“How much money are we talking here?” Saint said coolly as he made eye contact with each man.
“Thirteen million dollars and some odd change, but that is only for the tax claims in question. There are claims of improper distribution in regards to Roth IRAs, 401ks, as well as overseas trading which makes the total closer to…” The man looked down at his phone. $104,962,871.”
Saint cracked a smile, one that if it got any larger, his face would break in two.
“You’ve got to be shitting me!”
The men shot each other a nervous gaze.
“Okay, I tell you what.” He was seething but kept that brave heart and face like no one’s business. He knew better than to show his ass in front of these men, but he had the strongest urge to launch a chair through the damn window. “Take whatever information you need. I have competent, trustworthy accountants. Our HR Manager is Mr. Leonard Basely. He and Accounts Payable and Receivable are on the fifth floor. I will make sure he gives you everything you need to help ensure there was no tax evasion done by this company.”
“Thank you, Mr. Aknaten. We actually have someone speaking with him right now and he is obtaining files and records.”
“Excuse me for one moment.” Saint put up his finger, grabbed his desk phone and called down to the fifth floor. “Hello Leonard…yes, I know…” The man was irate, screaming in Saint’s ear about a fiend that was barking orders in his face. “Look, I know it is upsetting, but please just give him everything he wants. Everything will be okay, Mr. Basely. However, give them no original copies of anything.” Saint shot a discerning look at his two unwanted guests. “He can stand there and watch you, but hand him no originals. We have to keep those.”
Saint hung up the phone, then dialed out again.
“Yes, I need to speak to Ned Katz…yes, I’ll hold.”
Saint looked at the two agents and grinned. “Guys, Ned is our company lawyer as well as my personal one.”
“Uh, yes, we’re familiar with him.” One of the agents squirmed in his seat.
Ned was a beast. Everyone in L.A. knew who the slick fucker was: a tiny Jewish cat out of Brooklyn New York who Saint had hand selected for all of his financial legal matters once he joined the Rainbeau Knights—formerly, White Knights of the Round Table. He could get a stinking mouse a ‘not guilty’ verdict even after being caught half dead in a trap baited with cheese. The man was a genius and corporate tax laws were his specialty. He liked Ned because not only was the man good and sharp, he was actually an honest attorney. Sure, he knew his way around the legal vernacular, but he was true-blue and solid. After being engaged to sort out this damn court case for the alleged embezzlement, he’d now have to address this nest of bullshit as well. Saint made sure the man was paid well, and he in turn always made sure that Saint’s ass was covered. Not only that, Ned was a damn Rainbeau too…he had vested interest in the shit.
“Hello Ned!” Saint said cheerfully. “Oh, you’ve already heard? Excellent! Always on top, aren’t you? That’s great. Look, I have a question.” Saint shot the agents a smile. “Where are you right at this moment? In a meeting, but wrapping it up? Okay, great. If you could get over here right after that is over, it would be much appreciated. Likewise.” Saint hung up.
The two agents stood. “Mr. Aknaten, it was a pleasure to meet you, just wish it was under different circumstances. We will be joining Agent Starks at the Accounts Department. If you wish to contact us, here are our cards.” He handed Saint two business cards. Saint took them, resisting the urge to crumble the damn things up in his hand before they’d even walked out the door.
“Very well. Mr. Katz will be here shortly. I take it you can see your way out?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Saint watched as the two men exited his office, closing the door behind them. He stared at that closed door for what felt like an eternity. Sweaty palms on his desk, his mind raced with things…nasty, gritty things. His eyes burned something awful. He looked over his shoulder and caught his reflection in the window—his eyes were bright, neon green. He attempted to self-soothe and opened himself up, telepathically calling out, screaming! Seconds later, the cell phone buzzed and vibrated on his desk. Jagger’s I.D. popped up. He snatched the phone and huffed, not saying one word.
“I felt that…you called out to me. You are pissed the hell off. What’s going on, boss?”
“We are in big fucking trouble.” Saint’s jaw tightened as he took a deep breath. “Someone set us up, majorly. You and Lawrence need to drop everything and get back down here immediately.”
“We’re on it.”
Saint disconnected the call, picked up a black marble paperweight and cast it angrily across the room. Standing, he walked to the window and looked out at the peaceful garden. The distant roar of traffic reached through from the near distance.
Sinclair, I bet some way, somehow, you are behind this. I have no idea how you could pull something of this magnitude off, but if my hunch is right, I am coming after you with both barrels, you lousy piece of shit! My only question is, what diabolical genius did you have help you pull this shit off?!
~***~
“Xenia, everything okay?” Shianne asked, trying her damndest to get close to the woman. It unnerved her how offstandish Mrs. Aknaten had become in the last couple of weeks. They’d had a great time at her home, and now, Xenia barely looked in her direction. She wasn’t nasty or short, just distant, and Shianne could feel it as soon as the workweek had begun. Sinclair was pressuring her about their plan. She’d been stalling, but he wasn’t having it anymore.
Oh my God, that could be it! I wonder if she knows I’ve been dating Sinclair? She’s never mentioned to me they even knew each other in the past, no matter how much I dug. She stood outside, her mind racing to match her heart rate. She was trying to catch her own breath, trying to take in some air to cool to calm her twisted nerves. Things went from horrible to downright damaged and unrecoverable. She brainstormed on how to get out of the whole mess, but Sinclair had her by the throat now. She didn’t want to live this way…she couldn’t. She honestly liked the woman and Xenia had given her some solid advice over the last few months. Shianne had to admit, when she’d walked into that house, she felt star struck. The large chandelier, winding steps and vast marble floors…expensive paintings and statues. Minus the kids’ toys lying about, it was a place she would want for her very own self. One piece really struck her decorating chord—a gorgeous blood red piano. Other parts of the home were unbelievably beautiful as well.
The study looked like something out of Masterpiece Theater. Someone sure loved to read… The baby’s room was larger than her entire apartment. She wanted that type of life, the life Xenia had. The woman was beautiful, kind, funny, had gorgeous children, and a man that was fine as fuck and filthy rich! And…if the books and word on the street was true, he could fuck his built-like-a-Greek-God ass off. How in the hell did Xenia get so lucky? Shianne wanted to know the secrets this woman possessed. Was it sexual prowess? What was Xenia doing that kept that man’s nose so wide open? She wanted to find her own personal Saint, but she was coming up short at each and every turn.
Feeling sorry for herself, she watched men moving set props around in truck trailers. She never knew her mother or father, she’d grown up in foster homes and what Sinclair had said was right on the money—she was a trick’s baby and it still disturbed her how he found out such private information. She was born addicted to crack cocaine, and spent a great deal of her childhood with shrinks and school counselors. She rarely thought about that fact because she was a survivor, and her attitude once she hit fifteen was: ‘Fuck it. Shit happens.’ She’d made something out of nothing and she prided herself on not giving a shit, not feeling or caring, but something inside of her was changing. She observed Xenia from so many angles and the woman inspired her. Xenia shared some of her own personal beginnings. Life hadn’t been easy for her, either, yet, she remained positive and still tried to help people.
Why can’t I be like that? Why can’t I be…good?
For the first time in her entire life, Shianne felt guilt. It made her queasy, made her stomach knot up in a yarn ball, and shame was a cat, batting it around, turning it into a threadbare mess.
I’m not doing it! I won’t do it. Sinclair can’t make me. I’ll just say I did it…
She swallowed and walked back into the studio. She looked up and caught Xenia looking at her. Shianne marched over to her, ready to spill the beans, tell the woman everything Sinclair had been up to, but then…she realized she couldn’t. He’d destroy her and she’d never find work again. The more time passed, the more he seemed to come unhinged, like a man possessed, losing his mind. She now questioned everything he’d told her about Saint and Xenia. They didn’t seem like those types of people at all…and maybe, he’d brought their wrath on himself.
“Yes, Shianne? Did you want something?” Xenia asked deprecatingly, interrupting her scattered, tormented thoughts.
“Uh, no…just uh, watching.” Shianne backed away as she felt her iPhone vibrating against her hip. She found a spot away from listening ears and answered.
“Yes…”
“Did you take care of it yet?”
“Yes.”
Sinclair burst out laughing. “You lying bi—”
“Stop. Don’t call me by that name again!” Her voice shook.
“Then don’t act like one! You do what I tell your ass to do. This is your last assignment, then you’re free, okay? I won’t call you anymore; I won’t ask your ass for shit. Just remember though, Shianne, I made you! You’d still be shaking your ass for chump change if it weren’t for me. You’d still be only a C student in that rinky dink unaccredited college. Take care of this one last thing, and your car will be completely paid off as well as your rent for the rest of the year. You will also get a rather sizeable check, as we previously discussed. I will hold up my end of the bargain, you hold up yours.”
“Sinclair…what if…what if this doesn’t turn out right? I mean, yeah, I’ve done some shit, but this is—”
“It amazes me how suddenly you seem to have caught a care in the world. You were down, before. My ace. Now, you act like you are a nun or some shit. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. Take care of it, or I will take care of you…” He hung up.
Shianne looked over at Xenia who was now talking to two of the stage hands, a big, relaxed smile on her beautiful face. She envied the woman, wished that Xenia was her big sister, just as the woman pretended to be. She wished she had someone like her in her life, especially when she needed it most. In her mind, she apologized for what she was about to do. In her mind, she cursed the day she met Sinclair, but, she had bills to pay and this job was promised. She was a fighter, a product of the streets, and this was the code she lived by.
She walked back outside and looked around the parking lot.
I’m sorry, Xenia. I really am…
~***~
Xenia sat in her car and rubbed her forehead. It had been an exhausting day and after dodging Shianne most of the morning, she finally got close to her and picked her brain a bit. Nothing unusual came up; matter of fact, Shianne seemed a bit down in the dumps. Nevertheless, she hated when she doubted someone she really liked, but it came with the territory. Xenia knew about this affiliation. Sometimes you truly can take the person out the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto out of them. She was hoping to be a positive influence in the girl’s life, and the young woman was talented. She had a natural eye and was organized. If Saint was right, however, it would be squandered and though she believed her husband felt that most women wanted to jump his bones—his ego was truly that inflated—she couldn’t help but notice how she’d looked at Saint when they’d met. That was nothing but lust. She wanted to dismiss it, treat it as if the woman was possibly just star struck, but found it impossible.
She kept thinking about it over and over and Shianne’s reaction to Saint burned Xenia’s chaps. More importantly, the woman was not forthcoming. She’d been hiding personal information and with Xenia being the Queen of the Scoop, she could always tell when someone was holding back. She’d noticed that immediately about Shianne, figuring she just needed some time to warm up to her. But, it never changed. The girl stayed guarded every damned day, as if her life depended upon it. Hence, Xenia no longer felt comfortable with Shianne and she hated that it had come to this. Even if she hadn’t argued with Saint that late afternoon after he’d met her, this still would be taking place, right here, right now. He had to have known she was considering cutting the girl loose, and he went in for the kill, to ensure the line was severed for good. He was persuasive because this time, he was right.
She so desperately wanted him to be wrong, but she knew in her heart that something was amiss with Shianne and damn it! Such wasted potential! The thought broke Xenia’s heart and before something they both regretted happened, she’d have to arrange to have the young lady sent somewhere else. She’d never leave her without a job, and she truly did want the woman to be successful. She just realized it wouldn’t be under her wing. She couldn’t deal with someone she couldn’t trust. She racked her brain on how to tell Shianne the news.
I’ll just have to be straight with her. I’ll tell her she is great and will go far as long as she stayed on a positive track, but I think I need to work with someone who doesn’t make me feel this way. She makes my skin crawl. Oh hell, I need to go about this a different way…
She continued to drive and come up with various scenarios.
“Damn it!”
Xenia started her car and left the parking lot, thinking…thinking…thinking.
That’s it. I’m just going to have to lie. Shit. I hate that, but it’s for the best. I’ll say I think she is so good, that I want her promoted to another department for another show. I’ll even make sure I get all the paperwork taken care of this evening. Yeah, that will work. That way the poor girl won’t be out of a job; she won’t feel slighted and I won’t look stark raving mad. It’s just a hunch… The questions at lunch about my love life, her questioning me about Sinclair…it just felt awkward and weird. Yeah, this is for the best.
Just then, Xenia’s cell phone rang; she looked down at it and saw Shianne’s number come up. She rolled her eyes.
“No way. I’m not picking that damn phone up right now. She can leave a message…”
Xenia hit ignore and made her way to the highway, relieved that she had a resolution to a nebulous problem by the name of Shianne…
~***~
She’d watched Xenia drive off in her car, then made a mad dash back into the studio and hid inside a bathroom stall. Her insides knotted up and she couldn’t stop crying, despairing. “Oh my God.” She banged on the closed door, the fresh scent of Pinesol still swirling in the toilet from the morning cleaning crew.
After a long while, she slowly got out and stood at the vast burgundy and vanilla swirled marble counter, looking herself pitifully in the mirror. Black mascara smeared and running, she turned on cold water and soaked a paper towel then meticulously went over her face, removing all traces of her earlier breakdown built on a bridge of remorse.
She had no idea why she’d even called the woman. If Xenia answered, she wouldn’t have said a damn thing and she sure as hell wouldn’t be leaving a message.
“Look, it’s done.” She took a deep breath. “Just let it go, Shianne. You’re through with Sinclair. You’ll get your money, and this will all be over. You can get through this.” She exhaled and exited the bathroom, her chin held high, her heart closed off for she was no longer able to face the magnitude of her actions…
~***~
Xenia gripped the steering wheel of her car. She sighed with relief as traffic appeared lighter than usual. The show had gone well and they’d given all the audience members free iPads. It felt like Christmas in the studio. Grinning, she turned up the music from Saint’s iPod. She’d snuck it out of the house, needing a little mus
ic therapy while wrestling with her thoughts on what to do with her assistant. Evelyn Champagne King belted, “I’m In Love.” Xenia snapped her fingers, bobbing her head back and forth to the 1981 classic.
“And there ain’t no doubt about it, I’m in looooove!” she sang. “My baby has something on here besides rap music. He gets an A plus!” she teased, smiling as she approached her exit. Drawing closer, she stepped on the brakes and heard a screeching, grinding noise. The car barely slowed…
“What the?!” Xenia tried again, pressing as hard as she could, cars zooming a mere twenty feet away from her. “Oh my God!” she screamed out in horror when she spotted a small child in the back of the car she barreled toward. Her eyes watered as she made a split second decision, veering to the right to miss the traffic. Suddenly, she heard a loud crash, like metal splitting the Earth open with a razor blade tongue. She rolled and rolled, her mind a blur as if her life were a movie, passing before her at rapid speed. The car tumbled, turned and continued on its rocky, out-of-control path. She yelled as loudly as she could, a primal yell from the gut, one she hoped God himself heard loud and clear. Her tongue was thick with the taste of her blood pooling in her mouth as she clawed at the car roof, her metal prisoner and possibly her protector from whatever she was rolling toward and within.
“My babies!!!” she shrieked, her tears mixing with more blood and a burning sensation throughout her body, as if she were being stuck with red hot needles.
“My babies! My God! Please let me live for my babies!!!” she cried out.
Then, as if it were some horrific nightmare, everything went black—she could feel or see, and she drifted away, not knowing anything, or anyone, any longer…
~***~
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father Page 45
