I think what stole the show for me is when he pulled his phone out, and like he was Riot’s biggest fan, he started recording her. I could see his hand movements, where he was telling her to spin round, so that he could capture a full 360 of her hair. Riot did it for him, and once he finished with the video, she jumped in his arms.
My daughter loved him. It was in her eyes whenever she would talk about him. I saw it in the way that she quickly left out of the salon, leaving her purse in the chair, just so that she could get to him. It was the way her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and just melted into him. When I saw that they took their affection from PG to rated R, having Dolo slowly bounce her in his arms, and they begin to kiss, that’s when I turned my head.
“Oh Ms. Keyshawn, you might as well put her back on your schedule for tomorrow. He going to sweat that out tonight. You going to have to touch her up,” Pat, one of the older stylist said to me, making me, along with everyone else in the salon laugh.
“See, I gotta get back in the gym. I can’t tell you the last time that a man picked me up like that,” Gina, another stylist called out, and she got us all to laugh too.
“Keyshawn. Your daughter is in love boo. How does that make you feel?” Pat asked me, stopping from tending to her client for a second, just so that she could put her hands on her hips.
It’s like everyone stopped what they were doing, so that they could look at me. I didn’t mind the question though. This was a salon filled with women, and we had girl talk all the time. I never went into deep information about my child though. I’ve never been that kind of person. Anyone that I loved, I kept them close to me, and I never wanted to over share when it came to them.
“It makes me feel happy. My baby has been through a lot. She’s lost a lot, so she deserves that kind of love, you know? If anyone deserves to be loved out loud like that, it’s Riot,” was my response, as I moved Riot’s purse out of the chair, sat it on the counter, so that I was able to take a seat. My response made all the women gush over it.
I meant what I said to them. I didn’t just say it because it sounded good, either. My baby took the kind of losses that would make the sanest person lose their mind. I know how it felt to have a father. Even at my grown age, when life gets rough, I can call my daddy at any moment, vent to him, and whatever the problem was, he’ll quickly jump on it, looking for a solution. My baby didn’t have that. That bond was taken away from her at two years old.
I remember the way Grim loved her. I can only imagine how he would have been here to love her during her adult years.
Even though Riot never spoke to me again about the cop that killed her father, I knew my child, therefore I knew that she went out, found him, and she killed him. I knew this because she never brought it up again. Had she brought him up again,I’m sure she would have talked about him in a sense as if she was mad that she didn’t have a location on him. Killing him wouldn’t bring Grim back. It’ll probably only make her feel better temporarily. I’ve already accepted it in my heart that Grim was gone, and I think that’s why it didn’t make me feel any kind of way on whether that cop lived, or he died.
I think about Roman, and the bond that Riot had with her brother. She’ll go to war with anyone about her brother. I remember when they were kids, and I would discipline Roman, and she would always feel the need to jump her lil ass in, trying to defend him. The bond they had was so unique. When it was taken from her, I felt like my daughter was taken away too because I got a version of Riot that was so hard to understand, and so hard to get through. Knowing all that she’s been through and knowing that she had a man like Dolo to come in, and love her, even though I knew that she wasn’t the easiest to love, I would always support what they had going on.
The world knows her as this 90-pound lil thing, that has strength and the heart as someone that’s almost three times her size. I’ve even been hearing rumors around Miami lately, hearing people label her as the Street Heiress, or whatever else it was that they continue to come up with for her. They knew the tough version of her. The one that carried on, and acted just like her daddy, and her brother whenever she was pushed to take it there. But for me? That’s still my baby. That’s still my little girl. I still look at her as the five-pound, eight- ounce baby that I brought home from the hospital. The little girl that I prayed for. Cried for and fought for.
Lord knows that we may not always see eye to eye, but I’ll take it to hell when it comes to my daughter. That’s all that I have left in this world, you know? I buried a husband. Dropped to my knees and buried a child as well.
I ride Riot the way that I do, and I love her the way that I do for a reason. Forgive me if I ever hold on to my daughter a little tighter than most. It’s just the hurt of burying a loved one is something that I never want to experience in this life ever again.
Chapter 22
Riot St. James
“It used to be a time when I took you out to eat, and you didn’t want to eat nothing. Now your ass want to order everything off the menu, and you never finish that shit. Then, you got all that food on your side, yet you steady reaching over her, digging in my food. What the fuck part of the relationship is this called?” Dolo said to me, trying to sound as if he was annoyed that I’d reached into his plate with my fork, wanting to sample his steak, but he knew he really wasn’t.
We were out, having date night. My man left out this morning before me, and I found a letter waiting for me on the nightstand. Dolo was the hoodest nigga by far, but I loved when he would get romantic with me. The letter was so sweet that I brought it along with us tonight for our date. I had it sitting right on the table. This is what he wrote inside of it…
Riot,
No traps tonight. No warehouse runs. We don’t have to run the streets tonight. We been going at it hard these past few weeks. I never want us to get to a point in ourrelationship, where it feels more like business, than it is pleasure. I still want to date you. I still want to court you. I want to invest just as much time into the romantic part of our relationship that I do with the business part of it.
Call Keyshawn and see if she can do your hair today. Get your nails and shit done too. We have dinner reservations at 9:00 PM.
Dolo
He left five stacks with the letter, so that I could use the money to handle all my girl maintenance. I read that letter so many times this morning that I could read it out to you by heart. Everything that he said in that letter was the truth. We have been busy with business lately. These past few weekends, Dolo has gone off to Orlando, and Tampa because he was serious about expanding. Then, he had his security company up and running, with quite a few contracts down, so he’s been staying busy.
He’s been keeping me busy as well because I was the person that he wanted by his side whenever he came up with these business ventures. If it wasn’t business that we were tending to, then it was tending to Diego. He was finally released from the hospital and was still recovering.
Dolo’s parents were in Miami, and truthfully, I don’t think that they were going back to West Palm any time soon. They kept extending their stay with the Air Bnb rental. They didn’t want to leave until Diego was 100%, which made a lot of sense. Since we’ve all been around each other so much these days, coming over to see Diego, I’ve grown a nice bond with his parents. His dad was so cool. It felt like I was around an older version of Dolowhenever I was around him. I loved his mom too. She had me in the kitchen with her, teaching me how to cook.
“Dominique, did you not tell me to taste your steak because it looked well done, compared to mine?” I asked, turning my head to look at him. He was so handsome tonight in his all black.
We were having dinner at Mr. Chow, and when you came here, guest typically dressed up. Dolo had so much style, and although I loved to see him in his street wear, I also loved when he would put the sagging jeans, and graphic tees up, and pop out with something grown man like this. My man looked expensive tonight. He was dressed in a short-sleeved-fitted, mock neck top, showing off the tattoos that were on both arms. His slacks were tailored, fitting him perfectly. I liked that they were somewhat flooded at the bottom. He wore these chunky loafers from Ferragamo. The leather harness that he wore really set the outfit off. The outfit was a perfect indication of who he was. He was a clean nigga, but he couldn’t escape his hood ways.
Those Prada frames were on his face, and you know that that would forever be my favorite accessory of his. He smelled so nice as well. I had been snuggled up under him all night, just so that I could continue to get a whiff of the cologne that he was wearing.
“Bae, I told you that shit five minutes ago,” he shot, reaching his hand over with his fork, and digging into my food as well. We both couldn’t help it. We both would take food off each other’s plates.
“When I say lil shit like that to you, you know that I just be fuckin with you, right? It just wouldn’t be like me if I didn’t talk a lil shit, you know? I don’t mind when you eat off my plate. Anything to fatten you up,” he tried to be funny with the last part, so I hit him on his chest.
