Saint And Sinners (43 page)

“School’s almost out,” Angel offered. “It’s almost 2:30.”

They’d been there for hours, but it sure hadn’t seemed like it. He hadn’t even had
any hunger pangs, nothing. It felt as if it had been just one long dream, and he had
been awakened by an alarm. The conversation was so interesting, he’d completely lost
track of time and now he very well may pay for it.

“Oh no! My Daddy will be up at the school to pick me up soon!” Panic struck Hassani
deep within as he turned to and fro, looking around as if a rescue team would suddenly
show up and cart him away—saving him from a man named Saint. If Daddy knew he’d played
hooky, he’d be in a big ol’ world of trouble and worse yet, it may even be painful.

“I know you gotta go, too! Come on.”

“Don’t nobody give uh fuck about me, man. Ain’t nobody checkin’ for me like that.”
Angel smirked as he kicked a stone away from him. “That’s why I’m glad you came along.
You give me a reason to worry about tomorrow. Like, I used to only worry about today,
you know?” He leisurely got to his feet and slipped the book bag over his shoulder.
“Ain’t no sense in worrying about a future you sure you don’t even fuckin’ have or
want no part of, no way. But, when I saw you, and helped you, I knew I was to protect
your ass, help you make it through this shit. I could feel it in my damn soul. It
made me happy, because…I had a purpose again. I was born to watch over you, protect
you until you get to where you need to go.”

Hassani swallowed a wad of nervous spit that had formed in his mouth when he got surrounded
by the boy’s loneliness and the sadness of his confessions. It overwhelmed him, made
him hurt deep inside.

“But…you protect your little brother, Julio, Angel. That’s purpose, right?” Hassani
slid on his backpack and looked towards the exit of the tunnel, anxious to get away
but still wanting to talk to the boy a bit more.

“Ain’t the same. People expect me to do that, and Julio don’t need that sort of thing
anymore because people know who I am and what will happen if they fuck with him now.
I’ve made the shit clear, you know? With you, I’m serving my divine purpose. It’s
totally different. I earn my stripes this way. This life we live is hell, as far as
I’m concerned.”

He reached into his other pocket, gripped a small, skinny cigarette and lit it as
they made their way out of the tunnel, back into the light. The rain had passed, leaving
puddles in its wake. Hassani looked down in them, seeing his twisted reflection, and
at that moment, he questioned if what he saw was really what he was on the inside,
too.

“You said you in foster care. Ain’t that like where kids go who don’t have no parents?”

“Sometimes.”

“What about you? Where are your parents at, Angel?”

“Dead.”

Hassani felt a lump form in his throat and tears well up in his eyes. That empathic
mess Daddy talked about was taking its toll on his body. He suddenly got a pang in
his heart—he felt for Angel, he felt for him deeply.

“Don’t be sad, man.” Angel gave a light laugh as he pulled his jacket a bit tighter
around his neck, hiding the gold chain dangling from it. “They been dead since I was
seven. I live in a foster home with my brother, Julio. Right now, we with a different
family than before. The Johnsons are aiight.” He shrugged. “They feed and clothe us,
but they more concerned about gettin’ that check. All these foster homes are the same,
man. Some of the people nicer than others, but it all comes down to that money. Whatever,
man. They at least got me into this school like my old teacher begged ’em. Maybe,
if I earn my stripes with you, you know, you could be my ticket out and I could go
to an art school or some shit?” He laughed, sadness in the tone.

“Yeah, I bet you could, Angel.”

“Yeah man, that would be dope. I could go to art school and be some fancy animator
or something, for video games. Some of them mothafuckas make a lotta damn dough, man.
If I make sure you okay, yeah…I could do that.” Angel seemed to be working the scenario
through his mind, hard and heavy, mulling it over, tasting it and liking the flavor.
Truth of the matter was, Hassani liked him even
more
now. Angel
was
special, but didn’t seem to know it. He lit the little cigarette and took a hearty
puff, feeling his eyes immediately growing small. A strange odor filled his nostrils.

That don’t smell like no cigarette…

Hassani stared at it a bit longer, then his thoughts were cut in half when Angel pointed
to the subway station up ahead.

“Yo, let’s take the train. It’ll be faster. I don’t want you gettin’ in trouble or
nothin’ like that. Now look, make sure that when you get back to school, you stay
away from them front doors. The teachers will be hanging around. Keep your back to
’em. Just wait up front, close to the street so it look like you been there all day,
aiight?”

“Yeah, I got it…”

They arrived at the subway. Angel tossed his tiny cigarette to the ground and grounded
it with the heel of his shoe. One last puff of smoke escaped from the side of his
mouth. As they sat close together, Hassani’s burning question could no longer wait.

“Hey, Angel, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.” Angel sat a bit taller, as if he were some scholar. Hell, maybe he was…

“You ever do it with a girl before?”

Daddy had talked to Hassani several times about the birds and the bees. After all,
Daddy had some fancy papers saying he was a sex doctor…but, still. Stuff like that
comin’ from Daddy sometimes sounded strange, even though Daddy was real laid back
about it, and told him he could ask him anything he wanted. He wanted to hear it from
Angel though… Yeah, he bet Angel had gone all the way.

“Ahhhhahaha!” Angel cracked up, his head tilted slightly to the side as if surprised
Hassani would ask such a thing. “What type of question is that, man? I’m fourteen,
what
you
think?!”

“I…I don’t know.” Hassani felt suddenly self-conscious, like he’d asked something
dripping in extreme stupidity…once again!

“Yeah, I fucked plenty of girls, plenty of times. Why?”

“I had a girlfriend back in L.A.,” Hassani chimed in, trying to save his reputation
right quick and in a hurry as Grandma would say.

“Did you, huh?” he asked with a grin. “I bet you was salty when you moved then, right?”

“Yeah. I never got the chance to do that with her. We kissed though.” Hassani smiled
with pleasure upon recalling her pressing her soft lips against his the day before
he left for the airport to fly to New York.

“That’s nice,” Angel said dismissively. “Look, don’t worry about it. With the type
of magnetism you have, you’ll be drownin’ in pussy before you know it. And no homo,
but you a good lookin’ cat, too. Hopefully you’ll stay that way.” He chuckled. “Girls
ain’t gonna be a problem for you, trust me.”

Hassani smiled with delight. He didn’t know what ‘no homo’ meant, but he refused to
ask and show his lack of knowledge, play himself for an ignorant fool.

“I’m just usin’ you to get favor, you know that, right?” Angel shot him a silly grin.

The guy was talking mess, Hassani could feel it. Angel really
did
like him, and he liked him, too.

“Yeah, I know,” Hassani lied again, just playing along.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like hanging around little ass kids like you. I wish you was
a bit older, but you’re not. Regardless, I gotta do what I gotta do. So, here is how
we’re goin’ to spin it. You’re my cousin from L.A., okay? We just found out we’re
related, you got it?”

“Got it.”

“You could pass for Puerto Rican.” He looked Hassani up and down, as if he were a
pair of shoes he was considering buying.

“How’d you know I’m not?”

“’Cause your last name is Aknaten, dumbo!” Angel teased. “You never told me what that
is by the way. What nationality is that last name? What is your race?”

“Daddy said ain’t no such thing as race…that is a made up con and luck.”

Angel burst out laughing and slapped his knee. “You mean
construct
.”

“Yeah, construct.”

“Well, humor me. Tell me anyway. What’s Aknaten?”

“It’s Egyptian.”

“You Egyptian, man?” His brow rose high. “I never would have guessed that.” He looked
him up and down in a discriminatory way. “You a little dark to be Egyptian. I thought
all Egyptians were A-rabs? You got good hair, though… Shit, maybe you are.” He nodded
as if the possibility was now on his radar.

“Mama said ain’t no such thing as good hair.”

Angel rolled his light eyes.

“You gonna repeat everything your folks say, huh? Like everything they say is tha
truth?” He winked at him and grinned. “Black girls always say that. You don’t hear
no white or Asian women sayin’ that stupid shit. You only hear nappy-headed hos sayin’
that dumb crap. I bet yo’ mama got an afro, don’t she? Power to the people,” Angel
teased as he raised his fist in the air and laughed obnoxiously.

Hassani felt himself growing warm again. The conversation was becoming irritating.
He fisted his jeans, trying to sooth his nerves. On one hand, Angel seemed vastly
mature for his age, someone Hassani wanted to grow up and be like. On the other hand,
though he knew his parents said silly stuff sometimes, Angel could be cruel and just
plain senseless. Mommy and Daddy were smart. Angel was talkin’ out the side of his
mouth as Grandma would say. The guy didn’t know them. Who was he to judge them? More
importantly, why did race, color and hair have to even be an issue? Why was it so
important to Angel? None of this mattered in L.A. He was makin’ a big deal about nothing.

“I’m not
all
Egyptian.”

“Well I figured that.” Angel took another long glance at him. “You got some black
in you. Which parent is it?”

“My mama black, my daddy half Egyptian and half Korean,” Hassani offered, wanting
to squelch the boy’s curiosity and hopefully put the entire conversation to rest.

“Ohhhh man, you got a bunch of shit mixed in you, boy. That’s alright though.” He
nodded in approval. “That’s pretty fuckin’ cool, actually. I like that…yeah, that’s
pretty damn cool.” His voice trailed off as they neared their stop. “And by the way,
it don’t matter what race you are, if your mama got an afro or not, none of that shit.
I just like lookin’ at people is all. I’m an artist. I put people in boxes, not because
I’m hung up on race, little man, but because I see colors where everyone else only
sees black and white. And you are burstin’ bright as the mothafuckin’ rainbows…”

*

S
aint’s pursed lips
thinned further, an action that stiffened his face. He sat on the edge of the bed,
grinding an axe Xenia was thrilled he didn’t actually have. She continued to take
in his image in the mirror’s reflection, his crisp white shirt partially unbuttoned,
exposing a thin trail of hair and glinting platinum chain that he twirled slowly between
his thumb and forefinger. Listening to the lyrics of ‘’Til the End of Time’ by Timothy
Bloom made her already throbbing pussy quake a bit more. She was going to say it—some
shit she knew her husband didn’t want to hear, but she couldn’t have him sitting there,
getting re-dressed to go out into the streets, and take his aggression out on some
poor soul.

“Look, Saint.” She sighed. “I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but you’ve got to trust
your gut on this. It will all fall into place. I hate this for you… I hate this for
us.” She gripped the raspberry satin sheets tightly in her hand, almost painfully,
and looked at them bunch in her palm. The man had come clean, had a horrible outburst
as he came within her just moments ago. The ugly, horrid truth rolled out like wheels
off a bus, crashing into her, making her face the reality of his situation…
their
situation. He’d been having awful nightmares; everything had come to a head.

“I have a meeting with Krishna, soon. It isn’t going to be a fairy tale. Once he schools
me…”—He slowly ran his palms together during the chorus of the haunting song, pausing
as he undoubtedly listened to the lyrics.—“…the shit is going to really start rolling.
As soon as he gets in town, Xenia, I’m going to be let out into the wild. I don’t
know what the hell is going on, but I’m about to find out.” He looked at her sitting
behind him, his glance cast into the mirror, his eyes glowing a bit brighter, brimming
with scattered emotions,