Free The Apostles by Y. Blak Moore

Governors.”
    Wayne answered evasively, “Just some bullshit.” He reached for the champagne bottle again.
    Murderman grabbed his hand and stopped Wayne from lifting the bottle. “Playboy, I ain't seent you drop no scratch while you trying to drink up all the champy.”
    From behind his shades Wayne stared at Murderman. He shrugged his hand free. Through his clenched teeth he said, “Dude, I came here to talk to Solemn Shawn. Now I don't know if you his bodyguard or his send-off man, but you need to keep your fucking hands off of me, pimp.”
    Murderman's face flushed. Before Shawn could stop him, his .44 Bulldog was under Wayne's chin. He snatched Wayne's glasses from his face. Angrily he spat, “Bitch-ass, trick-ass, dick-licking Governor! Nigga, I should make you lose yo memory right now! Who the fuck do you think you talking to? Pussy-ass nigga, you ain't gone never be no Apostle! We don't accept tricks or pancakes. And, nigga, you both! We know about you, bitch! You told on a nigga, now they done broke yo mouthpiece and you want to flip Apostle! Nigga, they should have cut yo fuckin' tongue out of yo mouth! Now if you don't get the fuck out of here, I'mma personally see to it that yo ass is in Gatlings by the morning!”
    Wayne calmly asked, “So, Solemn Shawn, is that y'all final answer?”
    “I would have to say that I echo his sentiments. I apologize, but we are not currently accepting any new members with questionable references. Murderman, chill with that heater.”
    Slowly Murderman lowered the pistol, but he didn't put it away. He stood up and allowed Wayne to slide out of the booth.
    Wayne stood in front of the booth and stared at Shawn.He said, “You motherfuckers is gone regret this shit. Bitch-ass Apostles!” Adding insult to injury, Wayne picked up the champagne bottle and walked away with it. With a sneer on his fractured mouth he walked out of the VIP section and out of the lounge. The bouncers started toward him, but Solemn Shawn waved them off.
    In Insane Wayne's wake Murderman began to follow.
    “Double M,” Shawn called, “don't merc him. We don't need any more pressure than usual from the pigs.”
    Murderman smiled. “I ain't gone bite him, I'm just gone let my dog bark at him for all of that wolfin' he just did.”
    Halfway down the block from the lounge, Wayne was walking and sipping from the Moët bottle. He seemed to be holding a conversation with himself.
    Suddenly the night exploded.
    Blam, blam, blam, blam, blam, blam.
    Like nothing had happened, Wayne kept on strolling, sipping champagne, and talking to himself.
    Amazed, Murderman watched him walk to the corner, then turn and keep going. As he slipped his empty pistol into his pocket he thought,
Damn, that nigga really is insane.

“S TOP CALLING MY MOTHERFUCKIN' HOUSE!” SAKAWA SHOUTED into the telephone receiver, then slammed it into its cradle.
    “Girl, who was that?” China Doll asked.
    “Mind yo damn business, China Doll. And watch them damn blunt ashes on my couch, bitch!”
    Nonchalantly, China brushed the blunt ashes onto the beige carpet. She said, “Bitch, ain't nobody finta burn yo little shit. And don't change the damn subject—who was that you just cussed out?” Holding the blunt in her ridiculously long, fake fingernails, China Doll took another hit of the weed. “This shit is some headache weed. Ain't been no good shit around here since Bing stopped working.”
    Sakawa was cross. “Bitch, I wish you would stop coming over here smoking that stanking shit in my damn house. I hate the smell of that shit. It be all in my clothes and hair.”
    “Saki, you is really bullshitting. When Wayne used to smoke all day in this motherfucker you didn't have shit to say.”
    “Wayne was my motherfuckin' man. You ain't my man, China.”
    A sly smile crossed China Doll's lips. She slit her almond-shaped eyes for a moment as she thought about the misfortune that had befallen the high-and-mighty Sakawa James. The Governors'