom long to go around and introduce me to everyone. It was only a few members from Dolo’s mom’s family, who were all very nice, and some from his dad’s family, who were nice too.
Just as I was getting ready to ask Dolo where his dad was, the sliding door opened, and there his dad was, walking in, holding a tray in his hands, that held ribs.
All I could say was that it made all the sense in the world why Raquel had divorced this man but then came back years later.
Dolo’s daddy was fine as hell. He literally looked just like Dolo.
Just taller, and way more muscular. He had a bald head, and a full beard.
God, when his eyes landed on Dolo, and I, and he smiled, it felt so weird because I thought Dolo had his mom’s smile, when the whole time, his smile reminded me of his dad too.
“Look at this nigga with a girlfriend. What’s up boy?” his dad asked, and you could hear the excitement all in his voice, as he sat the pan down, and he came over to his son, slapping it up with him, and like a proud father, he pulled him in for a hug, even kissed the top of his head.
Knowing that Dolo and his dad had gone years without talking to each other because Dolo decided to go down the same path that his father did with selling drugs, to seeing them like this, it really was beautiful.
“Shit, chilling. Pops, this Riot,” Dolo said, after the two of them pulled away from each other.
“How you doing, Riot? What you doing to my son? He a lover boy now. Every time I call to talk to him, he hitting me with Riot this, or Riot that,” his dad said, reaching his arm out for me, so that I could hug him.
I laughed, walking over to him, putting one arm out, and giving him a one-armed hug. I could tell that Dolo’s dad was a shit talker, and a jokester. That’s probably where Dolo got it from.
“I don’t do anything to your son. I just love him,” I said to him. Dolo’s mom wasn’t too far away, so when I said it, she heard me, and she cooed.
“If the nigga ever get out of line, call me. I’ll put him on his head,” he threatened, and I told him that I would take him up on that.
“You can call me Delano. Let me put the food up, get situated, and we going to talk. I want to find out more about you,” he let me know, and I nodded my head, letting him know that that was cool.
I chose to sit at the dining room table, right next to Diego.
From here, I could see Dolo’s parents in the kitchen, and boy were they still in love.
Raquel was standing over the stove, mixing around whatever was in the pot, when Delano came behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and I’m not sure what he was saying in her ear, but it had her giggling and smiling.
Right after, she turned her head around, and right there in the middle of the kitchen, they started tonging each other down.
“Aight. Ya’ll can cut that shit out. Nigga ain’t been here but five minutes, and ya’ll already at it,” Dolo called them out.
Like they didn’t even hear him, they continued in their love session, until his father eventually pulled away. Dolo came and he sat right next to me.
The doorbell rang, and Dolo attempted to get it, but his mom called out that she would, since she was already standing. His dad was holding a knife in his hands, cutting up the ribs, so his hands were already preoccupied.
From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see the front door, but seconds later, his mom made her way back into the kitchen, and she was standing with a white man. I assumed that it was another one of Dolo’s family members.
“Baby, Tom said that him, and his wife are next door having burgers and he just realized that they didn’t have any ketchup. He wanted to use some of ours,” Raquel said.
So, Tom was the neighbor. You could tell that Dolo’s parents were cool with Tom because when Tom walked in, Delano was all smiles.
“Shit, you might as well bring your wife over here. We having a little get together. My son just came over with his girl. Gone head, and tell Cathy to come over,” Delano said to Tom, who stood there with a smile on his face.
“Okay, I’ll go ahead and bring her over.
Man, I’ve been thinking about these burgers all week.
Woke up first thing this morning to go to the store, grab the burgers, and I came home and seasoned them.
Those burgers have been marinating for hours, man.
As soon as I go to fix my plate, I tell my wife, ‘Hey! Ain’t this about a bitch!
How we going to have burgers with no ketchup’. Crazy man!” he went on.
“Hey. Hey, what you reaching for?”
“Hey!”
I remember hearing that “hey” before. The way he pronounced it wasn’t new to me. It was attached to something. Last time I heard someone pronounce hey like that, it was followed by gun shots. The sound of that ‘hey’ gave me chills. Real chills. Something felt off.
That voice sounded too familiar. I heard it before.
In that same tone. From the video. The video that I saw the other day of my daddy being gunned down by the cop.
I knew what the cop looked like. I remember waking up the next morning and looking him up.
As if I didn’t get the shit scared out of me the night before, seeing the footage of my dad being gunned down, I went looking for more.
The cop’s name was Michael Hanks. This man’s name was Tom though. Michael Hanks was a fat, white cop. This Tom guy was on the smaller side. Michael Hanks had black hair. Here was Tom with brown hair. The only thing that set Michael Hanks and Tom apart was the physical. That’s it.
He could lose the weight. He could change his hair color.
This cracka could grow it out, color it, it didn’t matter.
I knew who the fuck I was looking at. I know I wasn’t crazy.
His voice stayed the same. The same way he called out hey to his wife was the same way he called it out to my father right before he murdered him.
Man, I know that fuckin voice. That voice hunted me that entire night that I got a hold of that video.
I heard it ringing in my ears the next day as well.
I remembered his face. It was the same face as Tom.
Just slimmer. Nigga thought that he could retire, move out to West Palm Beach, change up his physical, dye his hair, and just blend in.
You gotta understand I’m a different kind of bitch. I see things that most wont. I am the product of a little girl that lost her father and still wanted answers till this day.
I stood up. I politely stood up, and I walked over to Tom. Just as tiny as I was compared to him, I walked over, and I looked this man in his eyes.
“Were you a cop at any point?” I got right to the point, asking him.
“Riot, what you got going on?” Dolo asked, laughing, coming over, and he grabbed my arm, but I shook away from his grasp.
My eyes studied “Tom”. When he heard Dolo call me Riot, he looked me up and down like he’d just seen a ghost. That look confirmed it.
I knew what the fuck I was talking about.
You wouldn’t forget a name like Riot. I’m sure after he killed my father, he did his research and learned that my daddy left behind a wife, and two kids.
I know he knew my fathers kids names. He wouldn’t forget that.
“Can you answer the question please?” I asked Tom again.
“Riot, chill bruh. You tripping,” Dolo said it again.
Tom looked like he wanted to shit bricks right now and die.
“Michael Hanks, right? Badge number 76243. Miami- Dade Police Department. Patrol division. You’re looking at me like that because you heard what he just called me.
I was the little girl in the back seat that morning.
Maverick St. James. Maybe you know him as Grim.
It was you that killed my father, right?
” it was like a bomb went off when I asked that.
Everybody froze. Everybody was shocked. This Tom person could have Dolo, and his family fooled, but he couldn’t fool me. I spotted that fraud the second he walked in.
The thing about it, he didn’t even have to confess to it. I already knew. His confession was written all over his face.
The nigga forgot one important thing though during this transition and move of life that he did. When he took my daddy away from me nineteen years ago, I was in the backseat. I grew up. Little girls didn’t stay little forever.
Now I gotta make his ass bleed and stop his heart from beating the same way he stopped my fathers. His family had to drop to their knees the same way that my mama had to drop to hers when she buried my father.