The Apostles (16 page)

“W
HAT YOU WANT, TABBY?” SOLEMN SHAWN ASKED HIS SISTER
as they stood in line at the Cajun Kitchen in the food court of the Orland Square Mall. He shifted the numerous shopping bags he was carrying as he turned to her.

“I want some bourbon chicken, rice, and vegetables, with lemonade.”

“Sounds good. I think I'll have the same,” Solemn Shawn said as he stepped up to the cashier. “I'd like two number twos with lemonade.”

When their food was ready, they made their way to one of the iron table sets in the seating area.

In between forkfuls of bourbon chicken, Solemn Shawn commented, “I don't know if all this shopping done made me hungry, but this chicken is tight. I must be starving too ‘cause even the vegetables is nice.”

“Yeah and you getting old, so you need all the veggies you can get.”

Solemn Shawn pointed his fork at her. “You better watch your mouth, young lady. Especially while I still have all the receipts to all your stuff.”

“Just kidding, big bro. You as young as one of R. Kelly's girlfriends.”

At her comment Solemn Shawn almost spit out the lemonade he was sipping. “Get your ass out of here. I ain't in preschool.”

They both cracked up and continued to eat.

“Seriously though, big bro, I got to thank you for all the new hotness you copped me.”

“Can't have my little sister at school looking like somebody's bum. I told you when you first went away to school that as long as I was around and you were in school that you wouldn't have to worry about a thing.”

“You ain't never lied,” Tabitha agreed after slurping some lemonade. “I haven't wanted for a thing since I started school. Then you copped me a truck for graduating. That was love right there.”

“You sure you aren't burning yourself out by going straight through the summer? Usually it's good to take the summer off to get some rest.”

“Hecky nall, big bro. I'm straight. I'm trying to get up out of there and get back to the real world. The only reason I'm going is because you've got to have at least a master's to be talking about any kind of money in corporate America. Even then you got to hustle and be willing to cut a nukka's throat to make it.”

“You know, Tabby Cat,” Solemn Shawn began softly, “I've always been proud of you. Your willingness to learn and take control of your own destiny. We're alike in many ways. I really am proud of you. I love you.”

Tabitha blushed. “Dag, big bro. It sound like you catchin' feelings and shit. I know you're proud of me and that helps me a lot. It's not always about money either. A lot of times when I call I just want to hear your voice. That and a few bucks. No, seriously, it's just that you've been like a father to me. Somehow I know that you will always make everything all right when I call you.

“I don't even get that from Sam and she's my twin. Sometimes you make me think about what our father would have been like if he woulda made it, you know. I know you're proud of me. You should have seen how you were looking at my college graduation. You were looking like you were about to burst at the seams from happiness.”

“Get outta here, Tabby Cat. Really, I was happy ‘cause I thought yo butt was gone get out of school and get a damn job. Then you
turn around and go to grad school on me. If I paid taxes, I could file you as a dependent.”

Tabitha rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Yeah right. I never seen you that happy in my doggone life. That's what had me crying—the look of joy on my brother's face that I'd never seen before. That and my truck.”

Remembering that day, Solemn Shawn responded sourly, “Then your crazy mama had to go and start talking greasy. Auditorium full of people gathered together on what's supposed to be a joyous occasion and somehow she finds a way to be fucking with me.”

The pain in her brother's eyes at the mention of their mother was so strong, Tabitha had to look away.

“Big bro, you got to stop letting Ma rain on your parade,” she stated comfortingly.

“Tabby, that lady finds some way to embarrass me anytime I'm around her. I used to think as the years went by she would let the past go, but she hasn't. You don't know what it feels like to have your mother hate you. Like the shit she pulled at Lil Shawn's party. That was sick.”

“Awww, man. Don't nobody pay no attention to her. Sam knows that you ain't going to do anything to hurt your nephew. She was just worried about you having a gun in her house. You know she's straitlaced. Me though—I want you to protect yo neck. Do what you gotta do. You told me that shit a long time ago when I snuck and accepted a collect call from you when you was locked up. Man, Ma saw the charge for that call on the telephone bill and she beat the shit outta me.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, Tabby Cat. That must have been one of the few times that I got homesick while I was in there.”

“It wasn't your fault. I knew what I was doing. I just wanted to talk to my big bro. I hated it when you got locked up. Didn't have nobody to do my homework for me no more.”

“Get outta here. I know you thought you was slick by trying to get me to do your homework. I knew what you was on.”

Tabitha laughed and blew bubbles in her lemonade with the plastic drinking straw. “But it was fun trying to get you to do it. Plus it was faster. I used to be trying to get to that damn TV. You ain't know it but Woody Woodpecker was my boyfriend.”

Both of them laughed. When the laughter diminished, Solemn Shawn dug into his rice and asked, “You think you got enough clothes?”

Tabitha looked at all the bags from different stores. “Yeah, this stuff should hold me.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you hardly put a dent in me. You barely made it to a stack and I'd planned on at least spending two thousand on you. Then I was gone drop a stack in your pocket so you won't have to be out there eating Oodles of Noodles.”

Tabitha paused with a piece of chicken halfway to her lips. “Are you trying to tell me that I got a thousand more to spend?”

“Something like that. But first you got to take care of some business for me. I have to warn you that it's real serious. You might not be able to handle it.”

“What, big bro?” Tabitha asked eagerly.

Solemn Shawn leaned forward over his food tray and motioned for her to do the same. In a stage whisper, he said, “I need you to go over there to that McDonald's and get me a caramel sundae with nuts.”

“Boy, you stupid,” Tabitha said as she got out of her seat and headed over to the Mickey D's.

“Mission accomplished,” she announced when she came back and set the sundae on the table.

Solemn Shawn picked up the sundae and snapped his fingers. “My fault, Tabby. You took off so fast that I forgot to tell you that I wanted an apple pie.”

Again Tabitha jumped to her feet to make the short trip.

Laughing, Solemn Shawn said, “I was just joking, Tabby Cat. Sit down, girl.”

Tabitha sat down. “Shid, I woulda baked you a pie if you wanted me to.”

“Girl, you crazy.”

“You think I'm playing, try me,” Tabitha assured, as she polished off her last few bites of chicken. She picked up a napkin on her tray to wipe her mouth; underneath the napkin was a small jewelry box. Her eyes bucked as she looked up at her brother; he was playing innocent, eating his sundae and avoiding her eyes.

Picking up the box, Tabitha asked, “What's this, big bro?”

“I never seen that before. Why don't you open it and take a look.”

As she removed the small lid from the box, the sparkle of diamonds hit her eye. The precious stones were mounted on a small golden cross. An elaborately linked but thin gold chain completed the necklace. Tabitha's hand flew to her mouth.

“Good lord, Shawn!” she exclaimed. “This is so nice, big bro!”

Shoppers at the nearby tables gazed curiously at them. Some of them instantly decided that it wasn't a lovers' quarrel or a marriage proposal so they quickly became disinterested.

Happy at his sister's reaction, Solemn Shawn polished off the rest of his sundae. “Put it on, Tabby Cat.”

Tabitha was so giddy at her gift, she couldn't open the small, delicate clasp. Solemn Shawn wiped his hands on a napkin.

“Give it here before you break it.” He stood up and walked behind her chair to place the necklace on her neck.

Her hand went to the cross. “Thanks, big bro,” Tabitha bubbled. “I'm loving this. This boy is so phat. I'mma have motherfuckers jelly when I get to school.”

“Okay, that's enough, Tabby. Now let's go finish spending my money.”

Happy as a pardoned death row inmate, Tabitha hugged her brother. She was all smiles as she helped him collect her shopping bags.

Officer Hardy looked up from the sports section of his newspaper and scowled. He was sitting at the security post in the main cafeteria of the juvenile prison. Today the boys were making an excessive amount of noise.

“Smallwood, sit you ass down and cut that shit out!” Hardy shouted to a tall light-skinned boy who was juggling several oranges.

Startled, Smallwood dropped one of the oranges and grinned sheepishly. “My fault, Hardy.” The boy took his seat after retrieving the fruit.

“Yo fault, yo mistake,” Hardy said. “I can tell you motherfuckers is frantic to be eating lunch out them damn cells again. That lockdown be having y'all asses going crazy.”

“You ain't lying, Hardy,” Dante commented as he walked by with his plastic food tray in his hand. “A week on lockdown feel like a damn month or something. It's bad enough being locked up, but being locked down is a bitch. Good thing that me and my cellie is cool or I'da done been snapped, crackled, and popped.”

Officer Hardy laughed. “Keep it moving, Dante.”

Dante smiled as he headed for his customary table. It was a long one, seating about twenty inmates on the long benches that were attached to the table. Chairs were considered weapons and had been removed from the cafeteria years before.

“Solemn Shawn, what's happening, bro?” Dante said cheerfully as he took a seat across from the stone-faced youth.

“Nothing to it, but to do it, Dante,” Solemn Shawn answered.

“I heard that,” Dante said as he handed his small carton of chocolate milk to Murderman.

Grinning with his mouth full of food, Murderman said, “You always give me yo chocolate milk. What you got against brown milk, Dante?”

“Nothing. I just like things to be the way they should be. Milk is supposed to be white and motherfuckers be trying to change it and shit. Putting that nasty-ass Ovaltine shit in it. I know it's s'posed to be white, so that's the only way I'm gone drink it.”

Mimicking Malcolm X, Solemn Shawn ranted, “See, brother. That's what the white man wants us to think—that milk shouldn't be brown, chocolaty, and good, brother. The cow that gives the white milk is celebrated. He's invited to breakfast with Captain Crunch. But the brother cows—the soulful cows—the ones with the Afros, they are shunned by their cow brethren.”

The boys broke up in laughter—partly because it was funny, partly because Solemn Shawn was telling a joke.

“What the fuck is so funny?” a small skinny-faced boy named Weezie asked as he squeezed onto the bench next to Dante.

Putting his mirth aside, Dante became all business. “I hope you got our scratch for them three joints we gave yo ass on credit,” he growled at Weezie. “Yo lying ass. I really didn't think about it when you said it was yo birthday. Later on I realized that this was about yo third birthday this year, motherfucker. I should kick yo butt just on GP, nigga.”

“Dante, my man. You ain't even gotta act like that. I got something that's worth more than a few funky greenbacks.”

“Nigga, you fulla shit,” Murderman said. “I don't know of nothing that's worth more than dough, nigga. You must be losing yo damn mind. You tell me what's worth more than scratch.”

“Information,” Weezie stated smugly as he reached for Murderman's extra chocolate milk.

Murderman smacked his hand. “Don't make me beat you up,
Weezie. What type of info you got that's worth more than the money you owe us, nigga?”

Solemn Shawn appeared nonchalant, but he was more than interested in what Weezie had under his cap.

Weezie tried to keep his hole card hidden. “I wanna know what my information is worth to you cats. Since all of y'all work for Big Ant my information is valuable to all y'all, but mainly Solemn Shawn in particular.”

“Nigga, you can't even spell ‘particular,’ “ Murderman said. “And if yo info is good, then it's worth us not kicking yo damn head in.”

Solemn Shawn zoomed in on Weezie. “Cut the theatrics and lay the shit out. If it's good then you can forget about your debt.”

Weezie instinctively knew that Solemn Shawn wasn't the one for his bullshitting. “When I was in the gym under the bleachers—don't ask me what I was doing there—I overheard some cats talking shit. Cats was talking ‘bout since Big Ant was gone how sweet this shit was gone be. Cats was talking about robbing you and fucking you up bad. One of them said they was gone get the quiet punk.