I was hurting, man. I used to be the man to see in Miami. I was best friends with the nigga that had the biggest drug organization out. My pockets were hefty. Being a member of MBM felt like a badge of honor, man. Without that badge these days, I felt like I didn’t have anything.
I wanted to go to Dolo to talk to him. I needed that nigga to hear me out. I felt like I could put the drugs down, and change. I just needed him to work with me.
The drugs gave me a courage that I didn’t know I had, so I ended up picking my cell phone up that was on the table before me, unlocked it, and I put a call in to Dolo. I never blocked him, and I knew that he wasn’t the kind of nigga to block me, either.
He didn’t answer the phone though. I sat here calling this nigga about five times, and he eventually answered on the last try.
“What? Fuck is you calling my phone for, nigga?” his voice snapped on the other end of the phone.
I’ve watched Dolo come at other niggas like this over the years, but I’ve never been the one on the receiving end. I’ve been friends with Dolo for a long time, so of course, I’ve had fallouts with my brother, but it was never anything like this, where he removed my seat from the table, and told me that I was no longer apart of MBM.
“Dolo…. Come on… come on man. This meee. This Mook. Your brother, man?—”
“My brother that was stealing coke from me? That brother?” he cut me off to ask.
“I’m just… I’m just trying to talk to you. You know me, Dolo! You! You of all people know me. You gotta know the effect that coke can have on your body once you start doing that shit. Nigga, we sell it. We see what it can do to a person’s mind. Let me… just let me get some help, and I want my spot back. I made one mistake. Ain’t no way you going to get rid of me like this,” I was damn near on the phone crying. These drugs had me tweaking.
Dolo was silent. It was the kind of silence that still felt loud though.
I took a hard swallow, prepared to go in some more, and say some other shit to him.
“I’ll get the help that I need,” I went on to say again.
He was still quiet on the other end of the phone. It took about five minutes before I heard him clear his throat, preparing himself to respond to me.
“Mook, let me ask you something man. Be honest with me too,” he started.
“I got you,” I said.
“That night outside the warehouse when that nigga snuck up on Riot and tried to kill her. You had something to do with that?” he asked me.
“Dolo, man?—”
“Motha fucka, yes or no!” he spat. I took a while to answer his question. I knew I had to be honest with him though.
“Yeah man. I did that shit, but?—”
“Ain’t no buts nigga. What the fuck kind of nigga I look like forgiving you, and letting you come back to the table, and eat with us, after you just admitted to doing that shit? You can’t be trusted, homie. Look, I don’t know what it is with me, maybe Riot coming along, and she making me a little soft, but I can’t find it in me to kill you. Riot can though. That bitch ruthless. I’m the kind of nigga that tells my girl everything, so when we get off this phone, Ima run it to her and let her know what you just told me. She been itching to put a bullet in you anyways, so now she got a reason. Slow down on that coke over there. I’ve served enough addicts to know when I’m talking to someone that’s high out of their fuckin mind. Be easy, nigga,” and like that, he hung the phone up on me.
I got so angry that I lunched the phone across the room. The bottle of Hennessy that was sitting before me, I picked it up and guzzled down whatever was left in the bottle. There was lines of coke before me, so I was able to lean down, and I sniffed, and sniffed, and sniffed.
I threw my body against the couch. I don’t know what the fuck was going on, but it suddenly started to feel like the room was spinning. Swear to God I couldn’t feel anything from the waist down. My fingers started tingling. My mouth got this watery taste to it. My vision got a little blurry, and my heart felt like it was racing.
I could feel beads of sweat appear on my forehead, but the tingling in my hands, mixed with the fact that it felt like I couldn’t move my body, prevented me from reaching my hands up, and feeling the sweat.
Drake’s song, Marvin’s Room was playing, and I couldn’t even bob my head to the music. The more the song played, it sounded as if I was being hypnotized by it.
Suddenly, it didn’t feel as if the music was playing loudly anymore. The sound was getting lower, but I knew that it was nowhere near the ending of the song. My fingers had been twitching, until they weren’t. Seeing the way my fingers stopped moving like that, it scared the shit out of me, so I tried to move, possibly sit up, but I couldn’t.
My body was no longer listening to what my brain had to say. My chest began to rise slowly, and that feeling of floating came back. I’ve been high plenty of times, but never anything like this. This high was different.
A moment came and my entire body stopped. My breathing stopped. The rising of my chest stopped, and ultimately, my heart stopped.
I fucked around, and took all these drugs, pills, drank all this liquor, and in the end, this dangerous mix did exactly what it was supposed to do…. Kill my ass.
Chapter 22
Riot St. James
