Read Online The Apostles by Y. Blak Moore - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Y. Blak Moore
Ads: Link
leader's table.
“What's up, SS,” he thundered as he reached over the table to shake Shawn's hand.
“How you feeling, Big Toby?” Shawn inquired.
“I'm cool, bro. Uh, this stud here want to have a sit-down with you.”
“Is he on our team?”
“To tell you the truth, SS, I ain't never seen this stud before today. Somebody done gave this dude a punkinhead. His jaw broke up pretty bad.”
Murderman leaned past the girl sitting between him and Shawn. “SS, that nigga is a Governor, one of them studs off of 71st Street. He fuck with Ditto's cousin, broad with a Indian name or something.”
Solemn Shawn looked over at Wayne. “What this cat want with me?”
Murderman shrugged. “I don't know, but the Governors pushed on this nigga. They say that he a trick. They came through Ditto's cousin crib on some guerrilla shit and took all of this nigga shit. Disrespected her and shit.”
Solemn Shawn looked at his old friend with admiration. Murderman's knowledge of underground events was unrivaled— he was like the CIA of street gangs.
“So how do you know all of that?” he asked.
“Ditto was telling me about the shit,” Murderman answered with a smirk.
Solemn Shawn turned from his friend with a hint of a smile on his face. “I don't even want to know, Double M. Toby, tell the dude to come sit down and have a drink with us. It should be interesting to find out what my old friend Vee is up to.”
Toby walked over to Wayne. He said a few words to him, then returned to his post. Wayne walked up to Solemn Shawn's table. Murderman stood up.
“Ladies, give us a minute,” Shawn told the three women sitting at the table, who then excused themselves from the booth. “Have a seat, my man,” Solemn Shawn told Wayne.
Wayne slid into the booth and Murderman sat on Wayne's right.
Solemn Shawn said, “You know who we are, but we don't know who you are.”
“The name is Insane Wayne and I want some of y'all champagne.” Without waiting for Shawn to reply, Wayne grabbed the ice-cold bottle of Moët from the ice bucket and poured himself a glass. To drink it, he had to hold his head back and pour the liquid through his wired teeth. A fourth of the glass wound up on the front of his shirt, but Wayne didn't seem to notice.
Solemn Shawn cut his eyes at Murderman; his friend returned his gaze.
Solemn Shawn asked, “Insane Wayne, huh? What is it that you want with me?”
Bluntly Wayne stated, “I want to be a Apostle.”
“Why?” was the only thing Solemn Shawn could think to ask, still put off by Wayne's appearance.
“‘Cause you niggas take care of y'all own. I don't see all that hating on each other shit going on between you studs.”
A yell from the crowd made Solemn Shawn turn to the dance floor. At first he thought it was a fight or something, but then he saw a young lady getting especially loose on the dance floor. She had taken off her shirt and was going through a series of raunchy moves. He could tell by the glazed look in her eyes that alcohol or some other intoxicant had swept her up into the music thumping from the concert speakers at each end of the dance floor. A fellow who must have been her man or a friend stopped her before she could get her bra off. The irate man dragged her off the dance floor while the crowd groaned. He held up his middle finger as an answer to them.
Solemn Shawn turned back to Murderman and nodded his head.
Murderman snarled, “Nigga, what about the Governors?”
Wayne slammed his gloved hands down on the table, almost toppling the flickering candle in its middle. “Fuck the motherfuckin' Governors! Them niggas is the reason that my damn mouth is fucked up now! Fuck that bitch Vee!”
“Calm down,” Solemn Shawn cautioned.
Murderman said menacingly, “Yeah, nigga, you better calm yo ass down!”
Sensing the malevolence in Murderman's voice, Solemn Shawn said, “Chill, Double M.” To Wayne he said, “I take it that something transpired between you and the
“What's up, SS,” he thundered as he reached over the table to shake Shawn's hand.
“How you feeling, Big Toby?” Shawn inquired.
“I'm cool, bro. Uh, this stud here want to have a sit-down with you.”
“Is he on our team?”
“To tell you the truth, SS, I ain't never seen this stud before today. Somebody done gave this dude a punkinhead. His jaw broke up pretty bad.”
Murderman leaned past the girl sitting between him and Shawn. “SS, that nigga is a Governor, one of them studs off of 71st Street. He fuck with Ditto's cousin, broad with a Indian name or something.”
Solemn Shawn looked over at Wayne. “What this cat want with me?”
Murderman shrugged. “I don't know, but the Governors pushed on this nigga. They say that he a trick. They came through Ditto's cousin crib on some guerrilla shit and took all of this nigga shit. Disrespected her and shit.”
Solemn Shawn looked at his old friend with admiration. Murderman's knowledge of underground events was unrivaled— he was like the CIA of street gangs.
“So how do you know all of that?” he asked.
“Ditto was telling me about the shit,” Murderman answered with a smirk.
Solemn Shawn turned from his friend with a hint of a smile on his face. “I don't even want to know, Double M. Toby, tell the dude to come sit down and have a drink with us. It should be interesting to find out what my old friend Vee is up to.”
Toby walked over to Wayne. He said a few words to him, then returned to his post. Wayne walked up to Solemn Shawn's table. Murderman stood up.
“Ladies, give us a minute,” Shawn told the three women sitting at the table, who then excused themselves from the booth. “Have a seat, my man,” Solemn Shawn told Wayne.
Wayne slid into the booth and Murderman sat on Wayne's right.
Solemn Shawn said, “You know who we are, but we don't know who you are.”
“The name is Insane Wayne and I want some of y'all champagne.” Without waiting for Shawn to reply, Wayne grabbed the ice-cold bottle of Moët from the ice bucket and poured himself a glass. To drink it, he had to hold his head back and pour the liquid through his wired teeth. A fourth of the glass wound up on the front of his shirt, but Wayne didn't seem to notice.
Solemn Shawn cut his eyes at Murderman; his friend returned his gaze.
Solemn Shawn asked, “Insane Wayne, huh? What is it that you want with me?”
Bluntly Wayne stated, “I want to be a Apostle.”
“Why?” was the only thing Solemn Shawn could think to ask, still put off by Wayne's appearance.
“‘Cause you niggas take care of y'all own. I don't see all that hating on each other shit going on between you studs.”
A yell from the crowd made Solemn Shawn turn to the dance floor. At first he thought it was a fight or something, but then he saw a young lady getting especially loose on the dance floor. She had taken off her shirt and was going through a series of raunchy moves. He could tell by the glazed look in her eyes that alcohol or some other intoxicant had swept her up into the music thumping from the concert speakers at each end of the dance floor. A fellow who must have been her man or a friend stopped her before she could get her bra off. The irate man dragged her off the dance floor while the crowd groaned. He held up his middle finger as an answer to them.
Solemn Shawn turned back to Murderman and nodded his head.
Murderman snarled, “Nigga, what about the Governors?”
Wayne slammed his gloved hands down on the table, almost toppling the flickering candle in its middle. “Fuck the motherfuckin' Governors! Them niggas is the reason that my damn mouth is fucked up now! Fuck that bitch Vee!”
“Calm down,” Solemn Shawn cautioned.
Murderman said menacingly, “Yeah, nigga, you better calm yo ass down!”
Sensing the malevolence in Murderman's voice, Solemn Shawn said, “Chill, Double M.” To Wayne he said, “I take it that something transpired between you and the
Similar Books
