17. Dominique ‘Dolo’ Shaw
Dominique ‘Dolo’ Shaw
It was the middle of the afternoon, and we were at one of the distribution hubs that I had down south.
This hub is where the drugs got sent out.
Drugs were picked up, and either taken to the warehouse, or to the traps, so that the work could get cooked, and then it was out on the street.
The distribution hub was never really a spot that I pulled up too often.
I’ll admit, ever since me, and Riot had that talk, where she told me about the inconsistency with the baggies, I’ve been way more hands on in the business than I’ve ever been before.
This spot right here was just for movement purposes. When you’re in the hub, your typically in and out. This isn’t the kind of spot that you sit in for too long. I was just here, watching the way niggas were working.
Riot was here too. I didn’t have her lil ass picking up heavy boxes with product in it because half this shit was bigger than her.
Her position was right here to the side of me, right where the fuck she was supposed to be, with a tablet in her hands.
She was keeping track of everything. I had her taking notes of everything that was coming in and out, everything that was getting packaged, and anyone that walked in, and out of this door.
She did the business shit good, and that was the only time she would really talk to me.
As far as the personal, I had her fucked up, and she wasn’t fuckin with me at all.
I should have looked her in her eyes, and lied to her, telling her that I wasn’t fuckin hoes.
I tried to be playa, and tell her the truth, and now she ain’t fuckin with me.
Mind you, that shit happened a week ago, and she was treating a nigga like we took vows, and I didn’t honor my vows.
I wanted to kill Mook for lying to her, telling her that I went on a two man with him, when he knew that shit wasn’t true.
He told me the shit that Riot was talking to him, so he threw that lie out to her because he wanted to piss her off.
That warehouse shit was still weird as fuck to me.
Niggas were walking around dumbfounded, as if they had no clue how a total stranger was able to walk onto our turf and get that close to Riot.
I upped security now, so we shouldn’t have to run into that problem again.
I had security stationed at the entrance, so going forward, you couldn’t even turn onto that back road, unless you worked for me.
My phone started ringing in my pocket. I pulled it out, and I saw that it was Octavio calling me.
When you saw that name flashing across your screen, I swear to God that you didn’t take your time in answering that shit.
You put whatever you were doing to the side, so that you could pick up the phone for him, especially since he wasn’t the kind of man that called often.
When he called, you knew that it was going to be of importance.
Octavio was my supplier out in Mexico. He was the source behind this shit.
These drugs that were moving through my organization, he supplied that shit.
Cutthroat kind of nigga too. I know for a fact that if I didn’t do my part, he would be on the first thing smoking to get to Miami, so that he could kill me, and anyone working up under me.
I’ve been doing business with Octavio for about five years now.
It wasn’t easy to get put on with him, either.
You had to have patience to get on with him.
You had to prove to him that you had hustle, and you were worth his time.
Once me, and my crew proved that to him, business has been going great between us.
I got a little nervous to see him calling me though because we’d just had a shipment not too long ago, which is why we were moving shit out at the hub, so I hoped he wasn’t calling, expecting us to have pushed it all out on the streets already.
Riot saw that I reached for my phone, and even through her anger, she turned her head, so that she could look at me. I saw that, and I laughed.
“You ain’t fuckin with me, so why you care who calling me?” I asked, just to fuck with her. She didn’t respond to me because shipments were going out, and she wanted to keep track.
“Octavio, what’s up?” I answered, stepping just a few feet away from Riot.
“Dominique, my guy. I hear movement. Movement means money. I like to hear movement,” he said to me in his thick, Spanish accent.
If he switched up, and started speaking to me in Spanish, I would be able to understand him.
My mom was from Spain, and we lived in Spain for a lot of our lives, especially in our younger years when she was beefing with our father, so I could understand it, and speak it.
I just didn’t speak it often because the people in my day-to-day life didn’t speak it, so that’s why I mostly spoke English.
When I would get around my mom, and her side, I’ll switch between English, and Spanish.
Octavio was from Mexico, and that’s where he ran his business. I’ve been to Mexico a few times to meet up with him. The mansion he owned was right on his own private island. Shit was inspiring as fuck. I wasn’t going to stop hustling until I had enough money to put a mansion on my own island.
“Yeah, you know I always got movement going on. What’s up? Everything good?” I asked him.
“Everything is good, Dominique. Everything is good. Listen my friend, my birthday is coming up. I don’t believe in birthdays.
I feel like birthdays should be celebrated for kids, and women.
But my wife, she insists. I’m turning 75 years old next weekend, and she feels that I should have a big 75th birthday party.
She’s planning something big. Something memorable.
I’m going to let her throw it. I’m going around, calling all the people in my life that matter.
All the ones that I’ve done business with, and the ones that I’m still doing business with,” he started.
This nigga would call me a week before, telling me to come to Mexico to celebrate his birthday. Octavio wasn’t the person you said no to. Best believe, he wasn’t calling to ask me this. This shit was a demand.
“ Ah, one more thing. It’s an all-black event. She wants everyone to dress nice. Almost as if you’re going to a..” he hesitated slightly, as if he was trying to get the perfect word. English wasn’t his first language, so talking with him, this would happen often.
“Like a ball or some shit?” I asked, trying to help him out. He chuckled after I said that.
“Yes. Like a ball. She wants the women to come in their beautiful gowns, and the men in their tuxedos,” he went on, and I took it in, but I didn’t say anything.
“I want you to come, Dominique. Come out, and celebrate with me,” he went on to say.
I was in grind mode right now and feeling like I was playing fight or flight with dem 9 boyz. Now wasn’t the time to leave, but I guess I could go up to Mexico for a day or two and bring my ass right back.
“Yeah. Octavio, you know I wouldn’t miss that shit for the world,” I eventually responded to him, and even though he wasn’t standing next to me, it’s almost like I could feel him smiling through the phone.
“Cool. Cool. Tell the whole MBM that they are welcomed to come celebrate my birthday with me,” he said.
“That’s cool. I can arrange that,” I responded, ready to hang the phone up, and get back to work.
“There’s one more thing. The little one. Bring her,” he said, and I paused for a little bit because his statement caught me off guard.
I was wondering if he was referring to Riot. I haven’t told him about Riot. Shit, I didn’t have to. Octavio didn’t give a fuck who I put on with me. All he cared about was the check clearing, and the product getting pushed.
“Who?” I asked, just to clarify.
“Riot. I’ve been hearing a lot about her. All good things. They say that she’s… dangerous. I would like to meet her in person. When you come, bring her with you, Dominique,” again, when he said that shit, it wasn’t a question. It was a demand.
Riot couldn’t hear him because the phone was glued to my ear, and I was a good distance from her, but it’s as if she clocked something because she turned her head around to look at me. She looked at me with questioning eyes, almost as if she was wondering what was going on.
“I’ll tell her,” I eventually responded.
“Don’t leave her behind,” and after that, he hung the phone up on me.
I placed my phone in my pocket, and I walked over to Riot. It’s like she knew that I was coming over here with something because she turned her head to look up at me.
“We going to Mexico next weekend,” I said, getting right to the point.
“What? Mexico? Dolo, I don’t even have a passport. I also never been on a plane, and I don’t want to get on one,” she sassed.
“It ain’t shit to get you a same day passport.
Smoke a blunt or take a couple of shots before the flight.
It’ll help to ease your nerves. That was Octavio that just called me.
My supplier in Mexico. His birthday is next weekend.
He’s turning 75. He wants the whole MBM to come.
He’s been hearing shit about you, so he specifically asked for you.
That nigga gone fuck around and kill my black ass if I don’t show up with you.
Come with me,” I was damn near begging. One, I knew he wanted her there, and two, shit, I wanted her to come too.
Riot loved this shit. The fact that I was damn near begging, she got a kick out of it, so she started smiling. She put her tablet to her side, and she stepped closer to me, getting all in my face.
“At least in death I don’t have to worry about them hoes having you,” she blurted, and I smiled because I loved crazy shit like that.