Saint And Sinners (21 page)

“Yes?”

“Clear the line for someone that
really
needs assistance. Terri is on some otha shit… You got the wrong man, sweetie. Get
indignant with
that
, mothafucka!”

Saint had had it up to here with people like Terri. They said they wanted help, but
they really didn’t. She wanted to take the reins on some shit she never had control
of—another human being! Not to mention one who wanted to keep running the streets
and screwing other women!

“Well,” Aubrey smirked as she slid her hand up and down her knee. “I suppose that
sums it up. That was a rather intense but educational interaction. Ladies and gentlemen,
Dr. Saint Aknaten is extremely honest. You will receive
no
handholding, coddling or glittery words from this man and I agree with his sentiments
regarding our last caller. Ladies, we have to take control over our circumstances!
Do not try to alter another human being’s behavior. He or she must change within and
from their own motivation. We only have control over ourselves… Next caller, you’re
on the air with Aubrey Jericho and Dr. Saint Akhaten…”

*

S
aint stood in
his front yard, his back straight as he admired his land. He stared at the vast Kelly
green lawn then walked up to the slate stone birdbath planted smack dab in the middle
of the sward. He sauntered around the thing, holding his cell phone so tightly, his
digits began to stiffen and lock up. His stress level soared from the bottom of his
feet and burst through his skull. Nerves? Shot. Saint felt like an ultra small rubber
band was tightening around his pressure points, squeezing and squeezing until he had
no more to give.

“This is exactly what I was telling you when you were here, son. Do you understand
how long it took me to realize there are things I must not interfere with when it
comes to you? I knew when you went onto Egypt, against my will, that I had to stop
interfering. I had to accept you have always been one to ultimately make your own
choices.” He paused, as if he needed a break from the heavy conversation. “All I can
say was…it was quite difficult. It’s like seeing your child go off to war, over and
over again. The pain never stops.”

Saint looked up into the sky, closing one eye as he focused on the soft, moving clouds.
The sky had turned from a bright Crayola blue to a dusky gray.

“Look, Dad, I can’t say I know how you feel because Hassani isn’t old enough for me
to get a front row seat to your pain, but I know that shit is coming… All I can say
is that I do empathize. Thanks for letting me vent with you, bounce off a few things.”

“I will always be here for you, always.”

Saint stared down at the ground, noting the evenly cut blades of grass, buzzed off
like an army certified haircut. His feet smashed a small section, depressing the blades,
making them spread and bend under his weight. In that moment he thought,

I wonder if the grass can feel that?

It smelled good outside. The mixture of freshly cut lawns, blossoming trees and fresh
lilacs mixed together created a warm weather concoction that soothed him just right.
A light breeze moved the strands of his hair around, tickling his scalp, making him
realize that he would indeed miss some things about L.A., after all. His father spoke
up once again, wrecking his reflections.

“I want to protect you, make sure no harm comes to my only child, but your destiny
is different than mine. Though I am not multi-tiered, I have full understanding of
what you endure on just about a daily basis. There were many multi-tiered Angel Children
in my family, as well as your mother’s. I knew what you were as soon as you were born,
and it surpassed my greatest fears because it meant that your lot in life would be
an uphill battle. I was a terrible father.”

The older man sighed, coming down on himself. “But I loved you, Saint, and I still
do, even more so. I love you so very much that when I speak to you, I try to not do
it from a selfish perspective, but from one that is best for you and your family.
In my heart, I knew you were to come back home once I saw how you became upset in
the new house. It was definitely a defining moment. You are returning not just for
me, but for a greater purpose.”

“Yeah, and that’s just the thing, Dad. I still don’t know what that is…the purpose.
I really hate that shit. It’s what I detest about this entire process.” Saint sighed
and dipped his finger into the stick and leaf filled water of the birdbath. He swirled
it around, making aquatic designs, enjoying the feel of the water against his sun-warmed
skin. Cradling the phone between his shoulder and neck, he paused.

“Hold on, Dad…”

He’d noticed a tiny, emerald cricket drowning in the shallow bath. The damn thing
flipped and flopped about with his tiny legs getting him no further than he was a
moment before. With a finger, Saint scooted the little insect into his palm, then
set it free as he bent to one knee in the perfectly manicured grass.

“I also didn’t think I’d feel so homesick and we haven’t even moved yet.” He looked
over his shoulder back at the place. The house he’d purchased for his wife, the one
she loved. The home they’d made inside of it. All of their children had been conceived
there. The memories would always remain, good and bad, but the frame of the picture
would be eradicated. He looked back up at the sky and became aware of an exquisite
painting taking place before his eyes.

The claret sun had begun to set in the tropical orange sky. He turned back towards
the birdbath, and realized how much he felt like the damn cricket. He just hoped and
prayed that if he couldn’t get out of whatever trouble was on its way, someone would
assist him too in his time of need, like he had the little creature…

*

“Nah, stand right
there.” Saint stood leisurely in the doorway as Xenia gave her treadmill what for.
She hated being surrounded by so many boxes in her time to unwind, but it was simply
unavoidable.

“I…can’t stop…right now,” she panted, sweat running down her face, collecting in her
cupid’s bow—and dare she admit it, the crack of her ass felt a tad swampy. She wanted
to divert her lecher of a husband; surely, he didn’t want ‘none of this.’ She was
filthy, had been working out for over forty-five minutes after a stressful day. He’d
worked late into the night, and the children were fast asleep. This was ‘Xenia time.’
Time to relax and work her muscles, burn off some steam. Soon, her contract would
be up and she’d be home free, moving to a place she knew, but that still seemed so
foreign. She looked at him still standing there, his beige Polo shirt unbuttoned,
exposing the soft layers of black hair and a thin platinum chain. The top of his gray
slacks were undone, revealing the top of his DKNY boxer briefs.

He looked taller than ever, and his well-defined jaw bone caught the light just right,
forcing her to take in his physique. Forcing herself to turn away, she increased her
speed and incline. She wanted the shit to hurt. She wanted her damn thighs to burn
as if she’d been running from a pack of wild wolves and her arms to feel as if they’d
been clenched and twisted like bread ties. All the shit had been locked away within
herself, the stress of moving to such an all encompassing place. A place with buildings
that looked down at you as if to say, ‘What the fuck are you lookin’ at?’ New York
didn’t have a sunny disposition, even on a 90 degree day in the damn park. Saint was
right, it did have a completely different vibe and moving there for good, with her
children, and starting afresh, had become a raw-to-the-touch reality.

“What are you thinking about?” He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, revealing
a delicate smile as his golden eyes briefly disappeared behind a blink that lasted
a second too long.

“Just…it doesn’t matter,” she waved him off, talking over the Ice Cube’s, “Tomorrow.”

“Yes it does.” He moved from the doorframe of the exercise room and slowly moved towards
her, his feet, clad only in dress socks, appearing to be gliding on ice. It was a
freaky fucking thing…kinda sexy, too… Going to the boom box, he shut off the old,
rotating CD player, hooked into Boss speakers. “Come on, now. Talk to me,” he said
seriously as he leaned over her elaborate machine control system, his elbow caressing
the side of her water bottle.

“It will just be different, you know? I’ve never lived anywhere but here before. Don’t
get me wrong, I trust you, Saint, it’s just…”—she shrugged and turned the damn treadmill
off, realizing her work out was officially over—“…different is all.” She smiled at
him, certain she was looking all kinds of pitiful.

He nodded in understanding, while giving her space to lay out her thoughts and reservations.

“Baby, this is a big change. I appreciate your willingness to do it and your trust
in my judgment. You can talk to me, I want you to. And, despite how I feel, if you
believe we shouldn’t go, tell me so we can talk about it.” He placed a hand along
his chest, indenting the golden flesh ever so slightly with his well-manicured fingertips.
“Not so I can convince you of my way of thinking, but so we can get through this,
and you can feel comfortable and feel heard…understood.”

“That’s just it.” She grabbed her fuchsia towel and dabbed her sweat-covered face.
“I have nothing new to offer you, babe.” She cracked a grin. “I know what it is, I
like being in control is all. Here, in California, I know what I’m doing. I know where
to go, how to get everywhere. I know the areas. I am accustomed to it, the people,
the culture. I breathe in the vibe, ya know?” She stepped off the machine and stood
inches away from him, hoping he wasn’t offended by her funk.

“In New York, it kind of feels like…you get swallowed.” Her eyes narrowed as she put
emphasis on the word. “It’s like everything is aggressive and ready to lunge out and
knock you off your feet…then walk away like nothing happened. I like New York, that’s
what is so strange to me about me feelin’ like this.” She paused, feeling a trail
of perspiration as it trickled over her lip. Before she could dab it away, the man
lunged over to her, grabbed her face, and licked it clean.

“What tha hell! Saint, that was nasty. I don’t know whether to be sickened or turned
on. I stink. Move back, Jack.” She chuckled as she tried to maneuver around his body.
He blocked her a time or two, then let her pass. A mirror covered one entire wall,
allowing her to see how he looked at her in a way that made her pussy lips clench
up like iron-clad fists.

“How is that nasty?” he said, his tone throaty, low. He leaned on the treadmill with
one arm and crossed his ankles, as if he had all the damn time in the world. “I eat
your pussy. I jam my tongue down your mouth. Do you know how bacteria ridden the human
mouth is, Xenia?”

“No.” She smirked. “But I’m certain the good doctor will tell me.” She dabbed between
her breasts. The fucking sweat was accumulating between them, making the girls feel
like greased up pigs.