Page 58 of Gang of Roses: Dice

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?”