Page 121 of Tangled Hearts
Christian ignored him, reaching for his phone. He dialed, waited, then cursed under his breath when it went to voicemail. He tried again. Same thing.
“She not answering?” Hov asked.
Christian shook his head, staring at the screen. “Hell nah. I don’t even know what to say if she did.”
Qua touched his uncle’s cheek. “You sad ‘cause of Titi No?”
Qua was inquisitive, peeped shit just like his daddy. That old soul had been passed down.
Christian pressed his lips together, hugging the boy tighter. “Something like that.”
Hov sat down across from him. “Listen, if Noir don’t want to hear you right now, let her be. If she comes back, do right by her. If not… let her go.”
“Like you did? I ain’t built like that, Hov.” Christian was mindful in not saying Knycole’s name while Qua was around. The little boy already put too much together and understood well beyond his four-year-old mind.
“You really be talking out the side of your neck, nigga,” Hov’s nose flared. “I ain’t come for all that though. My house might not be in order but I ain’t do the unthinkable and think I was gonna get a pass for it just because I had some money in my pockets.”
Christian’s head snapped up. “You telling me to give up on her? After everything I put in?”
“I’m telling you to stop killing yourself for somebody who ain’t answering the phone.”
Christian ignored him. Instead, his thoughts went back to the park and how Hov showed his hand. This would be their first time really talking about it.
“You picked them niggas over me… You stood in that park telling us you’d take all of us out if we touched Rock... Then you be laughing and kicking it with that nigga Cash. You really choosing them?”
“I don’t choose sides,” Hov countered. “I’m tryna keep us alive. Rock ain’t perfect. Neither are you. Cash ain’t did nothing to you. You just being a bitch. Y’all don’t even see I’m the only one holding shit together.”
Christian’s chest rose hard. “You just gon’ let him slide while I’m sitting here bleeding out?”
Hov sighed tired of the conversation. “You been gone from the streets. Just gon’ throw all that away ‘cause Noir gave you a taste of your own medicine?”
“Fuck the streets,” Christian snapped.
“Easy for you to say,” Hov shot back. “Hand that shit over to me then.”
Christian’s eyes softened. “I’ll burn every key I got before I let you touch it.”
Hov raised an eyebrow. “Damn, you don’t want me to eat?”
Christian leaned forward, his voice rough but clear as he spoke. “It ain’t about that. I don’t want you buried in this shit like me. We gotta get out one day. I don’t want to be my daddy, and I don’t want you trapped in fast money either. Nigga, you smarter than all of us. You can make something real. I hate that I even brought you in.”
The words hit Hov harder than he wanted to admit. He stared at his son, who was rolling a car across Christian’s arm like it was a track.
“Daddy,” Qua interrupted, looking between them. “Why you and Uncle Chris mad? Y’all brothers.”
Christian froze, his eyes dropping. His throat worked, but no words came. He hugged Qua against him, eyes burning. “Something like that, lil man.”
Hov rubbed his hands together. “Don’t worry about it, Qua. Grown man business.”
Qua frowned. “Then fix it. Grown-ups s’posed to fix things.”
Hov and Christian locked eyes. Neither of them spoke. The weight in the room was louder than anything.
Breaking the silence, Hov cleared his throat to change the subject. “You caught up with Chanta yet?”
Christian shook his head, rubbing his beard. “Nah.” He reached for his phone again, dialing Noir’s number. The call went unanswered. He pressed redial anyway.
Qua slid off Christian’s lap, tugging Hov’s hand. “Daddy, can we go to Old Nick’s now? I’m hungry.”
