“Bring my granddaughters to me, now!” Mayor Sleigh demanded.
“Mayor, please calm down. Your granddaughters were involved in a fight inside the girl’s restroom. The three girls who started the fight have been arrested. We had to be sure that the stories were correct before determining if your granddaughters should be detained.”
The mayor mumbled something under his breath and stormed off to wait in the corner. Walker addressed us and Curtis next.
“According to witnesses, Quilo and Saar ran into the girls’ restroom to defend Kasha Sleigh from being jumped on.”
Mayor Sleigh whirled around.
“At this time, we have decided that Quilo will be reprimanded for going into the girls’ restroom. Saar, on the other hand, is already on a monitoring device. He’s being detained and will be taken into custody.”
Curtis’s disappointment was written all over his face. Our attention was ensnared by two other men entering the lobby. Iknew them from a mechanic shop that wasn’t too far from here. They were brothers and had several kids between the two of them.
“Aye!” Woody barked. He was the dumbest of the two brothers but could play some damn football. This very school was where he’d built his reputation. He was a big nigga and intimidated a lot of folks just off the strength of that. “Yo’ lil’ nigga put his hands on my son?” he blasted.
Confused on who the fuck he was talking to, I tilted my head to the side and mugged his ass.
“And if he did, the fuck you gon’ do ‘bout it?” I’d been patient until now. Wasn’t a soul going to step in here thinking they could do a fuck thing to my jit.
Before anything could spark off, the cops intervened. They ushered the brothers back out of the building, and Pretty laid her hand on my chest to calm me down. Walker brought the boys out of his office. Saar and the other two boys were in handcuffs. Quilo wore a mug that was so harsh it dug into me. Pretty hugged him like he’d been in a shootout or some shit.
“You okay?” she asked.
“You need to be askin’ them that,” Quilo said, motioning to the two boys. Quilo and Saar had fucked them up.
“Bitch ass nigga!” one of them blasted. “I’ma see you, nigga!”
“You can see me right now!” Quilo shot back. “Wassup?”
The police escorted the boys out while I handled Quilo and got him up out of there, too. In the parking lot, Zel and Russ waited for us. The two boys were still running their mouths, prompting their fathers to try that dumb shit again. Woody pushed the officer so hard, he knocked the wind out of him. He ran up and was yanked back by Zel. I took over and let Zel handle the other brother. Mayhem ensued in the parking lot.
Pretty screamed, I tried to choke this nigga to death, the boys in handcuffs talked shit, Quilo, Zel, Russ, and a couple of copstried prying me off this nigga… Then, I felt something spraying me in my face.
Pretty’s screams iced my soul. Unfazed by the pepper spray, I let the nigga go to see to my wife. She lay on the ground, handcuffed screaming and gagging from the effects of the pepper spray.
“Get the fuck off her!” I demanded as I stalked toward the officer kneeling down over Pretty.
“Aye! Aye!” Two other cops charged me to keep me from fucking up their colleague.
Anger slid through me like a sharp ass knife. I was going to kill that nigga!
Several hours later, I held my baby as she sniffled against my chest. We were soaking in a hot bath having gotten home just minutes earlier. The sun hadn’t set yet, but the hour felt so fucking late. Between dealing with the officers, getting their superiors involved, and seeing to it that Saar walked out of that fucking jail, I was rife with anger and exhaustion. My baby’s eyes were red as hell and a little swollen. She’d been crying nonstop since earlier. So, I bathed her, dried her off, moisturized her body, then laid her in bed. Once I had her tucked in, I waited for her to close her eyes, then left the room.
Scrubbing my forehead to release some tension there, I walked up the stairs to Quilo’s room. Lightly, I tapped on the door.
“Come in,” he mumbled.
Opening the door, I stood there and observed him tossing a football into the air. The television was off, his phone was upside down on the floor, and his backpack was tossed on the other side of the room.
“Gon’ and say it, bruh,” he stated.
“Say what?” I asked.
“That you’re disappointed.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I slowly released it, entered Quilo’s room, and closed the door behind me.
“I’m not disappointed.”
