SAVAGE 4

23.

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When Malcolm returned to Brooklyn, he decided to visit his cousin. Recently, Scooter had been badly injured. Malcolm wasn't sure what happened, so he hoped to get some information from his cousin during visitation. He phoned Dock and discovered Scooter was staying at Dock and Michelle's home. He wasted no time making his way over there. As expected, he brought his security with him.

"It's good to see you." Michelle greeted Malcolm softly while backing away from the door. She allowed the giant to step inside the house. Malcolm looked around and realized the foyer was destroyed. The walls and floors were demolished. With his brows furrowed, he glanced at Michelle. He didn't remember their home looking horrible. Michelle and Dock were known for keeping their house beautiful—inside and on the outside.

"Don't mind the mess." Michelle continued. She caught on to his perplexed expression. "We're in the middle of remodeling the entire brownstone."

"I see...new walls and floors, huh?"

"And furniture," Michelle added. "We feel the need to make a change, you know?"

"Hm." Malcolm hummed while walking further into the house.

"Scooter is in the guest room upstairs." Michelle continued while guiding her nephew. "So, how is your son? I saw a few pictures of him for his first birthday. Bernie showed them to me."

Bernie received a few pictures of Harlem from his first birthday photoshoot. She was so amazed by her handsome great grandson, so she decided to show Michelle the pictures on her phone. Harlem's sudden sprout wowed Michelle. She thought he was cute and very photogenic.

Malcolm glanced her way before saying, "He's good."

"He is so handsome." Michelle continued. "With those cute dimples, he looks like you."

"Really?" Malcolm's eyebrows hiked.

"Yes."

"Hm..." Malcolm looked off and thought about his son's facial features.

In his opinion, Harlem was a mixture of him and Jersey. He shared Jersey's nose, lips, hair texture, and dimples. However, the rest was Malcolm. Harlem had his body structure, eyebrows, ears, and smile. The grey eyes come from Malcolm's grandmother—of course. The chocolate skin was inherited from both of his parents.

The pair made it to the top of the stairs. Michelle walked forward and decided to head to the door on the right. She knocked twice and opened the door after hearing a voice.
"You have a visitor," Michelle announced.

Malcolm neared the door and realized Dock and Michelle had set up a recovery room for Scooter. There was a comfortable bed with a matching set—such as night tables and a dresser. A flat-screen television was mounted on the wall, along with speakers.

Scooter had a tray standing beside his bed. The tray held his water, magazines, and medication. He was lying in bed with the blanket covering his body. Malcolm had no interest in seeing his injuries because he knew how bullet wounds looked.

Damn. This nigga got it made here. Malcolm said to himself as he examined his cousin.

"You're still breathing," Malcolm replied sarcastically, with every bit of seriousness laced into his voice.

Scooter pushed out air from his nostrils and said, "It was so scary, man."

"I'll let you guys talk. Call me if you need me. Scooter, I'll be downstairs fixing dinner." Michelle blabbered while leaving out of the room. She closed the door behind herself.