Page 23

“Aight. Keep your fine ass on that couch until I get home. I’ll take care of you when I get there,” I told her.

“That’s how her ass got pregnant in the first place.” I heard Rah say in the background.

“Mind you and that nigga Mase’s business,” I countered. “Let me get off here so I can get my boy. Call me if you need me before I get there. I love you, mama.”

“I love you too, Joni,” she said before we hung up.

By the time I pulled into the parking lot at the field, Tae was already there. I spotted his truck near the gate and parked a few spaces away. The boys were still on the field running plays, so I got out and started toward the sidelines with my brother.

I hadn’t made it far before I noticed a nigga standing near the fence, watching the field. Something about him looked familiar, and the closer I got, the more certain I became. It was that nigga Dexter. Fourteen years had passed since I’d last seen that nigga, but I recognized his ass immediately. He was leaning against the fence, watching my son practice.

“Aye, bro,” Tae called, stopping beside me. “That’s who the fuck I think it is?”

“Yep,” I answered, already reaching for the gun at my waist.

Tae looked toward Dexter again before turning back to me. He didn’t say anything else because there wasn’t shit to discuss. We started walking in his direction, and the moment Dexter spotted us, he stood up straight. I didn’t waste time with introductions. By the time I reached him, I had my gun pressed directly against his forehead.

“Didn’t my fucking sister tell you to stay the fuck away from my son?” I questioned, staring him directly in his eyes.

Dexter laughed, but I could see the fear behind that fake-ass amusement. His eyes kept shifting between me and Tae, probably hoping one of us would give him an opportunity to talk his way out of the situation.

“Damn, Khaotic. I thought you’d be glad I wanna take the little nigga off your hands,” he replied, trying to maintain that stupid-ass grin.

The disrespect was enough for me to slam my gun across his face before he could say another fucking word.

“Pops!”

I heard AJ calling my name at the same time Dexter stumbled backward. I didn’t bother looking toward him because I was too busy beating the fuck out of the nigga who’d just disrespected my fucking kid.

“Aye, Khaotic! Chill, nigga!” Stacks yelled, trying to pull me away.

“Nigga, get the fuck off me!” I snapped, snatching my arm free.

“Nah, bro. Not out here with all these kids,” he warned, stepping between me and Dexter. “You got your son out here, man. Chill.”

I looked past him and saw Dexter holding his face while trying to get his bearings together. I wanted to knock every fucking tooth out of his head, but Stacks was right about one thing. I had my son out here, and I wasn’t about to let this nigga be the reason I got hauled off in front of him.

A few feet away, Buck had AJ by the arm, keeping him from coming over where we were. My son looked pissed the fuck off, and I could tell he’d been trying to get past Buck.

“Man, get off me!” AJ snapped, trying to pull away.

“I’ain doing shit. Your pops got this,” Buck told him, keeping his grip firm.

Tae had been standing close enough to intervene the entire time, and I knew he would’ve handled Dexter himself if I hadn’t gotten to him first. He walked toward AJ as Buck finally released him, placing a hand against the back of his neck.

“You straight, nephew?” Tae asked.

AJ didn’t answer him. His attention was on Dexter, who was now standing upright again, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand.

“AJ,” Dexter called, taking a step toward him. “Son, I—”

“Nigga, don’t fucking call me that!” AJ snapped, attempting to move past Tae. “I told my mama I’ain want shit to do with you!”

Dexter looked at him, apparently surprised by the anger in his voice. I didn’t know what the nigga expected. AJ wasn’t a little boy who could be won over with a pair of sneakers and a few dollars. He was sixteen years old, and he’d already made up his mind about the man who’d been missing from his life.

“I’m your father, AJ. You can’t keep acting like—”

“Nigga, you ain’t my shit. Fuck you for real!” AJ interrupted, his face twisted with anger.