3. Ritz “ Radar” Monroe
Ritz “ Radar” Monroe
It was time for me to shake because this girl was starting to grind my gears, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.
“Ritz, honey, I just want to know when we’re going to take this relationship to the next level?” she whined.
Honestly, I thought about saying some reckless-ass shit that would’ve made Bronco proud, but I decided against hurting her feelings...for now.
Instead, I stayed quiet and started gathering my things so I could get the fuck out of there.
“So you’re not going to say anything?” she yelled.
“First of all, lower your fuckin’ voice. I don’t function well with elevated tones. Secondly, we’d have to be in a relationship before we could take it to the next level, sweetheart.”
“So what is this, huh? We’ve been exclusive for almost a year.”
“Anera, love, you’ve been exclusive for a year—and that’s only based on what you’ve told me. I have no clue what you do when you’re traveling, and honestly, that’s your business.”
“Ritz, what are you talking about? I thought thi—"
Before she could continue her rant—a rant I really wasn’t in the mood to hear—I figured I’d clue her in on a few things.
“Anera, riddle me this. Where do I live?” I asked.
The look she gave me suggested she thought I was asking the dumbest question imaginable, but I was going somewhere with this.
“Are you serious?”
“Answer the question, ma.”
“Okay, Ritz, I’ll play along. You live in a penthouse at Monroe Casino.”
She said it with so much confidence that I almost hated to burst her bubble.
“Have you met my family?”
“Yes, Ritz. I’ve seen Bronco at the casino a few times. And I know you have other family members because they did a spread on you in Magnolia Times Magazine.”
I stared at her. This girl couldn’t be serious, but Anera kept going.
“But, baby, I figured you’d invite me over once things got serious.”
I laughed. Not because she was funny, but because she had just proven my entire point.
“Anera, you don’t know where I live. You’ve never met my family.
You don’t know my favorite color, my middle name, or what side of the bed I sleep on.
Hell, you don’t even know what kind of whiskey I drink.
Shawty, I own a casino, and I will gamble here and right now, that you can’t even tell me what I like to play. ”
Her face immediately fell.
“Point proven, and yet somehow you’ve convinced yourself we’re in a relationship? Make that make sense.”
“I thought this was going somewhere.”
“You couldn’t have possibly thought that without some sort of delusion or manifestation in that. I’m honestly not trying to tear you down because I would never do that to a black queen, but I’m too grown to pacify you.”
I headed to the door without another word.
I fucks with Anera; she was cool in my book, but she was way too dense for me, if I was honest with myself.
I heard her mumbling under her breath, but what she did know well about me was that I was done talking, and if she continued to walk down this road with me, she was cut off.
Anera likes to throw that year up like we were really like that.
Like we fucked on each other every day or every month, for that matter.
She was around longer due to a nigga getting tired of different women, but I didn’t see shit going no further than the bed, and her bed at that.
Hearing my phone ring, I fished it from my pocket. It was Tom, my tech.
“Ritz speaking.”
“Hi, sir, we might have a lead.”
That made me stop in my tracks, but it was silent on the other end as if he wanted me to start guessing.
“Tom, I never liked Blue and his damn clues, so just spill it.”
“Okay, well, I decided to make some calls, and it looks like she made a purchase a few months ago.”
He was starting to irritate me, and he could tell due to my silence.
“Yes, sir. I came across a property under the name Global Jamerson. In Shadowstone Mountains.”
“Damn, she was close by,” I muttered under my breath.
“Sir, would you like the address?”
This dude.
“Tom, what the hell I ask you for…if you weren’t going to provide the rest of the information? Nigga, send the shit to my email.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tom was white as a sheet of paper, but he was acting ignorant as hell right now. I hated a smart dumb nigga. Tom had been with me since the beginning of my opening of the casino. Although he acted a little dense at times, he was good at what he did.
It had been two years since that girl left me with the sweetest taste on my tongue and the ride of my life.
I have bedded quite a few women in my life, and hands down, G-baby was the best. Global rode me like gravity wasn’t a thing, to be a BBW.
There was no rocking back and forth on my shit or nothing.
Big mama gave straight feet planted on the mattress, Megan-knees-type-action.
Holding her in place while I bench press that ass up and down my dick was my favorite part.
She looked shocked when I scooped that weight up and held it in place without a wall in sight.
Damn, I’m getting hard.
Hard or not, though, going back in there to serve Anera was not on the menu. If the shit didn’t go down, something might come through the casino tonight that catches my eye, but if not, I was good. I had too much business to tend to today anyway.
Isat back in my office chair while the developers gave me a virtual walkthrough of Monroe Casino’s expansion into Vegas.
It had taken years for this project to get off the ground.
Vegas definitely had a nigga jumping through hoops just to get the licenses my contractors needed to break ground, and being Black damn sure didn’t help.
We were finally at the stage where I could see my legacy moving forward.
The casino in Magnolia was beautiful, but the one in Vegas definitely sonned the hell out of my first baby.
“Toni, this looks absolutely amazing,” I said, starting the applause before the rest of the room joined in.
Toni was one of my project managers overseeing the Vegas build.
Although I had my moments where I got a little reckless when it came to my money, business was where I drew the line.
Around these white folks, it was suits and ties, but even they knew how far to take it with me.
Them crackers earned a master’s degree in that nice-nasty shit they be pulling.
And even though college taught a hood nigga how to move professionally, I still didn’t play that shit.
While my old running crew invested in clubs, lounges, and convenience stores or stayed in the streets, I stayed focused on something bigger.
They thought I was trippin’ when I enrolled in college at thirty, but I had a plan.
Now, over a decade later, my second casino was gearing up for its grand opening in Vegas.
“Mr. Monroe, we’re in our final phase. If everything continues on schedule, you’ll be cutting the ribbon at High Stakes Monroe Casino very soon.”
“Good to hear. I’d like to apologize again, but unfortunately, I just couldn’t make it out there this month.”
“Sir, we understand. You’re an incredibly busy man.”
I chuckled.
“Busy is an understatement. Thank y’all for your time and patience.”
Everyone gathered their briefcases and paperwork before making their way out. Once the conference room emptied, I pulled up the email Tom had sent to my phone and stared at the address: 619 Ginger Creek Rd. This address was different from the first dead-end address that Tom pulled from the system.
Shadowstone Mountains was about two hours outside Magnolia Valley.
Why hasn’t she made her presence known?
Based on her history of coming into my casino, I was puzzled.
I leaned back in my chair, deep in thought.
Maybe she moved and just now coming back.
If I didn’t have high confidence in my stroke game, Global Jamerson would’ve had me locked in somebody’s dungeon, running drills with different women until I graduated.
I was honest when I told her she was only the second woman I’d ever made that proposition to. But I had to admit she was the only woman to take the night for what it was and never doubled back.
Replaying her moans back in my head canceled out any doubt.
Before her, though...I couldn’t lie and say I moved the same. Like I told her, the shit has only happened once.
Nobody else got their debt wiped clean. They damn sure didn’t make it to my penthouse either.
I’d put them in one of the executive suites, have a massage therapist sent up, leave a gift card, and be out.
There weren’t no sleepovers—at least not with me in the bed.
Check-out got extended, and I exited just as fast as I came.
On top of that, an NDA was signed before I even walked through the door.
Crazy thing was, I was so quick to hand G-Baby a receipt showing a zero balance, but not once did I mention signing a consent agreement or ask if she’d pull up her MyChart.
Thank God I got checked afterward.
It was reckless.
Then again... she probably did the same.
The conference room door opened again, pulling my attention away from my phone.
“Nigga, what you in here doin’? Makin’ a wish?”
This fool.
It was my best friend, Oakley. Let him tell it, he hated that white ass cracker name, so when we were grasshoppers on the court, he changed his nickname to Oats, and it stuck.
“Oats, what the hell you spittin’?”
“I’m talmbout yo’ ass sittin’ there lookin’ like you tryna steal Ray J’s last wish.”
Oats laughed as he walked over to the fully stocked mini bar.
“Fool... pour me a drink.”
“Bruh, yo’ ass done let this corporate life fool you. I ain’t on yo’ damn payroll. Get yo’ happy suit-and-tie ass up and fix it yo’self.”
There wasn’t even a point in responding. Oats talked shit to everybody.
But he was gon’ fix that drink anyway.
“And look...” he said, grabbing a bottle. “You already know I’m still gon’ do it.”
“Pointless banter if you ask me.”
I shrugged, picked up the blueprints in front of me, and admired the architectural renderings while looking over the numbers.
Oats walked over with both glasses, handed me mine, then took a seat at the large round conference table.
“Listen... you gon’ stop tryin’ to handle me.” He fussed.
I just stared at him.
“You know... you can survive by breathin’ through your nose.”
“Point?”
“My point is... runnin’ your mouth is optional.”
“Well, I consider myself a multi-task breather.”
That made me laugh.
“Yo’ brain ‘bout as big as a deer. What you doin’ up here?”
“Not shit. Thought I blew through and kicked it with yo’ Love Island ass. You know you on the quest to find the perfect pussy.”
“Picture that…that shit sounds desperate as hell.”
He just sat back in his chair, watching me over the rim of his glass as if I needed to come to terms with myself.
He knew about G-baby. We really didn’t hold back when it came to each other.
Oats was still in the streets, and my path never stopped us from being friends, and it never would.
Money changed our conversation, not our friendship.
He wasn’t a secretly jealous man, and vice versa.
He respected my change, congratulated me on my accomplishments, and was there when I needed him to track someone down.
Oats was just better at the game than all of us and was the first to ask what I needed him to invest when I started speaking about opening up a casino.
As wild and crazy as he was, the nigga even offered to go with me to college, so I didn’t feel crazy. This fool was my brother for real.
“Bronco and Rodeo here,” he informed me.
I just shook my head because it was going to be a long day if those two were in the building somewhere.
Rodeo was Bronco’s homeboy, and most days they came here for one thing, and that was for the ladies.
The club at the casino opened on the weekends, and I was sure I'd have to send someone over to make sure they didn’t drink like cars need fuel tonight.
“Anyway, have you decided what you gonna do?”
“Bout what?” I said, knowing exactly what he was talking about.
“Stop playing. What’s the move?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what yo’ heart say?” he asked instead.
That was the thing with us: we didn’t play hard around each other; we put them emotions on the table. He was the only one who could get me to fight the silence and speak up.
“Part of me wanna pull up to the addy but the other part…”
Before I could finish, he spoke up.
“Thinks that’s some crazy ass shit.”
I just glared at him.
He held his hand up in mock surrender.
“I mean, it’s definitely givin’ stalker, but hey, I’m on what you on,” he finished with a shrug while grabbing some mints left over from the meeting off the table, before unwrapping one and popping it in his mouth while stashing the others in his jeans.
This fool continued the conversation as if he hadn’t just jacked the candy.
“But, nah, for real pull up if you feeling active or play that shit cool since you said she just purchased the property. Sounds like she might be back to stay.”
I nodded.
“You right. I mean, shawty might have a nigga, be married, or have a family. I ain’t trying to come…”
He cut me off again.
“Barging in with another offer.”
He laughed.
“Don’t clown nigga. Yo’ ass like cum stain strip clubs where they take you to a red room.”
He smirked.
“Yelp, less expensive. Yo’ girl got a 100k plus tab cleared.
Stripper, it’s a clean $500, and we headed to the back for them to throw that ass on a real nigga, taking straight pipe.
And that shit comes with a song, dance, and a nut.
Tips are optional. I be shopping on the clearance rack, you be on some other shit. ”
I was laughing my ass off.
“You laughin’ but I’m dead ass.”
“I know that’s what makes it funnier.”
“Anera, gonna be sick when G-baby touch down.”
“She cool, I ain’t gon’ hold you, but she trying to mislead her damn self. I gotta fall back from shawty. Shawty getting too confused.”
“Ain’t that the enemy's job?”
“Facts.”
I stood to my full height and motioned for Oats to quit nursing that drink so we could find Bronco and his friend.
“Well, damn, just fuck my TED Talk, huh?”
“Bruh, bring yo’ ass on,” I said, heading to the door of the conference room.
G-baby was on the clock to bring her plush ass to me…or I was pulling up.