The Naughty Sins Of A Saint

by Tiana Laveen

  “OK, we’re back. I’m Xenia Donnellson, and this is the Xenia Donnellson show with our fantastic guest, Dr. Saint Aknaten! He’s agreed to stay a little longer to answer some more of our calls.”

  After thirty more minutes of callers, the show was over. Saint stood up and detached his microphone. Xenia looked at him briefly, then looked away as she gathered paperwork for her next guest. She didn’t say goodbye or acknowledge his preparing to leave. He moved to the studio exit, escorted by T-Rex.

  “Bye, Xenia,” Saint said as he walked out. “I’ll see you again.”

  Xenia kept her heard down as she returned, “I highly doubt it,” then continued sorting through her papers. T-Rex was a 6’5” Somali with long, dark hair. He led Saint through the building to the awaiting black Rolls-Royce that would drive Saint to the airport.

  “Hey, Saint,” said T-Rex as the limo pulled out.

  “Yeah,” Saint said, exhausted. He slid on his sunglasses and took out a magazine from his briefcase. The feature story was about him.

  “That was one hell of an interview. Xenia seemed pretty cool until you two started going at each other. I know the folks listening didn’t hear what went down, but I did. That was vicious. You two were fighting like cats and dogs. Why do you think she gave you such a hard time today?”

  “Because she’s my future wife, and somewhere deep down I believe she knows it, and she’s scared. I found my goddess.” Saint opened the magazine and began to read.

  * * *

  “No, that’s not what you want,” Saint said as he removed his coat.

  “Man, it is what I want!” His best friend, Raphael, said as he moved in front of him with his 5’11” dark-brown body striding down Saint’s penthouse hallway. “You can go ahead and say it. It makes no difference to me. I know when you’re holding back. I’ve known you since we were five years old, living in the Bronx. How can you not include me?” Raphael added as he took his shoes off, per Saint’s request, and walked across Saint’s glossy cherry wood floor into the open living area. Built-in bookshelves rose upward toward the cathedral ceilings, a rolling ladder conveniently attached to them. A narrow bookshelf in the corner was full of pornography, neatly categorized and in alphabetical order.

  Saint sighed. “To me, it’s not even relevant.” He lit a stick of Egyptian musk incense and poured himself a glass of water, adding two cubes of ice with kiwi frozen inside them. “Do you want some of this?” he asked.

  “Nah, I’m good.” Raphael slumped down on the Victorian style white and gold couch. “So, if they know your best friend is Black, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “That’s not the point. I’m trying to protect you. I already told you that things would change unfavorably for you.” Saint untied his khaki pants and slumped down next to Raphael.

  “You think people would call me a ‘sellout’ for being cool wit’ you?” Raphael asked.

  “Think? I know they would. You’d be the ‘Uncle Tom’ of the twenty-first century. You’d be accused affiliating with the enemy. Your life would turn into a living hell.”

  “One thing’s for sure, Saint – you need to get some pussy because I’m really tired of you sitting around looking all depressed when you get back in town. Pussy is like your weed. It mellows you out. You’re all wound up.”

  Saint laughed. “I wish I could, but it just makes matters worse in the long run. Anyway, how’s the jewelry business? Sold any huge Rolexes lately?”

  “Man, my sales people suck. Everything is OK, though. We’re doing better than many. Let me know if you need anything. You know I’ll give you a discount. Back to the sex thing, though,” Raphael smiled mischievously, “I thought you were a self-professed sex-aholic? How are you surviving this long?”

  “Day by day. It’s awful. When your job is to talk about relationships and sex all day, trying to stay away from it is nearly impossible. I knew it was standing in the way of finding my ‘queen,’ and I felt too much like a hypocrite. My energy needed to be pure. I had to cleanse physically and spiritually or I wouldn’t be able to draw her to me. She can’t accept me like that.” Saint sucked noisily on a piece of ice, rolling it in his mouth until he was left with only the sliver of kiwi on his tongue. He slid the fruit back and forth playfully, blowing out air. His eyes grew wide as smoke left his mouth in perfectly formed ringlets, followed by a small flame that burst forth like a miniature blowtorch.

  “What the fuck?” he thought, as he watched the smoke rise to the ceiling and disappear. “That’s the third time it’s happened this week.” He looked at Raphael who was watching the television and missed the pyrotechnic display.

  “How’d your interview go with Xenia Donnellson? I didn’t get to listen this time. Sorry, Man. Had mass shit to do.” Raphael looked over at Saint. He noted his friend’s immediate scowl when he said her name.

  “No problem. You didn’t miss much – just her trying to cut my balls off on national syndicated radio. Then she allowed at least ten callers who were out of their damn minds to attack me before for she finally intervened. She’s a real peach,” Saint laughed.

  “Wow!” Raphael laughed. “What does she look like? Does she have a face fit only for radio? That voice of hers is sexy as hell, though.”

  “Believe it or not, she’s gorgeous, Man. She looks as good as she sounds. She’s perfect actually. She has this kind of eccentric vibe, but it’s fresh, it’s cutting age and fashionable. She’s about 5’5”, maybe 5’6”, about a 36DD. Her breasts are definitely suckable. She has a small waist, nice, thick, shapely legs. I couldn’t see her ass, but from the shape of her hips, I bet it’s pretty nice. She’s got a slight pooch – nothing major, though. Nothing some riding couldn’t fix.”

  “Damn, did you take a photo? You remembered everything. What type of ride? Like an exercise bike?” Raphael flashed a devious grin, trying to provoke Saint to finish the thought.

  Saint laughed, “I think you know what I’m talking about. After a few laps on a stiff one, she’d be fine. She has a funky-ass attitude. She probably hasn’t had any dick in a while – not any good dick, anyway.” They both started laughing.

  “She’s got a nice, smooth complexion and a lot of hair,” Saint continued as he reminisced. “She doesn’t have a relaxer. I loved it. It was pulled back and in a soft, wild, bouncy ball with a feather in it. Her nose kind of turns up at the end like a little kid’s,” Saint smiled. “Her best features are her eyes and lips, though.”

  Raphael rolled his eyes. “She must have some DSLs!” he teased.

  “Yup, they’re sexy and huge – definitely some dick suckin’ lips,” Saint laughed. “She uses ’em to talk shit, though. She’s got a smart-ass mouth. We got into it during the commercial break.”

  “You argued with Xenia Donnellson and lived to tell the tale?” Raphael nodded in approval. “She can be brutal. I’ve heard her tear people up from time to time in her interviews. She’s like the Judge Judy of interviews,” he laughed. “She obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with either, though. I’d hate to see you two going at it. You both can be vicious. We know how you are.” Raphael rolled his eyes.

  “Yeah, but I’m not going to act crazy on the radio, Man. You know me better than that. She really tried to push my buttons, though, mostly off the air. She was very angry, and I didn’t provoke that shit. She just started going off while we were still on the air. I let her know I didn’t appreciate the shit she pulled. She told me I was an egotistical lunatic, and that was that.” Saint put his arm behind his head as he turned the station on his large-screen plasma television. Raphael looked at him closely. He then stood up, leaned down in front of Saint, and studied his friend’s face, squinting as if he were trying to crack a puzzle. Saint smiled but refused to look Raphael in the eye.

  “You dirty son of a bitch!” Raphael laughed. “You like her!” He tumbled to the floor and snickered, rolling back and forth on the zebra-print rug.

  “Yup,” Saint smiled widely as he tur
ned the station with the remote control. “She’s seems very familiar to me. She’s beautiful, smart, talks mad shit – sexy. I believe she’s the one.”

  Raphael raised his eyebrow and looked closely at Saint again. “You’re kidding me. You’ve been on this quest to find your wife, and you think it’s trash-talking Xenia Donnellson?” Raphael shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, no, I’m very serious. I had a dream the other night before I met her. The woman looked just like her. I mean identical. It’s her. I knew it as soon as I walked into the studio for the interview and laid eyes on her.”

  Raphael nodded. “One of your dreams again? Those have always scared me, Man. I used to hate it when you’d tell me about one of your dreams. The shit’s usually bad and comes true.” He shook his head. “I always thought you should look into why you have them.”

  “I know, that’s why I don’t talk about it with anyone anymore. No one knows except you, well, and my mother did of course. It’d just make me all the more bizarre to people. I don’t want to seem unattainable to my fans. These dreams – there isn’t anything I can do about them. I don’t even sleep most of the time, but when I do, chances are that something will pop up. Imagine being a kid and telling your mother her favorite cat was going to die, and three days later it did.” Saint shook his head.

  Raphael nodded, “I remember that, Man. We were like seven. His name was Ike,” Raphael smiled. “Your mother loved that cat.”

  “Yup, little patchy Ike,” Saint sighed. “She told me to not tell my father about my dreams, that he wouldn’t understand, so I never did. Then after that, it was one thing after another. I’d tell her she was going to find some money, and she did, and sometimes I’d throw a lie or two in there to protect my own bad ass.” They both started laughing.

  “It’s not a coincidence that I ended up meeting Xenia that very same day I had that dream, Raphael,” Saint continued. “I had seen a photo of her, but it didn’t do any justice. I didn’t connect the two until I looked her in the eyes. It’s her, Raphael, I know it is. All that mouth on the air is just for show. All the ranting and raving off air was part of the mating game. It was like two wild animals in the woods that had never seen each other before. We had to fight first to gain some respect. Inside she’s a pussy cat.”

  “I think you’re just trying to get in her pussy,” Raphael laughed.

  Saint nodded, “I’d love to, but it’s more than that. This has less to do with sexual attraction and more to do with spiritual attraction.”

  “But according to you, she despises you. Good luck with that, Man. I mean, I really hope you’re right because I know you’ve been searching for a long time, but after what you just told me, she doesn’t seem like your cup of tea,” Raphael shrugged. “Let’s just be real. Hey, you got anything to eat around here?” He rubbed his stomach. “The bodega around the way is closed. They have my favorite pickles, too.”

  “Yeah, help yourself.” Saint watched Raphael walk into the kitchen.

  “You know, sometimes people pretend to hate what they really love.” Saint went on, elevating his voice so Raphael could hear him over the pillaging of his refrigerator.

  “I talk about that at the conferences. It keeps people safe from hurt and disappointment. I knew she was attracted to me before she even said it.”

  “She said it?” Raphael asked surprised.

  “She mentioned it at the introduction as kind of a segue as well as in one of her tirades. It wasn’t meant as a compliment, it was wrapped up in some ulterior bullshit, but it confirmed what I already knew.” Saint shook his head. “She kept trying to not look at me directly before we even began, and then I’d catch her stealing glimpses. I knew she was going to try to verbally run train on me with no Vaseline on the air because of it. I make her uncomfortable. She likes being in control and doesn’t like what I talk about because she knows it’s true. A Black woman in L.A.? Man, please! Natural hair, too? Not tall and thick in the thigh? I know she’s having a hard time out there. As pretty as she is, she isn’t artificial looking; she looks like a real woman, and they don’t want that shit. They want blow-up dolls. If she was here or down south maybe even, guys would be pissing themselves to get to her, but out there, it’s the land of silicone bodies. I can tell she feels guilty for agreeing with me, but won’t admit it, especially not on air. She’s easy to read. She’s petrified. Man, it’s just a mating game, a prehistoric ritual. She’ll have to be broken like a wild horse. I like her feistiness. I like that she’s confident and self-sufficient, but still very feminine. Plus, I think she could handle me. That’s a pretty tall order. Her bark is bigger than her bite. I want her.” Saint smiled wickedly as nasty thoughts consumed his brain.

  “And you like those DSLs,” Raphael joked as he walked back into the room toting a sandwich and drink. He turned towards the television as he sat down.

  “Very much so,” Saint licked his own lips as he imagined Xenia’s wrapped around his dick. “Very much so, indeed. Anyway, you said you wanted to talk to me about something the other day.” Saint scooted closer to Raphael on the couch and leaned back.

  “Yeah, I need to be real with you for a minute. Saint, you know I love you like a brother, right?”

  “Yeah,” Saint said cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “That’s what they say on the talk shows right before they admit they’ve been fucking their homeboy’s girl,” Saint teased.

  “We’ve been through a lot together. You even introduced me to my wife. We’ve been there for each other. You’ve been there for me – gave me your last dollar. I let you crash with me when you and your dad weren’t getting along back in the day. You’re my best friend to the end.

  “But there’s just one thing,” they both said at the same time and laughed.

  “Shakespeare, kick in the rear,” Saint laughed as he acknowledged the coincidence of them once again completing each other’s thoughts.

  “I have to admit, even though I knew since we were little that you liked Black women, I’m really uncomfortable with some of the stuff you say about us as Black men, Man. It’s not cool. I’ll admit to you, privately, that we as Black men as a whole have fallen down on the job, but Man, you really dog us out! I want to support you, but it’s hard. I have one foot on each side of the road. Some of the shit you say I don’t agree with, and some of it, I swear, it’s like you’re trying to start some shit. I hear it on some of the video clips I’ve seen since I’m not even invited to this shit, but I’ve heard it, and it’s like you’re not even the same person. I love you, you’re my brotha from anotha motha, but why do you do that, Man?” Raphael shifted uncomfortably.

  Saint looked down momentarily at the ground, nodded, and lifted his head back up. “I know this sounds cliche, but when I say those things, I’m not talking about you specifically. I know that there are good Black men. Many are my associates. I know it’s upsetting, but to me, it’s like being a freedom fighter, you know? I’m a solider. Sometimes, people I care about may get caught in the crossfire, and that’s why I don’t want you around when I’m at the conferences. This is very important to me. My work is crucial. There are so many beautiful Black women who could be with great guys, but they…”

  “But why do you have to be ‘Captain Save-a-ho?’” Raphael cut in. “I just want my best friend back. I miss the dude who’d run around with me at the street parties getting high and drunk. I miss the guy who was awkward with the ladies. Even though they were always all over you, you didn’t know how cool you were, and that in itself made you even cooler.”

  “That was me trying to fit in, Raphael. That wasn’t the real me. You know I’ve always been different. I’ve accepted that; I accepted it a long time ago. I knew I’d never have a lot of friends, and I still don’t. Just because I’ve always gotten a lot of attention doesn’t mean it was from friends. You were my only true friend. These cats that run around acting like I’m the shit aren’t my friends. They don’t even know me. That’s
worship. I’m talking about real friendship. I knew I had to keep my private life low-profile and that I had to be true to myself. I’ve accepted the dreams. I’ve accepted how I think and act. I’ve accepted me.”

  “Not really. You refuse to look closer at the dreams, but we can talk about that later. I’m going to say this, too, and I don’t care if you get mad because you obviously don’t care about sparing my feelings either half the time. Ever since your mom was killed by a Black guy, you seem to have it in for Black men. I know you liked Black girls before that, so I can’t say I believe this has shaped your whole motive, like a revenge thing, but I swear, it’s as though you’re cool with Black men from way back, like me, but any Black man you meet now, you’d be satisfied if his head was ripped off.”

  Saint looked at Raphael, carefully forming his response. “I never really thought about that. I don’t think that’s what’s going on, but it’s an interesting hypothesis.”

  Raphael rolled his eyes, “Typical, Saint. You can never just admit that more is probably going on. You need to look at these dreams closer. You need to find out what’s driving you and what you’re running from, and you need to accept that you’ve got it in for Black men.”

  Saint gasped. “What? So now I can’t disagree with you? I didn’t say it was stupid. I can see how you could come to that conclusion, but I have plenty of Black male associates. Just because I want your women doesn’t mean I hate Black men or hold a grudge.”

  “I also don’t like knowing that deep down you probably think I’m a loser, too! I had problems last year keeping my job, and you probably looked down on me because Latrice was working two jobs to help support us!” Raphael said angrily. “I failed, Latrice, right? I failed my wife and kids!”

  “What? Where is all of this coming from, Raphael? Latrice did that because she loves you. She didn’t blame you for some shit that was out of your control. You know I’ve known Latrice for a while, and she isn’t a pushover. When I met her at the hotel where she worked, she was fixing the computer system at the front desk. Her glasses were crooked, and she was just endearing. We struck up a conversation and became fast friends. I could look at her and see you two would be a match made in Heaven. I thought about you the entire time I spoke to her. I was interviewing your future wife, Man. Latrice isn’t like that. Once she and I talked and got to know each other even more, I was certain she was the one for you. Why would I hook you up with someone who wouldn’t have your back?” Saint sighed. “I’m not talking about you. I already said that. You’ve worked three jobs at one time to keep a roof over your kids’ heads, and you’re a great father and husband. You got a degree in Political Science and couldn’t find a job to use it. I understand that, but I know this isn’t really about that, so just get it all out.” Saint leaned back onto the couch and scratched his head. “Apparently, this has been building up for a while. You know damn well this doesn’t have to do with what I say or don’t say. It’s about you feeling inept and you seeing me as a problem when you know I’m not the real issue here.”