HAM (Hard As a Muthaf**ka)

Gush(I Want Sex...)

WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of an intense sexual nature. Reader discretion is advised.

Gush(I Want Sex…)

               “You hungry, baby? You want sumpn to eat?”

               I cut my eyes to my mom with malice. My upper lip curled with apathy- you knew what was next…

               “You are fuckin unreal. I just got my ass kicked all over the goddamn train station- the LAST thing I wanna do, is eat!” I growled. My mom gasped at the intensity of the words being said, and the fact that I would dare say such things to her. My chest heaved in and out heavily, as it felt as if I was lettin off steam.

               “Jacoby Martin! Don’t you ever speak to me with that language, and in that tone EVER again! I will snatch yo narrow ass out that hospital bed and beat the black off you! Do you hear me?!?” she blasted.

               I turnt away from her. You know Black mamas…they will try what they say they gonna do too, if you test them.

               “I know you are mad and angry at those people who did this to you. But don’t take this out on me, Jacoby. I am here for you- me and Maxine. If you wanna come home for a lil while, til you get better, you can,” she said.

               “I DON’T WANNA come home!” I roared, banging the bed, as my meter thang started to go out of control. Stuff started to hurt on me again, as I knew I was starting to feel bad, coz I was stressin. I was heated as hell- I wanted to get Quint’s ass badly…I wanted to bury that nigga like I had put down mutha fuckin Gabe. Us havin beef is one thing, but a line was crossed when that nigga and his cronies were gonna throw me onto the tracks in front of the next oncoming train. That was one of my new “mission statements” in life- if I see that nigga, T.O.S…terminate on sight. Quint Jeter was gonna regret the day he ever fucked wit me.

               Mom placed her hands on me gently. “Calm down, Jacoby…please,”

               By that time one of the nursing station attendants came into the room. “Mr. Martin, we need you to calm down…you are going to make yourself feel worse, if you keep becoming agitated,”

               I nodded, as I doubled over a little, my stomach had already begun to twist an turn some. My mom rubbed my arm. “You get some rest, Jacoby. I’ll let Maxine talk to you for a minute, then we are goin home for the night,”

               I heard the door close, as the attendant checked the machines. “For someone to have some bruising of the left rib cage, a minor concussion, and some facial bruising, you sure are animated,”

               “When will I be gettin outta here?” I asked.

               “We’re keepin you overnight for observation…in case there may be some internal bleeding that we weren’t aware of,” answered the nurse attendant. I rolled my head towards the window, lettin out a distasteful sigh…I hated the hospital already as it is, but I hated Grady Hospital even more…how many niggas have come to Grady, been misdiagnosed and mistreated by the staff, and fuckin died? Too damn many…coz the doctors and staff feel since they don’t get paid directly, they tend to not really give a fuck about a majority of the patients here.

               Then there’s that term- Grady baby, when your ass was born at Grady Hospital…most poor Black folks and most of the project folks were born at Grady…thank goodness my folks had proper insurance. Max and I were born at Kennestone, where my mom works. Most “Grady babies” tend to be really fuckin re-re, if you feel me…