Copyright ©2020 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.
No part of this chronicle may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.
DOPE BOY CHRONICLES is the continuous, open-ended narrative of a young street hustler, Andre Swain, who has a dream of moving into a downtown high-rise in his home city, Dallas, Texas.
Along the way, he runs into a beautiful girl named Sway, whom he rescues from an abusive pimp called Rosebud.
The two fall in love, and the adventure begins.
JANUARY 24, 2020
MEET UP – GAS STATION – NORTHWEST HIGHWAY – 3:42 p.m.
I’d met with Dan, a regular who I was introduced to by a bartender at The Gentleman’s Club for a hundo.
Dan is a tall, middle-aged blue-blood from Boston. His being raised in wealth has him so out of touch that he’s totally unaware of his surroundings.
Several times, I’ve seen him walk into a convenience store, hit the ATM, and return to his running Ferrari that he’d left with his house keys and wallet resting in plain view on the passenger seat.
His timing is always off, too. If he says he’ll be at a meet-up in fifteen minutes, it’ll probably be more like twenty or twenty-five, leaving me sitting and waiting with a pocket full of sizzle.
If that isn’t bad enough, once he arrives, he’ll usually pull up right next to me with cash in hand, his top down, music blasting, and revving his engine.
For Dan, I only carry exactly what I have for him and no more.
I keep a stack of free door passes from Gold Town in my center console. That’s my line in case we’re ever questioned by the laws.
GOLD TOWN CABARET – 4:27 p.m.
As soon as I’d walked in, I got the news that Robbie, a past-her-prime stripper whom I’d met through the DJ, Romero, had been fired.
Robbie was unkempt, toned but not shapely, and never wore makeup. Her red hair was wild and big, and when fucked up, she would continually whip it from one side to the other.
She had a nice little side hustle going where she’d score from me and peddle to the girls and customers, taxing them for personal profit. I really didn’t care because it kept the heat off.
Robbie’s also a professional couch surfer and was staying with a club member named James. James is older, about sixty, and very polite; a real gentleman. I’d shot pool with him a couple of times prior to my introduction to Robbie.
She’d exposed him, telling me how he owned a business where he’d collect quarterly payments of five million dollars, how he liked to entertain young girls at his downtown apartment, and that he loved my coke.
However, James must have had enough of Robbie because he’d kicked her out of his place, and she was now living in the Design District with an associate of his.
This guy was also a partier. I’d get calls from Robbie around the clock for no less than two hundred a trip, plus tip.
I moved a few pieces, a couple hundred bags, and four forty sacks before calling it.
HOME – 10:12 p.m.
I’d left for Cinepolis to see “The Gentlemen”.
HOME – 4:46 a.m.
Demi dropped by for a forty.
Creole Gaudet
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