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“If you were doing it when you were supposed to, she wouldn’t have to step in and do it for you. I know I play a lot with you, but nigga I’m serious about this. You fifteen years old. Your mama shouldn’t be washing your clothes and doing your laundry. Do that shit on your own!” I snapped.

“I hear you, pops,” was his response, and I dropped it from there.

About twenty minutes later, we were pulling up to Duffy’s.

There was a basketball game on this evening, so the parking lot was packed, but it wasn’t anything too crazy.

I found a spot in the lot, quickly parked my truck, and the three of us got out.

Like they were still my little boys, I let them walk ahead of me, while I walked behind them, allowing myself to be the eyes behind their heads.

Legend opened the door, and I caught it, letting them walk in.

Creed was the one to walk up to the counter to let the hostesses know that the three of us wanted a table, and he made sure to ask her for a good view, so that we could see the TV, and watch the game.

She assured him that she would make that happen for us, and then she led the way, taking us to the back.

She took us to a booth, where my boys sat on the same bench, and I sat across from them. She sat three menu’s in front of us, we thanked her for it, and then she left, going back to the front.

“I’m starving. I want everything. Mozerella sticks, a burger, wings, and I’m probably going to get some dessert, too,” Creed voiced, and Legend was right there, agreeing with his brother.

I just shook my head. These two niggas could eat you out of a fuckin home.

That’s one of the things that Yaya would complain to me about.

She’ll buy a bunch of groceries, mainly from Sams club or Costco because she liked to buy groceries in bulk for these greedy ass kids, and just as quick as she would buy the groceries, they would be gone in about a week.

Yaya was a great cook, and the boys would have home cooked meals just about every night, but most nights, there were never any left overs because they would always have to go back for seconds, or thirds.

They’d gotten their big appetite from me.

Back when Yaya and I were married, it was three men that she would have to keep fed, and even though her ass was always talking shit about it, I knew that feeding her boys was one of her favorite things in the world to do.

About two minutes later, the waitress came over.

Young, black girl. Probably in her early twenties.

We’ve eaten here so much, that when she came over, she greeted each of us by our first names.

The boys ordered soda, and for me, since it’s been a long day, I went ahead and ordered whiskey she never told him about the pregnancy.

She knew that a nigga like Dutch, that was deep in the streets would have told her to get an abortion, so she waited until after their son was already born to let him know that he was a daddy.

At fourteen, I remember hopping on a flight with Dutch, and we went out to Cali, so that he could see what the fuck was going on.

He was quick to ask for a DNA test, and once everything checked out that Kross was his, Dutch did what the fuck he had to do as a man, and he took care of his son.

We would fly out to Cali often, so that he could see Kross.

His baby mama’s name was Noelle. Bitch was fine as fuck, but she would stress Dutch the fuck out.

For the first five years of Kross’ life, she would never let Dutch bring Kross back home on a flight.

She was screaming that Dutch was in too much shit in the streets, and she didn’t want her son getting mixed up with that, and getting caught up in the crossfire if some shit were to go down.

In a sense, I understood where she was coming from, but she had already fucked that nigga, and had a baby by him, so it was too late for her to suddenly try to think logically.

By the time I started college, I wouldn’t make that trip to Cali with Dutch as often to see his son.

Dutch would tell me about that lil nigga over the phone though and tell me just how bad his ass was.

He was always fighting in school, getting kicked out of school, and all of this had taken place when his ass was only in elementary.

By the time he got to middle school, Noelle washed her hands with him and sent his ass down here to live with Dutch.

That lil nigga just needed to get fucked up one good time, and I felt like his actions would have been better.

Over the years, he was constantly in trouble with the law, and he was one of those dudes where you couldn’t tell him shit because he was too rebellious, and he wouldn’t listen.

I didn’t fuck with Kross. Me, and that nigga had deep issues.

I had to put my foot in his ass twice for thinking that he was going to disrespect me.

The nigga grew up with his fuckin daddy, yet he still had daddy issues, feeling like Dutch treated me more like a son, than he did him, but I didn’t agree with that stupid ass statement. Not even a little bit.

“Nah, I don’t know. I don’t fuck with that nigga, and you know that.

After our daughter passed, that nigga said some disrespectful shit about my wife.

.. I mean about Yaya, and I don’t fuck with him.

You know that, man. You the same nigga that taught me as a young boy that all money wasn’t good money, so I’m just sticking to what you taught me, and passing on that.

He’s the last nigga to have a lawyer on payroll for because to him, he’s going to take that information, and translate it to him going out, and fuckin up in these streets because he know he has a lawyer on deck that’s going to handle his fuck up.

Nah. Ima pass,” I shot, ready this time to wrap this conversation up, and call it a day.

I had plenty of niggas that had me on their payroll. A lot of scammers, killers, drug dealers, but even people that were legit had me on payroll. I don’t judge how a man chooses to make his money. Shit, it wasn’t my business. For Kross though, I didn’t want anything to do with him.

“I can’t even be mad at you for saying that.

He did say some disrespectful shit about Yaya, so it’s only right that you hold that nigga accountable for it.

I’ll hit you later though. Go ahead, and enjoy dinner with your boys,” he responded.

I didn’t reply. I just hung up the phone, and I tossed it back on the table.

I was shocked that Dutch would even ask for that kind of favor from me, knowing that I didn’t fuck with that nigga like that.

Back when Sarai passed in her sleep, it got back to me that that nigga said to someone that Yaya was the blame for it.

Talking about, she was crying over the shit like it wasn’t her fault.

Till this day, I don’t know what the fuck convinced him to say that goofy ass shit.

Kross has never stepped foot in my house, didn’t know shit about my families dynamic, so for him to make that comment, not only did it make Yaya cry, but it also pissed me off, so I went, found him, and I beat the shit out of his ass.

I haven’t fucked with him ever since. About a month after that happened, his stupid ass went to prison for a little over a year.

He was in possession of a firearm, and he couldn’t do that shit because he was a felon.

At the time, Dutch knew damn well that he couldn’t ask me to help get him off because the comment he had just made about Yaya was too fresh.

I probably would have killed Dutch for even asking me that shit.

Here we are, a lot of time had passed, and Kross was out of prison, and I guess Dutch felt like I must have forgotten about the comment, and let it go, which could be the only reason he had the balls to ask me this.

Dutch knew I was the best attorney out. Niggas out here weren’t moving like me, and that’s why he wanted the best for his son, but as far as I saw it, it was fuck his son, and I would forever feel this way!