9. Ritz “Radar” Monroe
Ritz “Radar” Monroe
My ass had been a baby father for a few hours, and I was already stressed the hell out.
“Bruh, what the hell happened?”
“Shit mad deeper than what I thought.”
My ears started popping as soon as we started making our way down the mountain, but my mind went straight to Revv. I wondered if his little ears could handle this ride. If mine were bothering me, his had to be hurting too.
“Mann, you gotta speak with sis about this Little House on the Prairie ass shit. My ears poppin’. Nephew can't take this,” Oats fussed.
I started laughing, but his crazy ass just glared at me.
“You laughin’, and my ass stressin’. You gon’ have to get your daddy duty up, but Unk already on the clock.”
Every day, I found another reason why this nigga was my homie. His head had already skipped past mine and landed on Revv.
“Chill, fool.” I laughed. “I was just over here thinking the same damn thing.”
He was damn near hugging the steering wheel, inching closer every few seconds.
“What now?” he asked.
“If you slide up one mo’ time, you gon’ be one with the windshield.”
“Look, Daisy, I don't see you trying to drive. Going up the mountain is one thing, but comin’ down this bitch? That's a high Black folks don't fuck with. Shit givin’ road-a-coaster.”
I chuckled and leaned my head against the headrest, letting another laugh escape before everything settled back on my shoulders.
Just like that...
My whole damn life had changed.
“We gotta hit up a baby store when we get back. Nephew gon’ need a few things.”
I turned my head toward him.
“You know that's my son, right?”
He sucked his teeth.
“That’s our son. While yo’ ass was back there listening to yo’ runaway BM, I was making moves. Tasha gon’ cop some clothes. She was headed out for me anyway.”
I couldn't help but shake my head.
Tasha was the hood's best booster. If something disappeared off a rack in Magnolia, chances were she touched it first. Even though Oats was a boss in these streets with enough money to buy the whole damn mall, that nigga was cheap as hell.
If a booster was headed out, he was still gone send an order.
He coasted down the mountain for a while before speaking again.
“So... what it's lookin’ like?”
There wasn't no point in holding this in, definitely not with Oats.
I told him everything.
How Tom had me walking into that cabin expecting answers, only to leave with a son.
I told him how Global admitted Revv was mine and why she never set foot in Monroe Casino.
How G-Baby had no trail on her after college until damn near having Revv, and while I still didn’t know all the details, after everything I’d put together. I had a damn good idea.
When I finished, Oats didn't say a word.
He just drove.
For once, I appreciated the silence. Truth be told, I needed it too.
Outside the window, the mountains slowly gave way to the highway. The GPS chimed, letting us know we were approaching our next stop. Hell, I didn't even remember Oats plugging in a destination.
Good.
Because Monroe's Casino could run itself today, I had managers for a reason.
My mind wasn't in business. It was sitting in a cabin with a little boy who had my whole damn face.
“Ritz.”
I looked over.
He was using my government. So, the jokester was gone.
“You ain't too far removed from the streets to forget who you are. Suit or no suit, these niggas still know you'll pop somebody... whether you pulling the trigger or giving the order.”
I stared out the windshield.
“That was always about my bread.”
“I feel it. But when we first got heavy in this shit, we were hungry. It was a dog-eat-dog world. Shit still is. One of our first money moves was straight jackin that shit. You can’t recolor the kettle, bruh.”
I just sat there and listened.
“I don’t know how deep the shit is, and I know you. Once your human reader ass started piecing that shit together, you had to bounce before you hurt shawty.”
“And you call me the human reader?”
“It ain’t no secret we got different tactics, but you taught me how to sit back just a little longer and process. I don’t sit as long as you, but I’m workin’ on me.”
I gave him a side-eye.
“Nigga, stay on topic.”
“Bruh, you gon’ let me talk or what?”
“I’m waiting on you.”
He continued his speech.
“What I’m trying to say is you don’t know the full story.
Even if you do, you don’t know her full story, only what she shared.
But you right for feeling slighted, and you didn’t know her angle when it came to the casino, and I get that.
But judging from everything you told me ‘bout shawty. She didn’t mind dropping a bag or gambling to collect one.
You can’t say she wanted somethin’ from you personally because you bought the pussy. She didn’t offer the shit.”
“Nigga,” I said, glaring at him while he drove.
“I’m just sayin’.” He shrugged, but He was right.
“Ion know. The cards definitely stackin’ against her, though. Even if I understand parts of it. Was the casino on your list? One thing for damn sure, the crew ain’t no amateurs.”
“Sholl ain’t. If that’s really her, they damn near move like the movie Taken. On some real shit, I’m getting excited. My nephew's mama is a damn beast.”
As much as I wanted to think he wasn’t serious, he was.
“Bruh, I got so mad I just had to get the hell up outta there. As much as I hope it’s not her, where would that place my son in all this? But that look… that look said, If I don’t kill you first, you’ll kill me.”
“As much as you get on my nerves with that Secret Agent Monroe shit, you rarely, if ever, wrong about a person. Even when you try to do good and give a person a loan you know might be on some bullshit, you let them redeem themself or hang themself. Nigga, you got yo’ Bonnie. Shit, mad fucked up if you ask me.”
I shook my head.
“What?”
I laughed.
“Bruh, I want my damn Bonnie. Clyde, you ain’t even in the streets no mo.”
“First off, we’re too old to be wantin’ a Bonnie.”
“Says who?”
“Negro we in our mid-forties.”
“And Nana Gin said it ain’t what they call you, it’s what you answer to.”
Nana Gin was Oats' grandmother, and you had to know his family to understand that his behavior was right on track with the rest of his family.
“You spoke with Wallie and Gwop?”
“Yup. I texted them earlier and told them everything was copacetic. Them boys was on go.”
“I bet.”
“You already know. Once I told them we have a son. They was cool.”
“And they didn’t question you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Question me bout what?”
His forehead creased.
“You know, if it wasn’t for me knowing how quick yo’ ass switch up. I would honestly wonder how you stayed in the game so long.”
“Oh, you already know I play half the day, but I have zero kee-keeing when it comes to my business.”
“Facts,” I said as I grabbed the case that held my shades and put them back on my eyes, a mental way to shield myself from the world. We drove in silence until the GPS cut in.
“You have reached your destination.”
I leaned up in my seat.
“Oats, where the hell we at?”
“Yo’ mind so spaced out, but you better start learning all the spots. We at Babies R US. Come on, we bout to blow a few bags.”
“You just a tad bit excited.”
“You damn right. I got my shit clipped. This is my first child. A nigga ain’t bout to impregnate them hoes at the strip club.”
We stepped out of the car and started walking toward the entrance.
“You know you can just stop going at any time, right?”
“Nah, I’m looking at becoming a silent partner.”
“Why? When you a loud one already.”
“Go to hell.”
“Nah, I ain’t feeling the heat.”
“Oats, bruh, I didn’t even get the number to hit her up. I had to slide, and fast.”
He held up his phone.
“That’s why it takes a village. Daddy Number 2.”
“Give me that shit. Don’t be hittin’ up my BM.”
“Hol’ up. I’m tied to the baby. I ain’t said nuffin’ about the mama. That’s all you, partna.”
“I bet.”
“Yup. Ion like the mouthy ones. Big Mama a little too feisty.”
“You can’t have my bitch.”
“Nope. Dead end. But I do gotta check on nephew, plus you needed the number, fool.”
“Who gave you the digits?”
“Twinkle Toes.”
“Good lookin’.”
“Always.”
We talked shit and swagged up in the damn store like some real niggas on a mission. I probably needed this little break from the business. I had to figure out how I would fit my son into all this madness. The Vegas casino would be open soon, and I wasn’t missing any more time out of my son’s life.
It had been two weeks since everything went down back at the cabin.
Learning I had a son was like finally hearing the time clock my mama had been preaching about my whole life. Suddenly, all the shit she used to say made sense. My mind kept running laps over the craziest things.
I was gonna be the oldest nigga at graduation.
Was his little homies gonna think I was his grandpaw?
Would he take after me... or his mobbing-and-robbing ass mama?
My thoughts stayed all over the place. Even while sitting through business meetings in Vegas, my mind kept drifting back to Revv.
Would Global make sure I got to see him while I was out there?
Would she even come?
Hell, there were days I thought about driving back up that mountain, locking her ass inside that damn cabin, and not letting her leave until she answered every question running through my head.
Shit got so bad I called Oats in the middle of the night trying to come up with some master plan for G-baby. That dummy laughed so damn hard, I called his ass a deadbeat dad, hung up, and ignored him for the rest of the night.
It took me three days to finally call the number Coca gave Oats. When Global answered, I was fully prepared for a headache.
Instead... she surprised me.
Since then, I've talked to my little man every day on FaceTime.
When that boy got excited, he'd talk a nigga to death and ask a million questions.
“Daddy, look!”
“Daddy, see puffs!”
“Daddy, you eat!”
Everything either started or ended with Daddy.
I realized real damn quick there wasn't a feeling in this world I'd trade for hearing that word come out his mouth.