I’m the damn guest and they have me pushed away, quarantined like criminal evidence.
Saint’s head shot up from the crowd and Raphael gasped...
Shit! Damn it!
The whites of his eyes glowed bright red. Raphael gulped. That was his boy, but he didn’t look like himself anymore. It drew his blood cold. Within seconds, Jagger shot Raphael a glance too, that same sneaky grin across his face. The blueness of his eyes was replaced with a color he couldn’t quite describe; yet it bordered on silver with a touch of blue. Raphael’s heart pumped out of control. He fisted his jacket and turned to and fro, as if cops were on their way and he’d just robbed some poor little old lady for her Bingo winnings. Both men then looked away from him, continuing their whispering until finally, Saint broke away and walked up to Raphael, his eyes turning more and more to their normal shade with each step.
Oh Shit...I don’t think I like this.
Saint was smiling from ear to ear as he pointed to his car. “The guys are going to follow us.” And that was all he offered as Saint pushed the unlock button for his Lamborghini. Raphael snatched the passenger’s side door open and settled himself, huffing and puffing. Saint tore down the street like a tornado.
“What the fuck is going on?!” Raphael blurted. He’d had enough. He trusted Saint, but he could tell his best friend was up to no good.
“Jagger wants to teach me a few military moves. It’s just for fun,” Saint replied in a cool tone .
“Military moves?! Like what?”
“We’re going to fight.” Saint laughed huskily, seeming to enjoy every tortured second that passed.
“What the hell? Saint, why in the hell would you want to do that?” Raphael ran his hands up and down his pant legs. “So you all spent all that time —”
“Man.” Saint’s brows dipped as he turned a corner. He and Raphael both looked up in his rear view window and could see Lawrence and Jagger right behind them. “You don’t understand. Look, it’s like, once you get used to being this way, like us,” he pointed to his chest, “you build up a reserve of energy and you need to get it out. This explains why I liked to fight so much when we were younger. I rarely started some shit, but I damn sure finished it. I thought something was wrong with me, I suppose it wasn’t.”
“No, something is wrong with you,” Raphael yelled as he pointed out the rear window, “And that crazy marine nut friend of yours, too! We aren’t kids anymore, Saint. You were fighting at the bar a year or so ago, had me a part of the mess too, now this.”
Saint slowed at a red light. “Look, it’s going to be okay. Lawrence will be the referee. He will be able to pull us apart if need be.”
“What is this?! Some sort of psychic show down? An Angel-Child wrestling convention? I thought you two were friends now.”
“We are! That’s why we can do this.” Saint looked quickly over at him then back at the road. “We can trust each other to not go too far. And besides, there is some shit he knows that I want to learn how to do. He’s been itching to get his hands on me though.” Saint smirked. “I’m going to fuck that big mothafucka up.” He cackled as he started up again. Raphael’s head jerked back as he sped down the road like a bullet.
“Jesus Christ, Saint!”
“What?” Saint looked at him and rolled his eyes playfully. “You want me to drop you off back at your hotel?”
“...No.”
“I didn’t think so!” Saint burst out laughing as he took a curb so fast, his wheels squealed.
“Where are we going anyway?”
“To the gym Lawrence works out in. He also does personal training for some of the guys, so he has a key.”
“I can’t believe Lawrence is condoning this! You all are crazy.”
“Come on, man. Relax.” Saint patted him on the back, his touch condescending. He drove until they pulled into a desolate parking lot. The large, dark building loomed overhead. A florescent, glowing sapphire set of barbells on the side of the building and the words; “FIT AS A FIDDLE” beckoned the crew. In a matter of moments, a black Ford Tundra pulled up beside them, the windows blacked out as if on a stake out.
“No worries.” Saint shot Raphael a glance before reaching for his door handle. “It’ll be fun.” Raphael didn’t like the sound of the man’s voice. He didn’t like the set up, he didn’t like the wind and he’d made up his mind—he didn’t like Jagger, either.
~***~
“You need to get your ass off ya damn neck!” Pam barked as she sat back, adjusting her seat in Xenia’s snow-white Escalade. Her silver bangle bracelets clacked against the leather as she struggled to bring the damned thing forward.
“Mama, don’t start with me right now! Now look, you said you needed a ride to Pauline’s house to do her hair, so that is what I am doing, despite being dead tired. I really wish you’d let me buy you a new car.” Xenia gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter. The night had fallen, the week was long and tortuous, and she’d had a day from Hell.
“That car has been in the family for years! I have to keep her going. She still has life in her.”
“And someone is trying to ruin mine.” Xenia pouted.
I need to tell Saint what’s been happening as soon as I drop her off. I can’t believe this shit...
“That’s it! I ain’t gettin’ out this damn car ’til you tell me what the hell is goin’ on!” Pam dug in her purse, aggressively pushing the worn leather folds to and fro as if they’d called her a bitch. “Here’s my damn lighter.” Huffing, she snatched a cigarette out the carton, popped it in the side of her mouth and lit it in one fell swoop.
“Mama! The kids are in the car. You know I don’t want anyone smoking in my car, especially around my babies.” Xenia turned the corner, eager to drop her mother off as soon as possible. Usually she could keep her cool, but today, her nerves were a wreck. Sinclair had seen to that.
Pam twisted her neck and looked at the sleeping children, all three of them knocked out as if they’d been on the bad end of a swinging two-by-four.
She let the window down, allowing cool air to eddy and churn while she lit up. Xenia sighed loudly. “Mama! Saint doesn’t smoke his cigars around the kids, and neither should you smoke your cigarettes. You just don’t respect me, not one tiny bit, do you?”
“Cool your damn jets.” Pam rolled her almond shaped eyes. “I was finna ask you to let me out right here on the corner.” She pointed out the window toward a stop sign. “You done got my nerves all bad, all worked up. I need to get a lil’ relief. I’ll only be a minute.”
On a sigh, Xenia pulled over to the curb. Her mother made a series of dramatic grunts as she got situated to leap off the seat. She pulled her bright red skirt to the side and, whispering expletives under her breath, slid off the cushion like a child from a bar stool and quietly closed the car door behind her. Xenia observed her mother walk a few feet away and stand by a bus stop in her sparkling, matching red heels as if she were waiting for a John and went by the name, ‘Dorothy’ from the ‘Wizard of Oz’.
After a few moments passed, Xenia reached for her cell phone.
“I bet Saint’s butt isn’t even home yet,” she mumbled under her breath. I shouldn’t call him now though anyway; he may sense something is wrong and I’d rather tell him this face to face. She looked at the time. Well, it’s late. I better go ahead so at least he’ll know where I and the kids are.
She cleared her throat and dialed his number, looking at her mother intermittently as the older woman shook like a leaf. Suddenly Pam began doing the cabbage patch, her arms moving as if she were churning butter, causing Xenia to burst out laughing.
“I knew that would make you laugh! Cheer up!” Pam called out. She took another drag of her nicotine treat and turned away, twisting her lips to the side as puffs of smoke twirled up toward the night sky.
“Sup!” Saint answered, seemingly out of breath.
“Nothing, just calling to let you know I’m dropping my mom off at her friend’
s house and the children are with me. Are you still at the restaurant? What are you doing? ” Xenia asked. “You sound like you just finished running a marathon.”
“Uh, just at the gym with Lawrence, Raphael and Jagger...we’re just hangin’ out, you know...warming up.”
Xenia couldn’t put her finger on what it was specifically, but of all these years knowing her husband, she now could often detect when he was hiding something. It was almost indescribable, but his tone gave it away, ever so subtly.
“Okay,” she huffed. “What are you up to, Saint?” she looked back at her boys and Isis in the middle, all fast asleep in their car seats.
“...Nothing, baby! We, uh, are just here at the gym is all.”
“I know you are, and I know the facts of what you are saying are true, but what are you doing at the gym?”
Just then Pam swung the car door open and plopped down in the seat. “Some man wit’ a pink and yellow polka dot cowboy hat and bright green mittens on just took a piss on that storefront not less than ten feet from me! Lock tha damn doors!” the woman barked as she clumsily fumbled around with the locks, causing all of the windows to go up and down in her apparent fear and frustration.
Xenia sighed and locked the doors, still gripping her cell phone while she watched her mother flutter about.
“He was gigglin’ and bouncin’ around, makin’ little bird like noises, chirp mothafuckin’ chirp,” Pam continued, looking Xenia sharply in the eye. “What is a grown ass man doin’ with mittens on and taking a piss out in public?! Is he baking a cake tonight right after he wizzes? Is R Kelly doin’ a new country music video, a duet with this Achy Breaky Heart fool?! Please don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart that I pissed, goddamn it! Pam just don’t understand! This damn place ain’t safe no more. Pauline has got to move outta Watts!”
Xenia shook her head at her mother in disbelief.
“Uh, baby, sounds like you’re busy.” She didn’t miss the amusement in Saint’s voice. Apparently he’d overheard the whole thing. “Tell Mama Pam I said, ‘hello’. I gotta go, sweetness. The fellas are waiting,” he said smoothly.
“Mmmm hmmmm.” Xenia twisted her lips. Pam had saved Saint from the inquisition he was about to receive. Once again, her mother had come to his aid, unbeknown to him. “Alright, well, you be careful...” she said dryly.
“Uh, okay. Love you! … Stop it, man! I’m not ready, shit!” and he quickly disconnected the phone before she could respond to his bizarre outburst.
Xenia slowly closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat.
“What’s going on, Xenia?” her mother asked calmly as she snapped her purse shut.
“Mama,” she kept her eyes closed and rubbed her forehead, “I’ve had the day from Hell. You know that television show I’m supposed to start in a few months?”
“Yeah, ‘The Morning Tea’. That’s a boring ass show, you know that? They needed someone like you there, that is for damn sure. Don’t nobody wanna see the old cast from 90210 and all that otha bullshit! Pamela Anderson’s ol’ used up ass...”
“She was from Baywatch, Mama.” Xenia said, exasperated, still holding her forehead.
“Baywatch, hoe watch, watch that show get mothafuckin’ cancelled on my watch! I don’t give a jimmy crack corn turtle shit who it was! No wonder their ratings dropped and besides, it come on like at six or seven in the damn morning. Who is up at that time and wanna see some D-list celebrity makin’ cheddar biscuits?”
“Well, Mama, that’s why they—”
“They had Kim Kardashian’s mama on there makin’ pasta balls! Don’t anybody care about that woman and what the fuck are pasta balls?! The only—”
“Mama...”
“Balls that woman care about is the ones her money hungry, nasty ass daughters’ juggle in their mouths ’cause she sho’ know them trifling ass bitches are her ticket out! And I ain’t hatin’.” Pam threw up her hands as if in surrender. “Kim is a pretty girl, I’ll give it to her, but let some black woman make a sex tape wit’ Brandy’s little brotha! Hmph! She wouldn’t get wifed up by a basketball player or some big time rapper with a lock-jaw chin knock her ass up. I guarantee you that, lil sista! What is that boy’s damn name? Brandy’s brother.”
“Ray J.” Xenia sighed.
“Yeah, Ray J… Ol’ wanna be sex symbol silly lookin’ ass… He can’t hold a note in a bucket, either. His squid lookin’ sister got all the talent but back to Kim.” Pam’s index finger hung lazily toward Xenia’s face as she made her case. “She screwed him on camera, but if it was one of us, we would never soar to instant fame; we’d soar to instant lame! These men throwin’ themselves at them heffas but when we do the same shit, we a hoe...and anotha thang—”
“Mama, I—”
“That one host, Marvin? They need to fire his pompous ass, too! I can’t stand his little hoity toity British accent, either.” She held out her pinky finger as if she were drinking tea. “Someone need to do somethin’ about that man’s damn hair, Xenia! I put that on everythang!”
“Mama, he is a nice guy...I don’t even know if—”
“He might be nice but the honesty police is obviously off duty! Somebody need to tell ’em. Got tha nerve to be sittin’ there all stuck up and rollin’ them beady ass eyes around in his funny lookin’ face. How could they let him go on the air like that?”
“Mama, please...I need—”
“Look like someone took a can of brown spray paint, and just went to town all over that pointy ass scalp of his. Shit is shiny and shellacked, like spit-shined patent leather shoes. And his hairline practically starts on the back of his damn neck, like his head is wearin’ a tiny hula skirt made of wet cat hair! He need to let that shit go, just shave it all off!”
“Mama—” Xenia rolled her head around on the headrest in exasperation, gripped the steering wheel and tried to remain calm through her mother’s treacherous rant.
“You know I notice things like that, Xenia. I can’t help it, I’m a hairstylist by trade. His head’s shaped like a damn bowling pin, Strrriiiike! Like the shit got caught in a vice, squeezed the fuck out of it. I bet he was an easy delivery, slipped right on out like he was covered in Vaseline. Ol’ pointy headed mothafucka, head shaped just like the tip of a butter knife. I bet he eat tea and crumpets, ol’ football headed sonofa—”
“Mama! Sinclair was there on the set. That is what I’m so mad about!” Xenia blurted, unable to take it anymore. She looked back at her children, watching their bodies move and squirm when her elevated voice interrupted their restfulness.
Her mother veered back, as if a poisonous snake had crawled out from under the driver’s seat.
“Sinclair? That sneaky son of a bitch?! What was he doing there?”
“Mama, you aren’t going to believe this.” She twisted her body, faced her mother head on. “Somehow he managed to finagle his way in there—how, I’m not sure, and now I work for him.” Xenia’s voice trembled. “I told him I quit, but I know I am still legally bound. I have to figure out how to get out of this.”
“Did you tell Saint?” Her mother’s eyebrow rose.
Xenia shook her head. “Not yet, but I will tell him tonight. I called my attorney and she is going to try to figure something out. Saint wanted me to do this show, too. I am so pissed I can’t see straight!” She shielded her face with her hand as she leaned back in her seat. “Sinclair kept wanting to talk about me running off with Saint, leaving him behind.” She sucked in air and rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous.”
Pam squinted her eyes and pointed in her daughter’s face, her red lips twisted downward, the scowl fit for a sea hag. “Don’t you let him mess this up for you, Xenia! Now, you tell Saint what happened, he has the right to know, but don’t you dare let that Sinclair mothafucka have the damn satisfaction! I never liked him, you know. Now put this car in drive, shit.” Her mother faced forward. “Pauline waitin’ on me and all I will be able to tell ’er when I get there is that a cowboy hat wearin’ man wit�
� mittens was takin’ a piss and my daughter’s ex done rolled in like a tumbleweed, tryin’ to be a killjoy. I hope she doesn’t want a weave. I ain’t got nuttin’ to sew it on!”
Xenia tried her damndest to stifle a laugh as she continued down the road. She didn’t want her mother encouraged.
“Poor baby’s edges smooth as a baby’s ass from them damn microbraids she kept gettin’ from that African chick she met at the swap meet. I tol’ ’er,” Pam yelled sternly, “never trust a person’s name you can’t even pronounce! Now her hair gone like the wind and not even Scarlett O’Hara can bring it back!”
~***~
“Come on, man!” Jagger taunted as he stayed hot on Saint’s heals, his arms boxing the air at lightning speed. “Who taught you how to fight? An alley cat?!”
Saint ignored the taunt and spared a glance toward Raphael. The man had his face covered with his hand, as if unable to watch the brutal fight unfolding.
“And don’t think about trying to cheat with your powers either!” Jagger warned with a grin, no doubt enjoying the way Saint was blinking repeatedly and backing away from the large man that cast a humongous shadow across the ring. “You aren’t talkin’ shit? Now this is a first! Why are you so quiet, Saint? I haven’t heard a peep out of you since I fattened your bottom lip!” He cackled.
Saint’s eyes narrowed. The motherfucker had caught him off guard. As soon as he got on the phone, Jagger eyeballed him from a distance, then like an eagle coming down for a delicious meal, he stole a left hook right in Saint’s mouth, causing swelling and a small trickle of blood. Saint dropped his phone and the two got into a nasty squabble, forcing Lawrence and Raphael to use every muscle in their damned bodies to pull the two powerhouses apart.
“Don’t you worry about me, Jagger,” Saint said coolly. “You cheated and you know it. You told me no powers, and then you took your best shot while I wasn’t looking, on the phone with my wife.”
“Always be alert, Saint. Let that be a lesson to you!” Jagger’s crooked grin was getting on Saint’s nerves. He wanted to pound his face in, and set the damned thing straight.
Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father Page 8
