Page 97 of Dr. Bell

“Of course, I do, Adir.” A tear rolled down her face which I dashed away. “I’d never go against my family.”

I smiled. “I have no doubt about that, Heir. If it gets too much, Humble is right here.”

She glanced at Humble, who assured her that he was right by her side.

“Why are we here?” Auntie Maddie questioned. She was afraid, too.

“I made you a promise,” I told her.

She glanced at me and exhaled the breath she held trapped in her chest. Her hand gripped Heir’s for dear life. Whatever happened down here, they were resigned to it.

“Now… We wait,” I stated.

Ten minutes later, DJ descended the steps with a smile on his face. His smile faded as he beheld his mom and sister standing amongst me, Alli, Dothan, Pops, and our uncles. On the floor were his and Uncle Duval’s entire security team tied up and gagged.

“The hell’s goin’ on?” he questioned.

Aunt Maddie held her daughter’s hand tightly and held back tears. Seconds later, Uncle Duval descended the steps, smoking a cigar. Bypassing everything before him, he took one look at his wife and grilled her hard as hell.

He stalked towards her. “The hell you been?”

It turned my stomach the way Auntie Maddie recoiled as if any of us were going to really stand here and let this nigga put his hands on her. Pops stepped in front of Uncle Duval, blocking him from advancing on his wife.

Uncle Duval looked my pops up and down, then chuckled. “Move outta my way,” he growled.

“Wait, Ma. Why the hell you actin’ like you scared of him?” Confused, DJ’s eyes bounced between his parents.

“You tryna turn my wife against me?” Unc glared at my pops. Pops merely chuckled. Unc couldn’t fuck with him on any day.

“We have a problem,” I said to my cousin. He was still focused on the energy bouncing between the two people who made him. So, I snapped my fingers in front of his face to gain his attention. Once his screwed up face turned to me, I placed a picture in front of him and asked, “Who killed Hakeem?”

DJ’s face marred even more as he viewed the picture of him with Marco, the elder McAroy, and this family’s fucking product. The distinctive branding of the Bell brand was right there for him to see. There was no denying it.

I signaled for Antonias to bring out our next guest. Marco’s hands were bound and his face covered by a sack cloth as Antonias wheeled him into view. I’d had this nigga in my possession since the night of the shooting. His arms were bandaged where the burns were, and his IV line was still intact. I had to keep him alive until the party.

Antonias removed the bag, causing Marco’s eyes to rapidly blink against the brightness. He’d lost weight, and his eyes were sunken in from lack of food and water. A gag over his mouth prevented him from speaking.

“I’ma ask you again. Who killed Hakeem?”

DJ cocked his head and mugged me. “Youkilled Hakeem,” he said to me.

Peering around at the faces who represented the Bell family, I said, “Out of everyone standing here, you really thinkIkilled Hakeem?”

DJ’s eyes danced between me, his father, and Marco.

“Ask the question you wanna ask,” I prompted. A few minutes passed with him clearly confused. So, I took the floor. “I’ma tell you a lil’ story. There was this father and son. The son thoughthe and his father had the best relationship.” I paced, recalling Hakeem and his father’s relationship. “Meanwhile, the father was plotting his son’s downfall. I’m sure you wanna know why, right?” I didn’t need him to confirm before I continued. “Well… Jealousy and envy are a deadly combination. A man gets up in his years and can no longer move like he wants. He sees his son as competition. So, to knock off the competition, he concocts a plan to kill his own son. Instead, the very poison he was supposed to feed his son, he unknowingly fed to himself.”

DJ’s gaze briefly dipped to the concrete floor beneath us. Then, he was back to dividing his attention between his father and Marco.

“Fast forward a few years, and here we are,” I continued. “Father… Son… and Marco.”

Uncle Duval sputtered as if what I said was ludicrous. Incredulously, he balked at me.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about? Get your son!” he blasted to my pops.

Disappointed, Pops simply looked at his younger brother. The sadness in my pops’ eyes didn’t supersede the anger or death written there.

“You put a hit out on my shawty,” I spoke lowly, although a volcano erupted inside me. “You nearly cost my shawty some important people in her life. You nearly took my best nigga’s life. And you nearly cost meevery-fucking-thing.”

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