Chapter 14
Riot St. James
“Can you make sure that the wings are fried hard, please? Extra buffalo sauce on the side please, and no ice in the sprite,” I said to the server, that was behind the serving window, taking my order.
I was back in Miami. Truthfully, if I could have it my way, I would much rather be back in Turks. I had so much fun out there. The beautiful water, the excursions, being around people that I came to love, the food, and just the alone time that I was able to have with my man.
The morning we left the island to come back home, Dolo damn near had to drag me out of bed because I wasn’t ready to leave.
Because we left early in the morning, that was enough time for us to land, head back to the house, where we showered, changed, and immediately went to the warehouse to get back to work.
Here we were, day two of being back home, and we were back at it.
I was in the hood with Diego right now though.
It was a little after ten at night. We were on 62nd street and 7th ave.
It was a popular plaza that we were in right now, that had about four different food trunks.
It wasn’t that busy because it was late.
If we had come this afternoon, I’m sure this spot would’ve been jumping.
Before getting here, I had been at the warehouse with Diego, and everyone else.
Diego told Dolo that he was going to step out and grab something to eat from one of the food trucks that he’d passed on the way here.
Dolo put in a order, and Diego was acting like it was the longest list in the world, and that he wasn’t going to remember all of that, and that’s how I ended up tagging along.
I knew how to order Dolo’s food. I knew the food he liked, and I knew the way he liked it cooked.
Down to his drink. I knew that he didn’t always like ice in it.
I tell him all the time that he was weird for liking to drink warm soda.
There was a food truck out here that was selling pizza, and that’s where I’d gotten my food from. I’d already put the order in, and I was just waiting for them to call me.
I was standing at one of the food trucks that specialized in wings. Diego placed his order already, and was just waiting on me to finish ordering for Dolo, so that he could pay the tab.
“Alright, that’s it?” the server asked me.
I let him know that was it, and that’s when Diego handed him the cash, paying for everything.
Diego was then given a ticket, and we were told that it was going to take about fifteen minutes for the food to finish.
There were sitting areas out here, so Diego found a spot for us to sit.
It was two single chairs that were right next to each other.
He took a seat, and I followed, coming over, and sitting next to him.
“You don’t wish you were at home right now, chilling in the bed, waiting on your nigga to get home? You’ll rather be out in the field with the guys, doing this shit?” Diego wanted to know, sparking up conversation with me.
I laughed at his question because it caught me off guard. I didn’t expect him to ask me this. Looking up at him, he looked just like Dolo. Only, he was slimmer, and he didn’t wear glasses.
“Does anything about my personality give that I would much rather be home, in the bed, waiting on Dolo to get home? I love what I do. I hate when niggas make those kind of comments. The kinds of comments where ya’ll always have to put genders on specific roles.
Men move weight all the time. They’ve been doing it since the beginning of time, but when a woman does it, why we gotta be forced to feel like we should be at home, in bed, while the man is working?
” I asked him, and this time, it was his turn to laugh, and throw his hands up, as if he didn’t want any smoke with me.
“Aww shit. Even after I asked it, I felt like I just started up some feminist shit. I really didn’t mean it in that context though.
I guess because we live in Miami, I’m just used to the same kind of women, you know?
These women out here want a soft life. They want to be passenger princesses and shit.
They want to dilly dally with shopping sprees, brunches, and have a nigga fund their entire lifestyle.
It’s not too many women out here that’s willing to get their hands dirty, let alone want to move weight side by side with their nigga.
I know my brother can give you a soft life.
I guess I just want to know why you would choose the hard life over the soft life that my brother can give you?
” he asked, and when he turned it around, and asked it in that manner, I guess I wasn’t so offended anymore.
“A soft life is not what I want. I didn’t get to witness my mama living a soft life.
When my daddy was killed, she was forced to raise me, and my brother on her own.
I watched my mama hustle. She might not have moved dope, but her hustle was running her salon, making shit happen, and figuring it the fuck out.
I never saw her bring a man around us. She didn’t sit at home, cooking and cleaning, while a man handled everything.
Even when my daddy was alive, she still hustled with her shop and made her own money.
I watched what it means to survive, so that’s just always been instilled in me.
As far as me moving dope, it’s just one of those things that’s in my blood, just as much as it’s in yours,” I let him know, and he nodded.
“I feel that lil sis. You ain’t gotta shoot me. I was just asking a question,” he responded, and I smiled.
Not even a second later, I could see the look in his eyes change. His eyes grew big. Almost as if he was caught off guard by something. Before I could even turn my head, and attempt to see what was going on, I heard loud gun shots coming our way.
“Rat-tat-tat” the sound of gunfire ripped through the air, loud enough to make my ears ring.
In this moment, all I could think about was the last thing that Dolo said to Diego before we left out of the warehouse. He said, “Protect her with your motha fuckin life”.
Diego quickly hopped up from the chair, and he went to tackle me down to the ground, so that he could cover me, but in the midst of him doing that, I watched two bullets pierced into his chest, leaving him with no choice but to crash down on me.
It was a black Chevrolet Tahoe that came hitting the street.
Bullets were flying our way nonstop. I was able to push Diego off me, roll him over, keeping him on his side, all the while, trying to get my gun off my waist, so that I could fire back at the truck.
I’m doing this, while also trying to stay alive myself.
I was just trying to get to the driver. If I could pop the driver, then I could slow the shooting down.
I was standing on the sidewalk, letting off round after round, only letting my bullets fly into the car.
That went on for about ten seconds at the most, and then the Tahoe sped off.
As badly as I wanted to chase them down this fuckin street, I had to get back to Diego. I had to tend to him.
I rushed back over to get to him, and there were about five people surrounding him, all tending to him. Multiple people had their phones out already, dialing 9-1-1, screaming at them to get the paramedics down here.
“Move! Move! Let me get to him,” I screamed at the person that was kneeled right in front of him.
Diego’s eyes were still opened, but he was barely hanging on.
He looked weak, as he lay there. This shit hurt me to my core because I really did look at Diego as my big brother.
I was just talking with him. We were just talking shit to each other, and then this happened.
He had a look in his eyes, as if he was scared. That look caused my eyes to water.
I thought about Dolo, and how this would break him if Diego didn’t make it. Dolo loved his brother, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. I can’t even begin to imagine how upside down his world would be if Diego died on us.
“Diego, please. You have to fight. Please. You are going to break so many hearts if you don’t fight. Think about your parents. Think about, Dolo. Please,” I was begging him, watching him.
Any other time, smiling felt like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do. To know Diego, is to know that he was always smiling. This time, it’s like it took a certain kind of strength to get him to smile back at me.
“Tell…. Tell my brother… I love him,” he weakly said to me, and I started screaming, and crying, feeling like he was giving up.
Seconds later, you could hear the ambulance truck in the distance. They quickly made their way over to the street, where we were. They got out like mad men, moving all of us out of the way, so that they could tend to Diego.
I knew what I had to do next. I knew the call that I had to make. I had to call Dolo. It was going to break my heart to make this call, but he deserved to know.
With shaky hands, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, and I went for his contact. He picked the phone up for me on the second ring.
“Where ya’ll at bae?” I’m starving,” he answered. I couldn’t even speak. I was in a state of shock, after watching what just happened to Diego, and listening to him take what might have been his last words.
I was crying, not able to get anything out.
“What happened, Riot? Bae, what happened?” he barked. You could hear the seriousness in his voice. The confusion. Even the fear.
“Doloooo,” I was trying to get it out, but I couldn’t.
“Where’s Diego? Where my brother at, baby? Put him on the phone. Put him on the phone,” when I heard that crack in his voice the last time, it’s like he knew.