Pow.
“—is Tamera?”
Pow.
“And your kids?”
Pow.
I let my gun ring three times, hitting this nigga in both his kneecaps, and a single shot right in his chest, making sure that I didn’t get too close to the heart because I wasn’t ready to kill him just yet. The shots sent him crashing down. He dropped to his knees, as his hand clutched his chest, looking at me with eyes that knew his life was over with.
I walked over to him, stood directly in front of him, not fazed by the gruesome scene that was in front of me.
“Where are they?” I calmly asked him.
That question broke him because he started crying. His cries almost broke me. Not because I was feeding off his energy, but because I knew those babies, and Tamera was gone.
“I…. I fucked up,” he was able to get out, and I nodded.
“Where are they?” I asked again.
“Nobody… nobody going to find them. They probably at the bottom of the ocean already,” his words gave me chills.
I couldn’t even hide the misty look in my eyes when I heard those words from him. The thought of a man that I loved,harming me and my children was something that I couldn’t even fathom.
“As a man, you’re supposed to die for your family. That’s your motha fuckin job! You don’t make them die because of you. I’m sure those sweet babies called out for you before you did what you did. You still did it though. Enjoy hell, nigga,” and with that, I raised my gun, and I shot this nigga so many times that he didn’t even look recognizable when I was done with him.
I left his body right there, and I walked away, pulling my phone out, calling a number that I haven’t had to call in years. They answered on the second ring.
“Uzi, what it do? You called me by mistake?” he asked me.
“No. I need a cleanup. I’ll text you where I am,” I quickly said.
“Do that, and I’ll be on the way,” and right after, I hung up. I texted him the address, and I placed my phone back in my pocket.
Not going to lie, I had a moment where I stood here, and I felt defeated. For a little bit, I started questioning if I was wasting my time with the program that I was running. Here I am, thinking that I was fixing the problem, giving women the knowledge that they needed to survive, and better defend themselves. Those survivals skills were supposed to go with them out into the real world when they left my warehouse.
Was I doing this shit for nothing? Was it going to be worth it in the long run? Tamera was under my wing for a few classes, and she still died at the hands of her husband. Her and her children. That shit hurt me. It hurt me because I really wanted this program to pay off in the long run for these women. I was starting to doubt myself, and wonder if it would ever get there.
To the right of me, there was a single picture hanging up on the wall. The picture was of Tamera, and her three children. She had two girls, and one boy. Her kids were smiling big, and so was she. I stared at the picture, with an ache in my throat. I don’tknow how he killed those babies, and Tamera, and I didn’t want to know.
The picture was hanging perfectly, but for whatever reason, it tilted after about ten seconds of me looking at it. I’m not sure what kind of sign that was, but I prayed that was Tamera and those babies doing that, telling me ‘thank you’. Thank you for seeking revenge on the bitch ass nigga that was stretched out behind me.
Chapter 17
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 thisdoor. 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.
