The Apostles (20 page)

“Daddy, you know that mommy loves yo tongue in her kitty,” Sakawa murmured dreamily.

Without answering, Wayne flipped her gently on her belly and pulled her T-shirt over her head. He began to rub her back and shoulders to release any tension in them. As Sakawa lay on her stomach with her love juices dripping from the pouting lips of her womb, she felt the imaginary hands stop their gentle caresses and she had to remind herself that it was only a dream. A few feet from her head she thought she heard a ripping sound. Then she felt the hands again. Firmly but gently the hands bound her wrists and ankles separately to each bedpost until she was secured spread-eagled on her stomach.

Still asleep, she asked in a childlike voice, “Why you tying me up, daddy? Did yo baby do something wrong?”

There was no answer. Of course there wasn't an answer—this was a dream.

She felt something warm and oily dribble down onto her lower back and buttocks. The smell she recognized as baby oil and it felt wonderful as her dream lover massaged it into her lower extremities. Then she felt the hands grasping her butt cheeks and spreading them. Next she felt what had to be the head of her lover's organ press against the tight, round circle of her anus.

Sleepily, she warned, “Daddy, you know I don't like it when you try to get in my ass.”

“Shut up, bitch!” Insane Wayne hissed as he forced his dick into her asshole.

“Ahhhh!” Sakawa screamed as she jolted awake. With a scream she tried to buck Wayne off of her but her range of movement was restricted by her bonds.

Ignoring her cries of pain, Insane Wayne pumped in and out of
her butt. Through the broken wires and rubber bands in his mouth he hissed in delirium.

“Ahhh, please stop!” Sakawa begged as she felt the tissue in her rectum tearing. “Please, baby, don't do me like this!”

Her pleas for mercy turned Insane Wayne on even more. He hissed, “Bitch, you wasn't telling me to stop when I was eating yo pussy!”

“Wayne, I love you. Why is you doing this to me?” Sakawa sobbed.

He didn't answer as he concentrated on getting his nut off. Harder and harder he slammed into her ass until he felt the sensation begin to gather at the base of his testicles.

“Oh yeah, bitch!” Insane Wayne croaked as he began to ejaculate. “That's it, bitch. Do you feel me coming in yo ass?” Finally he stopped pumping and lay there on top of her for a moment.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Sakawa screamed. “You didn't even have to do me like that! You is crazy! You sick motherfucka!”

Insane Wayne laughed as he climbed off of her. “That's right, bitch. I am crazy and you need to remember that,” he said as he wiped his dick on a teddy bear he had given her for Valentine's Day one year.

“Untie me, you motherfucka!” Sakawa yelled. “Crazy motherfucka let me out of this shit right now!”

“Tell Vee to let you loose, ho,” Insane Wayne said as he began to pull his pants back on. “Matter of fact, you make sure that you tell him that he may get the pussy, but I'mma get the ass whenever I want it, bitch.”

He sat on the bed beside Sakawa and began to put his boots on. She stared at him with an intense hate-filled glare, and he simply smiled at her. He stood up and rubbed her short hairdo. “I been meaning to tell you that I don't like yo new haircut, bitch.”

“Fuck you, nigga!” Sakawa shouted as she struggled against her restraints. “I hate yo nasty, freakish ass!”

“But I like yo ass,” Insane Wayne retorted and patted her on her
ass cheeks. “Thanks for letting me get shit on my dick, Saki. I love you, baby.”

Against her will, she winced in pain.

When her eyes were closed, Insane Wayne leaned over and licked her forehead. “I'll be seeing you, boo,” he said before he stood up. As he headed for the bedroom door, he stopped and blew her a kiss. “Tell Vee that I left the back door open for him,” he teased as he left.

Sakawa could hear him laughing at his sick joke as he left the apartment. She turned her head and sobbed into the jersey sheet until she fell asleep. Later, in the fog in her head, she heard someone calling her name. Thinking it was Wayne returning, she threatened, “Motherfucker, you bet' not touch me again or I'm gone call the police!”

“Saki, it's me, girl,” China Doll said from the bedroom doorway.

Sakawa couldn't remember a time she'd been happier to see her friend.

“Saki, is you all right?” China Doll asked dubiously.

“Just get me aloose,” Sakawa wailed.

As China Doll came closer she could see the blood and dried semen on Sakawa's behind. Gingerly she began to untie her friend. “Girl, what happened? Did Vee do this?”

“It was Wayne,” Sakawa sobbed. “I was drunk and I woke up and he had me tied up. Then he gone rape me and leave me tied up.”

When China Doll finally set her free, Sakawa hugged her friend and began to cry hysterically on her shoulder. China Doll didn't know what to do aside from pulling the sheets around her naked friend.

“Man, fuck this nigga!” Dante whispered harshly.

Solemn Shawn gave him a reproachful look. “Watch yo mouth, Tay. This is a church.”

“My fault,” Dante apologized, “but what I'm saying is this nigga is getting on my last damn nerve. Ever since this big punk came through the door he been acting like he crucial or something. Ain't that right, Murderman?”

Murderman turned his youthful face to his friends. “Tay is right, Shawn. This dude got an attitude problem. He be trying to bully everybody. I had to stay in the bathroom with that kid Coleman ‘cause he was about to try and rape him. Then this dude got in my face at lunch. I was about to jaw him. I ain't finta be playing wit no punk. Then this dude was all in the gym talking that yin yang and saying what he was gone do to anybody that don't like it.”

Solemn Shawn thought about it for a minute. “We got to be cool until we can get this stud and get away with it. Everything in its proper time.”

Just then the chapel door opened. A husky, brown-skinned teenager walked in, followed by a few of his nondescript lackeys. He sat down in the pew across the aisle from Solemn Shawn and his boys. The three friends remained silent. Tension filled the small chapel. Corey, the aforementioned bully, peeked across the aisle at the three boys.

To his cronies, Corey stage-whispered, “Look at these faggot-ass
niggas. I always heard my granny say if you scared then you need to go church, but this is ridiculous.”

Corey's followers laughed like they were listening to Eddie Murphy do a stand-up routine. Chaplain Brown woke up from his nap and looked up from the Bible on his lap. He gave the boys a reproachful look. Instantly they quieted down. Solemn Shawn could feel Murderman seething in anger beside him. The two crews sat eyeballing one another while they waited for the chaplain to drift off to sleep again.

When he heard the chaplain snoring softly, Corey sneered, “Punkass marks sitting up in here like some bitch-ass Apostles praying for Jesus to save them. That's what I'm gone call these church boys, the Apostles.”

Again Corey's group laughed their heads off at his remarks. Murderman had to be physically restrained by Solemn Shawn and Dante.

“This ain't the time, Murder!” Solemn Shawn whispered forcibly. “You ain't gone do nothing but get all our privileges took.”

“F-F-Fuck this nigga!” Murderman sputtered. “I'll fuck this stud up!”

Corey and his followers laughed at Murderman's anger. Corey whispered, “You punk-ass Apostles better keep burying y'all nappy heads in them Bibles. This camp is mine from here on out. Next time one of you ho-ass Apostles stick y'all nose in my personal business, I'm gone stick my dick in one of y'all. If I hear so much as a peep out of one y'all I'm gone get in that ass.” To his crew, Corey said, “C'mon, y'all. Fuck these Apostles.”

Corey and his crew exited the chapel, leaving behind an angry threesome in their wake. Murderman was so angry that tears began to roll down his boyish cheeks.

“Why you let him talk that shit like that?” Murderman sobbed to Solemn Shawn. “I don't care if you don't do nothing, I'm gone kill his bitch ass. He ain't finta keep talking that smack to me.”

Solemn Shawn was almost moved to tears himself by the passion
in his friend's voice, but he knew it was best to keep a level head. “Look, Murder, we gone get that dude, but we need to hold up. You still ain't healed all the way from the knife you took in the back for me. Plus we ain't trying to push no moves until we finish getting rid of all that reefer Big Ant sent us. We can't stand for no searches until we finish this package.”

Dante added, “Listen to Shawn, man. You know the drill. We can't get busted for fighting or we gone get confined. If we in trouble we ain't making no money. With a pipeline like Big Ant we can be living right when we get out this kiddie camp. I ain't finta blow all this scratch over some poot-butt. I ain't saying that we gone let this shit slide, I'm just saying we got to play our cards right. Shawn, you keep yo nose buried in that
Art of War
book, what you got to say about this dude?”

Solemn Shawn sat back and his trademark stoic smile danced at the corners of his mouth. “I ain't mad at Corey. Really, I need to thank his punk ass.”

Murderman stopped wiping his tears and looked at his friend like he had lost his mind.

Rather coldly, Solemn Shawn said, “Yeah, we all need to thank him. I knew that we was gone need a name for us, and that big goofy just gave us one. Albeit he might have thought the shit was a joke, but we gone show him and anybody else that get in our way that the Apostles is gone have to be respected. Loved by none, respected by all.”

“That's cool, now that you mention it,” Dante commented. “I like that—Apostles. What you say, Murderman?”

“I dig that.”

“Tay, how much time you think you gone need to finish up this last load of cess?” Solemn Shawn asked.

Swiftly Dante calculated the task in his head. “Give me ‘bout a week to ten days at the most. I got about two hundred five-dollar joints and about seven hundred dollar joints left. What you got in mind, Shawn?”

“Well, I'm gone tell Big Ant to hold off for a few days when we get
through with this shit. So he won't trip, I'm gone let him know that we plan to double our order on the next go-round. You make sure you get your brother to get them money orders for our cash.”

Dante looked dubious. “That's a lot of reefer, baby. We can barely handle all that we getting now.”

“You worry too much, Tay,” Solemn Shawn assured him. “As long as the guards keep letting us bring it in, ain't no problem. Our stash spot in the mop closet wall is safe. Plus, after we take care of this stud Corey, dudes is gone be waiting in line to get down with the Apostles. And we gone put they butts to work. Dante, from this day forth, you the Apostle of Finance. Murderman, from this day forth, you the Apostle of War.”

“And what is you?” Dante asked.

“I'm the Head Apostle. Any objections?”

Dante and Murderman didn't protest.

Solemn Shawn continued, “Good then. As soon as we done with this reefer we gone take care of Mr. Funnyman, Corey. In the next two weeks I need y'all to get hold of a few items. We gone need some fresh candy bars, a blindfold, a plastic bag, some shit turds, some vise grips, some lye drain cleaner, and a piece of pipe.”

“What the hell you up to, man?” Murderman asked. “What we gone do wit all that stuff ?”

Solemn Shawn looked up at Chaplain Brown. The priest was still dozing with his large Bible on his lap. “All right, check this out.”

Murderman and Dante moved closer. As Solemn Shawn began explaining, Murderman's face lit up with glee. Dante, on the other hand, looked like he was about to throw up.

Captain James T. Bellows looked at his lunch bag and sighed. The delicious cold roast beef with American and provolone cheese, thinly sliced, ripe, juicy tomatoes, lettuce, and mayo would have to wait a few more minutes. Bellows hit the intercom button on his telephone and barked, “Send Shawn Terson in here.”

Solemn Shawn unceremoniously waltzed into the captain's office.

Every time Captain Bellows saw him, he had to admit to himself that the kid definitely had charisma. Then again most killers, con men, and gangsters did.

“Take a seat, Terson,” Bellows commanded.

Solemn Shawn sat in the hardback chair directly facing the captain of correctional officers.

Longingly, Bellows fingered the paper bag containing his sandwich. “Mr. Terson, or should I call you Solemn Shawn?”

“My name is Shawn Terson, sir. And what's this about, sir?”

“You think you're pretty smart, don't you, Terson. I just wanted to see you so you could look at a few pictures with me. You don't mind, do you?”

Solemn Shawn hunched his shoulders. “I don't mind, sir.”

Bellows opened the file folder on his desk to reveal a set of eight-by-ten color photographs and a typewritten report. He picked up the pictures. “I must admit, Terson. This is a piece of work. Actually it's the best I've seen, and I've been doing this for about seventeen years. The culprits even had the knowledge to do this on my day off. Know anything about this, Terson?”