Chillin in the office had become the norm these days for Dr. Rech. Business was slow and this afternoon was no exception. Lucas Rech sat comfortably on his throne jotting down notes throughout his worn out copy of White Man’s Justice Black Man’s Grief. Rarely did Lucas read Goines at work but the stillness made him do it. The music wasn’t overwhelming and he was chilling today. He bopped lightly to the rhythms and rhymes of Eric B. and Rakim. Normally “Paid in Full” would be blasting to the highest degree, but knowing that complaints would follow he opted for a lower tone. The mix of vocals and instrumentals suddenly put Rech in a trance like no other.

He stared intently into the colors found within his Basquiat replica wondering what could’ve been. The lines, “Think about it – wait, erase your rhyme/ Forget it, and don’t waste your time”, flowed through his head like cold water spewing from an uncorked fire hydrant on a summer day. He was gone; to a place that he always wanted to revisit, but never had a chance to.

Gone were the days of parents bringing their children in for too much freezing due to excessive Beat Street viewings. Rech reminisced about having to cope with married couples trying to deal with their own personal East coast versus West coast beefs. There were the cats that had to deal with their inner DMX demons and the moms whose misogynistic sons had gone a bit too far. And who could forget the drama of that ATLiens and Aquemini debate of 1998. That was all back in the day though. Dr. Rech had seen it all but now he wasn’t seeing much of anything.

BOOM BAP! Just like that the moment of tranquility had vanished.

With a Red, Black and Green afro pick still in ebedded in his fro, Rech’s assistant, Def Jeff came stumbling in. He was shook but tried not to show it as he spoke.

“Doc, I tried to stop him. I swear!”

A massive young brother followed Def Jeff with a look of great agitation and anxiety. He roared out like a lion,

“Yo nigga, you Rech right?

Rech responded quite calmly and deliberately, “Son, first of all relax that language and for your information I am indeed Dr. Lucas Rech, what can I do for you?”

The muscular young man stepped forward cautiously, both hands up as if to show he meant no harm and spit out.

“Well I need your help nigga; my cousin is outside spitting fire.”

“Fire? Son, by no means do I have the common sense or the upper body strength for the FDNY” said Rech.

The doctor paused for laughter only to realize that he was the only one amused by this quip and continued,

“I’m a psychiatrist; you’ve got the wrong man.” Rech spit back in a sarcastic manner.

“Na nigga I know damn well who I’m looking for. Dr. Lucas Rech, the Hip Hop Psychiatrist.”

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON DR. RECH?

WHAT DO YOU THINK “THE COUSIN” IS SPITTING?

WHAT SHOULD BE DEF JEFF’S LAST NAME?