That was it. She’d had it. Clicking her teeth through a tense smile, she started to turn away.
“This is about your damn ego. You just can’t let it go, can you? I didn’t do what you wanted me to do. You just keep on! I mean, damn! What the hell do you want from me, Sinclair?!”
He leaned in close to her, so close his warm breath tickled her skin. Wincing, she pulled back, fighting the urge to bodily push him away. Instead, she checked their surroundings…
Too many damn people…
She didn’t want to cause a scene, but she was tempted to say the hell with it and smack the shit out of the man, right then and there.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” He took another sip of the water and casually put the cap back on, turning it ever so slowly. “I don’t want you, Xenia… This isn’t even about you. I want your husband.”
“Ha! I had no idea Sinclair but sorry to break it to you, he isn’t interested in men,” She mocked as a mixture of confusion and anger made a sticky stew inside of her.
“Funny.” He grinned. “But, I think your husband understands completely why I am here. Matter of fact, I know he does. He figured it out. I suppose I didn’t initially give the heathen enough credit. I did my homework on him, but I see he left you out of the loop. Why don’t you ask him about it, hmmm?”
“So now you want payback? If it isn’t because I left you for him, then what is it? I don’t need to ask Saint, you are standing right here, waving something over my head instead of just telling me. Oh, grow up already!” She stabbed herself in the chest with her index finger. “You will never get far in life, Sinclair, by behaving like this. You’re a waste of human space.” She turned away from him in disgust.
“Let’s be real here for a minute, baby. Your ass is still fine, don’t get me wrong.” He scanned her slowly from her head to her feet, running his thick, wet tongue lustfully across his bottom lip. “But pussy is a dime a dozen. I’ll admit it right here, right now. I never loved you, but I cared about you.” He looked to his left and to his right, a disgusting, greasy smirk on his face. “I tried to get you to come my way and you refused, so now I’ll just have to break that motherfucker down. It requires more energy, but I’m up for the challenge.” His grin quickly faded, and his lips turned downward in an evil frown fit for a deranged lunatic.
“Sinclair, you are barking up the wrong damn tree.” She couldn’t help but smile, knowing full well what Saint was capable of. “You do not want to try and do anything to my husband because trust me,” she sneered as she looked the man up and down, “he would demolish you with one breath.”
“Oh, that might be true, Xenia, but I have help. You see,” he popped his collar, “your husband has a lot of enemies, people that would love to make him taste a little humble pie. I appreciate the meeting with him, in retrospect. It gave me a better clue as to who I was dealing with. He’s smart.” He cocked his head to the side. “He has a way about him. He even looks a bit intimidating, but I don’t scare easily, Xenia.”
“Then why did you call me to report him to me that day, huh?! Like a little wimp!”
Sinclair laughed and turned away, crossing his arms. “You really have no idea what he did, do you?” He broke out in loud laughter, catching the attention of others. Xenia smiled and waved at the onlookers, her curiosity peaked. She moved closer to him, hitched her arm around his and ushered him to a more private location. Before long, they were inside of her dressing room, the door closed.
“Let me tell you somethin’—”
“Pipe down, Xenia.” He nonchalantly waved her off. “There is nothing you can tell me but I realized as I probed your mind, tried to talk with you all these weeks, and our discussion right this second, that you’ve been in the damn dark. All this time, I thought you knew, wow… Your husband ruined my damn life! Do you even know why I left California, Xenia? Why I just allowed you to up and leave?”
“You said it yourself, you didn’t love me and you wanted to search for new opportunities.”
“Bullshit!” he spat angrily. “I mean, what is love, anyway? I had enough for you, that is all that matters, but I still felt like you were my woman. That was bad enough, but not to warrant what I have in store.” He grinned and rubbed his hands together like the shitty fly that he was. “No Xenia, your goon of a husband, on the day of your damn wedding, yeah, the day you married a man you’d only known a few days—he threatened me. I had gotten into a little legal difficulty, shall we say. To refresh your memory, it was regarding that contract with Dawn Records.”
Xenia swallowed. The faded memories swam to the forefront, becoming more vibrant. Sinclair had been a nervous wreck, but she wasn’t privy to the details.
“They were suing me and it got ugly. I had tried to stop by to see you, to simply say goodbye because shit,” he threw his hands in the air, “I didn’t have much money for a decent legal defense and for all I knew, I was going to jail!” His face betrayed the agony, the deep seeded angst. Then, just as quickly, the lines of worry were gone to reveal a fresh smile. “…And Saint was at your home, helping you get some of your things packed up. You were upstairs I presumed and that motherfucker took one look at me and told me if I didn’t get my ass out of there, he would let Lenny, the CEO of the record company, know about my selling some of the rights away to the songs. That wasn’t even brought up in the litigation! No one knew about that!” His teeth clenched as he released his dirty secrets, scattering them at her feet as if no longer giving a fuck. “I have no idea how that asshole husband of yours even knew about it! I know you didn’t tell him, because I hadn’t said a word of it to you! I was in a lot of debt, and that was my only way out, Xenia—to sell those songs! I needed to see you one last time and get a few of my things from your home, clothes ’nd shit I had over there and that man, as if it is even befitting to call him that, marched right up to me like some crazed mental patient escapee and told me to turn the fuck around and never come back.”
Xenia’s muscles, her bones, her pores—every part of her—filled with uncomfortable warmth, growing hotter and hotter as each second passed. She searched her memory banks and suddenly recalled, after Saint proposed…she was upstairs grabbing some articles, and he was downstairs packing some of her papers away for her job, on her behalf. She’d heard the doorbell, but in the frenzy of activity didn’t pay it much mind, figuring Saint had answered it. When she came down and questioned who it was, he’d said something to the effect of, ‘Someone trying to sell some garbage…’
“But it didn’t end there! Somehow, two of the artists found out about the selling of the songs, contacted Dawn records, and that was my ass! Your husband did that shit, Xenia! I had to do time!”
“Why were you there, Sinclair?” she asked, her voice low, her temper raging. “Why in the hell were you really at my house?”
“Like I told you, to get my stuff.”
“No.” She shook her finger at him. “I know my husband better than that, Sinclair, much better. If he said that to you, then you were after something. I told you I’m not the same girl from ’round the way! I know what I see before me now, and he is full of shit! Get the hell out of my dressing room!” Rage made her voice tremble, rage at not knowing the truth, rage that this man from her past continued to pester her and now threatened her husband, and rage that she’d even dated the slimy motherfucker from the get go.
His eyes dulled as he apparently took her cue—realized she wasn’t playing with him. She reached to her side and held up a glass vase in which perfect purple tulips and lemon and cream calla lilies danced about in clear water.
“So help me, God!”
The sound of shattered glass and the splash of water hitting the back of the closed door as Sinclair disappeared, running with all of his might, echoed throughout the room. She turned toward her mirror, not sure what to do, who to call or what to say. Things had spiraled out of control. She didn’t want Saint involved in this anymore but how could he not be at this point? The
man had stood there and admitted his plan—there was no mystery here. He wanted her husband destroyed. She’d felt like a fool, believing he was simply pining over her; oh no, it was much worse than that. Saint had driven him away, apparently somehow read the slime ball right then and there and in an act to protect her, caused a backlash that had come home to roost.
Saint had to have known…
She slipped into her chair, holding her forehead.
Damn it! He must’ve known all this time after I told him Sinclair was the producer, what he was up to. Jesus…
She grabbed her cell phone and immediately dialed him, hoping it was all a misunderstanding. But she knew deep down that it wasn’t. She also knew, whatever Saint had to say about the matter was going to be painful…very painful…
~***~
“Not four fucks were given… no haters were on the scene. So the king of his castle spread open the legs of his sexy, horny Queen.”
“Saint, you have issues. Please don’t repeat that little nursery rhyme at the conference.” Lawrence grinned as he jotted down some summaries. Saint burst out laughing and looked around Lawrence’s office, taking note of the Native American artifacts, the beautiful, lush plants and the small water fountain in the corner. Such a tranquil space, equipped with soft native instrumental music with a jazzy vibe playing in the background. His office was like a spa and therapy room all in one.
“I like how you have it in here, man,” Saint said as he gripped the back of the chair in front of Lawrence’s mahogany desk. “You’ve done some nice upgrades.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Moving too fast over his desk, Lawrence knocked over his coffee. Hot liquid spilled on his hand and spread near his computer. “Damn it!”
“Hold up.” Saint snatched a wad of nearby Kleenex and dabbed at the spillage. His hand grazed against Lawrence’s as they both worked diligently to clean up the mess, and in that instant, he jolted, as if an electric current had shot through his body. Standing straight, Saint froze as Lawrence continued to move about, oblivious to his state.
Holy Shit…and they have no idea…
Suddenly, the two made eye contact. Lawrence tossed the soiled tissues in the trashcan.
“What?” he questioned, his eyebrows bunched.
“Uh, nothing, just thinking about the conference.”
“You’re lying!” Lawrence grinned. “And now you’re blocking! What do you know?” Lawrence demanded, standing erect, invading Saint’s personal space. The man knew it was something about him, and he wanted answers. Suddenly, Saint’s cell phone rang. Sighing with relief, he grabbed it from his pocket, almost tripping as he maneuvered around the desk.
“I’ll be back,” Saint lied as he thanked his Creator for the much needed interruption. “It’s Xenia.” He exited Lawrence’s office in haste, making his way down to his own office and closing and locking the door behind him, as if a boogeyman was hot on his tail.
“Hi baby, boy do I have something to tell you but you can’t tell anyone because—”
“Saint!”
He could hear the tears and agitation in her voice.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” He made his way to his desk and collapsed in the chair, certain it had something to do with that Grayson motherfucker.
“Saint, I need to know the truth, please! What happened when Sinclair came to my house the day we got married? The first time we got married, that is. What did you say to him?”
Saint sighed loudly and leaned back in his seat. He rubbed his hand over his face and swiveled toward the vast window behind him. He looked out into L.A. traffic and the garden below. Such a contrast of the divine and slow to grow—the garden was a place that reminded one not to miss a moment of love and life. The fast lane, on the other hand, was full of cars and colorful blurs, of people rushing to things and places that didn’t mean anything in the long scheme of things…
“Baby, okay, here is what happened.” He sighed. “He came to your house to try to force you to empty out your bank account for him. Did you know he’d been stealing money from you? He’d done it a few times, small amounts so you wouldn’t notice right away…”
He was met with a sharp, indrawn breath and then silence. He gave her a moment to clear her thoughts.
“Um, no, but I had my accounts locked after they’d been hacked. Money had been removed, and it wasn’t from me. They were unable to tell me who authorized it but my bank notified me so I had everything changed to prevent anyone from doing it again. If my memory serves me correctly, it was about five thousand dollars total, three separate transactions. Until today, I had no idea how that happened. My security was too lax I suppose, my password obvious. Never use your birthdate.” She laughed nervously. “It was…it was, Sinclair? Figures.” Her voice sounded weary, as if a part of her knew, but hoped to hear otherwise, that the man she’d once trusted would not have been the cause of her pain.
“Yes, baby, it was Sinclair. He had run into some financial trouble and he was desperate…”
Again, he was met with brief silence.
“It’s all making sense now.” She exhaled. “He had been under a lot of stress and acting a little strange at times ever since that lawsuit began. Dawn Records was after him like a hound dog. I had started to distance myself, but I didn’t want to leave him completely in his time of need…plus, I still… Damn, I was so stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid. After a while, you knew what he was about. That is why you left him, Xenia. Whether I’d come into the picture or not, you were on your way out. You know that is true. Regardless, you cared about him, so you didn’t want to hurt him, though you knew you deserved better.”
“Saint, why in the world didn’t you tell me about this then?”
“Xenia, because I took care of it.” He fisted the material of his slacks and stared out the window. “Why have you all upset? There was no reason to ruin our wedding day. He came over there to make you, force you Xenia, to give him that money. I didn’t make his ass leave town though; he did that on his own accord. There were some guys after him for unpaid debts and then that Dawn Records deal went bad, and he was in a world of trouble. He was desperate, and desperate people do dumb things. I took one look at him and could smell it all over him.”
“Did you tell some of the recording artists that he had sold the rights to their songs to another recording company without the proper consent? That’s what he said, but I know it’s bullshit. That’s not even in your character to get involved in some mess like that.”
“Hell no, I didn’t. I just wanted him gone and to make sure of it,” Saint swiveled around and poked his desk with his index finger, “I let him know I had the goods on him, so he wouldn’t return and try something stupid. If he believes that, then that explains this even more—but he already had enough reason to hate me from what happened that one night.”
“So, you knew all this time that he…never mind.” She was breaking his heart. The woman of his dreams, and now his reality, was tumbling like curtains from a rod in slow motion. The woman he adored was falling the fuck apart. He felt guilty, angry and a concoction of hot, twisted emotions that were driven to the forefront. His beloved’s soul screamed, ‘I’m sorry for bringing this piece of shit into our lives!’
But baby, it’s not your fault…
“So, he didn’t get the money he needed, Xenia,” Saint continued, breaking up the silence. “At least not all of it, so he had to leave his life here and start over. He made something of himself, became accomplished, but at a price. For whatever reason, he blamed me for what transpired.”
“He brought this on himself. He was never fully capable of accepting responsibility. He is kind of narcissistic that way. His talent was a waste.”
“Well, that may be true but as it stands, I believe he is convinced that if I hadn’t come into your life, fell in love with you and then stopped him from getting the money, it would have never happened. He could have paid everyone back and slick talked his way
out of the lawsuit. None of that came to pass. I messed everything up for him, in his eyes.” He glanced back out the window.
“But that was so long ago.”
“Oh, I know, but time doesn’t always heal all wounds, Xenia. Especially if someone points to the scab and tears it back off.”
“What do you mean? I haven’t had contact with him in years up until the show.”
“Well…” Saint pivoted slowly in his chair, facing his desk. He ran his finger along the glossy edge, tracing the intricately carved afro, the wooden maiden staring at him like a vixen. “I believe I know what happened.” He swallowed. “He saw you had a new show, and all those old feelings, all that longstanding anger came back, rushing to the forefront. It’s a pride thing, Xenia. It’s a man thing, is what it is, baby. Now that he is big time, he feels like…” Saint sighed, “he feels like he can’t let me get away with that, and he has the ability now to show me who is boss. As a man, he feels I disrespected him, and in some regard, as far as the rules I live by, he is correct. I took what he believed to be his, and caused him a form of loss and devastation.” Saint tapped his fingers against his bottom lip as he contemplated. “The show ticked him off, too, baby. He didn’t want to see you happy, enjoying life—successful. Not after all that had happened.”
“I love you so much, Saint. This is just…crazy. Trying to talk sense into him would be hopeless at this point. I’m so glad I have you in my life.”
His heart warmed at her endearing words.
“He hates me, and he just wants to make shit difficult is all. He hates me for taking away his golden key, that being you, so he could rub elbows with celebrities, too. You see, baby, there are so many facets to this. The man is mad at me about so much shit. He’s got that Hollywood virus. You know he was trying to climb up the ranks, you said so yourself. At that time, you were becoming a household name, and he was riding your fame ’til the mothafuckin’ wheels fell off. He hates me for taking you away because you were faithful, reliable…beautiful.” He paused, wondering if he should even continue.
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