HAM (Hard As a Muthaf**ka)

Quint Jeter

Quint Jeter

                    If there was one word I would use to describe Quint Jeter, the word would be prick. He was a prick about 90% of the time…Quint got his jollies by makin others miserable- he fed off their pain. The more fucked up a situation was, the worse Quint made it, and laughed about it. I can’t even remember how the whole beef between me and him started- we didn’t start goin to the same school, until 6th grade…all I can recall is, he ran up on me in the hall, trynna stick his lil bird chest all up in my face. I shoved him, and a fight was on. They suspended us for a couple of days, but from that point on, whenever me and crossed paths, it was usually bad blood. I would hang wit Kantrell, and Ross in Allen Temple…we’d walk down to the lil convenience store to get some Big Hug fruit juices and a bag of hot wing chips. There was this nigga, wit Jank and Marl, trynna start some shit- one time, we got to fightin up there at the store, and this nigga picked up and brick and hurled it…bust Ross in his fuckin head. That boy still got a scar from that incident.

                    In high school, it got worse…me and him would get into fights a lot- they eventually banned us from comin to the football games, coz we would come up there wit thick crews an shit. He got mad when he was chasin down Mary Ann Harper, and come to find out, she was interested in me. That’s when I met Corliss…I tried calmin the fuck down, because of her. Instead of her knowin me as some scary ass hoodlum ass nigga, she knew me bein a mischievous mutha fucka…but even back then I knew that on certain levels, I wasn’t the type of nigga who should be wit Corliss. I would be cool at school, but once that bell rung at 3:45- I was buck fuckin wild, shawty…I would fight a nigga after school, sell shit right there at the bus stop next to the school grounds, and spliff one at the MARTA stop.

                    Quint would get in the car wit his cousin, and roll by us at the bus stop, aimin guns at a nigga. I guess he musta thought that shit was funny until one day he rolled by, doin that same shit…

                    And I aimed one back at him.

                    You aint the only nigga wit tools, was the message I sent. After that, that nigga aint pull that shit no more. Then of course there was that whole shit at the “back to school” party in the 12th grade, basically when I found out that nigga was kickin it wit Corliss. I just shook my head on that shit- if she was dumb enough to fuck with him, then she got what she deserved…but of course, I was really angry with her. I was gonna ask her to be with me…who knows, maybe she would’ve made a change in me.

                    But I went on with my ways, and two damn years later, here we are- me, her, and this mutha fucka.

                    Corliss wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him…I could read it in her body language, as she squeezed my fingers a little tightly. I twisted my lips, slightly lookin at the table, but keepin an open eye on him, making sure he didn’t catch me off guard. “What do you want, Quint?”

                    “I don’t want shit witchu, Jacoby…now Corliss, on the other hand- we still have unfinished business,” he said, with a devious smirk on his face. Corliss swallowed a little, then spoke. “I don’t have any loose ends with you, Quint. After all that dirt you did, and when you slept with Janisse Simpkins, I am more than done with you,”

                    “How can you say that, baby?” Quint asked, as he reached out, played with one of her curls. She slapped his hand away. “DON’T touch me!”

                    “Quint…what the FUCK you want, nigga?” I harped. “The lady an I were havin a nice lunch, until you came over here…she don’t want you touchin her,”