Page 57 of Dr. Bell

“Surprised to see you here, too,” I said.

He pointed to the young man running the wide receiver position. “Saar Savage—my nephew by marriage.”

“Oh, aight. He’s nice.”

Curtis grunted. “Don’t let him hear you say that. As much as he looks like a pro on the field, his ass wants to waste his talents on becoming a rapper.”

I chuckled. “You ain’t too fond of that, huh?”

“Hell, no. Don’t get me wrong—he’s nice on a mic, too. I’m just concerned his ass is gon’ end up like those brothers of his.”

Recalling the last name he said belonged to Saar, I said, “He’s related to some knuckleheads out of Pensacola?”

Curtis nodded. “His mama, Shena, is sick. Those boys are doing nothing but making her worse.”

“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that.” Although I knew the Savage boys, Saar was a vague memory.

“I just hope football will keep him occupied. He has three more months of wearing that monitor, then I can breathe again.” He chuckled. “I made his mama a promise that I’d do my best to keep him out of jail.”

Chucking my head towards the field, I said, “The quarterback is my son, Quilo.”

“Another son, huh?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “So far, he and Saar seem to be cool with each other. I’ll look out for him.”

Curtis shook my hand again. “I’d appreciate that, Doc.”

“Of course.”

A whistle being blown brought our attention back to the field. Coach rounded the boys up and minutes later dismissed them. Quilo and Saar walked our way. Behind them the current quarterback and wide receiver followed them. Instinctively, I knew they were on some bullshit. Just as I started towards them, the quarterback aggressively got in Quilo’s face. Quilo pushed him back, and Saar was right there to check the wide receiver when he tried to have his homeboy’s back. I stepped between the four boys, yoking up both Quilo and Saar.

“Aye!” Coach shouted, but I already had it under control.

“It’s aight,” I said to Quilo. He had death in his eyes. A look I knew all too well. “Calm down, baby.” He snatched away from me and stormed off.

“Come on Saar,” Curtis called. Saar eyed me curiously before going with his uncle.

In the parking lot, Zel walked next to Quilo, who was still fuming.

“That’s why I’ain wanna do this shit!” he barked.

“Oh, you gon’ let a lil’ competition fuck wit’ you?” I asked.

He glared at me. Zel smirked at the way Quilo got in my face.

“You can’t beat my ass,” I stated calmly. “And frankly, I’m a lil’ disappointed that you gon’ let a jealous muhfucka trick you out ya spot. If anything you make them niggas hate the fuckin’ ground you walk on.”

Some of his anger dissipated. “How I’m supposed to go to school here when niggas already got an issue wit’ me?” he questioned.

“Wit’ yo’ fuckin’ head up, that’s how. Anybody put they hands on you, you know what to do. Don’t ever let a muhfucka trick you out ya spot. Aight?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Yeah, aight.”

“Now get in the car.” I mushed him upside his head to help him.

Zel closed the door behind Quilo and chuckled. “You should’ve let him have at it, big dog.”

“Probably,” I conceded. “I gotta get him in line first, so he don’t make this shit a habit. He gotta learn when to walk away and when to bust a nigga in his shit.”

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