The Apostles

by Y. Blak Moore

  “You came up, A,” an Apostle named Greg said. He was leaning against the wall beside Murderman. “That motherfucka is tight. I want me some phat earrings though. At least a carat apiece— princess cut. What pawnshop you was at, Mumps?”

  “The one across the street from the fed jail downtown. They got some shit in there too. Half the niggas in the jail across the street got jewelry up in there.”

  “That's fucked up,” another Apostle named Baby Day sang out. “Them niggas be peeking out them little-ass windows watching niggas copping they J out the pawnshop.”

  A small boy came running up the block. The boy's untied shoestrings slapped against the pavement as he ran until he stopped directly in front of Murderman. His small chest rose and fell behind his dingy, stained T-shirt as he gasped for breath. When he was finally able to get some wind back in his small lungs, he said, “Murder, Tanya said to tell you to come on if you still want to get yo hair braided. She said … she said you got to bring some grease too, ‘cause she ain't got no more grease. She said to bring some of them ‘Cardi Breezeys to drink too.”

  The grown-ups laughed at the little boy's delivery. Fishing into his pocket, Murderman pulled out a knot of money. He peeled off a five-dollar bill and handed it to the boy. He said, “Don't spend all yo money on Flaming Hots with cheese either. And tie up yo doggone shoes.”

  “Thanks, Murder,” the little boy spouted gratefully. He stooped and tucked his strings inside of his shoes and then he bolted.

  Murderman watched the young'un run away with a half smile on his face as he stepped down out of the doorway. “I'm ‘bout to go get my hair braided if anyone looking for me.”

  “Go get pretty, ma,” Big Ant said.

  In response to Big Ant, Murderman held up a middle finger over his shoulder and kept walking. As he turned the corner of the block, Snake's Chevy Tahoe was coming up the street. He pulled over at the curb in front of A-Land. With a determined look on his face, Snake jumped out the truck—his hand was in the front pocket of his jeans.

  Challengingly, Snake said, “Mumps, what's up now, A?”

  Raising his eyebrow, Mumps asked, “What's up, A?”

  “This what's up!” Snake said as he pulled a gigantic wad of money from his pocket. “Nigga, fitty I shoot, fitty I hit!”

  With a hint of relief in his voice, Mumps said to the others, “Oh this nigga came to gamble.”

  The Apostles began to gather around and form a circle. Some of them to gamble, others to just watch the insane amounts of money that would be wagered in the street dice game. A few minutes later the dice game was in full swing in front of the game room.

  Bezo came to the door and stuck his graying head out of the door. At the same time a silver Honda Accord pulled up across the street and parked.

  “Mumps, you motherfuckers know better than that!” Bezo yelled. “You motherfuckers out here shooting dice like y'all done lost y'all damn mind! That's all the fuck the po-pos need to see to start sniffing they faggot ass around here! Move that shit in the back or something! I don't know what the fuck—”

  The gamblers looked up at Bezo, who had a wide-eyed expression on his face as he gazed past them. One by one the gamblers followed Bezo's eyes. His stare led them to a silver Honda Accord parked across the street. The arm of the driver was hanging out of the foreign sedan. The hand on the arm was holding a pistol. The driver holding the pistol smiled and without warning began shooting at the gamblers.

  Bezo dove back inside the game room, but not before he caught a bullet in his left arm. In front of A-Land there was a mad scramble by the Apostles to get cover. Several of the gamblers and spectators, including Big Ant, Baby Day, and Snake, dove behind Snake's Tahoe. The shooter tried to follow their movements with hot lead. He came close when one of the bullets ricocheted off the curb and hit Big Ant in the foot. Mumps was a blur as he dove behind a garbage Dumpster sitting a few feet away from the curb. Greg and two of the youngsters who had been watching the dice game sprinted off down the street.

  Shots continued to ring out as the gunman kept trying to hit the pinned-down gang members. Suddenly the crouching Apostles heard more gunfire. The sound of this gun was different—more of a booming instead of the cough-spitting of the pistol the lone gunman in the car was using.

  Mumps peeked from behind the Dumpster to see Murder-man walking and blasting a .45 at the Honda Accord. One arm was across Murderman's face, but Mumps could tell that he was grinning—he knew that Murder loved shit like this. The gunman in the car directed his last few shots at Murderman, but the deadly pellets flying at him didn't stop him from continuing to advance.

  Both guns fell silent. The driver of the Honda pulled his gun into the car and peeled off.

  His gun was empty, so Murderman had to let him go. He ran to Big Ant. The big man was pulling off his left boot to get a good look at the bullet wound in his foot. He looked up at Murderman.

  “Good looking, A,” Big Ant said as he winced in pain. “That motherfucka came out of nowhere. ‘Fore we knew it that nigga was chopping at our ass. Where the fuck you come from? I thought you was gone to get yo hair braided.”

  Looking at his friend's bloody foot, Murderman said, “I was about to go buy some hair grease, then I remembered I had some African Pride grease in the back room here. When I got to the corner I heard that nigga clapping at y'all.”

  Snake jumped to his feet and brushed off his jeans and T-shirt. “That motherfucka was letting that bitch breathe. All I know is I looked up and saw that blowpipe. Dude was trying to get rid of our ass. I don't even know who the fuck that was. Did any of y'all get a good look at the motherfucka?”

  “I did but I ain't never seen that motherfucka before in my damn life. I usually like to know who it is trying to kill me. Did you know that nigga, A?” Mumps asked from behind Murderman.

  “I think I seen that nigga before,” Murderman said as he assisted Snake with helping Big Ant to a standing position. His face scrunched up in determination, but whether it was from lifting Big Ant's bulk or trying to conjure up the identity of the lone gunman wasn't easily discernible. “I know that motherfucka from somewhere.”

  Leaving his bloody boot with a bullet hole in it on the curb, Big Ant put his arms around Snake's and Murderman's necks and they helped him into Snake's truck. Snake ran around to the driver's side and hopped in.

  Murderman stayed on the curb. “I'm going to fill my heater back up and then get my damn hair braided, A. Hit me on the hip when you get out the emergency room and I'll scoop you and take you to the tip.”

  From the driver's seat, Snake said, “Mumps don't get little, nigga. As soon as I drop off Big Ant I'll be back to get in yo pockets, A. Yo point is still four, too.”

  “Pull off, A!” Big Ant rumbled. “I got a hole in my fucking foot and you Gamblers Anonymous motherfuckers is still talking about shooting dice!”

  Snake was negotiating his way out of the parking spot when Bezo came out of the game room with a bloody towel wrapped around the biceps muscle of his left arm.

  “Hold the fuck up; I'm going to the hospital too!” Bezo shouted as he locked the game room door.

  “WHAT'S WRONG WIT YOU?” VANESSA ASKED AS SHE STOOD over the bed looking down at Shawn.

  Without opening his eyes, Shawn told her, “I'm just waiting for my damn allergy medicine to kick in good. Fucking flying-ass pollen from them cotton trees about to kill my ass.”

  Vanessa walked over to her closet and kicked off her New Balance running shoes and the sweat socks she was wearing over her stockings. She was wearing a business suit, but since her pregnancy she had taken to wearing her running shoes as much as possible. She hung her suit jacket on a hanger and wriggled out the skirt. She left on her satin blouse, but removed her bra. Grunting slightly she removed her panty hose, leaving her panties on and then flopping onto the bed.

  “Baby, I'm hungry,” she pouted as she grabbed the television remote and flicked on the television set. “This little monster of ou
rs have me eating so much it's a shame. I ate two big-ass bagels with strawberry cream cheese at a meeting this morning. Then I turned around and ate one of them gigantic corned beef sandwiches from A&P Deli at lunch. I don't even like corned beef, but I tore that sandwich up. Then around three I had a soup-and-salad combo from the little restaurant across the street from the bank. Hey, you're not even listening to me.”

  She gave him a slight shove that caused him to open his eyes. He said, “Girl, what's wrong wit you? I am listening to yo hungry ass. What you want to eat?”

  “I don't know,” Vanessa whined as she rubbed her slightly lumpy tummy. “I want something sweet and cold, but not no ice cream. You think of something.”

  He stretched and swung his feet off the bed. “Girl, you getting on my nerves already. By the time you seven, eight months you gone be a hot mess.”

  “Forget you,” Vanessa said as she threw a bed pillow at Shawn's back.

  As he pushed his feet into his slippers, he playfully warned her, “Girl, don't think ‘cause you pregnant I won't beat that ass. I can chastise you without hurting my seed.”

  Jokingly she dismissed Shawn. “Nigga, quit wolfing and get me something to eat. And you better hurry up before I take a bite out you.”

  Shaking his head all the way, Shawn padded toward the kitchen. He had to admit to himself, even though Vanessa was gaining weight from her pregnancy, she was looking sexier than ever. The image of her lying across the bed with her big thighs, that round booty in her sheer black panties, and her ripening breasts partially revealed in her satin blouse sent blood rushing to his nether region. By the time he reached the black double-door refrigerator he had a chubby in his boxer shorts. He pulled open the fridge and began to look for a sweet and cold snack.

  A smile leaped onto Shawn's face when he spotted a large glass bowl of fresh strawberries. A slight rummage through the shelves yielded a tub of Cool Whip. Clutching the bowl of huge red berries and dessert topping, he retraced his steps to the bedroom.

  “Take that shirt off,” he commanded.

  Vanessa obeyed. “Now, Shawn, you know I'm hungry.”

  “I know and I'm gone feed you,” he said. He kicked off his slippers and climbed onto the bed. Opening the Cool Whip, Shawn dipped a particularly large strawberry into the frosty whiteness and held it an inch over her lips.

  Vanessa leaned up and took a magnificent bite of the tempting berry. Scarlet fruit juice dripped onto her chin. Shawn relieved her chin of its sticky sweetness with his tongue. He fed her four berries in the same fashion, making sure to lick away any drips of fruit juice from her lips and chin. Using his finger, he put a dollop of Cool Whip on each of her breasts. Next he bit into a plump strawberry and squeezed the juice onto her Cool Whip-topped mounds. Using his tongue, Shawn slowly and luxuriously licked away the cool sweetness covering her nipples.

  Moaning softly, Vanessa crossed and uncrossed her legs as Shawn continued licking between, around, and under her breasts. He stopped sucking long enough to feed her another couple of strawberries, then he lifted her hips and removed her panties. They were moist as he discarded them on the floor. As always the sight of her wild, unshaven pubic hair and the fat, pouting lips of her vagina made his penis stretch to its physical limit.

  With a feathery touch, Shawn traced lines of Cool Whip from her throat, in between the valley of her breasts, past her belly button, to the top of her bush. Lavishly he planted kisses up and down her torso as he erased the trail of Cool Whip. He got down between her legs and gently rubbed a strawberry on her moist slit. Up and down, around and around her clitoris he swirled the juicy fruit. Vanessa's legs trembled as she bent her knees and spread her thighs as wide as possible. In seconds the strawberry was covered in her gooey sweetness. Seductively Shawn bit the strawberry and allowed the juice to drip onto her pussy.

  “Ohhhh shit, Shawn,” she purred.

  With his fingers gently pulling and rolling her clit, Shawn asked, “Can I have some real cream to go with my strawberries, ma?”

  “Hell yeah, daddy!” Vanessa exclaimed. She gripped the comforter to hold on for what she was sure would be a wild ride.

  She wasn't disappointed as her man began to delicately lick and suck on her clit. “Yeah, daddy. Up and down like that. Oh, daddy, right there! Yeah! Right there, daddy! Keep going around and ‘round like that, daddy! Yes! Oh lord, oh lord, oh lord! I'm coming, daddy! Oh shit! I'm coming!”

  When at last she stopped jerking, Shawn kissed and licked his way back up to her breasts and neck. With a firm tug she pulled his boxers down and helped him kick them off onto the floor. He mounted her and slid home into her tight wetness.

  “Damn, ma, you super wet,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You like my pussy wet, don't you, daddy?” she breathed.

  “Hell yeah,” Shawn mumbled as he tenderly pumped in and out of her.

  They made love for a while, then Vanessa said, “Daddy, you acting like you scared of this pussy. You ain't gone hurt the baby. I want you to fuck me. Grab my ass and bang yo pussy!”

  She didn't have to tell Shawn twice. He reached under her and grabbed two handfuls of her big, soft ass and began to thrust deep and hard into her.

  “That's it, daddy!” she screamed. “Fuck yo pussy! I feel you in my stomach! Fuck yo bitch, daddy! Tear this pussy up! Ahhhh!”

  The bedsprings began to protest as Shawn dug in and jackhammered his member into her soft wetness. Faster and harder he pumped until sweat began to bathe them both.

  “Don't come yet, daddy!” Vanessa screamed. “Please don't come! Let me turn on my stomach!”

  A little reluctantly Shawn dislodged himself so Vanessa could flip over on her stomach. Before mounting her from the back he took a brief second to enjoy the sight of his incredibly voluptuous woman lying on her stomach, with nectar dripping from between her thighs. As he slid into her pussy from the back she clenched the muscles between her legs.

  “Damn, ma,” Shawn moaned. “You know I can't last behind you when you do that shit. You gone make me come too fast.”

  “All right, all right.” She sulked, but she loosened her grip. “Grab my titties, daddy.”

  Shawn reached under her and grabbed a handful of her breasts and began to stroke her deeply from the back.

  “Harder!” Vanessa commanded and lifted up her hips to meet him.

  Shawn pinched her nipples as he pounded into her. Suddenly she began clenching and unclenching him from inside. The added sensation was more than he could handle. He exploded into her.

  Spent, Shawn lay on Vanessa's back for a few extra moments, making no other movements than licking her neck and nibbling her ears. Finally he untangled himself and fell on the bed beside her. Unfazed by their encounter, Vanessa reached for a strawberry and bit it in half.

  Watching her eat, Shawn felt something that seemed to pervade every fiber of his being so strongly that it scared him. His heart started beating fast and his stomach did a couple of flips. Shawn had to catch his breath. Bewildered, he looked around the room. Then he realized what the feeling was—it was happiness, a thing that seemed to have escaped him most of his life. He looked over at Vanessa; she hadn't noticed a thing. She was too busy stuffing her face with strawberries.

  Shawn sat up. “Nessa, I'm almost through with the stuff I had to take care of. I'm almost ready to go.”

  With a mouthful of strawberry, Vanessa asked, “What you saying, Shawn?”

  “I'm saying call the travel agent. In a few weeks I'll be ready to go check out Tacoma. I'm ready to get started on this move. Plus, I don't want my kid to be born here.”

  “Oh, Shawn!” she gushed, as she got on her knees to hug him. “I love you so much, daddy! You make me so happy!”

  “Okay, okay. I love you too, Nessa, but yo chubby ass is getting strawberry slob in my doggone ear.”

  “M1, WHAT'S UP, A?” SOLEMN SHAWN ASKED AS HE STROLLED toward the candy counter in A-Land.

  Murderman's head swiveled around from
the video game he was playing. “I'll be right wit you, SS. Soon as I get killed.”

  “Take your time. Beez, what's up, Unc? How's the arm?”

  Looking down at his arm sling like he'd just noticed he was wearing it, Bezo said, “I'm living, nephew, so I ain't gone complain. You want something?”

  “Give me a Snickers and one of the fruit punch juices.”

  Bezo pulled a cold can from the fridge and took a candy bar from the counter and handed them to his nephew. Solemn Shawn pointed to a newspaper on the counter.

  “That today's, Unc?”

  “Yeah,” Bezo said sourly as he picked up the television remote and began flicking through the channels. He settled on the Maury Povich show. The subject was women trying to find out who exactly their baby's daddy was by having several subjects take DNA tests. Seemingly, it was the only topic on Maury's show of late. About the newspaper, Bezo stated, “Yeah, that depressing-ass smut rag is today's paper. But I must forewarn you that it is smothered with propaganda, a side order of lies, and a tall glass of media-induced paranoia.”

  “Uh-oh,” Solemn Shawn said as he picked up the newspaper. “You been hanging out with your ex-Black Panther Party friends again. You been fucked up since they let all them Westside old-timers out the joint. I'll be in the back.”

  “Fuck you, nephew. You need to hear this shit. That's what's wrong with you motherfuckers these days. Since the beginning of time, you coons believe that anything a motherfucker with a pen writes is the God honest truth. From the cats that translated the Bible on back—any motherfucker can write some shit and you stupid motherfuckers read it and believe it. I say that over seventy-five percent of the shit you read today is written by pseudoreligious, warmongering homos.

  “Take a look in that there paper. They got a big-ass article about how all these pedophile-ass priests be fucking up these kids' lives and they act like they condone that bullshit. Trying to downplay that trifling-ass sick shit. Homosexuality—that ain't nothing new. That shit been going on since them doggone Greeks decided to play butt hockey with one another. I ain't even mad at that. What two consenting adults do to one another is they thing, long as they don't get none of it on my new shoes. My problem ain't the homos. It's the goddamn, motherfucking, nasty, perverted-ass pedophiles. We used to call them shorteyes back in the day. In those days we wouldn't stand for no bastard to be touching and sucking on the kids. We would kill one of them motherfuckers for that shit.