Malik didn’t remember none of that, because they could’ve got that shit as far as he was concerned.
“That’s right,” one of the other boys added, leaning against the food cart. “They ain’t take nothin’, not even his shoes.”
“Cuh still got his rings on,” Zaire grinned. “Even bloodied up, he look like he left the studio.”
Malik smirked, but it hurt to laugh. “Y’all lame as hell.”
The door swung open, and the doctor walked in, all efficient energy and tired eyes. She checked her clipboard, barely looking up. “Mr. Rice?”
“That’s me,” Malik mumbled.
“You’ll be alright - no broken bones, just deep bruising and minor lacerations. We’re going to prescribe some pain meds and muscle relaxers. Take them, rest, avoid strenuous activity, and you’ll heal up fine. No discharge tonight, but you can go home tomorrow if there’s no swelling.”
“Cool.”
The doctor nodded and turned back toward the door.
That’s when Aku burst in, still dressed in her summertime fine clothes. She’d gotten off the plane and called a car to get to him.
Booty shorts, crop top, legs out - eyes red and wild with tears.
The whole room turned.
Zaire whispered, “Damn.”
Malik squinted at him with a glare that could break ribs. “Watch out, cuh.”
His homeboys caught the warning, snickering low and making their exit.
“Y’all good?” his Mama asked softly, already gathering her bag.
“I’mma wait in the hallway,” his Daddy said, pushing off the wall.
Gran Betty stood up, patted Aku’s arm once. “Go’on head, baby. He in here actin’ like he tougher than God, but that boy hurtin’. Take it easy on my grandbaby though.”
Aku nodded, giving Gran Betty the only piece of a smile she had.
Once the room cleared, Aku just stood there. Eyes swimming, chest rising and falling like she was bracing for impact. She eased over to his charts, looked at the prescriptions, turning up her nose at the pain medicine they were prescribing.
Malik blinked slow, his lips twitching. “You a nurse now?”
She just looked at him.
He nodded toward her outfit. “You showin’ up in coochie cutters and thinkin’ you the head surgeon.”
“Stop playin’ with me,” she snapped, voice sharp and shaky. “I ain’t in the playing mood.”
“I’m sayin’ though—if this how doctors look now, I might fake a stroke.”
“Malik!” Her voice cracked, frustration slicing through her tears. “This ain’t funny!”
He dropped his smile instantly, knowing when Aku meant business, that’s what it was.
Aku stepped to the bed, hands hovering before landing gently on his arm, then his bandaged side. Her fingers trembled as shelooked him over, tracing the scrapes on his cheek, the swollen spot near his temple and the ugly gash across his forehead.
Her voice dropped. “Why you always like this? Why you always gotta be the one bleeding?”
“It’s a regular day in the hood,” he muttered. “Ain’t nothin’ new.”
