“I was sixteen and she was maybe fifteen, tops.”
At that, Hound’s brows snapped together.“Who gives a fuckhow old you were?”
“You can’t know a girl’s the one when you’re sixteen and younever spoke to her.”
“Well, your dad knew, and he wasn’t sixteen, but he knew, nodoubt about it.He saw your mom and that was it.He was done.And you are hisboy.It’s just how it is with the Black men.You watched it happen with yourbrother and Georgie, do you doubt it?”
That was the rub.
Because his last name was Black.
But he wasn’t a Black.
“Answer me, Jag, do you doubt it?”Hound pushed.
He gave Hound what he was looking for.
“No, I don’t doubt it.”
Hound watched him closely.
Then, unusually, he read Jagger wrong.
“You got oats to sow, you cut her loose, and pray like fuckwhen you’re done wasting your timedoin’ shit youwouldapreferreddoin’ with her,that she’s still there.”
Having that day in the alley with Archie, knowing her name,seeing her with that kid, knowing something deeper was happening between Archieand Jag, having known that for a long time, and knowing she needed him, theidea of doing anything with anyone other than Archie did not appeal to him.
Not anymore.
He knew how to have a good time and spent a fair amount ofit doing just that.
And now…
Christ, was she the one?
Was he a Black?
At least with this?
“When’d you know Mom was the one?”Jag asked.
“Second I laid eyes on her,” Hound said before throwing backa swallow of beer.When he was done, he finished, “But she was your dad’sthen.”
“Yeah,” Jagger replied.
So he could also be like the man who raised him.
He could be an Ironside.
Jag dropped his head and focused on his bottle.
“Youwannaknow what I think?”Hound asked.
Jagger tipped his head back to look at his dad.
Then Hound told him what he thought.
“I think you’re in.And I think if you walk away from thisgirl, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.And I think I’m here to tellyou that because you need another voicesayin’something you already know.”
