* * *
“I need to find him,” Ted said as he rubbed his bare chest. The attack from five years ago still sent chills up and down his spine.
“I would suggest you not. Saint has already shown you what he is capable of. If I’d never seen him with my own eyes, I’d sworn you were attacked by a tiger by the looks of that. You should’ve never gotten involved with those fools, Lance and his gang,” the African elder said as he sat down in his chair.
“No, not for revenge. I wouldn’t be that foolish. I’m scared actually, but I want to talk to him. I just want to thank him for saving my life. He’s done so much for me.” Ted slumped down beside his grandfather.
“What do you mean? Yes, he could’ve killed you. I don’t agree with what Saint Aknaten is doing, his mission in life, but he didn’t deserve to be killed and neither did his wife. You know that isn’t self-defense and it’s not acceptable! Look at you now, scarred for life and it’s over five years later.” His grandfather pointed to the etched words on Ted’s chest that Saint had engraved on that fateful night – SECOND CHANCE.
Usually, the raised, reddened skin around the keloid scar was mostly concealed by clothing. Ted’s long, dark locks now swung partially over it, hiding most of the letters on his muscular chest.
He stood up and paced back and forth. “Granddad, he saved me more than once. After that happened, I tried to distance myself from the group. I could see in Saint’s eyes he wanted to kill me. He wanted it so badly but he resisted. I was there to take the one thing that mattered to him most, his wife, and he still fought that urge to tear me in two. He is a good man. I’ve had time to think about this. He warned me a month after what had happened that some in the group were planning to kill me. He was right. I had moved out just in the nick of time from my apartment and later my landlord called me saying that someone had broken into it and tore what was left to pieces. She said three guys came there and one looked like he may have been hiding a gun. I know it was some of Lance’s guys and some of ours, too. They were afraid I’d rat them out. Saint then called me a week later, I don’t even know how he got my number, and made sure I was OK.”
Emotion bubbled up inside Ted as he put his hand on his forehead and briefly shut his eyes. “He knew I didn’t know what I was doing. I was a kid, a dumb kid.” Ted shook his head. “Now I’ve got a little girl on the way and my own Queen, and I just want to reach out to him and thank him. His telephone number isn’t the same and I haven’t gotten any response to my emails. I received a gift from him recently, an important gift. That is why I’m so desperate to talk to him now. Too much has happened. I’m not going to his house again but I’ve got to get a hold of him.”
The old man nodded and smiled. “I’ll see if I can get someone to help you track him down then. I do think you need to pay it forward. You know our beliefs. When someone saves your life, you have to save theirs back. You owe him; now go find a way to pay up.”
* * *
Saint noticed several missed calls from Xenia. He sat on the side of his hotel room bed and covered his groin with his plush white towel. The shower was relaxing, but his nerves were revved back up upon discovery of her trying to contact him.
“Hello Xenia. I saw you had called. I was in the shower. What’s going on? Are the boys OK?” he asked after dialing her number.
I have to hurry up and get out of here before I miss Stanley coming out of his motel room.
“Everything is fine. Our sons are doing well.” Xenia said dryly. “Saint, I’ve spoken to an attorney and the divorce papers will arrive shortly by certified mail. Will you be back in town in a few days to receive them?”
“I don’t know, I’m trying to get this wrapped up as soon as possible,” he answered, feeling as though he had just been punched in the gut. There was silence on the other end of the line. “Well, is that all?” Saint asked.
He stood up, let the towel drop to the floor and grabbed his boxers and jeans.
“Yes. Dakarai says he misses you.”
“Tell him I miss him, too,” he said sadly.
“You can tell him yourself. Dakarai! Daddy is on the phone.”
“Da Da!” Dakarai screamed. “Dad-deeee!”
Saint smiled, while his heart hurt. “Hi, baby boy! Are you being good for mommy?” he asked as he cradled the phone in his shoulder and slid his underwear and pants on.
“Yay yay ahhh!” Dakarai yelled into the phone.
“Is that a yes?” Saint asked, still laughing.
“Mommy, I’m good!” Dakarai blurted. “I want Mommy Daddy at home. I want Mommy Daddy back! Mommy Daddy kiss kiss!”
“Give me the phone, honey,” Xenia uttered in the background.
Then Saint heard some mumbling and a shuffling sound.
“Hello, it’s me again. Well, I guess we can…” Xenia started, but was quickly interrupted again.
“Is that Daddy?” Hassani asked. Saint could hear him running closer and closer towards the phone.
Xenia sighed. “Yes.”
Saint heard his first born laugh in the background and softened.
“Daddy, are you coming home because I need you to play with my new car and I need you to show me how to catch a ball right because I keep dropping it every time Robbie throws it to me and he said I didn’t know how to catch and I said I did, and he said no I didn’t and I said I did so I need you to show me how so when he tells me I don’t I can show him that he’s wrong!” Hassani huffed angrily, while catching his breath.
Saint burst out laughing. “OK, baby, I will.”
“I’m not a baby!”
“Oh, my bad,” Saint smiled. “OK, big boy, I will. Is that better?”
“Yes, much better Daddy. I want you and Mommy to come home in the big house. I miss my house. I miss you and Mommy. Why can’t you two just say sorry and be back together? Just say sorry, Daddy, and, Mommy, you say sorry too, OK?” Hassani pleaded.
“Saint, we have to go,” she sniffed, and abruptly disconnected the call.
Saint sat on the bed for a moment to gain his composure.
He hung his head, his palms flat on his thighs. “Mama, I can’t keep on like this. I’ve preserved myself. I can’t afford to feel anything right now,” Saint prayed out loud to his mom. “I sometimes feel like I just don’t want to go on anymore. I’m only still here for Dakarai and Hassani. I haven’t felt pain like this since you died. I was hoping to never feel it again. I want my wife back. I thought I could let go of her, but I can’t. There is a lot going on and I need to stay focused.”
Saint pulled his shirt over his head, shoved his gun in the holster around his waist and made his way out the door, into the rental car and toward the motel.
* * *
CHAPTER NINE
“I mean it, George!” James yelled. He grabbed a cup of ice water with his age-spotted right hand and sipped from the long white straw. His hand shook. “If you tell Saint I’m back in the hospital, he’ll drop everything and come running back here. I won’t be able to get rid of him, either. It will mess up his entire investigation. Saint has this uncontrollable urge to play savior with me so please, for the love of God, don’t say anything! Remember last year in Reno when I fell? He wouldn’t get the hell out of my room. There have been other instances like that over the years. And I’ve got a feeling he is closing in on this guy. I don’t want that jeopardized. You remember what happened to us in 1976, no doubt? We can’t allow another one to get away and Saint is closing in. Nothing can endanger this operation, not even my health.” James coughed into cradle of his arm.
“James, you’ve put me in a bad position. Saint was quite sore with me the first time this happened. I had taken your strict instructions at that point as well and he ended up not speaking to me for over a week.”
“So what? You should’ve been thankful for the break,” James teased.
“Normally I would have welcomed the silence since he horses around a bit too much for my liking with his flamboyant, loud ways
and at times obnoxious behavior but when he’s angry, it isn’t pretty – not that Saint is exactly the cuddly type, but the whole incident upset me. I much prefer him silly and rambunctious than holding an axe to grind,” George complained. “He holds a grudge.”
“Oh, that’s not true. He’ll get over it. We can’t allow this guy to get away though.” James coughed again. “Speaking of Saint, I was going to take care of something last night before I was forced to come in here again. George, I need you to do me a favor. Look up a Mrs. Payton Smith. She lives in Queens, New York. She’s an attorney. I need her phone tapped immediately. I want her cell phone and house phone calls recorded and I want her followed. Anything, and I mean anything that she says about Saint, bring it to my attention at once.” James held his chest as his heart beat frantically.
Nurses rushed in, taking over as James was quickly leaned back and George pushed aside.
* * *
“I think he’s out of town,” Ted said to his grandfather as he gripped his cell phone and stood by the bustling Starbucks coffee shop. His long locks were bound together with a dark blue scrunchie. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I drove past his house and all I saw was the cleaning lady come and leave. I guess I’ll just try to do it later.”
“Everything happens for a reason. You have a baby coming into the world and you need to put your life into perspective. So now, despite him leaving that horrible mess on your chest, you want to thank him because it essentially saved your life. You’re right though. Saint is a good man…confused, but a good man. He shouldn’t be promoting race mixing but that is beside the point right now. I made some calls and he keeps a pretty low-profile as far as his whereabouts so no one knows where he is.” The old man sighed.
“You know what? His wife works for the radio station over there near Crenshaw. I heard her on the radio just the other day. I’m going to swing by there and see if she can help me.”
“Ted are you crazy? This ain’t no reunion! You were intent on trying to kill that woman. What makes you think you can just saunter up to her and act like you are a Good Samaritan now?”
“Because Saint told me he didn’t tell her what happened when I asked him,” Ted explained. “She doesn’t know me, has never seen me and has no idea what I was up to, thank God.” Ted shook his head in disbelief of his past misdeeds. “Anyway, let me stop on by there and see what I can find out. I’ll call you back later.”
Ted hung up the phone and jumped in his black Ford F-150 truck.
“Xenia Aknaten, I owe your husband something. What that is, I’m not sure, but I can’t prolong this any longer,” Ted said to himself as he got on the highway.
* * *
Saint felt faint. He gripped his cup of tea and almost dropped it as his fingers slicked around the shiny, cardboard container. The morning Colorado sun and cool breeze woke up his senses once more, as he drifted in and out of total awareness.
How long do I have to wait for this greedy mothafucka to eat this damn donut? How can he eat at a time like this? His trunk is full of rope and duct tape.
Saint rubbed his temple. “He’s getting ready to do it, that’s why I’m feeling so ill. Get your ass out here and let’s get this over with!” he said under his breath.
He pressed his back onto the wall to the side of the store, and the rough brick rubbed against his dark blue Reebok jacket. His senses went on full alert when a strong smell hit his nostrils. He quickly stepped away from the wall.
What is that?
It was strangely familiar yet different. Just then, a jogger crossed the street towards him. The Native American man stopped and played with his iPod before jogging in place again while he waited for the light. Saint inhaled deeply, feeling as if the world had stopped on its axis and all he could see, feel, hear and touch was this Navaho Indian man who ran his fingers through his short, feathered jet-black hair.
The man rubbed his bare leg. His shorts rode up a little as he continued to bounce in place. Suddenly, the man stopped. He turned and looked Saint in the eye. It was as if lasers beamed between the two of them, a code, and a language that only they could understand.
How are you? The man asked telepathically.
You can actually hear my thoughts? Saint questioned, his head becoming dizzy once again.
Yes. The man reached down, pushed his sock down as far as it would go into his shoe, and exposed a rather sizeable diamond shaped birthmark on his left ankle. Once he was sure Saint had seen it, he quickly pulled his sock back up.
You’ve never seen another like you, have you? The man asked curiously.
No, Saint answered, completely captivated by this blessed occurrence.
Well, here I am. The man laughed.
Yes, here you are. This is amazing.
Not really. There are quite a few of us. We all have varying degrees of understanding and power. You most likely have seen more of your kind around but you didn’t have the ability to discern it at the time.
I’d imagine that’s true. How did you notice me? The same way I noticed you? Saint continued to stare at him.
“You’re pretty strong. Your light is actually blinding me and your energy is filling up the entire block. You are a rare type but there are a lot of us all around the world. By the way, my name is Lawrence.”
“I’m Saint,” Saint said verbally as he took another sip of his tea.
Lawrence walked up to him, his shirt soaked with sweat, and extended his hand.
Saint ignored his germ-o-phobic natural reflex, smiled and shook it.
“Now that I’m actually using my mouth, I’d love to ask you a bunch of questions but I’m short on time,” Saint said, full of childlike curiosity.
“Hey, take this then.” Lawrence reached into his fanny pack and pulled out a business card. He handed it to Saint. “Call me when you have time, if you ever have any questions. We’re not boogie men. In my culture, we are taught that this is as normal as having dimples or freckles. You, my friend, I’d love to take back home and show off though. Wow, you have strong energy! You can do stuff I can’t. You feel fresh too, like your knowledge of this is unchartered.”
Saint smiled. “In some ways it is. I’m still learning.”
“Did you just find out, like in the last four or five years?” Lawrence asked. “The powerful ones like you don’t usually fully develop until later, in your thirties or forties.”
“I knew since I was a kid but it didn’t evolve really until fairly recently so yeah, it was pretty freaky.” Saint laughed as he read Lawrence’s business card. “You’re a historian?” he asked, impressed.
“Yes indeed. And from what I could pick up from you, you are either a private investigator or porn director. It’s really strange; they both came into your energy.” Lawrence laughed.
“That’s hilarious!” Saint cackled. “I’m neither, but I could see how you’d think that. I can explain that later but I better be getting on my way. My name is Saint Aknaten by the way and I will definitely be in touch.” Saint said.
Lawrence looked at the small donut shop across the street. “I see you looking at him. I can smell him, too,” he said aloud. “He stinks. He’s full of hatred, jealousy and severe mental illness. It makes me want to vomit.” Lawrence grimaced. “You’d think I’d be used to this by now. You’re here for him, aren’t you?”
“You’re good!” Saint smiled. “Yup, and he’s on his way to his car. I gotta go.”
“Be careful with him,” Lawrence warned. “I don’t know what you’re doing, you’re blocking the signal for that information so that I can’t read it,” he said gravely. “But this guy is dangerous and you know our code. He has to try to kill you first before you can do him in or there will be dire consequences. I hope he does try to take you out, and lose of course. He shouldn’t even be drawing breath. He is a piranha, a deadly virus. I personally wouldn’t want to go anywhere near him but him being wiped off the planet would make it all worth it.”
Saint was shock
ed by Lawrence’s candor but he liked the man. “Thanks for the heads up. Hey, before I go, what do you call yourself? I mean, we’re not really psychics, well, kinda but it’s deeper than that. We aren’t vampires or anything crazy like that. I have no idea what to call myself.”
Lawrence chuckled. “You’re a just human being, man. There’s a title, but there really is no need for one. You’re just a human being that can do some really cool shit!”
Saint couldn’t hold the laughter. “It was a blessing to meet you, Lawrence. I will definitely be giving you a call.”
Saint slipped the card in his jacket and watched Lawrence jog away. The familiar scent of their kinship slowly faded until it stopped when he was a half a block away. Stanley got out of the shop. He looked around nervously then got into his car. Saint quickly ran to his vehicle and followed suit as Stanley maneuvered around the streets, his tires screeching around tight corners. Saint stayed close until they arrived at a suburban condominium surrounded by neatly trimmed bushes.
Stanley waited in his car. Approximately fifteen minutes later, Sergeant Kane emerged. He looked at his watch, got into his blue Honda Accord and quickly drove off.
Stanley popped his trunk. He raced to the back of his car and pulled out the rope and duct tape.
Saint sat up, on full alert, afraid to even blink. Suddenly, he heard Stanley growl. Mrs. Kane emerged from the house, a briefcase in tow as she made her way to her white Honda Pilot.
“Shit!” Saint watched Stanley mouth.
“Ahhh, your plan is fucked up,” Saint said aloud inside the car as he watched the entire scene play out. “You thought she wouldn’t be going to work today for some reason. That’s what you deserve for believing everything on Twitter and Facebook.”
When Saint Goes Marching In Page 18
