Page 26 of Gang of Roses: Rebel

“Rebel!” Dice gasped. “Don’t let my husband get active.”

I laughed. “Girl, please.”

“I’m serious. That man retired from the street life. He owns casinos now. Leave him alone and let him enjoy his peaceful life.”

“So... he don’t want no smoke no more?” I teased.

Dice smirked. “He don’t go looking for it... but don’t go waking up the old him.”

Kash laughed. “Leave her husband alone.”

“Aight,” I shrugged. “I’ll rob somebody else.”

Both of them stared at me, and I frowned.

“Y’all know I’m joking,” I grinned.

Dice pointed at me. “That’s the problem. With you, every joke got a little truth hiding in it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

“Do I need to pack any clothes?” I asked.

Dice looked me up and down before sucking her teeth. “Don’t offend me with your little tomboy wardrobe.”

“My clothes ain’t that bad.”

Kash laughed. “Girl, they fucked up.”

Dice folded her arms. “You own hoodies, jeans, Timbs, and leather jackets in thirty different colors.”

“I wear Jordans too.”

“Oh, my bad,” Dice said. “So today you’ll rob the bank in sneakers.”

Kash laughed so hard she had to grab the limo.

I pointed at both of them. “Y’all are some haters.”

“Nah,” Dice smirked. “First stop is the mall. By the time this trip is over, we’re gonna have you looking like a lady.”

I laughed. “Good luck with that.”

All of us climbed into the stretch limo. The driver pulled away from the curb as Dice reached into the ice bucket, popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, and filled our glasses.

“To us,” Kash said, raising hers.

“To friendship,” Dice added.

“And to making terrible financial decisions on this trip,” I joked, clinking my glass against theirs.

We burst out laughing before tossing back the champagne. The music filled the limo as we talked, laughed, and caught each other up on everything we’d missed. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking about robberies, tech, or the weight I’d been carrying. I was just enjoying being with my girls.

Chapter 7

Cario “Crow” Domingo

Being an active father was my main priority, especially since I never knew mine growing up. I never wanted my son to feel abandoned or end up looking up to drug dealers and street niggas the way I did. That kind of influence had a profound effect on my life, and I refused to let history repeat itself. But dealing with my ratchet baby mother and her loud-mouthed ass sister was becoming harder and harder to tolerate. Every time I turned around, it was some new drama, argument, or unnecessary bullshit that tested my patience. As much as I wanted to say, fuck it and bounce for a little peace of mind, I couldn’t. My baby boy needed me. No matter how frustrating his mother could be or how much drama came with the situation, walking away was never an option. At the end of the day, my son deserved a father who showed up, and I was determined to be that man.