It took too long for the police to finally get the crowd under control and the players back to the sidelines. Big O, Bryan, and the other three young men who stormed the field were led off in handcuffs. I hated to see how the police handled them. However, the shit they pulled was dangerous. Lord only knew what would’ve happened if they had weapons.
As I suspected, they were after Quilo. He calmly nodded at whatever Adir was telling him while still keeping his eyes on Big O and Bryan. Knowing my brother, he wanted blood. I could tell by look on his face and the way his feet shifted that he wanted to run those lil’ niggas down. Adir was right there, though, in Quilo’s face. I could tell byhisface that he wanted to run those lil’ niggas down!
Refs gave stiff warnings to each team that another outburst would cost the game. Although the game started back, Adir, Humble, and Peace waited behind the police for the game to end. As time ran down, it was clear that NPHS was walking away the victor. The crowd didn’t like that. However, more police had shown up since the fight broke out, and they had this shit on lock.
Alli and Dothan took me down on the field to stand with Adir. Concern overshadowed the joy I felt. Not until Quilo was in front of me giving me a big hug did I release some of the heaviness. I gave Saar a hug, too.
“Congratulations!” I shouted.
I was so proud of my brother. With my hormones, of course I shed a few tears. Through it all, Quilo was making me proud enough to bless our mama too
ADIR
ThisshitwithHakeemand Jamaine had me on edge. While I didn't give a fuck about Jamaine, somebody was surely trying to lure me out of hibernation. That was what I felt. Too much time had passed, and I was no closer to having an answer for either of their deaths. Shit was bugging the fuck out of me.
Part of that was what had me on edge. The other part had me unable to sleep, which meant I had shit to do. Pretty’s body was tucked against mine, and she was peacefully sleeping after being riled up by the action at the game. I kissed the nape of her neck, then carefully climbed from the bed.
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I shot a quick text to Russ, Zel, and Alli. I put some joggers on then left the room. When I came out of the room, I saw faint flashing lights coming from the living room as if the television was on. I thought that was strange because each of the boys had their own rooms in the house I’d purchased a few months ago. Pretty’s mama was buried in Orlando, so her being able to come and spend timehere would be so, with her being comfortable in her own house and not a hotel.
Inside the living room, Quilo laid stretched out on the sofa with his arm hanging off, remote in hand with it pointed at the television. He had the volume all the way down, and his eyes were wide open.
“‘Sup, baby?” I asked him.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. His right arm held bruises from the beating his body took on the field. The defensive line tried taking my boy out. He was a thoroughbred though, fighting through non-calls, dirty plays, and blatant illegal tackles to bring home the championship.
“I can’t sleep,” he said.
I joined him on the couch and asked, “Why not?”
“You gon’ let me cuss right quick?”
Chuckling, I said, “Yeah, mane.”
“You told me to leave everything in Orlando, and I did. I didn’t start no shit, and I kept my mouth shut when my old classmates were on the field talkin’ shit. Saar wanted to bulldoze they asses. I told him to keep it cool ‘cause you said not to let anybody trick me out my spot. I told him the same thing.”
I had to laugh at Saar. That nigga was a young man of few words, but he had my son’s back against anybody.
“We both have scouts on us heavy, and to let muhfuckas ruin that is just stupid.”
“I agree. So, why can’t you sleep?”
He sighed and rested against the back of the couch. “I can tell you like being a dad, Adir.”
“I love it.”
“Anybody can see that.” He looked at me then. “What made you wanna be agooddad?”
I realized that Quilo was thinking about his own dad. The same nigga who had my muthafuckin’ ass up. Some shit wasoff with him. I’d watched his moves most of the game and even peeped how those knuckleheads acted around him. Before I adopted Quilo, I’d already looked into his court cases. I looked into every nigga that was named in any documents pertaining to him. So, I knew those knuckleheads laughing it up with Quinton Matthews were Quilo’s old homeboys.
Quinton Matthews hadn’t too long gotten out of jail. I knew that shit, too. My pops kept tabs on Quinton for obvious reasons. If his ass even acted like he wanted to reach out to my wife or son, he was going to meet his maker.
I expected him to be out tonight, though. With Quilo’s name ringing through the high school, college, and pro football streets, it was bound to bring everyone who was tied to him out the woodworks. I wasn’t having that shit.
“I was raised by a family of men who instilled in me what the love of a father is supposed to be like. That’s not to say that men who are raised without a father are incapable of showing their children love. Really, it’s all about wanting what’s best for someone you either created or took full responsibility for. I spoil my sons because I don’t want the streets to. I scold and correct my sons because I don’t want the laws to. I give equal attention, time, patience, and grace to each of you because I want y’all to pass that same shit down to ya own kids one day.”
He turned back to the television and slowly nodded.
“I pour into my sons because I want them to pour into the woman they will one day bump into and realize is the love of their lives.”
