Once he spotted his bag, he grabbed it, waved Xenia over and they went out the airport doors, piling in two cabs behind one another. Xenia stayed in one with the children, and Jagger and Saint took the other. The two vehicles rallied right behind one another most of the way in the busy rush hour traffic. On the way, Jagger filled him in on details from work that he’d missed while he was away. It was agreed upon that as soon as they set foot back in L.A., Jagger and Lawrence would get to the bottom of the IRS situation and once Saint was fully recovered from the healing over his father, he would join in and they’d take care of business. He was at his wit’s end, tired of being fucked with, however, he did notice that ever since Krishna had gotten a hold of him, he maintained a new sense of peace.
Minutes later, both cabs pulled up to the Waldolf Astoria, in Queens. Saint paid the drivers handsomely while the cabbies helped with their luggage and the well-dressed bellhops came out to greet them, smiles on their faces.
“Daddy!” Dakarai grabbed his father’s hand as one of the cabbies helped load bags onto the carrier.
“What baby?” He let it slip again. Like Hassani, Dakarai had taken a shining to not being called ‘baby’ anymore. This time though, Dakarai let it go…because he wanted something no doubt.
“Can I get my ear pierced?” He pointed to a tall, dark-skinned man, dressed to kill, getting in a bright gold Lexus behind them. The smooth cat gave a friendly wave and nod to Saint, his left ear glowing with a diamond stud.
“Like that cat over there?”
“He ain’t a cat, daddy. Dat’s a man!”
Saint burst out laughing and waited for the cabbie to close the trunk of the car before sliding him an extra tip for moving so fast yet not risking their lives.
“I’m so tired of you and Hassani saying ‘ain’t’ all the time. Is that what all the kids say or something? Anyway…we call each other cats around here, it’s just a figure of speech. Didn’t you just beg your Mama and me for that grown man haircut? You look like you are supposed to be with the NFL. You don’t need an earring, too,” Saint teased as they made their way inside the hotel.
“But Corey next door gotta earring and he only five!” Dakarai put up five fingers, in case his father wasn’t sure what that number was.
Saint smirked and checked everyone in. Jagger lingered behind. Saint could feel his friend’s eyes on him, studying him, studying his family, especially Dakarai—the deaf mute and sneaky family clown.
“Mr. Aknaten, here are two keys for each room. Please enjoy your stay at the Waldolf Astoria.”
“Thank you.” He looked back at Xenia who was busy wiping something off of Isis’ cheek. Hassani stood beside her, still distressed and wearing a tight frown as if he were getting paid for it.
“Boy, get over here!” Saint roared as he pointed to the floor in front of him. His brows dipped when Hassani poked out his lips even further and clomped over, as if he were in charge of stomping mudholes in the damned place. “If you don’t lose that attitude, I will personally get rid of it for you. No one is in the mood for this shit.” The word simply fell out. He was good about not cursing in front of the kids, but with all that was going on, all the trouble and pain they’d endured as a family, he was tired.
“I know that spanking didn’t do any good. I tried to tell your mother that that just doesn’t work on some kids and since you are exactly like me at your age, I figured it wouldn’t do much but make you really show out. Now look,” he said, his voice softened as he took his son by the arms and looked into his eyes, the same eyes as his mother’s. “Grandpa needs me, you understand? You all had to come because Mommy has been through a lot, and I needed her with me while I take care of some things. You say you’re a big boy, then act like one. Stop pouting. Your little girlfriend will still be there when we get back home.” Saint winked at him and cracked a smile.
Hassani gasped and shot an angry glare at Dakarai.
“I ain’t say nuttin’!” Dakarai declared, his mouth full of pink bubblegum that Jagger had given him while Hassani was being reprimanded.
“He didn’t say one word to me, Hassani. I know what’s going on with you because I know my boy.” He ran his fingers playfully through Hassani’s hair. “You need a haircut, too. Maybe I can take you to a place I used to go to when I was a teenager out here. I wonder if it’s still open…” Hassani smiled up at his father, pushing his head further into his palm. Saint bent down, kissed his forehead and waved toward Xenia as they headed for the elevator doors. Soon they reached their floor. Jagger’s room was two doors down from theirs.
“Man, get settled. Meet up in an hour to go to my Pop’s house for dinner, and then tomorrow, we do it.”
Jagger nodded. “You got it, boss,” he said before walking into his room and closing the door behind him.
“Xenia, this suite has three bedrooms,” Saint explained as he unlocked it. The boys bustled past like wild stallions as soon as the door swung open.
“Oh, this is nice, Saint.” She looked around, holding their sleepy daughter’s head against her shoulder.
“Boys! You two share a room, right there!” He pointed down a short hall. “Isis gets her own room since she is a light sleeper, and then Mommy and I will be over here.” He pointed to an area with two closed double doors. In the center was a huge living room area with a nice sized television, tables, a big burgundy art deco couch and a window from which to see the city. Also in the room was a reasonably sized kitchen area with a stove, microwave and stainless steel scale-sized refrigerator, as well as a family dining table.
The boys laughed, played and chased one another as they checked out their new digs.
“Settle down, please,” Xenia said wearily as she moved past Saint and made her way to the cattycorner bedroom that Isis would reside in. “I need to change her diaper.”
Meanwhile, Saint checked out their bedroom suite. He opened the doors and smiled, quite pleased with what he saw. A bronze table, Empirical style with an elegant bowl of butterscotch candies, two fluted wine glasses and a silver tin filled with ice greeted him. He didn’t miss the dark wine bottle sticking out of it, and couldn’t wait to wrap his lips around it. The bed was navy and gold, a California King, and the entire room looked bright and regal. The light fixture reminded him of a vast, upside down crystal punchbowl glued to the wall, covered in white Christmas lights. He loved the mixture of classic and modern pieces. Exhaling, he stood by the ceiling to floor window and parted the thick cream curtains. They made a snapping noise as he pushed them aside. Standing there with his hand on his hip, he took it all in. His emotions flooded—things from the past, things he relished and missed, everything was there, within arm’s reach. He ate up the scene, the beautiful New York City skyline that never failed to take his breath away. He had no idea how homesick he’d been until his feet hit the concrete jungle he’d been born and bred in. Los Angeles seemed to be slowly killing him, bit by tiny bit, and this realization sunk in right then and there. He knew, when the time came for him to leave this Earth, he wanted to die and be buried in New York…
It felt so damn good to be home again—the emotions inside him equaled the power of an orgasm. How can one miss smog, slick street performers and corner card game hustlers, the stench of three-day-old urine and street meat intertwining…this much? He even missed seeing the blocks and blocks of tall buildings that promised to gulp you in one single swallow and vomit out a brand new man that could take the heat, the street and walk the beat like he had no worries to keep. New York had a special magic, a dark and lovely vibe. A city swimming in stinking pools filled with survival, it baptized and gave birth to some of the most talented and cunning individuals to grace the planet. The damn place sparkled, even though at times it was so filthy, it seemed it could never get clean.
He felt her fingertips lightly graze his shirt collar and caress his shoulder. Catching her hand, he turned to Xenia and gathered her in his embrace, buried his face in the sweet-smelling junction of her neck
and shoulder. She trailed her hands through his tresses, her fingers running through them like happy nomads. He closed his eyes and kissed her collarbone and in the near distance, could hear his children running amock.
“Isis! Look!” Dakarai screamed out, causing the little girl to burst out in an orchestra of high-pitched giggles.
“Hotel security is going to be up here…” Saint teased in a muffled voice, wishing that the woman would never let him go. “I want a paternity test. Kids that bad couldn’t possibly be mine. Ahhh!” He screamed out and laughed after receiving a hard swat on the back. “I love you so much, baby.” He ran his hands down her back.
She remained silent, just hugging him, caressing him, swaying with him, cradling him just as she did his baby girl. He fell under her trance.
Damn…she knows just what I need.
He wrapped his arms tighter around her, brushed his lips against her neck.
“Why don’t you take a quick nap, then freshen up? I’ll close the doors, and you can just stay in here and sleep before we go out tonight, okay?” She moved away from him, forcing him to stand erect and look her in her eyes. His eyes felt heavy. She was right. He was so damn tired.
“Are you sure?” he asked as he stared dreamily at the perfectly made bed.
“Yes. You’re tired. I can see it in your face. You’ve got a really busy day tomorrow so you need your sleep. Go on.” She patted his butt as he walked past. Saint walked to the bed and fell belly first onto it, his arms and legs outstretched like the Vitruvian man. As he lay there, she shoved him over onto his back. He felt a tug on his pants, then his shoes and socks. He gripped the sheets as flashes of Payton undressing him before forcing his cock in her mouth flooded his mind.
Get out of my head!
He turned away, taking a fistful of sheet with him. He bit down into the pillow as she finished and he soon heard the door close and lock. That bitch had entered his mind once again. The simplest of actions—an act of love by his wife—brought the nightmare back to the forefront. The violation, and the overwhelming hatred he had for the woman, as well as himself, for helping her become the monster that she was. It bothered him on so many levels that she was moving inside of his psyche when he’d been so diligent about erasing records of her. He wanted to get to the bottom of why the succubus was interrupting his regularly scheduled programming but that would have to wait until later. Now, he needed rest. Relaxing, he fell into a deep sleep…
~***~
“Come on in!” Osaze opened his door wide, stepping aside to allow Jagger, Xenia, the children and Saint to enter. Saint’s eyes narrowed; something caused his nose to twitch. He knew his father could cook, but this smell was much different—a familiar smell from his childhood. He stepped further inside and spotted the back of a short woman with an apron tied around her petite waist. She moved around, her tiny feet encased in shiny black slipper shoes.
The sneaky son of a bitch. Hasn’t said one damn word about her to me! I know she isn’t a housekeeper and I know she isn’t a personal cook.
Saint tried everything he could to keep from snatching his father away, dragging the man outside and giving it to him, but he was too overjoyed to mess with his old man right then. His father had an unmistakable twinkle in his eye he could only attribute to the lady who was presently working away in the kitchen. The room was filled from edge to edge with large white platters, black plates and bowls spilling over with customary Korean dishes. Chicken Bulgogi, cabbage and radish Kimchee, Beebimbap and Samgyetang. She’d even made May Un Tang, a delectable fish stew. Fish heads floated about, bobbing up and down in the broth, eyes dead and glassy. Saint knew that as soon as his boys got a gander at it, they’d act dramatically repulsed. The aromas transported him back to good times in the Bronx when his mother would cook up delicious banquets with a little of nothing. She’d create just the right this and that, ingredients that made the food pop and transform into examples of culinary excellence.
“Hi Grandpa!” Hassani barreled toward the man.
“Ohhhhh!” Laughing, Osaze picked up the seven-year-old in his arms. “So great to see you, little one! You all have gotten so big!” He gave the boy a big kiss. Hassani wrapped his hands around his grandfather’s neck. Osaze shifted his attention to Dakarai, who was acting unusually shy. The little boy surveyed the room, his eyes landing on various artifacts, books, artwork, furniture and knick-knacks in the small confines.
“Hi, Dad.” Xenia released Saint’s hand and hugged him. Isis withdrew into her mother, gripping her tighter and muttering her apprehension. She first looked her grandfather up and down from the corner of her golden eye, then softened, smiling shyly. Dakarai tiptoed to the shrine of his deceased grandmother. Everyone grew quiet and watched him, even the stranger who’d cooked all the food.
The boy tilted his head, while the lit incense by the photos and jewelry swayed. He placed his tiny finger on the photograph, the black and white one of Ming Jae that was dusted every morning and kissed by his grandfather. He looked over his shoulder at Saint and said, “Daddy, I know her. She was in Hassani’s dream. He showed me.”
A knot formed in Saint’s throat, one the size of a tennis ball, and it wouldn’t go down no matter how much he swallowed. He looked at the stranger, hesitating to say anything in front of mixed company, although of one thing he was certain: his father was smitten. She didn’t smell like them. She smelled like Xenia, a commoner. Besides, they’d only just walked through the door.
“Uh, Dakarai, why don’t we say hello to everyone and we can talk about it later, okay?” Saint took the little boy by the hand and walked him away from his mother’s memorial but the little boy kept looking over his shoulder, glancing back at the image.
“Saint.” Osaze smiled nervously and took the hand of the woman. “This is Kyung Mi. She is a friend of mine.”
Saint grinned mischievously. He extended his hand and couldn’t wait to get a sample of what she was made of. As soon as their palms connected, he felt a psychic jolt. A beautiful bolt of electricity that made him feel warm and serene. His father was staring holes in him, studying him. Saint grinned even wider, if that were possible.
Oh yes…this lady right here is a keeper…
~***~
“It don’t look good, but it tastes good,” Hassani declared as they piled up around the kitchen table. His father had brought in extra chairs in the tiny room and Isis sat on Xenia’s lap, tasting all sorts of things that either made her delighted or ball her face up as if a bitter lemon wedge had been placed on her tongue. Saint’s heart soared at the energetic conversation and precious family time full of good cheer. Each moment was a memory built.
The oddest thing happened: his father kept sharing jokes. Saint could count on one hand how many times his father had smiled when he was a child, let alone told a joke. Not only that, he watched the man placing plates and bowls around, a permanent grin on his face as he encouraged everyone to eat up. That was an easy request. Everybody ate like this was their last meal. Saint attacked a tiny chicken wing, noisily licked his fingers and placed the bone on the side of his plate while Dakarai peered down at his frothy soup in disgust.
“So, how did you and—”
“You gone eat dat, Daddy?” Dakarai poked at the bobbing fish head with his tiny finger.
“I might.” Saint grinned.
“Ugh! You ate a fish head before, Daddy?” Hassani piped in, his mouth full of cabbage.
“Yes. It wasn’t that bad.” He and everyone else laughed as Hassani pretend to choke himself and pass out.
“This is all so delicious.” Saint looked at the woman, who lowered her head and smiled graciously. Xenia, Saint and Jagger clapped. “Seriously, you are a terrific cook, Ms. Kyung Mi.”
“Thank you, Saint.”
He loved her accent.
“Pops, I was getting ready to ask you…” Saint took his napkin from his lap and dabbed at the sides of his mouth. “Where did you and the lovely Ms. Kyung Mi, meet?”
<
br /> “Mmmm.” His father wiped his mouth and took a sip of water, smiling. “I was studying at the library, and she is a librarian there.”
“The one down there in Jackson Heights?” Saint asked as he swirled his spoon around in the broth.
“Yes. That’s the one.”
“You know my father is sweet on you, right?” Saint teased, causing his old man to blush and Kyung Mi, too.
“I hope so.” She grinned. “I like your father very much.”
“You talk funny, too, but different than Daddy,” Hassani interjected.
“Hassani!” Xenia snapped, giving him the ‘mother’s eye’ of warning.
“No, it’s okay!” Kyung Mi laughed. “I’ve lived here a long time but can’t shake it. I try.” She shrugged.
“You don’t have to change a darn thing. Besides, my father likes it…thinks it’s sexy.”
Saint winced when Osaze’s jabbed him hard in the side with his elbow. The old man was still strong.
Osaze then put his hand over his daughter-in-law’s, concern in his eyes. “Xenia, I am so glad you are okay. I was very worried about you. I prayed for you. That was a terrible car accident and I am so pleased you are fine now and are here with us tonight.” His voice shook a little. Saint smiled sadly as he looked down at the table. His father really loved Xenia. He’d known that from the moment the two met.
Xenia gripped his hand tighter and nodded in agreement. “I’m so blessed, Dad. I’m thankful to be here, and thankful to have such a great husband and family.” She turned to Saint and winked. A few moments of basic banter passed until Kyung Mi stood and said, “Who is ready for dessert?”
“Is it fish head pie or somethin’?” Hassani asked, worry in his voice, his expression grave.
Saint and Jagger burst out laughing.
“No.” the woman peeled back a pan covered in aluminum foil, exposing a delicacy fit for a sweet-toothed King. “It’s layered banana pudding and wafer cookies,” Kyung Mi offered with a sweet smile.
Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father Page 51
