Chapter Forty-Three
Ladelle got in his mother’s car and rode toward Rhonda’s building. Renee had told him over the phone that she still wasn’t ready to go home after Kalif had showed up at her door and wilded out.
Ladelle thought about Kalif for a moment. He had to give him credit; he was definitely ‘bout it. But ‘bout it or not, he was still a dead man if he ever got his hands on him.
Ladelle saw the boys when he got to Rhonda’s block. He beeped his horn and waited for them to come over to where he was parked. Dante got into the car first. ”Now tell me what happened,” Ladelle asked Darnelle when he took a seat in the back.
Petie told Patrice he had to make a run and would be right back. She tried to keep him from leaving, not knowing that this was something he wasn’t about to put off. But Petie wasn’t surprised; all the chicks got open after they got the dick.
”Where you gotta go?” Patrice whined.
”To my sons. I’ll be right back,” he told her and went to put on his boxers. Patrice got up and followed behind him, snatching them out of his hand.
Petie flipped. ”Check this out: anything dealing with my sons is more than important—ya heard? If I say I gotta get my sons, that means everything else stops. Don’t get it fucked up!”
Patrice hadn’t seen this side of Petie before. It was a side she didn’t want to see again. He got dressed and said he’d be back as soon as he could, and he told her not to go anywhere.
Petie got to the spot where Darnell had told him to meet him and Dante, and he panicked when he didn’t see them. He thought that maybe they went back inside the building. His cell phone rang. It was Ladelle, telling him that Darnell and Dante were at home with him. Petie didn’t bother asking Ladelle how they ended up over there, because he knew that no matter what happened between them, Ladelle loved his sons like they were his.
Ladelle opened the door for Petie and invited him to come in and sit down. Petie told him he didn’t want to, and he asked him where Darnell and Dante were. Ladelle told him that they were upstairs at his mother’s house.
”So what kind of game you playing, dick? I ain’t come to politic with you; I came to get my seeds,” Petie said, grilling him the whole time.
”This ain’t no game, punk,” Ladelle said. “We need to talk, but not in front of my nephews. Fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?” Petie looked at Ladelle, and all the anger he was feeling had disappeared. He missed him. Ladelle was his man.
”Talk, nigga—I’m listening,” Petie said before taking a seat. Ladelle started off with an apology, and he reminded Petie of all the years they had stomped together. He told him he forgave him for putting heat in his face, and if it was anybody else he would have killed them.
