The Apostles (14 page)

“SS, this is C-Dub.”

Solemn Shawn pulled a pillow over his head with his free hand. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Meet and potatoes.”

“Watch?” Solemn Shawn asked.

“Half-and-half.”

“Loc?”

“S and I.”

“Cool,” Solemn Shawn said. He hung up the telephone and swung his legs out of the bed. Thirty-five minutes later, he pulled into the underground parking garage at the Museum of Science and Industry. State Representative Coleman Washington winked the headlights of his car as Solemn Shawn passed him in his truck. Solemn Shawn caught the signal and parked a few spaces away. A moment after the pickup was in its parking space, Coleman hopped in.

“SS, how you been?”

“Can't complain,” Solemn Shawn said. “What you got for me?”

Coleman looked around the parking lot before he spoke. He rubbed his hands together like he was trying to warm them up.

Solemn Shawn looked over at him. “Spit it out, man.”

“All right. It's like this. I got the ball rolling. I've been down to Springfield and got this thing out of the shed.”

“What does that mean, C-Dub?”

Coleman pulled a cigarette from his blazer pocket and was about to light it until he saw the look on Solemn Shawn's face. He returned the Kool to his pocket. “What I'm saying is that we've got an agreement for the funding as long as we come up with the facility. I've got a few irons in the fire with the city council, so zoning shouldn't be a problem.”

Solemn Shawn raised his hand. “What do you mean, ‘shouldn't be a problem'?”

Coleman replied, “I don't know if you know how these things are done in the political arena, but you've got to spread the love around. Especially when you're trying to do something of this magnitude.”

Solemn Shawn had to chuckle at Coleman's words. “Spread the love, huh. I've never had it put to me quite like that, but I expected as much. Now I need for you to tell me just how much this ‘love’ is gonna cost.”

“Well, SS. Truthfully. I can pull us through the aldermen for about forty or fifty stacks.”
Really, it's more like twenty or twenty-five
, Coleman thought.

The gang leader surprised Coleman by saying, “Okay, what else?”

Coleman jumped out there. “Well, I had to figure out some way to handle the cash. I've got a friend that runs a casino over in Indiana. Any cash I bring she'll turn over for 5 percent off the top. It'll come back in certified cashier's checks. That way we won't have a problem. It can be traced but it'll look like a donation. If there are any inquiries they'll have to come through her, so she can say what we program her to say.”

Having spun his web, Coleman sat back to see if Solemn Shawn would fly into it. Really the friend that he spoke of was his girlfriend.
Two years ago she wouldn't have dreamed of doing something as underhanded as laundering money. But a person could embrace her dark side when she had the proper motivation— cocaine was the motivating factor for her. She was only charging two cents on the dollar, but Coleman planned to line his pockets with the gapper. His arrangement with his old gang was looking like it could turn out to be extremely lucrative.

Solemn Shawn broke through Coleman's greedy musing. “C-Dub, how does this thing really look to you?”

He caught Coleman completely off guard with the sincerity in his voice. Coleman looked at Solemn Shawn and said, “What you mean, SS?”

“I'm saying, I'm not really second-guessing myself but this thing can be really big. Bigger than I imagined. The money isn't really the issue. This is really a grand idea. To have a place like this that's totally free would be like an oasis in the desert, you know. I'm wondering will it really make a difference in some kid's life. I mean, will it really be an alternative to the streets.”

Coleman thought about Solemn Shawn's query for a moment. “I can't really say, SS. Maybe it'll save some lives, you know. I hate to say it but a lot of kids these days are too far gone. The streets are eating them alive. They playing for high stakes and they ass-betting. I don't know how much of an effect this place will have.”

Solemn Shawn was quiet for a moment. He looked away from Coleman. “So are you saying that you don't want to do this?” he asked.

Coleman felt his ship sinking. He had spoken too frankly at first, but there was no way that he was letting Solemn Shawn off the line. He had to coax him back on the hook.

“No, no, SS. I ain't saying that. God forbid. This is exactly the type of place we need to save the few who want to be saved. We can't worry about the knuckleheads. Hell, jail, or a bullet will straighten them out. This place will be an oasis. An oasis for the few who want to get out of the desert.

“We really don't have to concern ourselves with saving the masses. The masses don't want to be saved. We need to concern ourselves with that one boy or girl who wants to use this place to their advantage. We need this place for that one boy or girl who wants to get out of this cesspool. That's who this place would be for.”

Solemn Shawn smiled a little. “Spoken like a true politician,” he said. “Okay, I just needed a little reassurance.”

Mentally, Coleman wiped the sweat from his forehead. Just to make sure, he asked, “So I can still count on you for the whole three fifty?”

“Yeah, C-Dub. Full speed ahead. I'll start getting that cash to you to get it washed. I'm trusting you to make sure everything goes smooth.”

“As silk,” Coleman added. He hopped out of the pickup truck and headed for his CTS. Solemn Shawn bumped the horn lightly as he drove past the state representative.

R
EGINALD “REG” PARKER PUT HIS HAND TO THE SIDE OF HIS
mouth and yelled, “Yo, Ghost! Ghost, come to the window, A!” he hollered up to the third-floor windows of the apartment building on the corner of 67th Street.

There was movement at the windows. The miniblinds rose and a light-skinned youth stuck his head out the window. Canton “Ghost” Tyson said, “Reg, what's the deal, A? What you on?”

“I just came through to kick it with you, A.”

“I got Moo-Moo,” Ghost said. “She just went to sleep and shit. Sherry had to go to a job interview downtown and shit. You can come up though. Let me whup on that ass in some NBA Street.”

“Get the fuck outta here, A,” Reg replied. “I'm the one that be whupping yo ass in Street. Last time we played I beat yo ass about ten times straight.” With that Reg bounced up the three steps to enter the building's hallway. He scampered up the three flights of stairs to Ghost's apartment. At the apartment door he used the brass-plated knocker to tap lightly on the door. “Open up, A. I'm finta spank those cheeks,” he said.

“You betta quit all that woofin', A,” Ghost said with a gap-toothed smile as he opened the door. A small gold cross dangled on a thin gold chain on his bare chest. His only apparel was a pair of And I basketball shorts and some white socks.

Reg brushed past him and headed for the bedroom that Ghost shared with his little brother. In the small bedroom, Reg was about
to take a seat on the bottom bunk when Ghost rushed into the room.

“Hold up, A,” Ghost cautioned. “Watch Moo-Moo.”

Reg looked behind him and saw Ghost's daughter on the bed. She was sleeping peacefully, sucking on a pink pacifier. He apologized, “Oh shit, A. My fault, fam. I didn't even see her. You know I ain't finta to sit on my goddaughter.”

“It's cool, A,” Ghost said as he gently rolled his daughter closer to the wall. “Shid, Moo-Moo would have still been sleep even if you would have sat on her. This girl could sleep through a Jigga concert.”

While Ghost straightened out the covers around Moo-Moo, Reg busied himself with turning on the PlayStation 2 console. Moments later the two friends were competing fiercely with each other. Several games later, Reg dipped into his sock and pulled out a long, thin blunt. He brandished it. “Let's hit the back porch and blow this, A.”

Ghost grabbed an Ecko sweatshirt off the top bunk and led the way to the back door. He picked up the cordless telephone off the kitchen table along the way. On the back porch, they both took a seat. Reg lit the blunt; he puffed and passed.

When Reg exhaled the marijuana smoke with tears in his eyes, he said, “You better be careful with that, A. That's some ‘dro right there. That Governor that got killt, dude Bing, used to have tight ‘dro like that. That was a cool stud to be a Governor. He wadn't set-tripping. He was ‘bout selling that green to get some green, A.” Reg had to laugh at his own little play on words.

In between puffs of weed, Ghost commented, “The nigga should have been an Apostle, A.”

Reg leaned back against the cool bricks. “Man, this shit is crazy. I be wondering is we gone make it out this shit alive, A. I mean, my grandmother get to preaching at me and shit about the streets and I be wanting to tell her, damn, I know that shit. I can't even front, A. She be telling the truth.”

“When I talk to my pops he be on the same shit,” Ghost said. “But that nigga in the joint for the rest of his days, A. I be wondering how that shit must feel. I ain't trying to fly like that, A. I'm ‘bout to graduate from high school this year and I been talking to my guidance counselor about going into the service or something.”

Reg's cheeks were puffed up like Louis Armstrong with weed smoke. When he exhaled, he said, “Fuck that, A. I ain't joining no army-type shit. I would be done wiled out on one of those redneck-ass drill sergeants. Them motherfuckas be all up in yo face talking shit. Shid, the way this motherfucka Bush be picking fights with motherfuckas ain't no telling where a nigga would end up. A, we living in a war zone now. I ain't finta fly no zillion miles to be fighting some no-English-talking, towel-head, camel-riding motherfuckas over some gotdamn oil that don't none of us own.”

Ghost almost fell off his crate laughing. When he sobered up, he said, “I ain't trying to fight no war, A. But I just made seventeen and I already got a kid. I got to do something, A. I wish I could just go to school, but my grades ain't shit and I don't play no sports or shit. Unless they come up with a scholarship for motherfuckas like me, then I'm dead in the water, A.

“The way I see it is, if I go to the service, when my time is up them motherfuckas will at least pay for my schooling. Plus after I been there awhile, they give you a tip on the base and shit. That way Sherry and Moo-Moo can come stay with a nigga, A.”

Reg interjected, “That's if you ain't overseas with some chemical warfare shit in yo ass, A. Some of that shit that have you pissing on yo'self and shaking.”

“Fuck you, A,” Ghost said with a smile. “Shid, if I was in one of those motherfuckin' countries, all you got to do is give me a gas mask, a heater, and a bag of bullets and I guarantee you I'm gone make it back alive.”

“How you gone do that, Ghost?”

“I'm gone clap the shit out of anything that don't speak American. Women, kids, camels, whatever, A.”

Reg laughed again. “You a fool, A. They gone bring yo trigger-happy ass up on war crimes like one of them Nazi punks.”

“Well, at least I'll be alive to stand trial, A.”

“True dat,” Reg agreed.

The two friends finished smoking Reg's blunt and decided to go inside and continue playing the video game. The weed had definitely affected their demeanor if not their motor skills. Now they spent more time concentrating on playing offense and defense on the street basketball game than talking smack to each other.

A half hour into their second gaming session, Reg said, “Damn, A. I'm hungrier than a hostage. I'm ‘bout to bounce to the sub joint and grab me that two-pizza-puff special, A. Want me to bring you something back?”

Ghost stood up and stretched. He grabbed a pair of pants off the top bunk and began pulling them on. “I'mma walk wit you, A,” he said.

Reg looked back at Ghost's daughter. “What about Moo-Moo?”

Ghost grabbed his pair of blue leather six-inch Timberland boots and tugged them on his feet. “She ain't finta wake up, A. She just went to sleep right before you came through. Plus her motherfucking teeth is bothering her. She cutting like four teeth at once. That shit be having her acting her fool. I just gave her some medicine for her fever so she gone be knocked out for like three or four hours. By the time I grab me a gyro cheeseburger and make it back here she still ain't be awake, A.”

Reg stood up and yawned. He asked, “You sure, A?”

Ghost grabbed a fitted Angels cap and put it over his do-rag. “I'm the daddy, A. I know what I'm doing. Now come on ‘fore you wake her up with all that whining, A.”

They left the apartment and headed for the submarine shop on the corner. In the small restaurant Reg ordered two pizza puffs. Ghost stepped up to the bulletproof window after him.

“Habib, listen up, motherfucker!” Ghost snarled through the hole in the glass. “Motherfucker, I want a gyro cheeseburger. I don't
want nothing on that shit but cheese, gyro sauce, and onions. Last time yo stanking ass put ketchup and mustard on my shit. I started to come back up here and smear that shit on yo fucking windshield!”

The Arab sandwich shop owner smiled. “Fuck you, Meester Ghost. Motherfuck your ass. I'm an Apostle, I'll have you fucked up, beetch!”