Country Boy 3

by Blake Karrington

  “Naaaa... appreciate you fam, but we not kicking it like that anymore, so it is what it is.”

  “No doubt my brother, but you know I had to pull your coat, just in case.”

  “It's all love, I'll holla back at you my nigga,” Q hung the phone up and handed it back to June.

  Tim had been eyeing the whole phone exchange and could see that something had shook Q's mood.

  “You aight bro?” he asked.

  “Yea I’m cool. I'm just tired, I'm thinking I'm about to get up out of here.”

  “I feel you. I'm ready to leave myself. You know Terri and my son at the house waiting on me. I’ll walk out with you.” Again, Tim was hoping this would be a good time to get this weight off his chest.

  Tim and Q dapped everyone up and let them know they would all get up tomorrow for breakfast around noon. When they got outside to their cars, Tim spoke first

  “Look bro, there's something I need to holla at you about.”

  “Could it wait until tomorrow? I'm not feeling too good,” Q responded.

  “Yea it can wait bro, get you some rest and we will chop it up tomorrow,” Tim said with hesitation in his voice.

  Once inside his car, Q headed towards home, but the words coming from Marcus were still playing in his ear. He whipped the car around and headed for Tee's house. He pulled his car around the corner to an adjacent street and parked. Q made his way through the woods to the back of Tee’s place. He opened the door and punched in the alarm code. He didn’t turn on one light. He just sat on the couch and watched the time on the clock change from 1am to 2am, to 3am, to 4am. Finally at 4:20am he heard Tee's car pulling into the garage.

  Tee opened the door, walked straight to the kitchen and poured herself something to drink. She never once noticed Q sitting on the couch. She was humming some tune the whole time. Q just watched and listened until he couldn't stay silent any longer

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Tee was so startled, she dropped the glass immediately.

  “Quentel, what the hell are you doing here sitting up in the dark?”

  “I asked you a question. Where the fuck have you been, and where is my son?” Q decided to add the son part since he might not have been justified in asking Tee where she was.

  “Quentel, Gerard is at my mother’s house, and I went with some friends to watch the fight.”

  “So you got your mother babysitting while you out here hoeing around?”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?” Tee asked.

  Q made his way to the kitchen where Tee was trying to clean up the spilled drink. He grabbed her by the arm, temporarily lifting her from the floor. Tee tried to resist, but Q was too strong. He wrapped his larger hand around her neck and placed her firmly against the wall.

  “So you going to play a nigga like that, bitch? I know where you been and who you were with, niggas been calling me from Charlotte all fucking night. Do you know how this makes me feel and how fucking stupid I look? You around here prancing around with this nigga.” The whole time he spoke, his grip around Tee's neck was getting tighter. Tee could barely breathe, but she managed to whisper.

  “Q you hurting me.” Q realized the pressure he had on her throat and released her.

  He took his right hand and struck the wall with such force that the drywall broke. He had to hit something, he was so angry. Tee slid to the floor, she was crying hysterically, not because of the physical pain, but because she could see how much Q was hurting. She knew that Q was a real street nigga, and the only thing they had was their pride and their name. And she had damaged both.

  “Q, I'm sorry, I'm sorry babe, please talk to me!”

  Q turned around to leave. Tee tried to give chase, but when she stood up, she became dizzy. By the time she got her bearings back, Q was long gone. Tee sat in the dark room, mad at herself for apologizing. Hell it was Q’s fault she was out there. She didn't want to be dating niggas. She thought she had her man for life, but Q was constantly pushing her away. Why couldn’t he see this was a situation he had created?

  __________

  “Baby aren’t you supposed to be meeting the fellas for breakfast?” Van asked, bringing Q back to the present.

  “Yeah, but I think I’m going to stay in today, I'm not feeling too well.”

  “Oh, tell mommy where it hurts,” Van said, while rubbing his chest.

  Ring...Ring...Ring it was their house phone.

  Van jumped up and retrieved the handset from the charger.

  “Hello, Jackson residence... Hold on one second please.”

  “Quentel, it’s for you.”

  “Who is it ma?”

  “May I ask who’s calling?” he heard Van say.

  “He says his name is the cable guy, but he’s calling to empty one of your kennels, not to work on your cable.”

  Q laughed before responding.

  “Alright ma, throw me the phone.”

  “Not until I hear my favorite three words, Quentel”

  “I love you ma. You know that already.”

  “Yes I do Quentel, but it feels good hearing you say it. And Quentel, I love you too, always,” she said, then lifted a single finger.

  “Yo, what up Cable?” Q said.

  “Big Country!” Cable guy said in his always confident tone.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Well I was hoping to get a chance to end aah... what’s his name is it Skull, Jr.?” he asked.

  “That’s his name,” Q said.

  “Yes Skull Jr., well my intention is to end his career.”

  “Are you sure Jack Dempsey is up to the task?” Q asked him.

  “I’m quite positive, Big Country.”

  “The last four that tried thought the same thing,” Cable Guy gave a causal smile. “Are you planning on bringing Skull Jr. out of retirement for his fifth attempt? And I did say attempt,” he repeated, making sure Q understood him.

  “I tell you what Cable, if you help me on something, maybe, just maybe, I will give this dog of yours a chance to die.”

  “Whatever it is, consider it done. I need this fight to take my kennel to the next level,” Cable pleaded.

  Q gave Cable Guy a quick rundown on the services he needed from him. Once Cable assured him of his participation, they went back to the dog fighting discussion.

  “I’ll meet you at 57lbs,” Quentel stated flatly.

  There was a long silence.

  “Are you still there cable?”

  Yeah I’m still here, I was just thinking about that weight. 57 sounds a little heavy for jack.”

  “Come on cable, wit the bullshit. I already know Jack Dempsey was matched twice at 59, which is actually his correct weight. I’m not bringing Skull Jr. in a single pound heavier than that. You can take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it,” Cable Guy said.

  “You just killed your dog.” Quentel calmly told him.

  After agreeing to all the rules, and the time and date of the match, the veteran dog men had two more arrangements; the purse and location of the battle.

  “Well with all that taken care of, looks like we’re left with only two small endeavors, Big Country. That’s the location, and the amount of money you’re willing to lose.”

  Q’s mind turned to his dog, Skull Jr., before answering. He was a dog that had proven time and time again, that he was indeed the “total package” when it came to his breed. At close to four years old, Q was still yet to find any kind of weakness in him. Not only was he always looking for a fight, he was always looking to kill. Knowing that he was up to any task, Q decided that he would make Skull Jr.’s last match an against all odds match.

  “I’ll tell you what Cable Guy, you seem like a nice fellow,” Q said, then continued “And you are from the city where all lanes are considered fast….right?”

  “That’s correct, Big Country.”

  “Well, how about we do it there?”

  “On my turf…in my city?” Cable Guy as
ked, surprised.

  “Not only your city…can it be in your living room, as far as I’m concerned.” Q finally said.

  “Nigga, I heard that you were crazy, but that was an understatement…It’s on!” Cable Guy shouted through the phone. “How about fifty stacks?”

  “Deal,” Q answered without hesitation.

  After conversing with him a while longer, Q ended their call. He looked out over his kennel, stopping his gaze on Skull Jr., who stood out at the very end of his heavy chain. His head always up, held high, feet spread widely apart, like a king watching over his territory.

  “This is gonna be tough for us ole boy, but I have no doubt about you coming out on top. I...” Q stopped mumbling to himself as another thought came to mind. He continued to mull on it before coming to a final conclusion. He grabbed his phone and called Dame.

  “Yo, Speak.” Dame answered his phone.

  “What it do bro? Can you meet me at the spot?”

  “No prob, B. I can be there in an hour.”

  “Bet bro, see you then,” Q hung up the phone and jumped in his car, heading for Mrs. Janie's spot. He arrived at the Chill Grill in less than 45 minutes and grabbed a seat waiting for Dame to arrive.

  “Can I get you anything else, my son?” Mrs. Janie asked.

  Q smiled at her before responding, “I’m good, mama. What are you trying to do, get me fat?” he teased.

  “No, but I do need to put some meat on those bones.” She said, then gave him a wink.

  “Well if that’s the case, I’ll take a piece of that pineapple cake, mama.”

  “Oh, so someone’s cheating on their diet now?” Mrs Janie put her hands on her hips. She continued, “I wonder what your lil fire cracker would have to say about that?”

  “Nothing, because she’s not going to know, right mama?”

  Mrs. Janie frowned before answering, “Are you trying to bribe your mama boy?”

  “I would never do a thing like that mama,” He answered while struggling to contain his laughter.

  “Boy please…eat that piece of cake before I call Van right now!!!”

  “Yes ma’am.” Q answered, then tore into the delicious looking cake.

  He had just finished when Dame walked in and sat down next to him.

  “What’s up son? I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “You’re always late, Dame. Everything you do, or have planned, somehow you always show up late, homie.”

  “And who told you sum’em like that, B?”

  “Your wife, nigga.”

  “Gee!!! Gee said that son?”

  “That’s the only wife you got, right? Or should I ask Gee that same question?”

  “I would be dead son…word up. In less than twenty-four hours, I would be deader than a muthafucka, B.”

  They both burst out in laughter. Thirty minutes after Mrs. Janie had stuffed Dame with her one of a kind cooking, they sat around and engaged in conversation.

  “Yo, Dame, tell me how you hooked up with a nigga like Scar.”

  “Shit is crazy son, I met Scar during my first year in junior high. Actually, I’d heard about him a year before. He was already attending the school a couple years before I got there. He’d already built himself quite a reputation as the thoroughest nigga at school….a certified head bussa. And the nigga always been crazy big, son. I swear he was always the size he is now B, word up.”

  “How did you two get plugged?” Q asked.

  “Well it was several months before that happened, but in between, Scar’s reputation continued to grow to straight up grimy status. This nigga did some of the lowest shit you could think of.”

  “Why would you even trouble yourself by fuckin wit a nigga like this, Dame?”

  “Hold up a second homie, I’ma get to that part.”

  Q nodded, and Dame continued.

  “Scar used his reputation to extort the weak. He took every dime some of the kids had, and if they didn’t give it to him when he asked the first time, they didn’t get a second chance. He would literally beat them within inches of their lives. After that happened a couple times, all the other students fell in line. It was nothing to see beautiful young girls with broken arms or legs, all done by him. When I did finally get there, I heard all about Scar and his rowdies. From all accounts, he was known to be deadly with his hands. But I was deadly also,” Dame stated the fact as simply as he could put it.

  “How?” Quentel asked.

  “Wit my fuckin pistol, son. I was a straight up gun slinger, B. Word was already out that I’d spent some time in the juvy for a wet tee shirt, right after my eleventh birthday.”

  “What the fuck is a wet tee shirt nigga?”

  “Damn son, my bad, I keep forgetting that I’m talking to the King of Da South, yo.”

  “I don’t know about all that shit, homie.” Q corrected him saying.

  “Whateva son, but anyway like I was sayin’. I slumped my first nigga at eleven, B. That nigga was high on PCP and thought me and my little brother Quake was two little girls walking home from school. He attacked us, telling us to take off our dresses, son. The nigga spazzed out yo. I had to kill that nigga homie.”

  “Why did they lock you up if he attacked you, Dame?”

  “Because after I shot him and he fell, I stood over him and emptied the clip in his white ass. They called it over kill, or some shit like that.”

  “He was white?”

  “Whiter than a muthafucka, son.”

  “Damn,” Q said softly to himself. “So how did you and Scar end up on the same side?”

  “Well that came about when another incident occurred with my baby brother, Quake. There was a neighborhood drug-lord in our area forcing the younger boys to sell his dope for him. Somehow, he’d run across my baby brother, forcing him to deliver large quantities of drugs to drop-offs and stash houses. When my brother finally got up enough courage to refuse, he was beaten, and I mean beaten severely. With no dad around, who could my mother turn to? Once we got to the hospital, my mother saw the condition he was in and had a nervous breakdown herself. I immediately left the hospital, hopping every train I could, until I reached our neighborhood. I grabbed my pistol and went searching for that nigga. I caught up with him leaving a local crap house and confronted him. No one was around, at least that’s what I thought at the time. Before I shot him, the coward nigga pleaded for his life. He even claimed that he wasn’t the one responsible for my brother’s beating.”

  “Who did he say was responsible?” Q asked.

  “Who else? Scar.” He said he only paid the money to have it done.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I killed his bitch ass.”

  “And Scar?”

  “Well it just so happened that the crap house was located next to Scar’s home. I killed the man right beneath his bedroom window, with Scar witnessing the whole thing. So in order to keep him quiet, I joined forces with him.”

  “Did you ever find out if he really was responsible for the beating of your brother?”

  “No…and I always promised him that if I did, I would kill him, no questions asked. Shit just took off after that, son. Me and that nigga took over the entire East Soundview side. My pistol and his hands.”

  “Was he any good?” Q asked.

  “Who Scar?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He was better than good, Quentel. I witnessed that nigga kill five muthafuckas with his bare hands…two in the same night. I spoke with the OG Bumpy a few months back and he told me they found the body of a man and a woman in a wooded area on the east side of the View. They’d both been beaten to death. The autopsy report revealed a broken neck and crushed skull on both victims.”

  “Did they ever find out who did the killings?”

  “No, the police had no leads…now all they have is a couple more cold cases.”

  “Do you think it was Scar?” Q asked him.

  “No doubt son. I witnessed a lot of the bullshit Scar did.” He paused then
continued, “And I’m ashamed to say that I was involved in a lot of it, Q. Scar punished all of his victims, whether it was male or female, he showed no mercy. He literally beat them to death. Then he would snap their necks and bash their heads to a bloody pulp with his hands.”

  “Now this OG you’ve been referring to, what’s his name?”