The Apostles (6 page)

The receptionist started to object, but he sensed that the calm man meant business. He deserted the receptionist's booth and quickly walked over to the state representative's office door. He knocked softly twice and entered the office, careful to close the door behind him.

State Representative Coleman Washington was sitting behind his massive oaken desk. His attention was divided between the telephone receiver glued to his ear and a small pile of cocaine on a black saucer, so he didn't notice his receptionist enter the office.

He continued his conversation on the telephone. “ … look out for me. You know that money been slow. All of this government mole shit got everybody scared to offer or take.” Sniff, sniff. “I know, I know. Yeah, that's what I was just thinking. We got to go back to block grant hustling, but it got to be some good shit.” Sniff, sniff. “I got a few irons in the fire with a couple of shady preachers. Okay, I can do that, but I need you to get the ball rolling on that thing that we talked about.” Sniff.

Washington looked up and noticed his receptionist. Sniff. He held the mouthpiece of the telephone to his striped dress shirt. “What the fuck do you want?” he whispered fiercely.

“Uh, sir, I, uh…”

“Spit it out, boy. This here is an important call.”

“Well, sir, there are two men. Uh, a Mr. Terson and party, and they are demanding to see you this very moment. They say that they've waited long enough and that—”

“I don't care who the hell they are. You tell them I said—”

Suddenly the office door opened and Solemn Shawn casually strolled into the office followed by Dante.

“Tell them you said what?” the gang leader asked calmly.

Washington grabbed the saucer of cocaine and slid it into his desk drawer. He plastered a shit-eating grin on his face. He said, “SS, how have you been? Sorry about the wait. Just give me a moment to finish this call and I'll be right with you…. Uh, I'm sorry about that, Senator. Where were we? Oh yeah, I need …”

Dante walked over to the desk and removed the telephone receiver from Washington's hand. Without so much as a word, he returned the receiver to its cradle and took a seat on the corner of Washington's desk. The state rep was made noticeably uncomfortable by the Apostle's proximity.

“Hold Washington's calls,” Solemn Shawn said to the receptionist.

The young man backed out of the room with his hand to his throat and returned to the receptionist's booth. He pulled an organizer out of his backpack and made a quick notation in it. “Pile of cocaine on desk, snorting it. Visited by two thugs.” Satisfied, he closed the organizer and returned it to his bag.

“Job security,” he clucked as he placed the telephone headset on his head.

In the state rep's office, Washington was trying to get Dante off of the corner of his desk. “Dante, wouldn't you like a seat?”

“I've got a seat, Coleman,” Dante replied nastily.

Beads of sweat began to form on Washington's balding pate. Trying to appear at ease, he crossed and recrossed his legs, taking care not to wrinkle his tailored slacks. His shirt began to develop wet stains under the arms.

Washington said, “Sorry about the wait, SS. I had to take that call. I'm trying to line up all the people I can behind that project I talked to you about.”

Solemn Shawn asked, “Why did you have me waiting out there in the reception area like I was here begging for your help or something?”

“It wasn't like that, SS. I'm telling you I had to take that call. These guys are pretty important and they can get me the kind of financial backing we'll need to get over the hump.”

Solemn Shawn waved his hand. “Quit bullshitting me. Roll up your right sleeve.”

“Come on, that isn't necessary.”

“Would you stop talking and roll up your sleeve.”

Washington held on to the cuff of his sleeve like it was going to fly away if he released it. “That isn't necessary; I understand.”

Still Solemn Shawn persisted. “I want you to
over
stand. Roll up your sleeve.”

This time Washington was silent; his pleading was more in his eyes, but Solemn Shawn didn't back down. Slowly he unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled up the sleeve. He had to push it to get past his elbow. On his biceps was a three-inch
A
with a halo— the Apostles' insignia.

Surprised, Dante laughed. “Well, I'll be a one-eyed motherfucka. I forgot you got that on yo arm back in the Charles.”

Washington didn't say anything, he simply stared at the badge on his arm as if it were foreign to him. To him, that tattoo was a reminder of places where he didn't ever want to live again, things that he didn't ever want to be a part of again.

“I hate to say it but now you seem to have forgotten where you came from,” Shawn reprimanded. “You wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for the Apostles. You've forgotten that those dudes back in Charles were taking your food every day and that they wanted to take your manhood. You seem to have forgotten all of the things we did on your behalf during your campaign.”

Washington protested, “But I never asked you for help.”

“You didn't have to, Coleman. You are our brother and regardless of what you may think, we wouldn't jeopardize that relationship. And you asked for my help on this one and I wouldn't refuse an Apostle any reasonable request.”

Washington protested, “I'm the one taking all the risk by coming to you. You and I both know that over the years you've been involved with many illegal things. If who you are got out and that you were here now, the media would have a field day with this. They would crucify me. You know that they love to hang politicians out to dry. Especially Black ones.”

Solemn Shawn didn't bite. “Really, you're insulting your own intelligence. You know as well as me that over the years as a politician you've done just as much dirt. Just of the legal kind. If you felt that meeting with me would jeopardize your career you wouldn't have me here now. You're not really an angel anyway. I'll be the first one to admit that if you stop looking for payoffs, and stop shoveling coke into your nose, you could truly be an asset to your people and community. All of that said, tell me what you're looking for from us to build this center.”

Coleman Washington retreated into politician mode. “I'll tell you first that everything has got to be free to the people. It has to be a place where kids can go besides the streets. I want everything in this place. Swimming pool, full gym, state-of-the-art exercise equipment. Health and nutrition courses, accredited college courses, job program, trades. In short, everything we deem necessary to help heal our wounded community.”

“I see,” Solemn Shawn said, tenting his hands under his chin. “And just what stage are you at in the planning of this place?”

“First, I got my alderman cronies together to help us with the zoning and the building permits. Second, the place will cost about five million to build. I've got some people who will furnish the equipment. Hell, the Bears are donating a state-of-the-art fitness center in the place. The only problem we're experiencing is getting people to throw their hats in the ring initially. I mean…sure, people will donate after the fact, but we need cash to even fence off the land we're hoping that you're going to donate to this project.”

Solemn Shawn began to speak, but Washington wasn't listening. He was too busy working the numbers in his head. He thought,
If I could get those dummies to give me at least $300,000, with the other people I have on the line I could come in with a few thousand more than $5 million. The contractors already told me they can do the job for $4.75 million. With the right amount of maneuvering I can keep the change. I'll call in Monty to crunch the numbers, then …

Solemn Shawn's voice woke him from his thoughts. “Coleman, what's up, man? Give me a number.”

“Well, you already know that we're going to need that lot of land,” Coleman said, as he reached for his Rolodex. “That plus three hundred thousand dollars should get this thing off the ground.”

“Done,” Solemn Shawn said as he stood up. “We'll smooth out the details later. I'll be in touch.”

Dante vacated his perch on the state rep's desk, walked over to the office door, and opened it for Shawn.

Coleman was already busy dialing a number on the telephone. He looked up at his retreating guests.

“SS, I'll make sure that I get you a copy of the plans as soon as possible.”

“I'll be looking forward to going over them too. I'll make sure the deed to that land is dropped off here.”

“Oh, and please don't leave it with the receptionist. Tell whoever is going to bring it to put it in my hands only.”

“Will do, Mr. State Rep.”

The two gang members exited the office and the building. Outside they climbed into Dante's new Maxima.

Dante spoke first. “It sounds like that joker is gone get right down to the fucking business, SS.”

“I knew that he would,” Shawn said.

“How?”

“Human nature.”

“What?”

“Human nature, its tendencies and mercies. The man is a politician and a drug addict. That means he always needs publicity and money. He can use this project to easily win his reelection bid, and he's going to skim some money off the top. Personally I don't care. It's just that I really like the concept of the place he's trying to build.”

For maybe the millionth time in his friendship with the quiet, well-spoken man beside him, Dante looked at him in awe. The man's mind and thought patterns never ceased to amaze him. Shaking his head, Dante put the key in the ignition and gave it a turn. Instantly it came to life. The mellow sounds of Main Ingredient filled the cabin as Dante pulled into traffic.

The boy bolted out of the doors of the Jewel's Food Store. He ran the four blocks to his home with his plastic Jewel's bag rippling in the wind behind him. The bag held a pound and a half of ground sirloin and a package of Twinkies to share with his younger twin sisters. The late-afternoon sun beamed onto the side of his caramel-colored face as he ran. His stride was easy and carefree.

At the age of fourteen the boy was of average size, but being a veteran of his stepfather's school of hard knocks, he was already tough as nails.

On the block of his home, the crowded two-bedroom apartment where he lived, the boy cut through the gangway and came out in the alley. He walked down the alley until he reached the garbage cans behind his building. From behind the foul-smelling cans he pulled his school books. After dusting off the knees of his pants, he easily vaulted over the four-foot chain-link fence surrounding the yard. The minute that the boy's feet touched the ground a blur of fur streaked out of the half-broken garage door. The blur streaked directly for him. Three feet from the boy the German shepherd stopped and bared its fangs. A menacing growl rose from its throat.

The boy stood face-to-face with the dog for a moment, then he whistled an intricate little melody. Instantly the dog's aggressiveness subsided. It bounded over to the boy and excitedly licked his hand. The dog literally danced in circles around the boy. A large smile, rather uncommon for the stoic youth, covered his face as he looked
down at his dog. He hugged the wolf-looking canine and received a face full of wet dog kisses in return.

“Hey, girl,” he whispered in the dog's large pointed ears, “did you miss me, girl? I know you ain't trying to act funny. Look what I got for you.”

The boy held his grocery bag in front of the dog's moist, pointed snout. The dog sniffed the irresistible scent of the raw beef into her nostrils. Her already wagging tail sped up to near Mach speed. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she danced a jig in anticipation of her dinner.

There was a large stainless steel bowl by the wall of the garage. The boy walked over to it. He split the plastic wrapping on the meat package and dumped the contents into the bowl. The large dog almost knocked him over getting to the delicacy.

As she chomped, smacked, and licked her way through the meal, the boy stroked her coarse tan-and-gray fur. In a matter of seconds the entire meal was gone.

“You sure love that burger meat, huh, girl,” the boy said as he scratched his friend's chest. “You ate it all. If I ate like that I would bust.”

The dog cocked her head to the side and listened to her master. It was rare that the boy talked, so it always surprised the dog when he did.

Until dusk the boy remained in the backyard with his dog—pet-ting her, training her, and playing with her. The boy knew from the disappearing sun that it was time to go inside. His good-byes to his friend were said more with his eyes than with words. The dog whimpered a bit as he began to retreat up the back porch stairs, then she turned and disappeared into the garage.

Inside the apartment the boy sat at the kitchen table and finished his homework. He helped his younger twin sisters with their assignments, then gave them their Twinkies. Dinner was quick, followed by television sitcoms until his mother declared that it was time to bathe and go to bed.

… In the middle of night the boy awakened to the shouting of his mother and stepfather.