“No problem, I remember stuff like that.”
“No.” Traci grinned. “Thank you for the talk. I needed it.”
“Any time. And we will talk a lot more about this stuff. Everything is going to be fine. You just wait and see.” Xenia winked at her and let her walk over to the small crowd. She looked down at Isis and ran her fingers through the silky waves of her daughter’s tresses. She’d parted her hair at the side and put in a little yellow bow to match her yellow and cream top with sage polka dots. There was nothing that could top dressing a little girl. Xenia had finally got her clone, and as she stared at that angel, she knew, one day, she’d be attending her own daughter’s wedding. Saint had threatened to not allow her to date until she was fifty. She smiled at the memory of his joke, even though a part of him wished it were true. One day, her children would have children of their own, and she could sit back and enjoy them as the blessings they truly were. She looked over her shoulder and saw Traci moving about, laughing and smiling with her girlfriends, and realized something. She’d been spending her time trying to mold Shianne into someone that the young woman thought she could never be. Shianne had self-esteem issues, and that encouraged Xenia to put the lady under her wing. But it had come back to bite her in the damn ass.
She’d had so much potential and the fact that she almost caused her death made Xenia never want to reach out and help another person again. She knew she couldn’t do that though. She enjoyed helping people, especially women. Traci was the woman who needed and wanted Xenia in her life. She was an only child like Saint. She’d had great parents and a nice, stable home, but she was a bit awkward, and needed people around her. Traci was the little sister Xenia never had. Sure, she had Porsche, but that wasn’t the same. Porsche was her twin and didn’t need Xenia’s mothering. Xenia needed other women around her, younger women who desired to grow and be better than they were yesterday.
Xenia looked back down at Isis. “What a pretty baby doll, honey! I’m glad you like it. Did you name her yet?”
“Yet?” Isis repeated, not quite understanding.
Xenia knelt down low. “What’s the baby’s name?” She pointed to the brown baby doll with short, curly dark brown hair.
“Traysheee.”
Xenia grinned. “Very nice. That’s a good name. I love it, Traci it is!” She kissed her daughter’s forehead and relished the moment in time…
~***~
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The screaming and wailing became louder and louder as she cloaked her ears with her moist palms. They’d taken her off the gurney and placed her back in her tiny, rectangular room, while her head swarmed with mind-altering drugs that left her jellied like a fish. She kept telling the psychiatrist about the men, and the voices that wouldn’t shut up. She didn’t understand why no one else saw them. It went on daily, never ceasing, driving her insane as she pointed to various corners of the room, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Do you see him?! He’s here!” But no one believed her…
Every day, she saw images of Lawrence and Jagger dancing about, their eyes glowing. Sometimes Jagger would turn into a shadow of himself, hovering in a corner, and staring at her. All she’d see were his light blue eyes, creepy eyes that blinked intermittently. She hated when the lights were off for the evening; that seemed to draw the demons out even further. Usually their eyes were red late at night. Everyone believed she’d lost her mind, but she knew she hadn’t, or maybe she had? They’d done something to her, left her with a calling card that would wreck her sanity like a hard bowling ball against tortured pins. She was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. She heard the doctor, heard him loud and clear when he gave her that sentence. It meant she was out of her damned mind and thought people were out to get her. It meant she trusted no one, and that she had other personalities living inside of her, taking over her life every day. None of that was true, but the fucking man wouldn’t listen.
Shianne cried most mornings and screamed most evenings while cooped up in the hospital. She barely ingested enough food to keep a child alive, let alone herself…and she was starting to lose her will to live. The men in her visions were all around, see-through versions of themselves, screaming at her—angry, seething, grinding their teeth. They laughed at her, too—her forever roommates, present like a horrible tape playing over and over, but they could respond to her, interact with her thoughts, and that was the horror of it. Whatever thought popped into her head, they’d laugh, or repeat it back.
When the big one with the tattoos had tied her down and the tan one with the long black hair arrived, the big one had pressed his big, heavy palm into her forehead and stared into her eyes. She’d tried to move, but was too terrified to do anything but breathe. Slowly but surely, she felt her thoughts changing, morphing. Parts of who she once was no longer existed, and a new woman had emerged. A woman who was overly sensitive, scared…petrified actually. She was haunted by fiends scolding her, threatening to touch her and make her listen to her own heartbeat in stereo. It had begun as soon as she took up residence in Australia. She’d gone there so Sinclair, Xenia, Saint, or anyone else couldn’t get to her—but she’d been wrong. She thought about them on a daily basis and knew she’d be forced to think about them for the rest of her life. Now, she couldn’t go anywhere. She’d been admitted into the damned place after being found incoherent in her hotel room. She told the police about the men following her, the ones with the red eyes, and this was where she ended up. She’d never get out, and if she did, it didn’t even matter. They’d only follow her.
During periods of lucidity, she did the one thing she remembered doing as a little girl: she prayed. She prayed that, if God was real, would He please make the screaming and vile acts stop? She surmised God was make believe, a figment of her imagination, just as the doctor said these men were.
Soon, the door opened and a nurse entered with a tray of medication. Hazy eyed, Shianne ran her fingers through her matted hair and didn’t bother to wipe the drool away from her lips.
“Hi Shianne. You know the routine, open up.”
She slowly opened her palm, then placed the two small yellow pills on her tongue and chased them with a tiny Dixie cup of water. The nurse checked her mouth then turned away.
“Will you be joining us for volleyball this afternoon, Shianne?”
Every day, she was asked the same shit, and she always refused. Every night she hoped she’d die in her sleep.
She shook her head and lay down on her cot bed, listening as the metal door was closed and locked and the nurse went to the next rooms. She stayed on her side, in a fetal position. The sun peered into the barred window at dawn, and at night, the room was pitch dark like the inside of a witch’s hat…and that was when they’d put on their greatest show and when she’d brainstorm a million and one ways to commit suicide hoping that one day, an attempt would finally work. A few weeks later, she found one that did…
~***~
“I, Traci Hudson, take you, Jagger, to be my lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, ’til death do us part.”
Jagger’s black tuxedo and white and black polka dot tie were rather startling to see. His hair was brushed back, exposing a fine hairline. He’d let it grow out a bit for the nuptials from his usual buzz cut. The man cleaned up well, Saint had to give it to him. He looked damn right dapper.
Saint and Lawrence were dressed like James Bond and stood beside Jagger’s two younger brothers who shared similar features as their big bro. The four of them stood close to Jagger, giving support. Lawrence was his best man, and seemed to be taking great pride in the entire ceremony. He had a damn smile displayed on his face that wouldn’t shift or crack. Lawrence was right in his element, loving every second of it. Saint was able to get periodic glimpses of Jagger. The man was just as goofy looking, actually more so, than Lawrence. He, too, couldn’t wipe the damned grin off his face. Saint peeped around to the other side, and caught Xenia crying like a blubbering child. His wife was so emotional about weddings and ne
w babies, and it warmed his heart. He had tried to stay cool, not let the sentimental nature of the shit weave its way into his heart. He remembered all too well what it felt like to be standing next to the woman he loved, vowing every damn thing before God. Someone had to keep their senses about them, so, he figured it may as well be him.
They couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day for a wedding. A sweet seventy-three degrees and a light breeze made the ceremony picturesque as everyone gathered around the couple at the Pickwick Gardens in Burbank, California. Just an hour prior, Saint had been watching the man getting dressed, a sense of urgency in his movements, as if the blushing bride may change her mind if things dragged out a wee bit too long. He had it bad for her and he’d pulled Saint aside, tears welling in his eyes, thanking him for introducing him to the woman of his wildest dreams.
Saint listened intently while they finished exchanging their vows and before long, the big man was putting a hurting on his new wife’s perfect ruby red lips as he clung to her waist tightly, bringing her small frame to his hulking body in a possessive and loving manner. The cheering drowned out everything else as Saint looked reflectively at the ground, so very happy for his brother’s new bliss. Lawrence and Saint grabbed him after things had settled, giving a big hug to him and Traci and congratulating them.
When they’d gathered under the large white tent for the reception, he caught a glimpse of the only person who’d objected to the union—a tiny guy by the name of Dakarai Aknaten. The little boy was withdrawn and aloof, his hands folded across his teeny chest, glossy bottom lip poked out and his little black suit pants hiked up as he sat on a chair that was far too big. Saint approached him and placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Son, there will be other women.” It took everything in him to not burst out laughing, but the little boy was so serious, and heartbroken. Dakarai didn’t respond. Not because the little guy didn’t want to, but he looked about ready to burst out crying, and he didn’t want to cry. Crying was for babies. Hassani danced about as everyone filtered inside, eating hors d'oeuvres and moseying about. He tried to cheer Dakarai up, too, but it was no use. Hassani shrugged his shoulders and made himself at home at the cheese, cracker and fruit station, loading up as if he’d never been fed a day in his life.
After a few moments, the new couple was announced and Saint, Xenia and Lawrence sat at the long table covered in light pink rose petals. They were pushed toward the back of the room, and in the middle of the seating area were the kissing newlyweds. They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of one another, and this pleased Saint, too.
Lawrence stood and tapped his fork against his glass to make a toast.
“Good evening, everyone. I want to just take a minute or two to say how happy I am for my best friend, Jagger, and his new bride, Traci. I’ve known Jagger since we were wild preteens running around in Colorado with scarves wrapped around our necks as we played flag football. We’ve been through just about everything together. He was my best man at my wedding to my beautiful wife, Donna.” He pointed out into the crowd. Donna sat back in her seat, her stomach about to burst at the seams and a smile on her face as she politely waved and smiled.
“This woman right here, I know is perfect for my friend.” Lawrence looked thoughtfully at Traci.
She in turn bowed her head and looked down at her plate shyly, causing the small teardrop ornament at the center of her forehead to pivot and catch the light of the nearby candles.
“Traci is sweet…she is kind,” Lawrence said seriously, his gaze on her. “She is just what Jagger needs. He smiles a heck of a lot more now, and I’m thankful for her being in his life. She is a welcome addition to all of our lives, to our family. All of us here are quite close and this step you made has brought us that much closer. Traci, I consider you my sister now and so does Donna. Please consider us your family, because we love you just that much.”
Jagger gulped, no doubt pushing down a swarm of gushy emotions while Traci nodded appreciatively and wrapped her thin arm around her husband’s.
“We look forward to getting to know you even more. Jagger, I know you already know this, but I’ll say it anyway: I’m so happy for you.” Lawrence’s voice vibrated and the room got real quiet. “You make sure you treat this woman right, and you will be blessed beyond measure. Cheers to the new couple!” Everyone clapped and lifted their glasses, clinking them together and laughing.
After a few moments, Saint stood, thumbing his fingertips against the table, deliberating over what to say. He cleared his throat and looked around, holding his half empty champagne flute in his hand, the bubbles still discoing in the delicate crystal.
“I want to make a toast.” He lightly tapped his glass to get people’s attention. Xenia immediately zoomed her attention on him, placing her small silver clutch purse on the table.
“I want to second Lawrence’s statements regarding congratulations, first and foremost. This day may not have happened, but love prevailed, and we are here. As the song goes, ‘Started from the bottom, now we’re here!’” This evoked a few chuckles. Saint swallowed, trying to not dive into a pool of emotionalism, but it was hard. He couldn’t think about Jagger and Traci without thinking of his and Xenia’s wedding day as well. He’d run from the feeling all day, but he was losing the battle.
…Everything that all four of them endured, just to make it…
“Jagger,” he said, looking down at the man. “I am so grateful that Lawrence brought you into my life. You have been a great friend, a wonderful brother, a hard working employee, a confidant, someone I can trust with my very life.” He paused. “You are a big man with an even bigger heart, and you deserve what you are feeling right now, the joy you have. You both deserve this.” He looked at Traci.
“Traci, when I first met you, you were—”
“Making a mess! I bumped into you, got soda all over the place and flirted with you,” she said, causing people to laugh.
Jagger smirked.
“Yes, when you bumped into me and I saw how pretty you were but better yet, spoke to you and got a glimpse of the type of person you were, I knew I had to try to get you two together. It takes a special type of woman to be with Jagger.”
This caused a rolling of laughter that Saint didn’t expect.
“No.” He put his hand up, smiling with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it like that, but…he is a man from the past. What I mean by that is, he has hard-wired moral fiber. He is straight laced and treats a woman like a woman. He opens car doors and things of that nature, stuff we don’t see too often anymore and it is unfortunate, because that’s how a woman is supposed to be treated.”
Many people nodded in agreement.
“So, knowing Jagger the way that I do, I knew he needed a woman who would also appreciate that, and who would be delicate with his heart. The man has been through some stuff, and that’s all I need to say about that, but the fact that he was able to trust again, and trust the right person, says so much. Traci, you already know Xenia is crazy about you; I am, too.”
Traci grinned and clutched Jagger’s arm a bit tighter.
“She is already picking out your future children’s baby names and you better accept them if you know what’s good for you.”
The newlyweds and the crowd roared while Xenia elbowed him in the hip, a faux look of anger on her face that soon turned into a huge grin.
“But seriously…” He paused briefly. “There is so much you two have to look forward to, and I just wanna ride shotgun and take it all in. As Lawrence said, we are all sisters and brothers now. What affects you affects Xenia and me and vice versa. Call us day or night, about anything, because we’re family now. Jagger, unlike Lawrence and Traci, you and I share a family situation in common. You see that man?” Saint pointed out in the crowd toward his father and his girlfriend. Osaze smiled and waved.
“He’s your father now, too, okay?”
Jagger’s eyes immediately glossed over as he nodded in understanding.
His father wasn’t there, and he didn’t want him to attend, but his mother and brothers arrived looking stellar, and that was all he could’ve asked for.
“My father wants to be in your life, so not only do you have me and Lawrence as your brothers, Xenia and Donna as your sisters, you also have Osaze in your corner.”
Xenia wiped a tear from her eye.
“I want you two to have a wonderful life together and in my heart, I know that you will. This is the most important day of your lives because it marks a brand new chapter filled with love and trust. Traci, this man will tear the world up to be with you, and I know his heart is in good hands.”
She, too, wiped a tear away and nodded.
“Now, without further ado, let’s toast…oh, and Lawrence, I plan on getting messed up tonight so are you the—”
“The designated driver?!” Jagger and Lawrence said simultaneously, causing everyone to burst out laughing and clap. Even if they didn’t understand the inside joke, the way it was orchestrated and timed tickled the funny bone of those in attendance.
Lawrence got to his feet again, and the three men clinked their glasses together and laughed.
Saint snatched his mic off, pulled Jagger closer to him and whispered in his ear, “I’m so proud of you, man. Today is your first step into our world. Marriage is a ride. Buckle up and enjoy yourself. Welcome to the club, man.”
Jagger gripped him and gave him a huge hug, causing a storm of applause at the sight of their strong embrace…
~***~
The Disc Jockey stood behind his turntables amongst a sea of black and red wires. The laptop computer before him flashed in green and white, reflecting on his black slacks. He grabbed his microphone, and the suave voice that came out of the short man forced Saint into observation. He announced the newlyweds and everyone clapped, expecting the customary dance between Traci and Jagger, then Traci and her father—a proud man with cheeks fit for a cherub. However, Traci surprised everyone when she waltzed to the music booth. She whispered something to the DJ, and he made an announcement.
Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father Page 81
