Chapter 33

“Take off your shirt,” Smalley said.

“It’s okay, son,” the doctor said.

Quinn didn’t turn around but slipped it off his shoulders. How I loathe you, he thought.

“What’s this?” Smalley barked at the doc. “Is this skin cancer?”

“It’s just a mole,” the doctor said, sighing, “a beauty mark.”

“A beauty mark?” Smalley said. “Well, what have we got ourselves here, a beauty queen? Are you a girl, boy?”

“No sir.”

“Turn around.”

Quinn turned around for Smalley to consider him skeptically.

“A little lightweight for a quarterback. I’m surprised you don’t have tats. I thought all your people did.”

Your people? Quinn fumed. Would that be the Indonesian people? It was all he could do to keep himself from grabbing Smalley by the throat and shoving him into a wall.

“Well, I’ve seen enough,” Jefferson said, “a healthy young man in excellent condition. Doctor, you can continue your evaluation in private.”