Page 30 of Gang of Roses: Dice

“Lemme see,” I said, standing to my feet.

I wasn't about to argue. When Pop Pop wanted something, he usually got it.

I headed around to the back of the house and grabbed a shovel before making my way to the shed.

Footsteps crunched behind me.

“You need help?”

I smiled and shook my head.

“I knew you was comin’.” I pointed toward a flowerpot tucked in the corner. “Dig under that pot and grab ten bands for you and Revv. I’ll work over here.”

My stash wasn't buried deep—just deep enough for me to know if somebody had been snooping around.

Pop Pop and Coca knew the life I lived. They didn't like it, and they definitely didn't approve of it, but they respected my decisions because they understood my goal.

I wasn't trying to get rich, just comfortable enough to set up my family, me, and Revv. Unlike my sisters, I still had my family to take care of and a father in prison who I would never let go without. That’s why I gambled on the side.

I had a plan. Although I hated to think about it, I had to make sure they knew exactly what to do if I ever got jammed up.

The gang wasn't ready for our last bank yet... But when we were... That would be the end of this life.

I just had to keep my head down until the final heist.

Ross Savings and Loan.

Chapter 5

Ritz “Radar” Monroe

Today was supposed to be my day off from the casino, and honestly, I needed the break from the lights, fake ass smiles, and suits. Some days, I was stressed the hell out just by hearing "Mr. Monroe" every five damn minutes. Today, I just wanted to throw on something comfortable and kick it with the homies for a while.

The best way for me to decompress was to get as far away from Monroe's as possible. My estate always did the trick.

The penthouse was nice—three bedrooms, all the luxury a man could ask for—but it was built for convenience. My estate was built for living. Six bedrooms, each with its own ensuite, gave everybody their own space whenever family or the homies stayed over. Out back, an infinity pool stretched toward the lake, with a tennis court off to the side and a private dock waiting on the water. Downstairs, a full media room, a temperature-controlled wine cellar, and a cigar lounge made it easy to entertain without ever leaving home.

Walking into my state-of-the-art kitchen always settled something in me. Dark wood cabinetry, stacked stone, exposed beams, black steel, and rich leather furniture gave the house a masculine warmth the penthouse could never match. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the lake instead of the city skyline, and for the first time all week, I could hear something besides slot machines, ringing phones, and people wanting something from me.

No neighbors peeking over fences. No elevators. No valet. Just peace, security, and enough space for anybody thinking about trespassing to rethink that decision before they ever reach my front door. The only folks that really knew where I rest my head were my family and close homies, and I didn’t use that close word loosely.

Here is where I played my music as loud as I wanted to, smoked cigars without the issues of a damn sprinkler coming out of the ceiling, wetting my ass up.

No females other than family have ever made it to the gate, let alone the front door. I didn’t play that shit. Here is where I would raise my kids and holler for my wife. Well, that just depends because I might get to Vegas and love it, who knows. I had to be there for at least a year, getting things up and going. I was too hands-on to fly back to Magnolia Valley, leaving my new baby, who had taken years to get off the ground. I’m sure I was going to have to step on a few toes and rub a few elbows. Here in Magnolia Valley, Monroe’s Casino thrived on its own, but in Vegas, it would have to compete. However, Vegas was the city of the gamblers.

I spent my days looking at different games we would offer over the others. It was good; some of the homies were plugged in in different rooms because I would need all hands on deck to make Vegas run smoothly.

Hearing my stomach growl, I knew it was time for me to step because my ass was getting hungry, and although everything was fancy in this muthafucka, it wasn’t shit in here worth eating. Thanks to the homie, Honor, he made sure someone from his company, Maids of Honor, had the house spotless. I was gonna have to tell dude they need to start having add-ons or something, a nigga fridge dry as hell.

My phone rang.

Speak of the devil.

“Wassup?"

“Can’t call it.”

“Nigga, yo’ ass need to get them maids to start stocking refrigerators and shit. Ain’t a damn thing over here.”