HAM (Hard As a Muthaf**ka)

Glass Half Empty

Glass Half Empty

                 I sat on the bus again…this time it was two in the afternoon, and I was headed towards Mos’ restaurant. He had text me with a certain number code that we use, on a prepaid phone. That way my text records and phone records couldn’t be checked on my regular cell. I wore a green Polo shirt with the big size polo dude on it, some white shorts with green and dark blue plaid on them, and some white and green Puma romas. I had on a really thin white hoodie sweatjacket, and my silver necklace…I was fuckin tight as hell, nigga. I wondered what the hell did Mos want? He couldn’t have known about me and white boy Reagan- besides, we didn’t make shit look so obvious…we went downtown and ate, and then to his joint in Little Five. I was there all of about an hour, maybe a little longer- then I left and went to the interview…smellin like weed.

                 The lucky part, was that I was interviewed by the assistant supervisor for that department- his name was Weston, and he was white. He smoked weed too…

                  “So…you think you can hook me up with some of what you had?” he asked. I smiled.

                “Put me on, and I’ll put you on,” I answered. He shook my hand. “Welcome to Target…it will be a pleasure to work with you,”

                  I told them fools that I would only be able to work after 12 noon- because I was goin to barber school. The truth was, I was planning on it…the bus finally arrived at MLK and Fairburn Road. I got off the bus, and walked across the street to the restaurant. 

                  Miss Millie was at the register, as I stepped inside. The raggedy ass ceiling fans were on, producing a squeaking sound that I could hear through the bootleg ass speaker system that Mos had set up to play oldies while folks sat down and ate. Miss Millie smiled, pointin to the back. “Mos in the back, seasonin catfish,”

                  “Okay,” I said. “Renata ever come back around?”

                  Miss Millie sighed…I know she hated talkin about it. Renata had graduated a year before I did- she used to be fine as fuck, but then she started messin wit that shit…the same shit I was sellin. I never sold to Renata, even though she asked me for some. I’d just lie, and say aint have none. Miss Millie was like a grandma to me- I aint trynna sell her daughter no shit. Kantrell has, though…that nigga fucked Renata, and gave her a dub for that shyt.

                  “Man…I always wanted to fuck Renata- ever since Doug,” he breathed. “She might’ve fell the fuck off a little, but I banged that pussy out,”

                  I aint never fuck another bish behind him ever again…don’t get me wrong- Kant’s my homie, but sometimes his choices in women are grimy as fuck. He don’t care how they look sometimes, as long as they givin up the pussy. I mean, I’m one to talk- Vikeisha aint exactly girlfriend material, but while she aint all that in the face, she got a bangin ass body.

                  Winnie- aint a 10, but she aint below a 7 either. Winnie aint tryin to girlfriend me also, because she still hung up on Devin cause they got a kid together…so when I come through, Winnie knows it’s all about a fuck, some head, and Imma bounce. I may buy her some weed from time to time, to show my appreciation of our agreement, but I aint trynna buy that bish the sun, the moon, and the stars an’ shit. And cut the fuckin deck on all the rest of these hoes I’m bangin out- they lucky, if they get a call back from me or Marta fare home.

                  “We’ll talk later, okay?”

                  Miss Millie let out a laugh. “Boy, get yo ass to the back there!”