I'll Ride For You, Homie

s e v e n t e e n

"First you said you was sorry, then you said ya name was Corey. So do I call you sorry or Corey?"

This old nigga is throwed. I think to myself, not trying to hide the fact that I'm amused.

"My name is Corey."

"That ain't what I said at first?" He asks seriously.

"Naw Paw Paw, you called him Carrie." Arique answers him sounding irritated.

Noted.

"Anyway." Mr. Smith waves his grandson off again. "Was you tryna get in with the family back then or somethin'?" He asks Corey.

"Naw. I mean, I thought his ainie was fine and all but, we used to just kick it. I wasn't trying to get him into trouble." Corey says to Mr. Smith.

"And in what ways can a grown man kick it wit' a kid?" Mr. Smith looks like he is getting a little hostile.

"What is the problem Paw Paw? Why you ain't ask him this stuff back then? It don't really matter now do it?" Arique crosses his arms with an attitude.

Noted.

"It don't, but I feel like thats where I fucked up. I was too focused on working to really be the father figure I needed to be. I partly blame myself for letting this old ass nigga introduce you to the street life."

"Well you raised me right Paw Paw. I chose to do bad on my own." Arique says smartly.

He really on a roll today huh? My nigga said that like it was some shit to be proud of.

"With the help of this muh fucka." He points at Corey. "But hey, if thats what you choose to do then so be it. I just hoped you woulda learned ya lesson the first time from hangin' wit' this fool. Ain't too much I can do nih since you a grown ass man." He takes a swig of his beer.

"He ain't make me do nothin' I'an wanna do PawPaw. He wa-"

"Say Mr. Smith, you was supposed to show me the man cave you been workin' on." I interrupt what I know was going to turn into an argument. I didn't want to hear him defend this dude, and I'm sure his grandfather feels the same way.

Mr. Smith exhales a deep breath, looking ready to fight. "Yeah, c'mon youngsta." He raises up, looking over at a defiant looking Arique again before shaking his head and walking off.

I go ahead and follow him out of the living-room without sparing either of them a glance. "My apologies young blood." He starts once we make it to the basement. "I just don't like that nigga. Neva did. I feel like he was doin' some creep shit wit' my grand-baby, and I feel fucked up abaht it 'cause-you know what." He shakes his head cutting off his own ranting. "Ain't none of this yo' problem, Smutt. My bad fa' ranting."

"You good sir. I would feel the same way in your shoes." I polish off my beer and set the bottle down on the end table near the reclining chair.

"Yeah. That whole friendship they got is just weird, always has been. For the longest time I thought he was tryna make my grandson funny."

"What'chu mean, Pops?" My brows furrow.

"You know," he gives me a look that tells me I should know what he means. I shake my head to let him know that I don't. "A fuck-boy."

Ahh. I get it now.

"Did you ever ask him?"

"Naw, how you ask another man that without him getting offended? 'Specially if it ain't true." He shakes his head.

Well... "Then it really shouldn't matter then." I shrug my shoulders. "If you don't care enough to ask then you really don't want nor need the answer."