Well, he didn’t run out…
She cut her eyes to the right and saw her husband standing there, all 6’3 of him in his golden, naked, slick and wet glory. The tattoo’ed angel on his back glistened as the muscles under his skin rotated and contracted. She almost got caught up in the moment as her pussy constricted upon laying eyes on the motherfucker. Quickly pushing temptation aside, she narrowed her eyes on him. She pursed her lips and frowned, no doubt an expression fit for Mr. Grinch.
“Look at this shit!” he hollered out. Their eyes met through the reflection of the mirror above his sink as he stood there in front of it, fogging the damn thing up with his sexiness alone.
Focus. I am so pissed at this man!
Xenia leisurely strolled over, her arms crossed. Her pussy was tender, throbbing, reminding her of the silly fall he’d caused, so she took it easy as she neared him and looked up at what he was holding by his head between his thumb and index fingers. “A mothafuckin’ gray hair, Xenia! I have a damned gray hair!” He held it as if it were a second head or a disease-ridden tumor.
“So the hell what!” she snapped, wanting to do nothing more than slap his wet skin with her bare hand—make it hurt…make it sting.
Saint shot her a confused look. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He grimaced.
She pointed in his face. “You have a gray hair...get over it! What? You think because you age slower than me and everyone else on the planet that you would never get one? Well, ya did, deal with it.” She brushed past him and made her way to the toilet, slamming the small closet door to the enclosure behind her. She sat there on the hard, cold thing, her feet turned inward. Saint said nothing...but she knew he was waiting for her to come out. He more than likely was in too much shock from her heartless reaction to respond just yet but she simply couldn’t believe it.
A few moments later, she flushed the toilet and walked toward her sink. She squeezed some soap on her palm and worked it into a thick lavender lather. Saint glanced at her every now and again as he meticulously brushed his teeth. For a moment, she felt sorry for the bastard. He was looking some kind of pitiful, but in typical Saint fashion, he was waiting for more information before he took his next step or spoke another word. She dried her hands and made her way back over to him, waiting. He looked down at her.
“Now, are you going to tell me what’s the matter with...Owwww! What the fuck, Xenia?!” He held his head where she’d pulled the offending piece of hair out. One long silver strand amongst his jet black loose waves, and with a quick twist and snatch, the motherfucker was gone.
“I got it,” she said coolly as she twirled it between her fingers like a cat’s whisker.
“Ahhh!” he said, closing his eyes and wincing—keeping up the drama.
“Oh cut it out, you know it didn’t hurt that bad.” She grinned as she looked behind her and tossed the bane of his existence into the nearby trashcan.
“Xenia!” he seethed as he gripped her around her waist, picked her up and rushed to the bedroom with her. She screamed out as everything became a blur. Despite the shock, a small part of her wanted to laugh. He behaved like some crazed lunatic, moving around their bedroom as if it had become the shooting venue for an action flick. He tossed her on the bed, where she bounced like a ping-pong ball. “Why in the fuck did you do that to me? What is this attitude about? I’m not asking you again, tell me right now.”
Mmmmm, he is really mad now. Well, he deserved it...
“So, I see you had a secret lunch with Sinclair!” she blurted. She quickly sat up and crossed her arms, openly challenging him to say something that would earn him a domestic punishment.
His complexion turned from the toasted golden to a paler version of something—what, she wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it bordered on gray, like something deceased.
“Yeah...you didn’t think he’d call me, thought you’d scared him so bad, he wouldn’t say a word. Well, it backfired!”
“So?” Saint marched past her and entered their closet, snatching the wind out of the conversation, manipulating the scene in his typical fashion. He’d stolen the thunder, the rain and the lightning.
“Excuse me?!” was all Xenia could muster as she tried to accept what had rolled out of his mouth.
Just like that, he’d changed. In one moment, the man was begging for an explanation; then he was hit with the news and got to acting like a Neanderthal as he went on his way without another word. She leapt off the bed, paused abruptly and winced.
Be careful with the pussy!
She moved slower as she neared the open closet door, watching all of their apparel go round and round like a rainbow being spun and whipped into silk.
“What do you mean, so?! Boy! I swear, as God is my witness, you are going to be my co-host on an episode of ‘Snapped’ if you keep getting flip with me, damn it!”
“I mean, so.” His thick, dark eyebrows furrowed as he ignored her threat. “He fucked with my woman, so I fucked with him. Period.” Saint snatched a white button down shirt off a hanger and stood in front of a full-length mirror, taking his time to button it up.
“You promised me you wouldn’t do this! You told me that if I went back, everything would be fine.”
“Right.”
“But you didn’t say anything about this; you knew damned well what you were planning to do!”
“No, I didn’t. I knew I needed to speak to him about this, but not until the last second had I decided how I was going to do it. Anyway, what did he say?”
“You know what he said, damn it! He said what the hell you did!”
“Just tell me. He may have embellished or lied,” Saint said coolly as he continued to work on dressing, as if it were simply just another day at home with his wife. His arrogance crawled under her skin, and she resisted telling him so, not that it would do any damn good. She opted to stay on course and get to the bottom of this shit.
“He said you threatened him and cursed him out, that’s what the hell he said Saint.” She pointed her finger at him. “And I know that you did, because it sounds exactly like something you’d do.”
“Good. You know me. I’d hope so after all this time.” A faint grin extended across his face. She wanted to smack it clean off.
“This is not what we agreed to, Saint. You said you’d play it cool, and thanked me for being honest with you.” Xenia huffed and turned in a circle, slapping her thigh as she sighed in angry disbelief.
“And what did you expect me to do, huh?” He shot her a look tinged with antagonism as he snatched his belt off a hook and grabbed a pair of loose-fitting black jeans from a small dresser drawer. “My wife comes home, about to throw away an opportunity she’s been wanting for some time now. All because her ex-boyfriend wanted to jump in her face and make her explain herself to him. I read him, too.”
Xenia rolled her eyes and looked away. She should have known this was going to go down this way.
Silly of me to expect him to do anything different!
That was exactly why she didn’t want to tell him, but it was too big of a thing to keep a secret about and besides, that wasn’t her style. She liked the open communication they had and didn’t want to jeopardize it over Sinclair of all people. Regardless, Saint would show no remorse about this—but clearly, he was in the wrong.
“How was I in the wrong?” he said, reading her thoughts and angering her further.
“Goddamn it!” she screamed, turned her back and stormed out the closet. Soon, he was behind her, turning her in his direction.
“Let me tell you something, Xenia. With all the shit we’ve been through, as much as I love you, how could you sit back and think I was just going to let you be a sitting duck to that quack? Think of it from my point of view, baby.” He placed his hand over his chest. “Here I am, being told that my wife’s ex…he isn’t really an ex, but just for the sake of argument, my wife’s ex is her new boss and I am the reason he became a damn ex in the first damn place!” He started to
move about and his half buttoned shirt flew open. “She comes home, right? The woman I adore, the woman I’d tear the world up for, was mad as hell because he said some really inappropriate shit and touched what is mine...”
She didn’t miss the darkening of his eyes. He couldn’t even think about another man touching her without jealousy oozing out of his pores.
“Saint.” Xenia closed her eyes and rubbed her brow as if she had passed the exit to Pissed-Off-Ville ten exits ago. “I understand you being upset, but do you realize what you’ve done?” She calmed herself down and stepped closer to him. The scent of his aftershave drifted past her, pulling her even closer with invisible hands. She looked up into his eyes and watched a magic show…
Dark green, light golden…oh shit, the irises are turning black…
She gently stroked his chin, trying to calm the beast she adored. “Saint, listen to me…”
His eyes returned to their usual serene golden color…
“Now, he thinks my husband is a loose canyon and it could cost me the job and sweetheart,” she pleaded with sad eyes, “You gave him what he wanted! Sinclair thrives on attention, drama and bullshit. Not to mention, I wanted to walk out of my own accord, not because I got fired!” She briefly turned away from him.
“Well, did he fire you?” he asked nonchalantly.
“No...but that isn’t the point and you know it!” She put her finger in his face, but she knew her anger at him was tempered and waning. She’d seen it in his eyes—the love for her. She could be pissed all she wanted, but the man adored her to fucking death and that was why he did what he did, regardless of how inappropriate his actions were.
“And he won’t fire you.” He turned from her and re-buttoned his shirt in their oval shaped bedroom mirror after noticing he’d missed one hole. “He won’t, because he is up to something.”
Xenia hissed and put her hand on her hip. “I understand that, you’re probably right, but I had this job offer before he had been hired. If he does anything, it is sexual harassment, Saint. He’s already been warned. I already told him not to do it again!”
“And then you had to tell him again...and again.” He huffed and rolled his eyes. “I bet since I paid his ass a little visit, the calls from him stopped, now didn’t they?!” And there they were again—the eye colors swirled about, changing, fighting with one another for airtime but all of them meant one thing, and one thing only…
Saint was filled to the brim with fury…and he was about to ignite.
Xenia turned around, not wanting to stare him in the eyes any longer. At the peak of his hostility she saw their golden color changing once again, warming to a mellow orange. Even mention of the man’s name was now sending him over the edge.
“Didn’t it?!” he barked again, then laughed dismissively. “That’s what I thought...Yeah, you were thinking this whole time that the mothafucka just magically fell in line, like he suddenly took you seriously. He didn’t give a single fuck that you didn’t want his advances, Xenia. He didn’t care!”
“Saint—”
“Like he gave a shit! All the flirting, asking you out for dinner. Fuck that! He can’t do that to my wife! Men get their life taken every day by disrespecting another man like that.” His voice lowered, full of venom. It sent a chill up her spine. He seemed to sense her mood change, so he softened, just a little. “Baby, I know the bullshit he said, talking about you having kids filled you out in all the right places, and all that other bullshit. You expect me to just stand here and take that, huh? I can’t. I’ll make him wish he was never born and he needed to know just who he was messing with!”
Xenia sat on the bed and buried her face in her hands. She’d opened up a can of crap and wished she’d never popped the lid. The whole job was becoming a nightmare, but Saint was right about one thing: The man would never participate in such deviant behavior without a motiviation.
“Someone like him never falls in line,” Saint continued his rant. “… and I knew he was going to call you. It is just that the timing is fucked up.” His voice softened once more as a sorrowful expression took over, tempering his features. “Because I was trying to have sex with you again, after you caught your breath ’nd all, but now he has assured that won’t happen tonight.”
I cannot believe this man. That’s all he thinks about…and at a time like this!
She seethed, but a part of her was slightly amused.
“Of course he called. He called to tattle tale, because he wanted to start some shit here at home, use you as a shield for his punk ass. I anticipated this. Let me find out some more shit, here?!” Like a super case of bi-polar, his warm tone disappeared as he grew angry again in a millisecond, raving, pointing his finger in her direction, as if she were on trial in a court of law. “Let me find out he is back to his old tricks.” He raised an eyebrow, paired it with a smug expression, as he sauntered past her and re-entered the closet.
“I’m not telling you shit else about this, Saint. I see how you react when I do...again, I’m not saying you shouldn’t have been upset,” she called out, “… but that was the wrong way to handle it.” Xenia shook her head in disbelief, but deep down, she had to have known Saint would not keep his word to leave Sinclair alone; he simply couldn’t abide by such a request.
“He knows no other way, Xenia.” She heard him open a dresser drawer and close it. “People like him can’t be treated nicely and you don’t have to tell me shit, your body does the talking!” Saint called out, then re-entered the bedroom with his shoes on.
I give the hell up…
Xenia sighed and yawned, leaned back on the bed. She no longer cared about the phone call from Sinclair. She just wanted to curl up under the sheets, and get a few hours of shuteye before the baby was up.
I may as well take a shower first though. That will save me time later.
“Where are you going at this time of night?” She rubbed her eyes, fighting sleep as she sat up.
“You said you wanted some of that New York cheesecake with the cherries earlier today.” he responded, as if it was a given.
“Saint, it is two in the damn morning. Get your ass in the bed.” She laughed as she stood to go into the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. Look, don’t talk to Sinclair again,” she said calmly. “I’m serious. Word travels fast and you don’t want to make tabloid news about bullying some producer.”
“Nah, I need some fresh air anyway. I’m pissed that I had a gray hair and—”
“Silver...it was silver, Saint.”
“Silver, gray, white, mother-of-pearl, I don’t give a fuck! It grew out of my damned scalp. I need to see someone about this, a professional.”
“Yes, a therapist for the vain and arrogantly impaired. Boy, please! You better buy some ‘Just For Men’ and keep it movin’.” she cackled. “And anyway, one or two hairs isn’t even worth all of that. I’ve had premature gray hair for a year now, most likely due to being married to you,” she teased. “You just never knew because I dye it. It’s on my temples.” She pointed proudly at the notorious spot.
“Oh, I knew,” he said, laughing, “but I just let you think it was your little secret. Anyway, everyone else can get old ’cept me. Those are the rules.” He slid his wallet into his pocket.
“Saint,” Xenia said seriously as she glared at him from the bathroom door.
“Yeah, baby?” he said, avoiding eye contact.
“Seriously, please don’t do that again. You’ve made your point now, so just leave it be.”
“I won’t need to, baby. Those were merely words. And you just hope he takes heed because, uh,” Saint smirked as he casually grabbed his keys off the dresser, “next time, there will be no talking, Xenia, just action. You have my word.”
And with that, he disappeared out of the bedroom, on the hunt for her delicious guilty pleasure, but left a taste of worry in her mouth...
~***~
CHAPTER FOUR
“Yo! We need to talk.” Saint gripped the
black steering wheel of his Expedition as he leisurely took each corner. Jagger’s groggy voice came through the speaker in the car, and soon his image was displayed on a small screen inside the ebony console. Saint glanced down and watched the powerhouse of a man stretch and yawn, the sheets behind him in a heap of a mess.
“Why are you so tired?” Saint grinned, all-knowing. “I thought we were hooking up after work. Doesn’t look like you have much energy.
Jagger peered at him through his iPhone, smirking. He ran a large hand over his face and slumped, his oversized black T-shirt hanging loosely to one side. He tugged at it, pushed it over his head and threw it toward the bottom of the bed.
“Is she still there?” Saint asked in a whisper, as if modesty was his forte and of utmost importance.
“If she was, you blew it…just called me out.” Jagger laughed as he stood and stumbled to the kitchen, phone in hand.
“She left about a hour ago,” he added as he set his phone down on the tortoiseshell granite island counter behind him, and stood in front of his refrigerator, the door hanging open while he yawned once again. The big man grabbed the container of orange juice and chugged it.
“So, when are the four of us going out again? I like to double-date with you and Traci.” Saint sat at the red light observing several small school children as they spanned the suburban street with a feeble crossing guard as their guide.
“Not on your life! Never again, Saint,” Jagger barked as he slammed the refrigerator door and opened a tall kitchen cabinet, exposing assorted dishware.
“Why?!” Saint tried to stifle his laugh, knowing full well what the issue was. He’d tried not only to be Jagger’s matchmaker, but ask questions that Jagger felt unbelievably embarrassed about. Xenia had hit his knee several times under the table, but he continued, simply trying to break the ice. Jagger’s reddened face and death glare summed up the rest of the evening.
Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father Page 12
