1. Ritz “Radar” Monroe
Ritz “Radar” Monroe
This dusty negro had me out here in this damn heat, but once I was notified about his whereabouts, I made my move.
I was too busy of a man to be hunting down a muthafucka over money he already knew he owed me.
Was I mad? Nope. I was pissed the fuck off.
But there was one thing a true gambler couldn’t resist…
gambling. Even when it could cost them their life.
For gamblers who had no wins, their addiction was just as powerful as a drug addict fighting that monkey on their back.
If I’m being honest, it was one of the main reasons I chose this business.
The money was good; it literally worked for you while you slept.
The odds of winning big were few, but the chances you would continue to feed the never-full monster were extremely high, and that was like counting dollar signs in my sleep. Monroe’s Casino was the only one in Magnolia Valley, making it a lucrative establishment.
But just like the player, the house has to pay out every now and again; that was the business. But gambling with my money and running off is when the house stepped out in human form to find your ass.
“Please, Radar, man. I’ma get yo’ money.” Kodak’s words brought my murderous thoughts back into the room.
“The time to pay me back has passed, Kodak.”
“S-Shit just got sticky, but listen—listen, man. If you can just give me more time, I swear you gon’ get yo’ money. That’s on my mama, Radar. I promise you, man, that’s on Ma’Dukes,” he stammered.
“On yo’ mama, huh?” I questioned with a blank stare.
“Man, I swear on my mama. You got my word,” he said, while dragging his hand from his forehead to his chest, then from one shoulder to the next, making a cross. My jaw tightened.
I guess this was his bullshit attempt to make this sound more believable.
“Hmm.”
That was about all I could give at the moment. I didn’t like chasing down no man; the thought alone had me tense. I hated stepping out of my present to visit my past, but everywhere I was having to remind a nigga I was still Radar in these streets when I needed to be.
I walked around the room, taking my time as I looked at the pictures covering the wall. Everyone was quiet, waiting to see the verdict. Kodak’s breathing was damn near louder than my footsteps.
I stopped in front of a portrait.
Grabbing the picture, there stood his beautiful mother, Denise. If she could speak from the grave, I would have loved to see her smack fire from his ass for choosing to gamble her life, knowing damn well that if given the chance, he would be back in this position again.
“R-Radar, just a little bit more t-time. That’s all I need.”
He begged.
“Kodak, you know…I hate a stuttering ass nigga, it makes you look weak.”
He just nodded his head.
“Kodak, you had time, and as much as I hate to do this to you, you knew the minute I had to step from behind my desk and hunt you down in this heat, it was gonna be a problem. I can’t let you slide this time. You let a muthafucka keep sliding. They gon’ fuck around and think yo’ ass a waterpark.”
“That’s not me, Radar, and you know that man. Ritz dawg, we grew up together.”
He thought calling out my government was going to change the outcome. That shit pissed me off because if the muthafucka could remember we grew up on the same block, then he had the same memories I had when a bitch nigga called themselves crossing me.
“Then you should know I don’t play bout my fuckin’ money.
I never have and I never will. Kodak, your habit is nasty.
It was my fault for trusting your word. It’s your fault for not standing on your word.
All a man has at the end of the day, regardless of his tax bracket, is his word.
And you prove your word is not bond…that’s your fault.
Unfortunately, your fault cost you your life.
” I looked over to the guys waiting for my command.
“Give him two to the dome and burn this shit down.”
“Yes, sir,” one of the young bulls called out.
I didn’t even look to see who. I honestly didn’t care, but off the strength of our youth, I granted his ass a quick death.
I wasn’t about to sit here going back and forth with this nigga like I was his bitch.
I wasn’t a heartless ass nigga, but I didn’t have a lot of patience for a wannabe man.
When you get something from me, I give you a deadline.
The first missed payment was a warning. The second warning was a limb or clearing of your accounts.
If I had to look for your ass, that was execution.
Folks knew the rules before coming to fuck with me and my money.
Walking back to the car, I could hear footsteps behind me, and I knew exactly who they belonged to.
“Radar, we headed?” Bronco asked.
I stopped in my tracks and ran my hand down my beard.
Bronco was my younger brother, and the nigga was a head case. Between him and Anera, my on-again, off-again playmate, I didn’t know who stressed my ass out the most.
“Why?”
“Damn, nigga I was just asking. Bruh, why you always trippin’ witcho mean ass?”
“I’ma pretend like you didn’t just cuss in a conversation with me. But, if you must know, I’m headed to the airport to pick Anera’s aggy-ass up, wassup?”
“I wish you would stop pulling rank. Ritz, I’m twenty-six.”
“And I raised you like my fuckin’ son. So, if you gon’ speak, some respect betta be behind that shit.
What you want? Because claiming you just asking, nah, you want something,” I said, as I continued my walk to the car, with him hot on my trail.
Grown or not, he was gonna show respect in my presence.
I wasn’t one of his little pissy-ass homeboys.
“Well, if you gon’ drag it out of me.”
This was the shit I was talking about. How in the hell was I dragging it out of him? Bronco knew just how to get under my skin.
“Let me get a penthouse tonight, I got a bad ass… I meant I got this bad shawty coming in from town.”
The mention of him wanting to bring a girl to one of the penthouses brought me back to that night. The answer was yes, the majority of the time, when it came to my siblings. He kept telling me about the girl, but I zoned his ass out.
That night came to me outta nowhere. I stood there in deep thought while my mind left Bronco behind and drifted back to the night I would never forget with G-baby.
Two years ago…
Once we reached an agreement, I called the casino cage right then and there and had the marker removed from Ms. Global Jamerson’s account. Knowing the type of woman she was, I also instructed them to print the updated balance.
“Someone should be bringing it up in a minute.”
“You didn’t have to do all that.”
“Yeah, I did. Yo’ ass was gonna wanna see that balance at zero.”
She laughed.
“I’m witchu when ya right.”
“I thought so.”
Global was drop-dead gorgeous, and her curves only made that woman finer.
The confidence shawty carried was on a whole different level.
I always hated it when a woman couldn’t see her own worth.
If a nigga already admired what he saw, why the fuck would you start talking yourself down?
Confidence was sexy as hell, no matter your size, but I wasn’t in the business of boosting the unboosted.
Either you knew who the fuck you were... or you didn’t.
Ladies, this is Blaq Byrd. If you’re reading this, find your own damn lane and build your own damn confidence.
If you lose weight and the man ain’t feeling it, go find the nigga who loves you at that weight.
If you gain a few pounds and his only complaint ain’t got shit to do with your health, tell his ass to leave his questions and concerns during normal business hours, then go find the muthafucka who’ll love every pound on you.
But don’t ever sit around letting somebody convince you they ain’t attracted to you no more over some superficial shit. The moment that happens, tell his ass to look the fuck down.
When he does, hit him with what my granddaddy used to tell me:
“You must be a tambourine-ass nigga. ’Cause no real man with a pair gives a fuck about no fly shit like that.”
Now...
Back to that night…
I watched from afar…her beautiful red curls, her round face, long nails, juicy lips, and doe-shaped eyes.
A man like me didn’t normally move the way I was about to move on this thick-ass pound cake tonight, but I planned on surprising my damn self with my best work.
I considered myself a patient man, but when I watched her blow through her own money and then turn around and burn through the loan too, I knew something wasn’t right.
And I was correct.
When the elevator dinged, I walked over and took the paper from Yogi. Before I could thank him, he was already headed back downstairs to watch the entrance.
“Here you go, G-Baby.”
She looked down at the paper.
“That was quick.”
“I don’t like wasting time.”
“Your communication skills are impeccable,” she said dryly.
I smirked.
“We’ll talk more later. Right now, I need my night.”
“We don’t have to say another word. Today has been painful enough.”
I didn’t know exactly what she was going through, but just because I wasn’t much of a talker didn’t mean I couldn’t listen. For tonight, I planned on giving her a reason to forget whatever had been weighing her down, though.
“Sayless, beautiful."
She tilted her head.
“Hmmm. What happened to G-Baby?"
“You catch on quick.”
“If an alpha leads, I will follow.”
Her smart ass had my mans bricking up.
“Good to know.”
I motioned for her to follow me so she could freshen up in a guest room while I headed to do the same.
The penthouse sat above Monroe Casino and had become my second home. Truth be told, I spent more time there than I did at my actual house, which was three times as big as this one.
I worked hard, so when I did splurge, I went all out. Some folks called my workaholism dedication. Others called it an obsession or a form of control.
I called it setting up wealth so I could rest later.