He sat on the bed to pull on his shoes. “What you doing today, girl?”
“I got one class this afternoon, then after that nothing,” Sakawa said from under her mound of pillows.
“Well, I got some running around to do, then I'll be free later on. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat and check out a movie or something.”
Sakawa's response was a muffled grunt.
Vee's cell phone hummed as he stood up and picked up his fitted hat off the dresser. He flipped it open. It was O. “You had better been on time, nigga. Here I come.”
He slapped his phone closed. Before he headed out the back door, he pulled a banana from the bunch on the counter. Once he was out the back door and down the two flights of steps, he made for the back gate alongside the apartment building's garage. He stepped into the alley—no O.
“Where the fuck this nigga at?” Vee said aloud. “I'mma have this nigga fucked up if he make me late for my appointment.”
“O ain't coming,” Murderman announced as he rose up out of the open garbage Dumpster to Vee's left.
Without a word, Vee dropped the half-eaten banana and took off back the way he came. A few seconds later he came back walking with his hands in the air. Dante was following him, pointing a pistol at Vee's back.
Murderman hopped down out of the Dumpster.
“I didn't do it,” Vee began. “It wasn't—”
“Nigga, shut up!” Murderman commanded as he aimed his .45 at Vee's head and shot out the back of his skull.
Dante let his .40-caliber loose. Both large weapons punched neat, death-bringing holes into Vee's head and torso. Tires screeched as a large, old-school Bonneville shot down the alley. The driver squealed to a stop at the scene of the massacre.
“Get in, A,” Big Ant said from under the steering wheel. “That nigga dead.”
Dante ran and hopped in the front seat of the sedan that was in mint condition. Murderman knelt and glared into Vee's face, watching him die. He crossed himself with his gun hand.
“That was for you, SS,” he said to the sky. “Now you can rest in peace.”
“Bring yo ass on!” Dante roared. “You know the whole neighborhood heard this shit!”
Like he didn't have a care in the world, Murderman strolled to the car and climbed in.
Inside her apartment, Sakawa heard the shots and sat up in bed. She looked down at Vanessa's enormous engagement ring on her finger and thought about the money Vee had stashed in her apartment. “Hotlanta, here I come,” she said as she got up and began to dress.
Letter from the Author
The street life is like a gun,
you don't pick it up if you have a choice.
It may look inviting like a woman whose vagina is moist,
but in the end a bullet or cell will silence your voice.
—FROM THE POEM “LIFE'S LESSONS,”
BY Y. BLAK MOORE
In any large, urban setting, street organizations or gangs exist inside the boundaries of so-called civilized society. The violence they inspire touches many people and leaves the otherwise ordinary lives of some citizens in shambles. Gangs are viewed as blights on our urban landscape and in most instances this adjudication is warranted. Gang activities such as intimidation, assault, sale of illegal narcotics, and murder have reached tremendous proportions in the ghettos and housing projects of cities such as Chicago. If you live in a major city in these United States of America, you cannot deny that you've heard or seen the headlines, “Child Slain in Gang Cross Fire.”
As a former gang member myself, I “overstand” how easy it is to get caught up in the street lifestyle. As a battle-scarred veteran of this culture I know that it has no positive aspects; if it does they are far outweighed by the negatives. The feeling of comaraderie and loyalty that many members seek never materializes or it is often counterfeit. I can honestly remember that we spent more time beating up or giving “punkinheads” to our own members for rule infractions than attacking our supposed enemies. Our enemies, real or imagined, usually are of the same ethnicity (Black, Latino, or Asian) as we are and live in the same impoverished circumstances.
Millions of dollars and countless man-hours can be and have been spent researching this phenomenon. City, state, and federal laws are being drafted to make sure participants in this way of life are severely punished for crimes against their fellow man. All this legislation serves to do is to treat the symptoms, or put a Band-Aid on a bullet wound as I like to call it.
The answer to this problem? I wish I knew. Maybe one doesn't exist, especially not while the preexisting urban environmental conditions continue to plague our society. Maybe it's a form of tribalism as ancient as man himself. Often the only form of realization that this lifestyle and culture is wrong comes when it is too late (e.g., when you get yourself killed or when those cell doors slam shut). Minority men, Black and Latino, are traditionally the staunchest supporters of this lifestyle, and we must consciously make a decision that our brethren are not the enemy. Translation: Y'ALL STOP KILLING EACH OTHER OUT THERE OVER NOTHING.
Peace,
—Y. Blak Moore
To all the gods out there, know this:
The time we're spending hustle-hating and fighting
is time we could be spending getting paid and uniting,
but I ain't mad at y'all.
I know that enlightenment is a journey not a destination.
—FROM THE POEM “CHECK MY RÉSUMÉ,”
BY Y. BLAK MOORE
Acknowledgments
First and foremost I have to thank and acknowledge the Creator. Fortunately I haven't fallen from Your grace. Though life is uncertain, the Creator's love is not.
Really and truly I have to acknowledge all of the souls who have passed from this physical plane as a direct or indirect result of street organizations and their activities. As impossible as it may sound, I hope that one day a turned hat, hand signs, or colors won't be an excuse to harm someone or to end their life.
And I know that some of you will ask what gang in Chicago is this really. My answer: none of them. The street organizations or gangs that exist in Chicago, especially the large Black ones, are the products of the minds of certain men (David Barksdale, Larry Hoover, Jeff Fort, Mickey Cogwell, etc.). Great men in their own right, but most great men are often misunderstood or misinterpreted. The Apostles are a product of my mind. This book isn't a veiled attempt to depict the exploits of any real street organization or its members. This is purely fiction! No one was killed in the making of this novel. There are some strange truths to be found here, as any veteran of urban America can attest, but nonetheless, it isn't a true story. After some of the things I've witnessed in the streets, in my opinion it would be a huge disservice to those who have died from this sort of lifestyle, to those individuals who are incarcerated, or to those just surviving day to day on the bricks, to have any reader think this is some type of historical, factual account.
From the cats in the County to the cats who ain't never coming home, I'll make sure you're in my prayers.
Humbly I thank the readers who supported my work (even those who borrowed a friend's copy). Readers truly deserve our homage, for they make us writers relevant. I wish that I could thank each one of you personally. Keep e-mailing and I promise that I'll keep answering. Keep checking for me ‘cuz I'mma give you the true grime.
I want to express my deepest and heartfelt thanks to Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines. These two brothers opened the doors for writers like me a long time ago. I've never seen African-American (Black) fiction writers given their just due, but I will. Without Donald, the world would never know Y. Blak Moore. Peace and blessings to both of you.
Melody Guy, BCBE, the editor of my first novel, Triple Take (another person applying for sainthood), I'm glad that you have superpowers. Thanks for everything. I'm glad that you took time out of your busy schedule to come down to Philly to give me a face to put with that voice. Don't worry, I'll give you free lessons on slanguage
. To Kate Blum, for making everything comfortable for me on my first tour, and to Danielle Durkin.
David Isay and the Sound Portraits family. Dave, you continue to lend me the wealth of your experience and wisdom. I'll make sure that I don't break the chain. To my man Lloyd Newman, I didn't thank you in the first novel for bringing my work to Dave's attention. So here goes: Thank you.
Sara Rimer from the New York Times. I'm thankful that you took time out to meet and write about an unknown author from Chicago. You are truly a wonderful and emphatic writer.
Akilah “Killah” Hasan, you remain the major force behind Elemental, Ink. Killah, thanks for all of your help and support. You've truly been that friend in my life that I wish everyone had. Oh yeah, quit trying to renegotiate your contract, fam. It's a wrap, you already the number one draft pick. Good looking out to Poppa Hasan, thanks for all your help.
To my man Zo the Alkhemist (hope I spelled it right), you continue to drop jewels on me when I need them, truly proving knowledge comes before wisdom. You remain one of the elements that keep my uni-verse from crashing in on itself. Thanks for the ELEMENTAL logo too. (It's crazy phat!) Tez, keep on doing your thang. It'll pay off in the end; all hard work does. Khari B., it's time to get your superhero costume out of the layaway. (Now that's a real Black superhero, his costume been in the layaway since Beat Street was in theaters.) Chelesea Darling D'Amini (Baby Mama from Hell!), keep coming up with them crazy designs so you can finally pay me some child support. Big Rob, aka Big Business, keep doing your thang. To the spoken-word/poetry community, keep writing and spitting the real. Sloppy, carbon copies save that shit! Love to all the poets.
Devan Moore, keep on trying to reach for your goals. Our sun will truly appreciate your quest for excellence. Oh yeah, we got to get that boy an agent. Peace to Moms, Grimy Mike, Auntie Mary, and ‘em.
My sister Ytteb (Tebby), and my nephews Dwight, Devin, and Darius. Teb, you're doing a bang-up job. Keep it moving. It'll turn out all right. Smile. Please stop sighing!
Love to the Low End and the Wells. Extensions forever! Peace to you all—man, woman, and child. To all the gods from the Darkside: 511, 514, 527, 510, 534, the original Gams. Too many of you cats to name. Love to my man K, Nolan Ryan, Ghost, Godvilla. Thanks for holding me down whether it was a few bucks, a few words of encouragement, or the willingness to get in some hatah's ass on my behalf.
Thanks again to all the beauty shop people.
To Shelia Owens, it was truly a blessing and a privilege to work with you. Here's to our future.
I'm still the same Blak. Love you whether I mentioned you or not. If that ain't good enough, K.M.A.
Oh yeah, to any and all hatahs of Triple Take and anything else I write. F.Y.! (Sorry, Melody, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't say how I felt.)
PEACE!
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
THE QUESTIONS AND DISCUSSION TOPICS THAT FOLLOW are intended to enhance your group's reading of Y. Blak Moore's The Apostles. We hope they will provide new insights and ways of looking at this fast-paced, insightful novel.
Throughout The Apostles we see flashbacks to Solemn Shawn's life with his mother and stepfather. Do you think that the abuse Solemn Shawn suffered as a child explains his behavior as an adult? Does it justify his behavior as an adult? Shawn grew up in a juvenile detention center; did the punishment fit his crime?
Vee is indignant when Solemn Shawn chooses Murder-man instead of him to be the next Head Apostle inside the detention center. Is Vee right to feel outraged by Shawn's decision? Do you think that Shawn made the correct decision?
Vee runs the Governors by subjecting its insubordinate members to corporal punishment or “Cold War.” Is this an effective way to run an organization? Does fear of punishment make the Governors more or less loyal to Vee? Does Vee seem fair-minded when he orders corporal punishment or Cold War for a Governor?
4. Officers Bull and Grove tread a fine line between legal and illegal behavior when they patrol the streets. Are they “dirty cops,” or are they just trying to do their jobs? Should members of the Gang Crimes Unit be allowed to operate under a different set of rules because of the nature of their work? Do officers in other departments respect, or resent Bull and Grove?
When Sakawa loses Wayne, she is determined to find a way to make Vee pay. After a few dates, does Sakawa really hate Vee as much as she says? Does Sakawa ever develop feelings for Vee, or is she just after his money? Is Sakawa capable of settling down with just one man?
The Governors and the Apostles seem to operate under the principle of “an eye for an eye.” Does either gang gain anything when it avenges a murdered member? Does this type of revenge create an endless cycle? Do you think that there can be a legal or ethical justification for murdering someone?
Solemn Shawn's sisters accept him as a part of their lives despite his involvement with the Apostles. Should Samantha and Tabitha accept gifts that Shawn buys them with money he earns as an Apostle? Would Shawn care if his sisters told him that they couldn't accept him unless he stopped participating in a gang? Do Shawn's sisters understand the extent of his involvement with the Apostles?
Vanessa lies to Solemn Shawn for years about her inability to have a child. Can you understand why Vanessa chose to do this? Should Shawn have been upset that Vanessa lied to him?
Despite his idea to open a recreation center in Solemn Shawn's neighborhood, Coleman Washington is a corrupt politician. Does Coleman fear Solemn Shawn and the Apostles? Do you think that most politicians are corrupt, or is Coleman an aberration?
By the end of The Apostles, Solemn Shawn and Vee meet similar fates. Did they get what they deserved? Would Solemn Shawn or Vee have accepted peace between their gangs?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Y. BLAK MOORE is a poet and a former gang member who grew up in the Chicago housing projects. He is also the author of Triple Take. Moore has three children and lives in Chicago. Blak can be reached via e-mail at [email protected].
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Strivers Row
An imprint of One World
Published by The Random House Publishing Group
Copyright © 2004 by Yanier Moore
Reader's Guide copyright © 2004 by Yanier Moore and Strivers Row, an imprint of Random House, Inc.
Strivers Row and colophon are registered trademarks, One World and Ballantine are registered trademarks, and the One World colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
www.striversrowbooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Moore, Y. Blak (Yanier Blak)
The Apostles: their only religion was money, women, and power / by Y. Blak Moore.—1st trade pbk. ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-307-51316-8
1. African American men—Fiction. 2. Adult child abuse victims—Fiction. 3. Ex-convicts—Fiction. 4. Gangs—Fiction.
I. Title.
PS3613.O569A88 2004
813'.6—dc22 2004050093
v3.0
The Apostles Page 25