She held the remote and flipped from channel to channel, hoping to find something entertaining yet lighthearted. Nothing was on, so she resolved on the evening news. She picked up her glass of water and took a tiny sip, glanced at the baby monitor to check on Isis who was fast asleep, then shifted her attention back to the tube.
The newscasters chatted and delivered gruesome details of homicides and armed robberies and then, she heard something that made her ears perk up.
“A missing person’s report has been filed for the disappearance of a well known music producer and videographer here in the San Diego area, Sinclair Grayson. His brother, Nieson Grayson, reported his brother missing after several unreturned calls and the police entering Mr. Grayson’s premises. No foul play appeared to be discovered at the scene, however, Mr. Grayson’s car is also missing. If anyone knows the whereabouts of Sinclair Grayson, please call the Riverside Police…”
Xenia sat there, clutching the remote, her jaw tight. She looked over at her sleeping husband, then back at the television. They’d gone on to another story, as if they’d only reported a missing hen from a chicken coop. Her mouth felt dry and her brain rattled with questions. She narrowed her sights on the back of Saint’s head.
I know you had something to do with this…
She’d warned Traci to not step in areas she really didn’t want the answers to, and now here she was, tiptoeing in the garden of madness, sure to stir up some real funky shit. Saint hadn’t said one damn word. He’d played it cool. Xenia knew he was going to get that man, especially after the car accident; she simply didn’t want Saint going to prison on account of a chump like Sinclair. She was so grateful that Lawrence had talked him down on several occasions, such as stopping him at the hospital from—as Saint said—‘Popping a slug in that mothafucka’s head.’ However, it appeared that Saint’s need for revenge had won. She reached out slowly and touched his shoulder. He squirmed a bit, then turned and faced her.
“Yeah, baby?” he asked in a husky voice, his eyes still closed as he rested his head on his hands.
“A story was on the news…”
“Mmmm hmmm...”
“It was about Sinclair being missing.”
“Mmmm hmmmm….”
“You know anything about that?”
“Yup.” He yawned and nonchalantly turned away.
Xenia knew it was wrong. She knew now without a shadow of a doubt that she was just as sick as her husband for relishing in the truth of the matter. An uncontrollable smirk cracked clean across her face like a sledgehammer against concrete. She grabbed the remote and turned off the television, the bedroom now shrouded in black. After a few moments of hearing her own heartbeat racing, she felt his arms around her, and his minty breath close to her ear. She ran her hand lightly against the soft, downy hairs of his arm as he pulled her to him, and no matter how she tried to shake, rattle and roll it, that damn smirk just wouldn’t disappear…
But Sinclair sure had…
~***~
The entire house was packed with people, from neighbors to the Rainbeau Knights and extended family. Over half of the people in attendance had no idea what the big celebration was about, and most didn’t care. A party was going on, and that was all that mattered. The rare occasion of the children being up late was thoroughly enjoyed. Their typical nine o’clock bedtime sailed past like a boat, and eleven o’clock knocked on the axiomatic door. The children were so amped up from the loud music, boisterous laughter and fun and games, they’d fight sleep as if it were enemy number one. Hassani and Dakarai raced around with their friends, being told to settle down to no avail. The aroma of the baked chicken, candied yams, assorted pasta salads, grilled asparagus and other delicacies set the pallet on fire. Saint gripped the scrawny neck of a pineapple wine cooler. The owner of the beverage had disappeared and he knew exactly where to find the little honey.
Xenia sat right next to Donna, plugging away, grilling her with questions. Donna was five days overdue and would be induced if the baby didn’t come soon. Xenia pleaded and begged for information, and to be notified at the first contraction, causing Donna to laugh and ignore her swollen ankles for a moment or two. Saint approached the women and handed his wife her beverage while she sat on the arm of the couch, peering down into Donna’s eyes and talking over the noise.
“Thank you, baby.” Xenia took a sip from the bottle and continued on her inquisition. Saint studied the room, zooming in on Jagger and Traci who sat in a far corner, sucking each other’s faces clean off. They’d had their honeymoon in the Bahamas and Jagger returned three shades darker and with a permanent smile on his face. He looked good and he was living the dream.
Ahhh, newlyweds…
Saint smirked.
Lawrence stood amongst a group of Rainbeaus discussing Jimmy Carter’s handling of the Panama Canal being reinstated back to Panama. Saint smiled and shook his head. Only Lawrence could make such a rather mundane historical event entertaining and lively. He moved through the thick crowd, spotting Mama Pam with a bright red number on. It dazzled and she’d paired the ensemble with a glittery crimson hat. She made sure she was the life of the party and her loud, witch-like cackle was more amusing than anything she could possibly be saying. Well…maybe not.
Osaze stood with a stoic expression, his arm wrapped snugly around Kyung Mi’s waist. He looked dapper in his dark green shirt and black slacks. His father had impressed him by actually purchasing a new outfit. It was from Walmart, but that was beside the point. He still looked great and the engagement ring on Kyung Mi’s finger wasn’t too shabby, either.
Saint stepped outside only to discover Raphael shooting hoops with a bunch of Rainbeaus, along with Roman, the police officer who’d come by to share the good news. Saint marched up to him and extended his hand.
“I’m so glad you could come, Roman.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” the man said cheerfully.
“Make sure before you leave, you introduce me to your wife and daughter, okay?” Saint grinned at him, watching the man’s eyes sparkle. He looked a bit different out in his regular clothing, but the same kindness was on his face.
“I sure will. They’re having a great time. Thanks for inviting us.”
Saint nodded and made his way back inside. He looked at his watch and realized he wanted to check on Isis, make sure she hadn’t woken from all the ruckus. He sprinted up the steps and reached for her knob, turning it slowly before creeping inside. He closed the door quietly behind himself,then moved cautiously to her crib, practically tiptoeing in his Nike shoes. Gripping the walnut railing, he stared down at the sweet child. He cocked his head to the side, and his smile grew.
She’s so peaceful. So perfect.
He couldn’t help himself. He reached inside and gently swept a wayward loose curl out of her face. Her eyes fluttered and before long, she was staring up at him. Once it seemed to register in her mind that Daddy was there, she sprung alert and sat up, babbling and talking almost immediately. Saint reached inside the crib and picked her up, held her close to his chest.
“Hi, baby,” he whispered. “Did Daddy wake you? I’m sorry.” He kissed her forehead as he bounced her about in his arms, taking tiny steps around her room. Her eyelids drooped a bit as she fought the desire to fall asleep once again.
“Let me help you get back to sleep…hmmm…” He raced his mind for new ideas. “Daddy doesn’t have as good a singing voice as Mommy. You’d beg me to stop as soon as I got the first lyric out.” He grinned. “Oh, I know. You want something to drink, baby? Are you thirsty?”
Her pink bow shaped lips arched upward in a syrupy sweet smile.
“Okay, Daddy will be right back.” He placed her back in the crib, causing a brouhaha of tears and protest. “Isis, I’m coming right back, sugar,” he soothed, but she kept right on. He exited the room and high-tailed it down the steps. In typical fashion, people called his name and pulled his shirt, slowing his descent. He didn’t want to be rude, so he’d sto
p and offer a few forced laughs when all he could do was think about getting to that refrigerator to pour his baby a cold drink in her favorite sippy cup. He arrived in the kitchen five minutes later and quickly grabbed the organic strawberry juice from the back of the shelf. Caterers drifted past, dressed in their white smocks with flat buttons, serious faces and carrying trays of small sandwiches and fancy devilled eggs. An outburst of applause burst as a magician stood in the middle of the backyard, performing his varied tricks under a spotlight. It was a night to remember, but Saint was missing key portions of it for a date he had with a lovely almost two-year-old…
He made his way back to her, and there she sat, her eyes soaked in tears and her cheeks moist. She hopped up, gripping the sides of her crib as he approached. Her nightlight was a mellow yellow, making her look soft around her outline. Taking her into his arms, he cradled her close and offered the semi-sweet concoction. She immediately grabbed it with tiny fists and placed the cup to her mouth. Her gulping was loud and obnoxious, and Saint found it absolutely adorable. Then, suddenly, she stopped. A rascally grin creased her face as she looked up at him with those big, golden eyes.
“What is it, baby?”
Isis shook the cup vigorously.
“No, no, honey,” Saint said calmly, gripping it. “Don’t spill it.”
She did it again, determined to cast the thing on its side then completely upside down. Saint grabbed it, then stopped. He realized in that moment, she was trying to communicate. Suddenly, the room glowed with plasanta, catching the fallen red juice drops and rotating them around like gel. It was the best magic show in the entire house. Saint laughed as he watched her control their movements with the help of the pink crystallized haze. As it continued, he had an idea.
He dropped down to his knees with her, and the red droplets followed. Cradling her to his chest with one hand, he took his other and began to swirl the juice around midair, creating pictures.
“I’m no artist, but I’ll do my best.”
First, he drew a picture of a teddy bear, causing Isis to laugh giddily.
“Beeeeeaaaaar!” she shouted, full of excitement.
“That’s right!” Saint grinned.
Next, he created the face of a cat.
“Kitty, Dada!” She pointed at it, stretching on her tippy toes.
“Good job, Isis, you got it!”
Finally, he drew the outline of a huge heart. It glistened and shined, vibrant, flowing in its form. He commanded it to ‘stay’ as he removed his finger from the design, and took her tiny hand in his. Together, they traced it until she turned her tiny face to him and said in almost a whisper, “Heart. DaDa. Heart.”
He looked at her for a long while and kissed the top of her head. “That’s right baby, you are DaDa’s heart and don’t you ever forget it.”
He sat there and held her while she looked at it in amazement. He drifted in thought.
Xenia and my children are my heart, all right. Tonight everyone is gathered here celebrating. Only a few know what this party is really about, and that’s okay. This party is about rejuvenation, restoration and revival. It’s about survival, of not necessarily the fittest, but the chosen through perseverance and determination. It is amazing how one or two people can get a hold of your life and shake it so hard, the damn filling falls out. I could concentrate on everything horrible that happened, but I’d rather focus on the positives right at this moment. Jagger met the love of his life. He was afraid, but with encouragement, he got past that and is now the happiest bastard I’ve ever seen. He is married to that woman, and I believe they will be together for the rest of their lives. My father, a man closed off to love as well, allowed a sweet little Korean librarian into his life and I know Mama is proud and happy for him. It was time and I don’t want him to hurt anymore. I want the loneliness to stop, and I’m thankful that it finally did. Xenia got the vocational opportunity of a lifetime. Unfortunately, it came at a hefty cost. Now, she tells me she will not be renewing her contract once it expires.
The whole experience left a bitter taste in her mouth and she was much happier with radio. I’m trying to talk her out of it, but I don’t think I’m winning. Regardless, right now, she is happy and that’s all that really matters to me.
Then there’s the rather peculiar letter from Payton… Though carefully crafted, the letter had slithers of truth and sincerity. I don’t know what’s going to happen with Payton, but I do sincerely wish her some peace, whether she receives it in this lifetime or another, I have no idea and don’t care to exert the energy to find out.
My big brother, Bomb, has lived most of his life as a refugee of the streets. His heart is hard, and his head harder, and he had the biggest fight of his life on his hands. I didn’t do the work, he did it, and I’m so proud of him. I know it won’t be easy, that his sobriety is no magic pill, but it’s a start. He deserves this. He needs a place to call his own, inside of his mind, and out. It’s time for him to get to know himself and actually like that person again.
Dakarai and Hassani are growing so fast both physically and psychically. It is amazing to watch them. I love seeing them interact, even if half the time, it is due to quarrels. That’s just normal sibling rivalry. I know in my heart, they will always be close and Hassani is the type of boy who won’t let anyone hurt his brother and sister. Despite his tough act, he has a soft spot for both of them, and he won’t stand for anyone trying to hurt them.
I believe Donna will be having her baby soon, in the next sixteen hours, to be exact. She won’t need to be induced; he is on his way. Yes, a boy. They didn’t want to know the sex, but I know and Xenia seems even more excited than they are. That baby boy will be showered with so much love and affection, calling him spoiled would be an understatement. I’m so happy for them. Lawrence will get a ‘father of the year award’, for the rest of his life.
Raphael is moving back to Brooklyn. He says the trees are pretty, and the front lawns big upstate, but that’s not where his heart is, and Latrice and the children agree. There is just something about being in the heart of it all, getting back to your roots. They found a gorgeous brownstone and had it updated. I can’t wait to visit when it’s all done. One day, I hope it will not be just a visit, I hope I’ll be there for good. L.A. for the most part has been good to me, but it’s not home. Xenia has known for a while—though I tried to deny it—that I feel like a square peg in a round slot here. My heart is on the East coast. I don’t know when or how, but one day, I and my family are going back. We are going back, and that’s the place where I am determined to take my last breath. My father is getting up in age and the Rainbeau Knights can be in more than one location. L.A. was James’ spot; I think I need to find my own. I’ll see, nothing is written in stone, but what I do know is that any place is hell on Earth without my family.
He looked down and felt Isis get heavier in his arms. Her eyes closed, her dark, thick lashes danced across the tops of her plump cheeks. Carefully, he picked her up and gently laid her back down in the crib, placing her head on the soft, salmon colored pillow. The door cracked open revealing Xenia’s silhouette. She closed it behind her and made her trek over to him, her hugging lavender dress flowing around her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder.
“I figured you were in here when I couldn’t find you downstairs,” she whispered. “How are you doing?”
“I’m great, baby. Better than great.” He looked into her eyes, tilted her chin upward as he studied her intensely. Without wasting another second, his lips met hers, and he kept them there, his breathing steady and slow, as he meditated on the moment. Their breathing soon was in tune, feeding one another life. He took her hand and led her to the door to rejoin the party. Then he paused. He put his finger up to her to wait and he made a dash toward the crib. He looked down at the slumbering baby, reached in and kissed her cheek.
“Goodnight, Isis. Daddy loves you. Sweet dreams.”
He turned back to Xenia who s
tood there smiling in the doorway. He lightly patted her back, took her hand, and descended the steps. The crowd was even more animated as copious amounts of liquor and alcoholic beverages were consumed. Saint grabbed two glasses of champagne from a tray and handed one of the flutes to his beautiful bride. He raised the glass high in the air, while Xenia screamed out, “Hey everybody, listen! Saint is making a toast.” She snapped her fingers at the DJ. The music came to a halt.
Everyone raised their respected drinks high above their heads, echoing Saint’s gesture.
“May tonight and the rest of your evenings be sparkling and sweet. May you be blessed, and not stressed, and always a winner! May you stand tall, against the odds, and give thanks to your Creator, and be happy to be a Saint, but never forget, you are also a sinner! Let’s celebrate!”
The cheering was deafening. Confetti was thrown in the air and the music started up again, boasting the sounds of the Bee Gees’, ‘More Than a Woman.’
Xenia took a sip of her glass and leaned in close to him, her eyes begging for a kiss, her body swarthy and warm against his as she slyly grinned up at him, in good cheer. He held his glass away from her, dipped low to meet her height and gave her what her heart desired, a sensual kiss on her sweet, plush lips.
She swooned in his embrace, and moved her mouth close to his ear, “I’m so happy for you, baby. Happy for us. You mean the world to me, Saint. I love you so much.” She smiled as she gripped his shirt delicately between her fingers.
He carefully moved several curls away from her ear. “How much do you love me?” he whispered over the music and laughter.
“More than five minutes ago, and less than five minutes from now.”
Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father Page 83
