Antebellum Read online

  ZANE PRESENTS

  A thought-provoking novel about African-American culture seen through the eyes of a famous rapper who is transported to the days of slavery and forced to experience it firsthand.

  When Da Nigga is sent back in time, he finds himself a slave forced to live the life of his ancestors. A rapper in current time, Da Nigga must confront the reality of the African-American experience as slavery challenges everything he holds dear from his fellow rappers and their lyrics, to the executives and their motives.

  Antebellum is the hard-hitting, gritty story of Da Nigga. From rap superstar to broken slave and back, Antebellum will have readers on the edge of their seats and keep them talking long after they put it down.

  “In the spirit of Octavia Butler’s Kindred, R. Kayeen Thomas has given us a nourishing literary gift. He has taken a bold and unapologetic step in connecting hip-hop culture with the tragedy of American slavery. If there is a generational gap in the African-American community, Antebellum is a sturdy bridge. This brilliant book deserves to be read and read again!”

  — Dr. Michael Eric Dyson, one of Ebony’s 100 Most Influential Black Americans, author of sixteen books, and professor of Sociology at Georgetown University.

  PRAISE FOR R. KAYEEN THOMAS’S LIGHT:

  “In Light, Kayeen Thomas has bridged the boldness of hip-hop with a brash and original literary voice, to create a collection of urban stories that brilliantly depict the joys and pains of a new generation. So deft, so cool, so unashamedly writerly, he just may be the most gifted author under twenty-five in America.”

  — Kwame Alexander, founding director of Book-In-A-Day, Inc. and author of Acoustic Rooster and His Barnyard Band

  R. Kayeen Thomas self-published his first book, Light: Stories of Urban Resurrection, during his junior year at Carleton College. Now, at age twenty-seven, he is an author, poet, playwright, hip-hop artist, journalist, and social justice advocate. He resides in Washington, D.C. with his wife and daughter.

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  SimonandSchuster.com

  THE SOURCE FOR READING GROUPS

  COVER DESIGN BY MARION DESIGNS • COVER PHOTO BY KEITH SAUNDERS • AUTHOR PHOTO BY ARANTES STEPHEN

  Dear Reader:

  I have to give you the background of how I discovered R. Kayeen Thomas and this novel, Antebellum. I volunteered to teach high school English one day at my daughter’s school and Mr. Thomas was the teacher. During the lunch break, he told me that he had written a couple of novels and had one published work. I asked him could I see them. His first book, Light: Stories of Urban Resurrection, immediately caught my attention. TWO of my male friends had given me copies of the book a few years before but I never got a chance to read them. Both of them said he was an excellent writer and that I was sleeping on him.

  That evening, my youngest son had Little League practice. I was sitting there watching him and decided to grab the binder that Mr. Thomas had given me at lunch. I started reading Antebellum and got so caught up that I went home that night and finished reading the entire manuscript. I was amazed at his gift of storytelling and his ability to give readers a much-needed wakeup call. The one word that sums up his talent is “gifted.” After reading this book, I am sure you will agree. Be prepared to become completely submerged from the first page because this is one of the most innovative novels that I have ever read, or published.

  As always, thanks for supporting my authors and Strebor Books. We strive to bring you prolific authors who think outside of the box and lift our imaginations to a higher level. For more information on our titles, please visit www.zanestore.com and you can find me on my personal website: www.eroticanoir.com. You can also join my online social network at www.planetzane.org.

  Blessings,

  Zane

  Publisher

  Strebor Books

  www.simonandschuster.com

  Strebor Books

  P.O. Box 6505

  Largo, MD 20792

  http://www.streborbooks.com

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2012 by R. KayeenThomas

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 6505, Largo, MD 20792.

  ISBN 978-1-59309-425-6

  ISBN 978-1-4516-5998-6 (e-Book)

  LCCN 2011938443

  First Strebor Books trade paperback edition June 2012

  Cover design: www.mariondesigns.com

  Cover photograph: © Keith Saunders/Marion Designs

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  This book is dedicated to the trinity of women in my life – Marilyn, Monee, and Zion

  Content

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Part Two

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Part Three

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  The Seven Days excerpt

  Acknowledgments

  I would first like to thank God, who saw fit to give me these words. I am honored to be a vessel, and I pray I do not disappoint you. I would like to thank my wife and my best friend, Monee, for always supporting me and encouraging me in any and all situations. Truly, without you, this book would not have been possible. To my daughter, Zion, who has had to share her father with a laptop, I thank you for always making me smile, even when the words don’t come. To my parents, Marilyn and Weldon, whose support and love in the months leading up to this book has been nothing short of miraculous, I thank you for all you have done. To my brother, Daniel, the master chef, I thank you for reminding me to never take life too seriously. To Zane, who will never know how nervous I was when I handed her this manuscript, I thank you for believing in me enough to make my dreams come true. To Charmaine, my publishing director, who has put up with my missed deadlines with the utmost charm and grace, I thank you for all your support. To Strebor Books and Simon & Schuster, thank you for taking a chance on me. To Dr. Helton, who predicted my success and stood by my inspirations, I thank you. To my church family at Israel Metropolitan CME, who has shown me more love than I sometimes feel I deserve, I thank you. And to everyone over the years who told me not to quit, to keep writing because the world needs to hear what you have to say, I owe you all everything. Thank you all.

  Prologue

  “He’s a’comin’, y’hear? He’s a’comin’!”

  The crowd of slaves threw their bodies to and fro with reckless abandon, sending their petitions up to heaven.

  The dark sky welcomed their pain, their shouts, their moans and groans, with open arms. It wrapped around them, hugged them as they lost themselves in the frenzy. The only light came from the few torches that were brought, and it jumped around with the slaves, casting its glow on whomever it chose. The faces highlighted were frozen in expressions that would haunt any child’s nightmare. There was agony chiseled in cheekbones an
d jawlines. Despair coated women’s faces like over-applied makeup. And the cries...there were no words for the cries...

  And yet hope stood, standing slightly hunched over, on a large mound in front of the masses. Life shouted over the cries of the tormented. She told them to hold on, told them that their time was almost finished; that their sufferings were almost over.

  The slaves breathed in Elizabeth’s words, and ignited with the fires of Pentecost.

  Elizabeth was exhausted. Spitting fire from her mouth to revive the damned was a job with a very short life expectancy. Yet she was the only one who could do it. The decades of whips and cotton and lost babies had dimmed the brightness in her eyes and replaced it with embers resting in her ribcage. Every so often, when things fell to their worst, she would bring her people, under the darkness of night, to this clearing in the forest. It was here that she spat those embers over her children. It was here that she gave them back their will to live.

  Elizabeth fought through her fatigue as she stepped down from the makeshift podium and made her way through the crowd until she found the two she’d been looking for. She grabbed them both by the hands and yanked them, tugging and pulling them through the throng, leading them back into the woods. The woman was still shouting, trying to push her despair out through the pores of her skin. The man was silent, but wanted the same, and found it hard to see through his tears.

  They trusted Elizabeth completely, and allowed her to drag them through the brush until she saw fit to stop.

  After they’d composed themselves, they realized they were at the riverbank. They calmed down enough to hear what their leader had to say.

  “You two’s been chosen by da Lawd! You two’s been chosen! A man’s comin,’ y’hear? And when he get here, it mark da end! It mark freedom! But he gon’ need you’s two! He gon’ need you, or we’s all damned!”

  “Wh...why us, ’Lizabeth?” The woman shook her head, full of doubt. “I’se nobody to be helpin’ no savior...”

  “You shut up now, Sarah! Dis here ain’t your choice...be God’s choice!”

  “What me do?” the man said, his voice seasoned with the melodies of Africa.

  “Roka, he gon’ need you to show ’im how to be strong, and Sarah, he gon’ need you to bring ’im back t’life. He gon’ need you both, or he gon’ die!”

  Elizabeth bent down and reached into the darkness. She emerged with a white towel and a white wooden staff, six feet long. She held it in front of Sarah’s and Roka’s faces.

  “Dis be yo’ sign, says da Lawd!” Elizabeth raised her voice, even though the two slaves were standing right in front of her. “Dis be yo’ sign! When dese things come back to you, it be time! Y’hear me? It be time!”

  She flung both her arms forward and threw both the cloth and the staff into the river. When she spoke again, her voice was almost a whisper.

  “Lissen good, chirren...he gon’ come, but he ain’t gonna be ready. You gotta make ’im ready. You gotta, or he gon’ die. He gon’ die...”

  Elizabeth fell into tears, and Roka grabbed her before she collapsed to the ground.

  “You gotta make ’im ready...” she managed, speaking in a delirium now, while her head hung limp over Roka’s arm. “You gots ta make ’im ready...”

  Sarah, having found new strength from her mission, stood tall and walked over to the edge of the riverbank. She cupped some water in her hands, walked back over to Roka and Elizabeth, and poured it over Elizabeth’s forehead.

  “Don’t worry yo’self no more, ’Lizabeth.” She spoke with an assurance that made Roka look up.

  “We makes ’im ready. We makes ’im, or we’s die tryin’.”

  Roka bent down and picked up Elizabeth, carrying her full weight in his arms. He looked at Sarah, and she looked back at him, and they both made their way back through the brush to the other frenzied slaves.

  PART ONE

  1

  “Yo, what’s your name?”

  I was staring at the back of a snoring stranger’s head. Her weave fell disheveled against the pillow as her torso rose up and down. The hair was fake, but who cared? It was just another way of hiding. The makeup that was no doubt smeared on her face, the designer jeans and heels that lay on the ground, the sweet smelling perfume that coated the sheets—it was all fake, but I had bought into it anyway. I guess because deep down inside, I was fake, too. Everybody’s got a hustle, right? My façade earned me money, and hers earned her my bed for the night.

  I heard knuckles rap rhythmically against the door. It must be eight, I thought. The bedside clock verified my guess. I tried to jump out of bed, but the bricks in my head wouldn’t allow me to. Instead, I moved slowly, with my hand against the wall to steady myself. A condom hung from me, but I was too dizzy to take it off.

  The noise on the door stirred my guest. She moaned slightly and turned her head in my direction.

  Her face was okay, from what I could tell. I’d seen better. I studied her long and hard and wondered why I’d brought her up here.

  “Hey ma, you gotta get up,” I said.

  My voice might as well have been the Liberty Bell. All at once she opened her eyes and realized where she was and who was speaking. If there were bricks in her head, too, then they all shattered against one another as she hurtled from the bed.

  Turned out she was naked under the sheets. All that smooth white satin was hiding an Amazon donkey booty. My mouth fell open as she galloped into the bathroom and slammed the door. I was surprised it didn’t pull her to the ground.

  “No wonder she got the key,” I said aloud as I made my way to the door and looked through the peephole. A petite little cutie stood outside with short dreads, wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt and jeans. I opened the door and smiled as best I could, considering the demolition going on in my temporal lobe. She spoke before I could greet her.

  “The one with the butt, right?”

  SaTia knew me too well. She’s wasn’t even swayed by the fact that I was standing in front of her Butterball naked. She sidestepped me and made her way into the room.

  “At least take the condom off, Moe. That’s just nasty. Is she gone yet?”

  “Naw, she’s in the bathroom.”

  “Damn. I thought we agreed you’d have them out by eight? I don’t get paid enough to deal with these crazy...”

  “I know, I know. My bad. I slept late, aight? I just woke up.”

  “Can you get her out before I start, please? And I swear to God, if she even thinks about coming at me wrong...”

  “I’ll get her out, aight? I promise. Just sit down and relax.”

  There must have been an Extreme Makeover crew hidden in my bathroom. When the mystery girl came out, she looked nothing like the woman who had jumped from the bed a few minutes ago. Her makeup was on point, her hair was straight, and her skirt made her butt look even bigger. I couldn’t figure out if it was the material or the fact that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

  She would definitely be in my next video.

  “Hey, baby.” She spoke as if we’d been dating for two years. SaTia rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch. The makeup magician cocked her head to the side and quickly let her attitude show. She pointed to SaTia as if she was an ugly dress on the clearance rack at Old Navy.

  “Ummm, who is that?”

  I spoke up before SaTia could.

  “That’s my manager, sweetheart. Look, you fine as hell, but I got business to handle. Leave me ya number so I can hit you when I’m back in town. Oh, I almost forgot, you wanna be in my next video?”

  She looked as if I had given her the key to paradise. I turned around just to make sure there wasn’t a white man behind me with a check the size of a big-screen television.

  “Oh my God...you want me in your video?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, leave ya number. I’ll hit you next week to let you know the details.”

  She covered her mouth as she screamed, then jumped around like a sixth grader who discovered school
was cancelled. It was all expected. I smiled my usual congratulations-you-should-be-proud smile as she walked up to me and held my hand palm up. With the other hand, she pulled a pen from her bra.

  “You make sure you don’t lose this, daddy.”

  She finished writing her number on my palm and put the pen back in her bra. Then, without warning, she put my hand under her skirt. It felt like an undercooked cinnamon roll with too much icing.

  “You got all this waiting for you when you come back,” she whispered. “I don’t care how long it takes, Nigga, I ain’t letting nobody near it till you beat it up again. This right here will always be your pussy.”

  She was bold; I had to give her that. If SaTia hadn’t been in the room, her words and action would’ve been enough to convince me to throw her back on the bed. Instead, I played a makeshift guitar with my pointer and index fingers as I responded.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, ma. Matter a’ fact, keep ya phone by you this afternoon. I may get lonely.”

  I don’t know if she heard me over her moaning. I took my hand back and she kept going like it was still there.

  “Uh...oooo...why’d you stop, daddy?”

  I looked over at SaTia. She looked back at me like I was driving the wrong way on a one-way street.

  “Business,” I said as I turned around and sat down beside my manager.

  The woman seemed confused for a second, but when she looked over and saw SaTia’s smug face, she got the picture. She shot one last I-will-rip-out-your-windpipe look at SaTia and then made her way toward the door.

  “Don’t forget to call me, baby. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

  And she walked out the door.

  SaTia sighed with relief. You never knew how the groupies would react to her in the morning. Even though she had beaten down her share of anonymous females, I could tell she was glad that this one was relatively calm.

  “You really know how to pick ’em,” she said as she reached for her computer bag.