Page 22

ADIR

Platinum Ink & Smokes was a shell of itself.

Standing outside the mangled building, I looked on as firefighters worked to contain the rest of the flames shooting out from the roof.

“They’ve already confirmed that Hakeem was inside. He’s deceased. The whole crew , Bell. Who the fuck does that? Marco was found in the back of the building with a gunshot wound to his leg and burns on his arms. He tried going back inside for his brother.”

“Where’d they take him?”

“Baptist General.” A couple of beats passed before he added, “He claims you did this.”

“Of course, he does.”

“So, what’s the plan? I can’t have more chaos than there already is.” Frustrated, Detective Gunner sighed heavily.

“I know you put ya hat up, Bell, and I hate to be the one to ask you to put it back on. However, if anyone can calm this city the fuck down, it’s you.”

I smirked.

“What you mean? I’m just a doctor.”

He chortled.

“And I’m an astronaut. Help me, Bell. I’m serious.”

We dapped, then I walked away, rubbing my beard in contemplation.

The last time I killed a nigga was five years ago.

After adopting the boys, I left some parts of me in the streets.

I wouldn’t lie. Drawing blood was a habit that was hard as fuck to break.

However, I had to do it for my boys.

Plus, once that side of me came out, it was too complicated to get him back under control.

I had an addiction to the smell of the metallic substance.

It was an addiction that I fed every day while strolling the halls of Dr. Bell & Associates.

Such addiction wasn’t as strong as the addiction of killing.

I used to do that shit with my eyes closed.

So, as much as Gunner needed that Adir, he was on a long ass vacation.

One that he needed to stay on.

If anything, I’d make some moves and figure out who the fuck did this shit to Hakeem.

If I sensed even the slightest fuckery I was going to handle it the best way I could without getting that other nigga involved.

Hopefully, everyone fell the fuck in line.

For their sake, of course.

Alli stood on the corner smoking a blunt and observing the action as well.

“What’s the play?” he asked.

“We need to talk,” I told him.

Once we were in the Ghost, I let up the partition.

Alli passed me the blunt.

I hit it, then blew the smoke out.

“This stays between us. Hakeem was my informant and the confidential buyer of our product. This extends back to Tilda.”

Alli chuckled.

“So, why marry Pretty?”

“I didn’t marry Pretty because I lacked trust in Hakeem. It was the people around him that I didn’t trust. Once money was involved, people were liable to do anything. Including going against orders to lift the bid."

“Well, this changes some shit. You think somebody found out about you and Hakeem?”

“I think somebody has to be real stupid to go after someone in Hakeem’s position. They took out the whole fuckin’ crew. Those niggas ain’t easy to touch.”

“Agreed. Who’s ya money on? Definitely ain’t these small crews. I’m thinkin’ an organized family.”

I glanced at Alli.

“Who else could pull this off?”

“The question is why?”

“You sold Hakeem a warehouse full of work.”

“Fuck,” I mumbled.

“So, what’s the move?” he asked again.

Shrugging, I replied, “We make some house calls. And see where our shit pops up at.”

He simply laughed.

Over the next few days, Alli and I visited several known traps and a few unknown. By Friday, we hadn’t hit one single lick that profited us. We had one last stop before the week was over.

That same Friday, after clinic, I went home to shower and have dinner with my family. Since I’d been MIA most of the week, I hadn’t caught up with the boys like I normally did. Neither of them took offense. They knew my position in the family and that I had to sometimes step away for a quick second to handle shit. Thank goodness Pretty was here now to see to it that the house stayed in order.

Around the dinner table, I listened to the boys recount their week, each in detail. The only one who had few words was Quilo. I was just happy for him to be saying something other than just sitting there looking like a lost dog.

My wife ate and held a serene smile as each of the boys relayed their week. I loved that she was invested and even got onto the twins when she found out they’d been staying up past midnight.

After dinner, I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth to prepare for the night out. I lined myself up, moisturized, dressed in all black from head to toe, adorned my ice, fitted my bottom grill, and spritzed some cologne on myself. I came back down to the top of the stairs to see Pretty standing at the bottom of the stairs pensively looking at me. Her eyes searched my frame and stayed stuck on the grill in my mouth.

“I’m heading out for a minute.” I stood in front of her, lifted her chin, and pecked her lips.

Sighing, she said, “Alright.” Clearly bothered, she moved away from me, sat Indian style on the bed, grabbed the remote, and started flipping through the television streaming platform she was on. What bothered me was that she didn’t even question me.

Going to the bed, I took the remote from her hand and chucked it out of reach.

She frowned. “Why’d you do that?”

“Ask me where the fuck I’m goin’,” I said.

She gave me the craziest look. “Why would I do that?” There was attitude in her voice even though she pretended like there was nothing wrong.

I bent down and got so close to her face that our noses touched. She didn’t blink or flinch.

“You mad at me?” I asked.

“Nope. Now gon’ on wherever it is that you gotta go. Don’t come back smelling like no bitch.” The fire in her eyes made me grin.

“I would never, my baby. First of all, I’m never cheating on you. Second of all, the only woman I wanna smell like is you.”

She mushed my head out of her face. “Bye, Dr. Bell.”

“Oh, okay. That’s what we on?”

For the first time, her eyes watered. “Why did I have to find out about Hakeem on the news? According to the picture I saw of his brother on the news, Marco is the one who tried to kill me and Quilo that night.”

Marco was still in ICU recovering from third degree burns and a gunshot wound. He was in a medically induced coma that I needed his ass to come out of, ASAP.

“It wasn’t my intentions not to tell you. Actually, that’s why I’ve been moving like I have been lately. It’s nothing about a bitch. I promise, aight. We locked in forever, so don’t ever fret over shit like that.”

She glanced away, and her shoulders slightly lifted as if to say whatever.

I turned her face towards me and said, “Remember I told you that it was gon’ take trust you never knew in order to be married to a man like me. Trust me, my baby. That’s all I ask.”

This time, she nodded. I kissed her lips, then her forehead.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Leaving the house was hard as fuck. I wanted to assure Pretty that being in the streets wasn’t what I wanted. However, I had to get to the bottom of what happened to Hakeem. So far, I had nothing other than a comatose Marco.

Jamaine, a nigga we knew on the East Side, was one of the biggest drug dealers in the city. He owned a club, Dark Door, on the other side of downtown. It was always packed and one of the hottest spots for live entertainment. The bottle girls were fine as fuck, and the atmosphere wasn’t so bad.

Our presence alone made him uneasy, though. He entered our section and despite putting up a front, the look in his eyes gave him away. His right and second hand men flanked him. They kept their eyes on Alli, Dothan, and DJ.

“What has the good doctor darkening my doorstep?”

“Just came to chill,” I said. No dap. No shit like that. I didn’t fuck with this nigga. Shiiitt. We didn’t even order drinks. I just wanted to peep who was moving through here.

“You sure, Doc?”

“If I was on some other shit, this bitch would’ve been cleared out by now,” I stated.

He chuckled, and I heard the nervousness in it.

“Enjoy ya night,” he said before leaving back out of the section.

For two hours, we kicked it and took mental notes of anything we saw to circle back to. One face stood out the most. Kim McAroy strutted her fine ass past my section wearing a smile that many niggas would’ve folded for. Not this nigga, though. Kim and her twin brother, Kody, were the offspring of a family that my great-grandfather would roll over in his grave if he thought I was fucking with them.

The McAroys were another Black family around at the time my great-grandfather and his homeboys were building Niceville Shores. Just like my family, the McAroys were an extensive family. The McAroys originated out of Pensacola and were heavy in the liquor game. They heard about some men putting together a new community in Niceville Shores and thought they were going to carry their asses across that bridge and bully Allistair. Allistair sent them back to Pensacola wearing some bullet holes and knots. It was a long-standing silent agreement that as long as they didn’t fuck with us, we wouldn’t fuck with them. Hell, they weren’t even welcomed at Dr. Bell & Associates, and nearly everyone in the streets was welcomed there.

“Remember what I said about an organized family?” Alli questioned for my ears only.

Sure, the McAroys were capable of knocking off Hakeem. That shit felt off, though.

Just as Alli said it, Kody passed my section. His unyielding face matched the look on mine as we held eye contact. We were two alphas who didn’t have to assert any fucking energy for people to know who the fuck we were.

“The fuck that nigga lookin’ at?”

I stopped DJ when he went to get up.

“Chill… Everything is cool,” I said.

Putting the McAroys out of my mind, I went back to studying the scenery. Jamaine stayed out of dodge the remainder of the evening. If he was the one to hit up Hakeem and his crew, I was going to burn his entire bloodline to the ground.

Although the last week had been trying as hell, I was determined to show up for Quilo. I stood on the sidelines and watched him throw another dime clear down the field. The young man who caught the ball did so with ease. They were walk-on tryouts killing the current players on the team. The young man jogged back down the field and bumped fists with Quilo. Coach called him Savage. I knew some Savages here in the city, but I didn’t recall them having any children. This kid had a monitor on his ankle, piquing my interest. He and Quilo seemed to hit it off. Honestly, I was happy to see Quilo actually enjoying himself. On the field, he appeared to be carefree.

“Surprised to see you here.”

Glancing to my right, I saw Curtis Baker approaching me. The retired marine lived a few neighborhoods over from Bell Estates and owned a local gun range. He shook my hand and peered out over the field.

“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.”

Zel agreed. “That’s why you got five kids and I’ain got one.”

Laughing, I replied, “Exactly.” I got inside the car, joining Quilo in the back seat. He looked out of the window and remained quiet as Zel left the parking lot.

“You’ve played football before,” I said to break the silence.

Without turning from the window, he responded, “A long time ago.”

“Why’d you stop playin’?”

“‘Cause my mama died, and I’ain care about that shit no more.”

I could understand that. A man’s mother was vital in his life. Mothers were the ones to constantly put aside whatever life they had to care for their children. As much as I loved my father, I knew damn well I wouldn’t be shit without my mama.

“Have you ever grieved losin’ her?”

Slowly, Quilo turned from the window to look at me. Regardless of the mug on his face, his eyes said that he hadn’t grieved his mama.

“Why?” he questioned.

“Grief will have you angry at the world and even the people you love. Even if you don’t mean to be, anger is destined to be the way you react to everything. You’re gon’ be a man one day. My job is to make sure you understand the weight that comes with being one. You can’t allow every single thing to piss you off. And even if it does, you know how to control ya anger and not let it get the best of you.”

“And how do I do that?”

Covering my surprise for him actually opening the door, I stated, “Talk to me—anytime. Process ya emotions. Over time, you’ll see how effective communication can heal shit you thought was deep-rooted and terminal.”

His head turned back towards the window.

“Before she died, my mama told me to take care of Coco. These last five years have been hell. Coco did her best to keep us afloat while she was in college. That’s when I started getting into trouble. While she was in school or working, I was in the streets. Then ,she got her nurses license. Since then, she’s been doing her thing. I just feel like I let her down by fuckin’ everything up and causing us to have to uproot the way we did.”

“Well… I can’t say that I’m upset that y’all are in my life. Sometimes, we question things that really shouldn’t be a second thought. Especially if the outcome outweighs the cause. I have a beautiful wife whom I adore and another son that I intend to see live the best life that he can.”

His countenance was that of a young man who was tired of carrying the world on his shoulders.

“Peace told me you adopted them five years ago. What made you step up like that?”

“I had a professor named Tilda who I made a promise to. I’m fulfilling it.”

Again, he glanced off. A few minutes later, he asked, “You think it’s too late for me to keep my promise?”

“Pretty has already seen how far you’ll go for her, and I can guarantee you she’s never doubted that you have her back. Now, I need you to prove to ya’self how far you’re willing to go for you . I’m here to support you however you need me to.”

“Aight,” he finally said.

“You have tryouts two more times this week. I want you to go out there and take that shit.”

He chuckled as Zel drove through the gate of Bell Estates. Seconds later, we were in the driveway. Pretty came strolling down the street with a foil pan in her hands and Russ on her trail. The car barely stopped before Quilo hopped out.

“Is that peach cobbler?” he asked Pretty. Her big smile and emphatic head nod had him going to her and snatching the pan out of her hands. Stepping out of the car, I grinned at the indignant look on her face.

“Don’t eat all my cobbler, Quilo! And wash yo’ hands first,” she told him.

I dapped Russ and swooped my wife off her feet. She giggled as I walked towards the house and placed kisses all over her face, neck, and chest.

“Auntie Maddie got you hooked, huh?”

“Real bad, baby. Just like you. Are you in for the evening?”

With everything that happened with Hakeem, I was caught up doing so much damage control that I was slacking on my baby.

“I am,” I stated, causing her to squeal with delight.

“I miss you,” she crooned against my lips. “I made something special for dinner.”

“Yeah?” I walked us into the house and immediately smelled one of my favorite dishes. “Oh, you tryna get that ass tore up.”

She giggled, turned red in the face, and batted her long lashes at me. That was invitation enough for me to stealthily make it to our bedroom without the boys seeing me carrying her freaky ass through the house.

Inside our bedroom, I walked up the stairs to the bathroom. Thinking ahead, I knew that by the time I was done with her, she wouldn’t be able to make it up the stairs for a shower. I placed her on the counter and ripped my shirt over my head. She attacked my chest, placing open-mouthed kissed over my skin as she reached into my joggers and fisted my stiff dick. It lit me on fire.

Dropping to my knees, our faces mirrored each other’s as I removed her shorts. Her dazed eyes stared down at me as I did the same with her panties. I kissed both her knees, then parted her thighs, reminding her of the promise I made to her on our honeymoon. As my lips dipped to kiss the inside of her thighs, her fingernails grazed through the thickness of my taper fade.

“Mmm…”

The smell of her pussy had my dick so fucking hard. Picking up her ankles, I placed both her feet atop the counter and pulled her all the way to the edge until her ass rested in my hands. She was wide open for me, with her clit poking out with eagerness. My first kiss to her lips caused her to shudder and lean back to support herself on top of the counter. Giving my baby head was a brand new every time. She could never last, and I could never stop eating.

I tore into her, eating like I hadn’t in a few days. While she ran like a faucet, wailed, and cried out in pleasure, I honed in on her tight nub, stiffened my tongue, and drew a picture on it for my baby. Her hips bucked against my face, and she tugged at the tight coils on top of my head.

“Daddy’s sorry, baby,” I mumbled before sucking her clit between my teeth.

“Adir!” She came undone, squirting and carrying on so sexily that I couldn’t take it anymore.

Standing to my feet, I propped her ankles on my shoulders and entered her on one long, rough, deep stroke. My toes curled, and my eyes flew open like I’d been struck by lightning.

“Yeesss!” she moaned loudly.

Staring into her eyes, I repeated the act. Although this counter was unmovable, I swear it shifted beneath us.

None too gently, I drove into her. “You love when I’m rough wit’ this pussy?”

“Yes, Daddy!” Her mouth sagged open when I slowed my retreat a little just to torture her ass.

“A nigga wanna be gentle wit’ you, baby. I do.” I couldn’t, though, and groaned when her pussy agreed and sucked me deeper. “Shit! I wanna be gentle wit’ this good muhfucka. Look at how she cries for me.” Looking down at my dick driving inside of her and the way her cum coated me produced some shit inside of me that was otherworldly. I delivered deep, long strokes, that had us both in here chanting each other’s names.

Snatching Pretty up by her neck, I tightened my grip and slammed our lips together the same way I slammed my dick into her.

“You accept my apology?” I grunted with a death stroke. Breathless, a scream was lost in her throat as she broke apart on my dick again, causing me to feverishly pump into her gripping, dripping wet shit. Unable to withstand the ecstasy of being inside her, I let go too.