The Apostles (23 page)

With her voice barely above a whisper, Vanessa said, “I was supposed to get my shot again a few days after you proposed. I even went so far as to drive to my doctor's office, but I didn't go in. I just couldn't. I missed my period last month and I just thought my cycle was thrown off because I didn't get my shot, but when I missed my period again this month, I decided to take an EPT. Plus if you got up in the morning you would have noticed that for the last week I've been throwing my guts up every morning before I go to work. I bought the pregnancy test about four days ago on my lunch break, but I didn't take it until today. Right before you came in I peed on the little stick and there were two lines. That means I'm pregnant.”

He used her wrists to pull her gently onto his lap. “So that's where all this stuff came from. I was wondering what brought this on.”

“Are you mad at me?” Vanessa asked in an almost childlike voice.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead. “Why would I be? This is a blessing.”

“So you're not mad?” she asked again.

“I said I wasn't, woman.”

A sly smile crept onto her lips. “Okay, well then, move so I can get my salad. I'm starving.”

Playfully Shawn slapped her on her behind as she got up to get her salad.

Solemn Shawn stopped outside the doors to the chapel. He was no longer a young boy, but an astute observer could tell that he was new to his adolescence. His former scrawniness had been replaced by moderate muscularity, and several inches had been added to his height during his state vacation. Long nights of reading in half-light had ruined his once perfect vision, but he felt the wealth of knowledge lodged in his cranium was well worth it. He squinted up at the caged clock on the wall outside of the chapel, but he couldn't read it from where he was standing. He pulled his state-issued eyeglasses from the shirt pocket of his DOC shirt and put them on his face.

Glasses in place, Solemn Shawn looked back at the two boys who formed his security detail. One was a shrimpy but feisty boy named Low Down, the other was Vee, who had proven himself to be ambitious and cruel. His security detail couldn't tell but there were butterflies in Solemn Shawn's stomach. He knew that behind these chapel doors lay his destiny. In two days he would at last be eighteen years old and finally he would be released from the juvenile joint after almost four years of incarceration.

Four long years for avenging the death of his only real friend. Fate worked in strange ways though. It was in here that he made some friends who he felt would be with him for life. In here he learned how to work the system and survive. In here he learned in the words of his mentor and friend Big Ant, to “play the cards you been dealt.” Big Ant, the first friend he'd made in here, was waiting out there in the
world for him with a place to stay and a chance to get money. Solemn Shawn had meticulously planned for every scenario so that his tran
sition back to society would be easy and profitable.

Too bad he couldn't go home to his family. Family. That word brought mixed emotions to his heart and mind. It had been four long years since he'd seen his twin sisters, Samantha and Tabitha. Sam and Tabby, jumping rope, smelling like chewing gum, and trying to follow behind him everywhere. He knew that his little sisters still loved him. His mother though was another matter. She had really disowned him. In four calendars she had visited him only once. That visit was just to let him know that when and if he got out it wouldn't be wise for him to darken her doorstep. In a surprise show of matronly love she had actually managed to let a tear eke from her eye as she told him good-bye that last time.

Crestfallen, Solemn Shawn had slunk back to his cell and wept. Big Ant had been there for him then, and now the older man would be there for him again when he got out. With no one else to turn to, Solemn Shawn had asked his friend to give him a place to stay. The big homie readily agreed to let him stay at his girlfriend's house with him and his son. As soon as he was home he would reunite with his best friend and fellow Apostle Dante. Tay had been home for seven months now and under Big Ant's wing he had begun to establish the Apostles on the outside. In his last kite Tay wrote that members were joining left and right. Murderman would be joining them in about eighteen months.

Vee broke Solemn Shawn's daze. “What's up, A? Why we still standing here? You act like you ain't ready to go in there.”

Solemn Shawn looked at Vee harshly at first, but he softened up his glare. Impatience was one of the things that would get Vee in trouble one day, he thought. He couldn't deny it though—Vee was right. Here he was acting like a sappy teenager when there was busi
ness at hand. No time for apprehension, this was the day he had been waiting and planning for. The fact that it was finally here made his
knees want to buckle from nervousness. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he grabbed the chapel door handles and swung the doors open.

With a hint of a smile on his face, Solemn Shawn proudly strode down the aisle. Every pew of the chapel was packed with boys—no, young Apostles. As their leader walked down the aisle, the Apostles rose silently pew by pew. By the time he reached the pulpit every one of them was standing. Solemn Shawn climbed behind the pulpit and his security detail stood on either side of him.

Chaplain Brown was nowhere to be seen. The old priest was in his room. He would usually take an afternoon nip from his flask that ended in a long nap, making it easy for one of the Apostles to swipe the chapel keys.

At the pulpit, Solemn Shawn fingered the huge Bible there as he looked out at roughly 150 Apostles. The butterflies were replaced by the pride of being the head of a young, strong gang full of hardheads and badasses who would go to their deaths for him. “Take your seats,” he commanded.

Silently his gang took their seats. The absence of noise was unreal. Whenever this many boys were assembled in one place, especially juvenile convicts, there was usually abundant noise, but not here. Every teenage boy in the room waited for his leader to speak.

Solemn Shawn cleared his throat. “I'm going to the crib,” he stated.

There was a tremendous roar of applause as the boys jumped to their feet. For several moments the boys clapped heartily, then Solemn Shawn silenced them with a wave of his hand. They retook their seats.

He continued, “Even though I'm leaving, the Apostles ain't going nowhere. They can't kill all of us and we ain't going nowhere. We are our brothers' keepers. We will feed our brothers, protect our brothers, give our brothers shelter, and give our brothers knowledge. If we live like we have been destined to live as brothers, not strangers but brothers, even places like this will be like home for a weary Apostle. Our
enemies shall fall before us because we fear nothing but God and the loss of his tender mercy. Apostles, now is not the time for any disloyalty. We are …”

As Solemn Shawn was giving his speech, Vee drifted off. At sixteen years old he felt he deserved to be named the next Head Apostle. He would take the Apostles to new heights. They would need to become more ruthless to survive; Vee could see it coming. As they had banded together, others would do so too. Gangbanging was the future for the streets of Chicago, and it would take him to make them the top gang. All of that preacher shit that Solemn Shawn liked to spew would be the first thing he would get rid of. “Apostles don't steal.” What kind of stupid shit was that? Solemn Shawn wasn't fooling nobody. Vee knew that he was just pilfering their rules from the Bible.
I'll change all that shit,
Vee thought.

A deafening roar brought Vee back to the present. He looked around to see what he had missed and saw Murderman leave his seat and advance toward the pulpit.

As Murderman joined him at the pulpit, Solemn Shawn continued, “Under Murderman's leadership we will continue to grow and be respected. We will give respect foremost and expect it to be returned. As an original Apostle, Murderman understands the true meaning and spirit of this thing we have built.”

Vee was stunned. His mind couldn't fathom that he had been passed over for the promotion to Head Apostle. After all the niggas he had stabbed for the cause. All the cats he had stomped for even breathing a bad word about the Apostles and he was repaid by treachery from Solemn Shawn. Silently, Vee fumed.

With a smile on his face, Solemn Shawn left the juvenile prison chapel for the last time.

“M
AN, IT'S SLOW THAN A MOTHERFUCKER TONIGHT
,” T
ONTO
mentioned to his identical twin brother, Toobie.

The polished silver ring in Toobie's eyebrow glistened under the streetlight. “Hell yeah. You know the last few days before the first don't shit be moving. Everybody want—”

“—credit,” Tonto finished. “Then these funky motherfuckin' cluckers act like they too good to pay double-ups. Like we just supposed to be giving them our shit on credit for the regular price.” He looked down at his boots. Offhand, he said, “I need me some new Tims. These boys is scuffed up.”

Toobie stopped fiddling with the spiked stud in his tongue and looked down at his brother's boots. “Man, you just bought them there about two weeks ago. You don't need no more new boots.”

Tonto said, “How you gone tell me that I don't need no boots. It's hard trying to keep suede looking right. Just ‘cause you like to wear yo stomps till they running over like one of them skateboard-riding chumps, that's up on you.”

Toobie shot back, “I know you ain't talking when you be trying to run out and buy a pair of shoes every week like one of these fake ballers. Studs don't even be having no cash in they pocket, but they got on some new Jordans and shit. Fuck that! I would rather look broke than be broke.”

“I heard that shit,” Tonto agreed, seeing his twin's logic. “But, nigga, we ain't nowhere near broke. When the first of the month
roll around and we get rid of the last of that shit that we got, we gone have enough to get a half a pie and still have some change left over. Then we—”

Toobie jumped in, “—keep selling bags, bagging up all eighteen of them onions. We cop a half at least two times and flip it, then we'll be on a whole thang. But we ain't gone do like these other studs that make it to a cake and start thinking they balling. We gone keep copping a cake and chopping that shit up. Shit, if we get a six-month run like that, won't nobody be able to tell us shit. That way—”

Tonto picked up his twin's litany. “—niggas won't know how much cash we getting and Vee and them won't be trying to tax a motherfucka. The minute they see a nigga pushing a little weight they start trying to tax you. Once we get this run in, I say that we need to pull up from this set before these thirsty-ass niggas find out what we doing.”

“They ain't even got find out,” Toobie vented. “Niggas just be guessing. If you make a hundred they think you done made a thousand. If you make a stack, they act like they seen you count ten stacks in front of them. Plus, once we drop these fat-ass bags out here and it get rolling, then niggas gone start getting nosy. Niggas start hanging on the spot trying to get they little shit off and when they can't, they run to the State Department and try to say y'all stopping them from eating. Next thing you know the State Department on some catch-up shit, trying to have us on some Cold War shit.”

Just the thought of having Cold War declared on them was enough to make the twins shiver. Over their tenure in the Governors they had watched quite a few boys become victims of the Governors' street version of excommunication, and they had to admit none of the consequences had been very pretty. A large percentage of the incidents that resulted in Cold War on former Governors was sparked by jealousy and envy. The State Department always found some minor rule infraction to hide behind.

The last victim had been Wayne. The twins had personally participated in his conviction and the carrying out of his sentence. They gained financially when Governor Bing gave them Wayne's cocaine and a cut of his money. It had been a bit much for them to beat Wayne and leave him stretched out in their pit bull ring covered with dog feces and blood, but it was required of them.