Up at the College by Michele Andrea Bowen

considered a friend—namely his boy and partner in
     crime Rico Sneed, who was around the basketball team way too much lately. Other than that, Kordell could not be depended on
     to do what was right and honorable—especially where Curtis and the team were concerned. He was dishonest to a fault. And he
     hid it behind a solemn, silent demeanor that made most people think he was just personality challenged and weird. Kordell
     Bivens was the type of negro who could be a guest in a person’s house and turn around and bite them with betrayal like a rabid
     dog, as his own special way of saying “thank you.”
    And then there was Castilleo Palmer—a wannabe player with the erroneous assumption that he was a gift to behold. Castilleo
     acted like he had the capacity to add something worth anything to the lives of the women he was involved with. About the only
     thing Castilleo ever did that was worthwhile was to break it off with his nicest girlfriends. And he couldn’t even do that
     right. The boy was so mean and ugly-acting when he broke off from a woman that she never wanted to have another thing to do
     with him. In fact, once one of Castilleo’s exceptionally beautiful ex-girlfriends was standing beside a flat tire at the Southpoint
     Mall parking lot in a thunderstorm. When he offered to help, she said, “No thank you. I’d prefer to be assisted by that man
     over there.”
    She then proceeded to point to a man who was standing at the bus stop singing the theme song from the 1970s version of the
     movie
Shaft,
dancing like Michael Jackson on one of his best songs from the famed
Off the Wall
album, and picking and eating boogers, when he appeared a tad bit tired and famished.
    Castilleo Palmer and Kordell Bivens—the assistant coaches from the pit of Hell—with their ever-present, annoying, and so unnecessary
     sidekick, Rico Sneed. Curtis had inherited those two jokers from his predecessor when he became the head coach of the basketball
     team. And the only reason he had not chased those two jokers out of his department with a sawed-off shotgun was that he had
     needed to hire Maurice. Curtis knew that firing Kordell and Castilleo would make his boss, Gilead Jackson, mad, and make it
     hard to get Maurice on staff at the right salary.
    It had seemed like a good plan at the time. But now, having to deal with all the stress, drama, and backstabbing that came
     with having Kordell and Castilleo as employees let him know he had not exercised any kind of good judgment concerning this
     matter. He wished he would have followed Gran Gran’s admonishment to trust God, fire those two, and let the chips fall where
     they may.
    Maurice’s eyes were closed and his lips were moving in a silent prayer. Curtis asked him again.
    “Man, is it really that bad?”
    “Worse,” Maurice answered.
    “So, what do we do about June Bug Washington and DeMarcus Brown?”
    “Bench ’em, Curtis. They are nothing but trouble, and I’m tired of fooling with those two spoiled, bratty pimp daddies just
     because Bishop Sonny Washington’s son is one’s pappy, and Reverend Marcel Brown
sired
the other.”
    Curtis started laughing. “Dawg, you make old boy sound like a rutting stag. Sire? If that ain’t some old school mess from
     what century?”
    “Well, it’s true, ain’t it,” Maurice said with a chuckle. “Heck, you and I both know that DeMarcus’s daddy is still pimpin’
     and he what … seventy-nine, eighty?”
    “I think Reverend Brown is seventy-seven,” Curtis said. “Reverend Harris told me that her dad, Bishop Simmons, was seventy-five,
     and I think Reverend Brown is a couple of years older than Sharon Simmons-Harris’s father.”
    Maurice looked toward the back door to make sure Trina wasn’t in earshot in the kitchen before he said, “Sharon is fine.”
    “Yes, Lawd,” Curtis said and held out his fist for some dap. “Umph, umph, umph. And Lawd knows I shouldn’t be talking like
     this about a preacher.