As he grabbed his begging bowl and started to head out of the monastery, an old monk called out to him. Saint bowed to him and walked over. The old monk led him out of the monastery and to his dwelling down the road. He pointed to the satellite phone and said something in his Hindi language. Saint made out a couple of the words. The phone started ringing, and he had rushed to get him.
“Don’t worry,” Saint said, struggling with the Hindi language. “It will buzz again.” He didn’t know the word for ring.
The old monk smiled and then bowed.
Saint and the monk had an interesting history. Josephine had introduced them seven years ago. A broker from Korea convinced the monk’s niece that a wealthy Japanese businessman was interested in marrying her. The businessman came to Sri Lanka and they were married, but he had to rush back to Korea for an important meeting. He left the monk’s niece a plane ticket and promised to meet her at the airport when she arrived two weeks later. When she arrived, the broker met her at the airport and told her that he would first take her to where she would be working and then to her husband.
Unbeknown to the naïve girl, the broker dropped her off at a brothel. Six months later, the girl was able to smuggle out a message to her uncle, who turned to Josephine for help. That’s where Saint came in. Five days later, the brothel mysteriously burned down with its owners still inside. Saint returned to Sri Lanka with the monk’s niece, and the monk was forever indebted to him.
The old monk smiled when the phone rang again.
Only one person had this number. Saint answered it. “What’s up?”
“Saint.” Her voice was so low that he had to put his hand over his other ear to hear. “Josephine?”
“Saint, I need you.”
“What’s wrong?” He could hear the phone being taken from her.
“Saint, Josephine was shot.”
“Who is this?”
“My name’s Van.”
“What happened?”
“We were on our way into a restaurant—”
“Which restaurant?”
“Silk.”
“In Germany?”
“Yes. Josephine had a funny feeling and she turned to go back to the car, and that’s when it happened.”
“That’s when what happened? Be specific.”
“A sniper shot her high in the shoulder.”
Saint dropped his head. The monk could see the pain in his expression and gave him some privacy.
“How could you let this happen?” Saint growled.
“Hey—”
“You’re her personal bodyguard, right?”
“How do you know that?”
“If you weren’t, she wouldn’t allow you to be on the phone with me, right now.”
“Yes, I’m her personal bodyguard,” Van said with authority.
“Then it should’ve been you who took that bullet, not Josephine.”
“Wait a minute.”
“Where are you now?”
Van didn’t respond.
“Don’t fuck with me!”
“We’re at the safe house in Frankfurt… Hello? Hello?”
Saint turned the phone off and sat on the dirt floor. He rubbed his temples. A soothing thought sprinted through his mind. He looked around the simple hut and imagined him and Olivia sitting on the ground of a hut of their own, eating red rice and okra. That calmed him down. He took a deep breath. Someone had gave him up to the CIA, now, they had made an attempt on Josephine’s life. As he sprung to his feet, he could feel the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins. He bowed to the old monk, and explained to him that he had to go. The monk went into his bedroom and retrieved Saint’s duffel bag.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Saint grabbed his bag and left.
Chapter 11
The safe house was a dental office. The receptionist eyed the man who just walked in. He wore a pair of slacks and a sweater.
“Can I help you, Sir?”
“Yes, Dr. Randal is expecting me.”
The receptionist eyed his scraggly beard and dreds which hung freely about his face and shoulders. “Name,” she said looking at her clipboard.
“Jordan… Michael Jordan.”
The receptionist looked up, visibly shaken. “Yes,” she said, fumbling with some folders on her desk before standing up. “Please follow me.” She led Saint past the offices, down the hall, and up a staircase. At the top of the stairs, he spotted one of Josephine’s men. He pulled out the orange handkerchief and wrapped it around his left hand, identifying who he was. The man immediately nodded and allowed him entry, but he stopped the receptionist.
Saint walked down the long corridor toward the room with four sentries posted in front of it. The wall of men parted for him to enter.
Josephine was lying in bed with a bed tray in front of her. The young man who was trying to get her to eat something spun around when he heard the door open.
“Saint,” Josephine called out weakly, but her smile was strong. She held her good arm up for him to come to her.
It was Van’s first time seeing the infamous Saint. He isn’t all that, he thought, sizing him up. He stood up from the edge of the bed and walked toward him. “I’m Van, we spoke on the phone.” He extended his hand.
Saint cut his eyes down at the hand and then walked past without a word.
Van’s face contorted with anger. He made a fist with the rejected hand and closed his eyes. He is not all that.
Saint bent down and allowed Josephine to put her arm around his neck and kiss him on the cheek.
“You know I hate facial hair,” she said, tugging at his beard.
“It’s my new look.” He examined her. “Looks like you’ve lost a lot of weight.”
“I’ve been trying to get her to eat, but she—” Van stopped in mid-sentence when Saint threw him a look over his shoulder.
He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the tray of food. Sirloin steak, mash potatoes, and string beans. He picked up the fork and knife and cut a piece of the steak and put it in his mouth.
“Pretty good.”
“I’m not hungry,” Josephine said.
Saint cut another piece of the steak and this time he held it to her lips.
“I said I’m not hungry.”
Saint made a Tsking sound with his tongue. “Open!”
Reluctantly, she opened her mouth and bit down on the steak. Van was furious. It took Saint two seconds to do what he’d been trying to do for two days. He shook his head as Saint fed her some mash potatoes, string beans, and some more steak. He wanted to stab him with the fork when he saw the way Josephine stared into his eyes as he wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“Wait outside,” Saint said, without turning around to face Van.
When he didn’t move, Josephine fixed him with a stare that gripped his heart. He sucked his teeth and exited the room.
“Of all the men you have, you got this kid as your personal bodyguard?”
“Don’t start with me, not now.” She touched his face. “I missed you.”
He gently grabbed her hand and removed it from his face. “You have any idea who did this?”
“Marion Claude, who else?”
“What makes you so certain?”
“I know it was him. Don’t ask me how. I just do.”
Saint shook his head. “This wasn’t part of our agreement.”
She squeezed his hand. “I almost died, Saint.”
He got quiet.
She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it. “I miss the convent. Leaving it has plagued my soul all these years.”
“I kind of miss it myself.”
“You know what I miss most about it?”
“What’s that?”
“I miss our innocence. We were each other’s world. Nothing else mattered to us.” Saint moved to stand up, but her grip tightened on his hand. “Sometimes it takes tragedy to stop us in our tracks and take a closer look at our lives.”
�
�Don’t tell me a bullet to the shoulder has helped you develop a conscience.”
“I’m done, my love.”
“Done with what?”
“With all this. When we were living on the streets, begging for scraps, I thought that if we were to ever strike it rich, all of our problems would disappear. The funny thing is, they did. We were no longer homeless, we were no longer hungry, but those problems disappeared only to make room for a new set of problems. All the sins that I’ve committed, all the enemies that I’ve created. My most painful regret is amidst my sinning and transgressions, I lost sight of what mattered to me the most. I’ve lost the only person in the world who has ever meant anything to me. I am not a bad person, my love.” Josephine began to cry.
Saint kissed her on the forehead. “No, you’re not a bad person.”
“I still can’t believe I tried to have you killed,” she said, turning her head.
Saint turned her head back to face him. “That was pretty fucked up, huh?” His dark sense of humor brought a smile to her face.
“I have a favor to ask of you, my love. I swear by God, that it will be the last thing I will ever ask you to do for me.”
Saint looked away.
“I can never go back to being a nun, but I want to go back to a simple life. As long as Marion Claude is alive, I can never do that.”
“You must be heavily drugged, Josephine. Go back to a simple life? It’s too late for that.”
“It’s never too late.”
“We’ve made our beds, and we have to lay in them.”
“No,” her voice cracked. “Don’t ever believe that this is it for us. We’ve done some terrible, terrible things, but we don’t have to continue like this. We can change. We can be forgiven.”
For the first time since they left the covenant, Saint was staring into the eyes of Josephine, the nun, who he used to turn to for guidance and love. “I take care of Marion and then what?”
“That’s it. I disappear. I’m out of your life forever.”
“Josephine, I want to believe you so bad, but I can’t see you cooking your own meals and washing your own clothes.”
“I welcome the day when I can do those things again. I may not look it, but I’m an old lady, it’s time for me to retire while I still can. Will you do this last thing for me?”
Saint stood up and gazed into her eyes. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“Daaayum! My shit is tiiight! This is the shit right here,” Fire, an up and coming rapper said, as he stared at his haircut in the mirror. “Niggas told me you was the bomb, but man, you is the bomb, Olivia. That’s my word, I’ma shout you out on my next song. As a matter of fact, I need a barber for when I go on tour and—”
“Whoa, slow down, now. I appreciate the business and the compliments, but I don’t travel.”
“Yo, there’s plenty of money in it, plus, you get to meet all kinds of celebrities.”
“She don’t need to meet no celebrities. She is a celebrity,” Grace said.
“No doubt. I’m from Tennessee, and your name is ringing bells way down there. That’s why I had to come see if the hype was true.”
“Is it?” Baby interjected.
“No doubt, this place is everything niggas said it was and then some.”
“Fire, I know you don’t mean any harm by it, but I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t us the N word in here,” Olivia said.
“Oh, my bad, I didn’t know you took offense to it.”
“You should take offense to it as well.”
“It’s just a word.”
“What if a white boy walked up to you and said ‘Hey, Fire, what’s up my nigga?’”
“Nah, see that’s different.”
“Different? It’s just a word.”
“Yeah, but when a white person says it, he don’t mean it the way we mean it.”
“You don’t know how any person means it when they use it. Don’t assume just because a black person uses it that he’s using it with the best intentions.”
“True story. Not only can I get my haircut by the hottest and prettiest barber in the country, but you dropping jewels, too? I’m feeling your energy, right now,” the nineteen year old said, staring at her like he wanted to eat her alive.
Olivia snapped him out of his trance when she brushed the hair off of him and unclipped the barber’s cloth off him. He hopped out of the chair and dramatically reached into his pocket and pulled out a chunk of money. Baby, Grace, and Olivia cut their eyes at each other. Fire was rocking six platinum chains, each one had a saucer-sized, iced out, showpiece, weighing it down. On the front of his Platinum teeth, he had FIRE in red diamonds. Olivia was about to drop another jewel on him about his costume, but she knew he wasn’t’ ready for that one just yet. He pulled off two one hundred dollar bills and handed it to her.
“This is way too much,” Olivia said.
“For having the pleasure of being in your presence for two hours, it’s nearly not enough.”
Olivia wasn’t going to take the young rapper’s money, but the stare Baby and Grace shot her changed her mind. “The next time you’re in New York, stop by, the next one is on me.”
“And next time, I’ma bring some of my crew along.” As Fire walked out the front door, Olivia exhaled.
“That’s it, I’m done,” she said, sitting in her barber chair and leaning back. “Miki! Flip the open sign to closed.”
“Already ahead of you,” she said, walking back from the door.
Olivia slipped off her shoes and let her hair down.
“What’s on the agenda for tonight?” Grace asked everyone.
“Sleep,” Baby said. “Right after my ex boyfriend breaks me off a little sumthin’ sumthin’, and I kick his ass out.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but ex boyfriend means that he used to be your boyfriend and, now he’s not,” Olivia said.
“You’re right. He used to be my boyfriend. Now he’s my fuck-buddy. And when he can’t satisfy me anymore, he’ll be my ex fuck-buddy.”
“Play on Playa,” Miki said. “I’m going to the Lotus,” she said dancing in her chair.
“Damn, girl, you stay up in them clubs,” Baby said.
“That’s where the action’s at. And you know me, I loves me some action.”
“I didn’t see you doing that much action when we were pounding Lynise and her hoey friends out,” Baby said.
“Girl, you bugging. You saw me with that bat in my hand, ready to bust somebody’s melon to the white meat.”
“You damn near busted your’s open when you swung at Lynise and missed. If that bat was made of rubber, it would’ve wrapped around your neck and choked you to death,” Grace said. Baby and Olivia started cracking up.
“All right, ladies,” Olivia said. “Baby is going to get her booty call, Miki, the club head, is going to the club, and we all know Grace is going home to cuddle up with her Boo. So, y’all go on and get out of here. I’ll close up, tonight.”
“Why don’t you come to the club with me?” Miki asked.
“Yeah,” Baby agreed. “You really should go.”
“I am too exhausted. I’m not twenty-five like you Miki, so after a hard day’s work, I just want to crawl into bed.”
“Girl, age ain’t got nothing to do with it,” Miki said. “All you got to do is chug down two Red Bulls and you’ll be good to go.”
“Shit, all she got to do is chug down one of them cups of coffee I make for her every morning, and she’ll be good to go,” Baby said.
“Go! Get the hell out of her, before I change my mind and leave y’all here to close up.”
Baby and Miki picked up their things with the quickness.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Baby said.
“See ya’ll tomorrow,” Miki said. Both women broke out.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” Olivia asked Grace, as she watched her grab the bucket of cleaning supplies.
“What does it loo
k like I’m doing?”
“Put that down and get out of here.”
“Don’t worry. Glenn isn’t going to miss me. He’s too busy preparing for that fashion show next week.”
Olivia got out of her chair and walked over to her. “I got it. This is my quiet time.”
Grace looked at her. “You got to move on. He’s not coming back.”
Olivia smiled. “It’s not even about him anymore. I just want to find what you and Glenn have.”
“And you will. You just have to give someone a chance.”
“I will, when the right man comes along.”
Grace shrugged her shoulders. “I’m going to call you when I get home.”
“I’ll talk to you then.” Olivia walked her to the door and locked it behind her.
Olivia went to her office, where she took off her shoes and slid her feet into her slippers. She headed to the Espresso Machine and poured herself a cup. She heard the keys jingle in the front door.
“What did you forget this time, Grace?” she asked without bothering to turn around.
“I forgot how beautiful you look.”
Olivia spun around and almost spilled the coffee on herself. “Oh my… God.”
Saint drunk her with his eyes. Olivia was wearing a pair of Daisy Duke Shorts and a sleeveless halter top. His eyes ran along her curves and tones.
Olivia’s first reaction was to scream, when she saw the shaggy-hobo standing in the middle of her salon. Saint had lost weight, and his appearance was… scary. “What happened to you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Why am I not surprised? How did you get a key to my shop?”
“It’s a long—”
“Please, don’t say it. You’re starting to sound like a broken record. What are you doing here? I thought you never come back to a place where your identity has been compromised.”
“Glenn could never keep a secret.”
“Don’t blame him. It was only right that he tell me everything about you.”
“He didn’t tell you everything about me.”
In The Cut Page 13
