"Naw, I'll hold on to your little shitter, but when you return, his ass is going to Auntie Lo's crib. Don't trip. I'll get him ready to go. Damn crib is covered in newspaper."
"I think you give Papa food that Tasha cooks. He never shits like that with me." Money grinned, and Swift twisted lips.
"He whines when he smells it. What else am I supposed to do?"
"Feed him dog food, nigga, but I appreciate you. Before I slide, I'll have that cleaning lady come before you leave for work, then be on standby when you get off. Uncle Law put me on to her services. Comes by my spot once a week. Then I'll find a trainer or some kind of doggy daycare camp to train him."
"I heard you, but nothing beats putting in time, Swift. Spend some time with him, get him used to your voice, your expectations, to the point you can even take him on the road."
"I hear you."
"Let me ask you something. If he's for Auntie Lo, why not a cute little ass dog like a chihuahua instead of an Anatolian Shepherd?"
The answer was simple for Swift.
"Papa looked at me, then barked his head off until I stopped and pointed at him."
That meant something to Swift, since he wanted a dog that was attentive, protective, and, above all, intuitive. Those were the traits the woman at the pet store told him Anatolian Shepherds had. Also, that they grew tall and would guard you with their lives… as he would for his own mother. Instantly, he named him Papa.
"I'm done. Want me to hit this beard?"
"Yeah, but not too fucking low."
Swift knew women liked his beard, often complimenting it, which was thick and wavy, just like his hair.
After twenty more minutes, his cousin was dusting the excess hair from the cape before he lifted it from around his neck. Swift slid him eighty dollars and stood.
"You're gone until when?" Money asked him, looking at Swift admiring himself in the mirror.
"Late next week, unless I pick up another shipment. You know my moms keeps that brokering shit on lock."
"As she should and make sure you go make kissy faces with Papa's ass," he teased, pointing to the breakroom.
"I'm starting to think you like my fucking dog."
Money actually liked Papa and even hoped Swift would give Papa to him, but he meant what he said. He wanted Swift to try to bond with him and train him as well. He wasn't attached toanything but his family, but Money learned that family was also who a man chose. It was also why Tasha, crazy or not, would be his wife one day. He wanted that for Swift, too.
"Yup, just as much as I like to hear that constant whining. If I wanted that, I'd live with Tasha." He playfully smirked as they slapped hands.
"Whatever, nigga," Swift replied. "See you when I get back, but you're right. Let me check on Papa before I head out."
As soon as he opened the breakroom door, Papa leaped toward him, knocking him down. He felt his cheeks lift as Papa whimpered, almost seemingly pleading for him. Swift sat up when Papa pounced on him again.
"Papa, man," he drawled, "I have to go." He slowly stood up while Papa barked, easily reaching his hip as he smiled at him. "Not gon' work, Papa."
He whimpered yet again, his sad, blue eyes hanging low.
"Come on, Papa. Let my ass take you for a walk before I head out."
Papa instantly barked, his tail wagging with excitement when Money called Swift's name.
"Yeah, nigga?"
"Your dad called. Check your cell." He slid his hand down his pocket and pulled it out.
Pops:
Nigga, the next time you don't pick up for my wife, I'm kicking your big ass. Get over here, and now. Send Stokely on that road in your place.
