HAM (Hard As a Muthaf**ka)

Getting Away With Murder

WARNING: This chapter depicts a murder/execution and contains scenes of an intense sexual nature. Reader discretion is advised.

Getting Away With Murder

                  Kant and I cruised the streets, bumpin that Tupac Back by Rick Ross. I had taken the bus to the mechanic shop where Kant worked at, and we left from there once his shift was over. I had on black ankle socks, my all-black Chuck Taylors, a pair of black cargo shorts that I didn’t even give a fuck about, and a black wifebeater tank. Kant still had on his dark blue work pants, his all black K-Swiss classics, and a dirty ass wifebeater, wit oil stains on it and shit. He had his dreds pulled back, and his black A-Town fitted on…I didn’t even wear a hat.

                   We had been drivin around for like 20 minutes, and I wasn’t even hungry. I had gone to this barber school, and applied there…the financial aid lady had gotten me a couple of grants- I only had to come out of pocket wit fifty dollars a month. So I had a job, and I was enrolled in barber school…now I had to get back wit Reagan and make things happen in Little Five.

                   The only issue was this shit right here. Mos wasn’t gonna rest until Gabe was dead, and he put his money where his mouf was…in other words, he paid Kantrell and me quite well, to make it happen. Now the flip side to it, is if for some reason we don’t get Gabe, then he gets some other folks to do us…while I normally could give a flyin fuck less, he knows where my fam lives, and I don’t want him trynna use them to get to me, if you know what I’m sayin. So we doin the damn thing…the less my fam know about my involvement wit this shit, the better off we all are.

                   “So…?”

                   I looked to Kantrell, startled and clueless. “So…what?”

                   “How are things wit you and Corliss?”

                   “We cool,” I said.

                   “That’s it? ‘We cool’?” questioned Kantrell. “Maaaan, you holdin out onna nigga. Have yall went out yet? Have you beat that pussy down, nigga- that’s what I wanna know…not no ‘we cool’. This girl sought you out, and that is the best you can bring? Some ‘we cool’ shit?”

                   “Dude! I really don’t wanna talk about me an’ Corliss. No we haven’t fucked, and we haven’t went out. I onno- we’re just…cool, right now,” I said.

                   A few minutes of silence went by before Kantrell burst into laughter. “Aww…I get it now. You like Corliss, as in she would make great girlfriend material, or even more. I onno J- you don’t seem the settlin down type,”

                   I raised my brow, looking out the corner of my eye. “Dude, you readin into this shit waaay too much. We just hung out on Sunday evening for a lil while, that is it,”- I didn’t tell him about the other day when she came over and brought me the Pepto…he wouldda really been actin silly then.

                   “Man, I’m hungry as a mutha fucka…let’s go to Bankhead Seafood before they close,” said Kantrell. He made a right onto Bankhead, and took us to Bankhead Seafood…this place had some of the best fish in the A- niggas would wait in long ass lines to get some of that fish. Put some hot sauce on it, and fries on the side? Aww hell, that is a lunch made in heaven…and you’d still have some fish left over for dinner.

                   Kantrell pulled into the parking lot…he looked to me. “You want some fish, J?”

                   “Nah man…I’m not hungry,” I said. Kantrell shrugged his shoulders, then got out of the car, heading towards the restaurant. I looked at my cell phone…it was almost 5, so Kant made it here at the last minute. That’s one of the good(and bad) things about Bankhead Seafood- they don’t stay open late. I called Quinna back- I hadn’t spoken with her since the club…when she called the other day that Corliss was over, I never called her back.