“His old ass called another meeting? What the fuck Unc got goin’ on?”
“Maaannn, I’ll tell you about the shit when I see you. Was you still tryna’ play ball?”
“Naw, not for real. I’m just wakin’ up and I don’t have any energy. Marissa had me up last night, hittin’ that pussy from all different types of angles. I need breakfast and a damn blunt.”
“Shit, I could go for the same. We can roll a few then order some shit. I’ll fuck around and pull out the soundboard for a few hours,” I replied.
“Aight bet. I’m about to go to the crib and take a shower real quick. I should be pullin’ up in about an hour or so.”
“Cool.”
Ending the call, I put on a song I’d recently produced and drove to my side of town. There was a gas station right before the entrance of my condo and I stopped to get something to snack on while we waited for the food. It was rare for me to have a whole weekend free and I didn’t know what to do with myself. A part of me wanted to chill at the crib and catch up on much-needed sleep, but I knew my mind wouldn’t let me lay around all day. When Tripp left, I’d pick my momma up and take her shopping or some shit. Anything but sitting in the house all day sounded ideal.
As soon as I walked into my condo, my phone rang. I knew it was my dad from the weird ass number displayed. Any time he called, the number would be different, yet they all looked the same. When I answered, I listened as the automated machine let me know I had a call from an inmate at Gwendal South Prison. Once it was done, my dad’s voice came through the speaker and Iwas happy to be hearing from him. My pops could hold his own, but crazy shit went down in prison daily, and I’d never take his safety for granted.
“What’s up, old man? How you holdin’ up?”
“Old? Ain’t shit old but this hellhole I’m in. I’m probably benchin’ more than yo’ scrawny ass,” he joked.
“You ain’t seen me in a minute. I’m a big dawg now. Not the lil pup you last saw.”
“Whatever, man. What’s been up though? My wife told me you was waiting for my call last night, but they shut the phones down. I thought they was about to put us on lockdown, but they turned them back on this morning,” he explained.
Not being able to talk to my dad freely was one of the biggest adjustments I had to get used to. Last year at Christmas, they were on lock down and we didn’t hear from my dad for three weeks. I could still hear my mother’s cries while she’d called several different people trying to check on my dad. It was fucked up but the only thing that kept me going was knowing they would’ve contacted us if something had happened to him.
“Damn. You don’t know what happened?”
“Nah, not yet. I’m sure word will be goin’ around today though. Niggas can’t hold water in this bitch. But what’s up though? Everything okay?” my dad questioned; concern laced in his tone.
“Yeah, Pops. I just needed your advice on something. Uncle Dennis called a meeting with me and Deontay the other day and said he was ready to retire. He wants to pass the company down to me.”
There was a long pause before my dad spoke again, causing me to look at the screen to make sure the call was still connected.
“Why not give it to his son?” he finally asked.
After explaining the situation to him in detail, I waited for him to respond. Honestly, he and my mother didn’t seementhused about any of this. A part of me felt like it was because they thought my uncle was wrong for not choosing his son, but it seemed deeper than that.
“I’d feel more comfortable if you let me talk to Dennis before you decide. I’m just caught off guard because I talk to him at least three days out of the week and he ain’t said shit about this. You’re a grown ass man and don’t need my input for shit, but I find it funny he wouldn’t at least bring it up.”
“So what should I do?”
“This what you do. When you talk to Dennis on Monday, tell him you need more time to decide. Giving him an answer by Monday is too fast for some shit like this. Has he shown you the books or anything on the backend?”
“Nah, he hasn’t,” I admitted.
“Exactly. We need to see them books and make sure shit is on the up and up with taxes, lawyers, and all the other legal shit that ties into the company. I could be making a big deal out of nothing, but at the end of the day, you’re my son. I don’t want nobody fuckin’ you over. If shit is cool after I dig into it, it’s a go. Until then, treat this shit like a nine to five. We need ninety days to give an answer.”
This was why I needed my dad to be a free man. No matter what my age was, I’d never stop needing his guidance. Being a businessman myself, I hadn’t thought about everything he brought up and he was right. Only allowing myself a weekend to think about this wasn’t enough time by far.
“I’ll do that. How you gon’ look into it from where you at, Pops?”
“You worried about the wrong shit, man. Just stay focused on the music and makin’ sure none of them old ass niggas are in my wife’s face. I don’t know how, but I’m gon’ get out of here one day soon. I can’t take my last breath in this bitch, son. Especially over some shit I didn’t do.”
“I know, man. I keep tellin’ you to let me take care of it.”
“I got it, son. I don’t need you so consumed with my shit that you forget about what’s important.”
“Pops, don’t say no shit like that. You more important than any of this shit. I’d go broke to have you home.”
