In The Cut

by Arlene Brathwaite

  “Saint—”

  Saint was on his feet and charging at Petrescu before he had a chance to shit himself. He grabbed him by the front of his Tux and slammed him against the wall.

  “You take-it-in-the-ass, cum drinking, snitch, rat bastard.”

  “How dare you call me a snitch, rat bastard.”

  “Who else would tell Josephine that I was here?”

  “Saint, please. You know as well as I do that if I didn’t tell her, and she found out by someone else, she would’ve hung me off the Eiffel Tower by my nut sac.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I just told her that you were here with Glenn and some friends having a good time.”

  “What else?” Saint asked, pressing him harder against the wall.

  “That is all, I swear.”

  “How did she know Miss Martin’s name?”

  “You know Josephine. She wanted to run a check on her to make sure she was squeaky clean. To make sure you weren’t… back in the business.”

  “The business? Is that what you call what I used to do?”

  Petrescu shrugged. “It was just business, right?”

  Saint backed away from him. Petrescu looked down at the newspaper and realized that the object Saint was concealing was not a gun, but the suite’s telephone receiver.

  “What’s the real deal with Marion Claude?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  Saint rubbed his temples. “Is it safe for him to come to Miss Martin’s salon?”

  “No one will dare make an attempt on his life in America.”

  “And you’re sure about that?”

  “I’ll bet my life on it.”

  “Don’t give me any ideas.”

  Three hours later, Glenn returned to the suite, Saint was stretched out on the couch with a wet cloth over his face.

  He looked up when he heard the suite’s door open. He put the cloth back over his head when he saw Glenn.

  “Please tell me that wasn’t who I think it was on the phone earlier,” Glenn said, plopping down on the couch next to Saint’s feet.

  “My head is pounding, right now.”

  “Petrescu snitched you out, didn’t he?”

  “You know he did, thinking he would score some points with Josephine.”

  “Did you convince her that you’re only here because of me?”

  “That’s what I told her, but is she convinced? I don’t know.”

  “Saint, I’m real sorry for putting you in this predicament.”

  “It’s not your fault. You had no way of knowing that Petrescu was going to be here. This was supposed to be a get-together for fashion designers, not for Rumanian mob accountants masquerading as tailors.”

  “What do you think Josephine’s going to do?”

  “For now, nothing. She’s like a Venus fly trap. She won’t snap her lobes shut until she’s sure she’s got you.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not doing anything wrong. So, I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing. If I change up, she’ll definitely think something’s up.”

  The suite’s phone rang twice before Glenn answered it. “Hello. Yes, he’s right here.” He held the phone toward Saint. “It’s Olivia.”

  Saint took the wet cloth off his face, and grabbed the phone from him. “What’s up barber girl?”

  “Just calling to say goodnight.”

  “That’s so sweet.” Saint shooed at Glenn like he was an annoying fly, so he could have some privacy.

  “And, I wanted to say thank you for getting Marion Claude, his entire entourage, and the other designers to fly all the way to New York City just to visit my little ol’ salon. And you did it without handing out a single business card.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I really want to see you prosper. It’s not everyday that I meet a woman of your caliber.”

  “You got me blushing, right now.” Olivia couldn’t remember the last time she could express her feelings to a man without being guarded. “So, tell me, Clayton, what should I be expecting on Monday? There has to be at least twenty-five people coming, right?”

  “Expect forty. And that’s not counting the reporters.”

  “Where am I supposed to put all those people?”

  “You have a waiting area don’t you?”

  “I have two; each can hold about fifteen people.”

  “Fifteen in each, that’s thirty, and then you’ll have some in chairs getting haircuts, manicures, pedicures, etc. Don’t worry about accommodating the reporters, they’ll be happy just to get interviews and photographs.”

  “Anything else I should prepare for?”

  “Yes, keep in mind that you’re not charging them anything, but the gifts they are going to shower you with will more than make up for it. Expect everything from jewelry to clothes. And while the reporters are there, expect Marion Claude and everyone else to treat you like y’all are the best of friends.”

  “Anything else?”

  “One last thing. When this fiasco is over, and everything calms down, I want a haircut.”

  Olivia smiled. “Sure, I’ll tell Grace—”

  “Don’t play yourself. I want you to cut my hair Miss you’ll-never-find-a-barber-like-me.”

  “I thought you liked walking around with half done tapers, and uneven hair.”

  “You’re a barber and a comedian? Where have you been all my life?”

  Olivia closed her eyes and smiled, because she was just thinking the same thing. “Clayton, I’m going to let you go.”

  “Thanks for tucking me in.”

  “Grace and I are going shopping tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll see you at the club tomorrow night.”

  “The club? Tomorrow night?”

  “That’s what Glenn said.”

  “Riight, the club, tomorrow night,” Saint said, making a mental note to snuff Glenn as soon as he got off the phone.

  “Goodnight, Clayton.”

  “Goodnight, Olivia.”

  “So, exactly when were you going to tell me about the club?” Saint asked Glenn the following afternoon over lunch.

  “I wasn’t. I knew if I would’ve asked you, you would’ve told me you don’t do clubs. Never have, never will. But if Olivia mentioned it—”

  “You conniving… I think I’m starting to rub off on you.”

  “C’mon, Saint. It’s just a club.”

  Saint stared at him.

  “I’m going to make my move, tonight with Grace.”

  “In the club?”

  “No, the club is just to you know…”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Damn, Saint, to be so smart you are so out of touch. The club is where it all starts. You and you’re date have a few drinks and then hit the dance floor. You dance, talk, touch, test the waters.”

  “Test the waters?”

  “You know. You’re dancing, doing your thing, and then you turn her around and grind up on her. If she backs that thang up, it’s on, if she lets you run your hands all over her, it’s on, but the deal sealer is when her hand grazes your crotch. Then it’s time to go, because it’s ON AND POPPING.”

  “It sounds like you’re having sex with clothes on.”

  “I never looked at it like that before.”

  “So, when I see Grace grab your crotch—”

  “No, you freak. I didn’t tell you all that so you could be staring at my crotch all night.”

  “So, why did you tell me all that?”

  “So you could be on point with Olivia.”

  Saint’s mouth dropped open. “Olivia doesn’t strike me to be the type to be backing anything up, and even if she was, she wouldn’t be backing it up on me. I don’t dance.”

  “C’mon, Saint, you’re always complaining about how boring your new life is. Now, you have the chance to do something different.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  The club scene was a paranoid man’s worst nightmare
. The strobe lights, the pounding music, people jerking and popping their bodies to the music. Too many dark spots for people who didn’t want to be seen. Dark spots that Saint himself occupied too many times in his previous life. He thought about backing out at the last minute, but when Grace and Olivia showed up at the suite, Olivia took his breath away. She was wearing a simple, sleeveless, pleated dress by Tommy Hilfiger, but that’s what made her look so beautiful. It was the first time he saw Olivia the woman, who just wanted to have fun and not Olivia the businesswoman. Grace was wearing a white and lavender tennis skirt with a white Polo shirt. Saint could hear Glenn’s heart pounding. Saint was dressed casual in a pair of Akademik jeans, a white Phat Farm fitted T-shirt, and a pair of Rockport’s.

  As they walked deeper into the Light nightclub, located inside the Bellagio hotel, Saint’s eyes darted from side to side behind his lightly-tinted Paul Smith’s. DJ Kris Cut was the man behind the sounds that had the ballers and the beautiful women shaking it up on the dance floor. They found room at the bar and ordered drinks.

  “It’s got to be at least eighty-five degrees in here,” Olivia said, taking a sip on her drink.

  “Perfect for dancing,” Grace said, downing her drink. “Hurry up and drink so we can hit the dance floor, Glenn.”

  Glenn finished his drink in three gulps and let Grace lead him to the dance floor.

  “I’m going to tell you, now,” Saint said, finishing his drink and calling for another, “It’s going to take more than one drink to get me on the dance floor.”

  “I haven’t danced in… I don’t know how long. Not in public, anyway.” Olivia could sense Saint’s uncomfortability. “You okay?”

  “I don’t get out much.”

  “C’mon.” Olivia grabbed him by the hand. “I don’t dance.”

  “What? C’mon everybody knows how to dance.”

  “I didn’t say I don’t know how to dance. I said I don’t dance.”

  Olivia took his glasses off, folded them, and hung them on the front of her dress. “Will you please dance with me?”

  Saint looked into her puppy eyes. He then looked to the dance floor and saw Glenn making a fool of himself. His face softened, Olivia smiled. She led him to the dance floor.

  Steam by Nicole from the Pussy Cat Dolls pumped out the speakers. Olivia’s hips started swaying to the beat as they made their way to the dance floor. Saint was mesmerized. Olivia looked over her shoulder at him and caught him staring at her butt, and smiled. Saint’s face turned red.

  Grace threw her hands in the air and waved to Olivia and Saint. Olivia waved back. She turned to face Saint and locked eyes with him as she let her body feel the music. Saint broke out with the two-step.

  Thirty steps, later, Olivia pulled Saint’s ear to her lips. “Is that all you know how to do?”

  “Oh, you want me to come out the stash on you? Okay.” Saint continued the two-step and then added a dip to it. Olivia started laughing. Saint held his finger up for her to watch his next dance move. His two-step transitioned into a two-step with a shake, then a two-step with a stutter step. They both busted out laughing.

  “You so stupid, Clayton.”

  “Don’t be hating on my two-step.” Saint looked over at Glenn and he shook his head. Glenn looked like he was doing a combination of the running man and the cabbage patch.

  Checking me by Bobby Valentino blended into the mix. Saint felt Olivia dance closer to him. He tried matching his rhythm with hers. She nodded. He winked. She turned her back to him. He stopped breathing. She bent at the waist and touched her toes, and then slowly stood up as she rotated her hips. She turned around. Saint stopped holding his breath.

  Only want to be your lover by Mary J. Blige came on. Saint was keeping in step with Olivia as she bounced, dipped, and swayed. He read her lips as she sang along with the chorus. Boy I want to be your lover, only want to be your friend, let me be the one who loves ya, want to be your best friend.

  She turned her back to him, and… she backed that thang up and parked on him. Saint’s hands found themselves on her hips. Olivia placed her hands on top of his. Saint’s lips brushed the side of her neck. With a moan, she wrapped herself with his arms.

  Saint felt himself rising as he crushed Olivia’s body into his and inhaled her scent. Olivia felt the rise as well. Instead of pulling away from it, she grinded into it. And then it happened. As she turned to face him, her hand glided across his manhood. It happened so quick that he thought he’d imagined it. The second time she did it, it was slow and with an exclamation mark. It was ON AND POPPING. Olivia’s lips came up to meet Saint’s as he leaned in to kiss her. For the next three songs, they didn’t say a word. All they did was danced and kissed.

  “We’re out of here,” Glenn said, walking past Olivia and Saint. Grace whispered something in Olivia’s ear before catching up with Glenn.

  “What was that about?” Saint asked.

  “She told me not to come back to the suite tonight.”

  “Oh well, I guess you’re just stuck with me and my two-step.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I got the perfect place,” Saint said with a wink.

  Olivia kicked off her shoes and sat on the plush couch in Saint’s suite, as he fixed them a drink. He came back a few minutes later. Olivia looked up at him as he stood in front of her, not moving.

  “What?”

  “You are so beautiful.”

  Olivia stood up on her toes and kissed him. Saint broke away from her long enough to put the drinks on the table and then he swept her off her feet. Their lips locked as he carried her off to the bedroom. He laid her down on the King-sized bed and slowly lowered himself on top of her. Olivia moaned as she met his thrusts. In the dimly lit room, Saint sat up on his knees, between her legs, and stared down at her. She was breathing hard, looking at him with hunger in her eyes. He reached under her dress and ran his hands up the backs of her thighs. Her flesh was so soft that it gave him goose bumps. He interlaced his fingers in the waistline of her panties and slowly began pulling them down. Olivia made it easy on him by lifting her butt in the air. He blinked when her hands clamped down on his.

  “Do you have anything?” She asked.

  Saint closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. “No, I didn’t expect… I didn’t plan on being with you.”

  Olivia smiled. “I want to kill you right now for getting me all worked up, and not being able to finish the job. On the other hand, if you would’ve gone into the drawer of that night table and pulled out a condom, I would’ve thought you planned this all along, and then, I would’ve wanted to kill you.”

  “So, no matter how you look at it, you want to kill me right now.”

  “In the worst way.”

  “I got an idea.” Saint sat up against the headboard. “Sit in between my legs.”

  Olivia looked at him suspiciously.

  “Trust me.”

  She got up and sat in between his legs. She let him pull her back against his chest. “What most people don’t know,” he said as he pressed his fingertips into the muscles of her upper back and shoulders, “is that most of the body’s tension is stored right here, in the trapeziuses.” She winched as his fingertips penetrated deeper into her traps. She was about to tell him to ease up, but then she felt like someone had pulled the plug on her drain and years of tenseness started draining from her body, leaving her relaxed and weak.

  “God, this feels better than sex,” she said, as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. The last thing Olivia remembered was Saint nibbling on her ear.

  He stared down at her, as she drifted off into a deep sleep. He gently removed the strands of hair that were covering the sides of her face. He closed his eyes, and like a blind man, he let his remaining four senses become his eyes. He traced the contours of her face with the back of his hand, etching every crease and crevice into his memory. He listened to her slow, rhythmic breathing as her chest slightly rose and fell. Then he inhaled
her, separating her true scent from the traces of perfume still lingering on her. Her scent reminded him of the first droplets before a heavy rain. Then with a feather’s touch, he ran the tip of his tongue down the side of her neck. Olivia stirred and then opened her eyes.

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe I fell asleep on you like that.” Her voice was groggy.

  Saint made her turn over as he laid flat on his back. He patted his chest. She smiled and snuggled up against him, placing her head on his chest.

  “Clayton.” Her voice was just above a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “Say something in French.” She smiled as he rattled off a sentence. “I don’t know what you said, but it sounded sexy as hell.”

  “I said, Love has reasons that Reason can’t understand.”

  “Umm, that’s deep.”

  “You’re deep.”

  Olivia drifted back to sleep, leaving Saint in the middle of a battle between his head and his heart. His head was warning him that this was all wrong. That the longer Olivia stayed in his presence, the greater danger she’d be in. His heart wanted to forget everything and just focus on the here and now, and then take it from there. He knew from past experience that emotions couldn’t be trusted. He had to go with his head. Tonight, he would enjoy the moment, tomorrow, they would be on Mr. Seeger’s jet back to New York, Monday he would make sure everything ran smooth, and Tuesday he would be out of her life forever.

  Chapter 5

  “You’re really starting to freak me out,” Grace said, as Olivia pulled out of J.F.K. airport.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you being quieter than usual.”

  “I just got a lot on my mind, right now. I’m thinking of what I have to do to prepare for tomorrow.”

  “You do know who you’re talking to, right? You know you can’t feed me that line of crap. What happened between you and Clayton last night?”

  A smile the size of the sun appeared on Olivia’s face.

  “The sex was like that?”

  “What we did was better than sex.”