Saint And Sinners (60 page)

“I will spend the rest of my life knowing all the shit I did—horrible shit—to get
my way. Though I think I’m a beautiful mothafucka…”

Roman cracked up laughing, exposing his gums, at Saint’s statement.

“There were even some women, believe it or not, who were not initially that into me,
and I had their panties dropping and them chasing me around the damn city after I
got finished with them.” Saint tapped his temple. “I used this brain to mind fuck
the best of ’em! I paid dearly for it, too,” Thoughts of Payton crept back into his
mind.

“But my debt is
still
not paid in full. I must continue to do what I am doing. It is helping too many people,
saving lives, marriages. My daughter is half black. Many will view her as completely
black, negating my existence all together. Others will see her as not black at all,
as if Xenia has no part in her creation. Regardless, she is half of my wife and myself,
and that makes her a mixture of ethnicities. If a man treated my daughter in the manner
that I treated women in the past, I would want to keel over and die…after I killed
him first, of course.” Saint’s heart beat a bit faster as emotions climbed up his
throat once more, threatening to make him fall apart.

Roman looked at him intensely, taking it all in.

“I’m sorry…” he offered.

“No,
I’m
sorry.” Saint huffed and turned briefly away. “One day, she will know what type of
man I was, what I was doing. She will know because I’ve talked about it, and I use
it as a teaching tool. Even if I wasn’t teaching, she’d know, because one day she
will have questions, and I will have to answer. I use my past dysfunction to aid others.
It sickens me to know that all of those women I treated like mere objects were someone’s
daughter, just like my baby. At one point in time, they were little like her, believing
they’d grow up and fall in love with a great man. Instead, I came along. I didn’t
lie out of my mouth, but I lied with my dick. That’s actually worse…” He swallowed,
gathering his thoughts. “Roman, I’m doing important things. If you can’t stand behind
them, I understand, but we needed to have this conversation since I am trying to steal
you from home. Also, there is another component to this. There is something even greater
going on.”

“What’s that?”

“This information is confidential. You must swear to me that you will not tell one
soul.”

“I promise!” Roman drew closer, his face drawing in a serious expression.

Saint put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Have you ever heard of Demon Children?”

Roman’s face twisted as if he’d smelled something rotten.

“Of course I have. I run into them here in L.A. all the time. They are oftentimes
behind a lot of the crimes, instigating, causing problems. They rarely take the fall
though. Charles Manson is a Demon Child, for example. Did you know that?”

Saint nodded. “I didn’t know he was specifically, but it makes sense… Well, there
are some…shall I say, territory wars going on in New York.” He circled the rim of
his glass with his index finger now that the bubbling had come to a halt. “A serious
situation is going on, Roman.” He looked at the man grimly. “And, I believe a police
presence would be beneficial. I’m not even sure how or why, but when I got back here
on L.A. soil, I was compelled to reach out to you. Something is about to go
down
. I need an officer I can
trust
. I know they’d snap you up immediately. Your record is exemplary and you’d also get
a promotion and the recognition you deserve. You carry yourself well, you are professional,
and an Angel Child. What do I need to do, Roman, to convince you to come with me?
To be a part of this?”

“…You’ve already done it. Can I tell you what I think, please?”

“I’d like nothing more than to hear your thoughts, Roman.”

“You’ve opened yourself up to me tonight, explained some things, your passions. As
a man, I can respect everything you’ve shared. I don’t have to co-sign with all of
your beliefs, but I understand them now. You say you need me, that something serious
is going on, I’m there. You are the rarest type of Angel Child that exists, the strongest,
the most powerful. I’m not sweating you; I know at the end of the day, you’re just
a man, like me. But, I’m just amazed, in awe of you nevertheless. I give respect to
you because of what you are and what you stand for, and how you carry yourself. I
know you are selective in regards to who you have around you. I’ve seen a lot of people
gravitate towards you, but you keep a close-knit circle of friends. Some may say you’re
even a bit paranoid, untrusting of people. You’d have to be, for your own safety.
I know this, just by being close to you, like this.

“You’re naturally guarded, secretive, yet you’ve trusted me with this information.
When the Creator makes one of you, people like me have to listen. I knew the moment
I first saw you in your basement, and your friend Jagger, that we’d met for a reason.
The feeling was that I’d see you again, even after you moved away. I liked you instantly
and wanted to be a part of
whatever
it was you were doing because it had to be positive, and for the greater good. This
is the opportunity of a lifetime. Besides, I have extensive experience with Demon
Children, more than most. They don’t touch; for the most part, they keep their hands
clean, but they influence and manipulate others to the point that the aftermath is
often death. I see them constantly and they know what I am, too. Being in law enforcement,
it kind of goes with the territory.” He shrugged. “Now, what do I need to do from
this point on out?”

Saint smiled and took another sip of his drink.

“Give your two week notice tomorrow morning. I will have an employee of mine, a highly
regarded, retired ex-cop from New York, make some calls and get you interviewed, put
your foot in the door in the next few days. Tell your wife you’re moving, and that
whatever the police pays you once you get the job offer, I will double.” Saint took
another sip of his beverage, swallowing hard. “I live in Manhattan now, though I’m
from the Boogey Down Bronx. I’m back home, Roman…I’m back home where it all started,
where it all began. I have so much to show you and share with you, Roman…
amazing
things.” Saint extended his hand, and they shook on it, made it official.

“Welcome to the Rainbeau Knights…”

*

“It’s called a
CD.” Hassani grinned as he spoke to a new kid after class. The final bell had rung
and he walked out the place, free at last. He’d had a pretty good day. No one had
harassed him; it was like some sort of miracle. The new kid, like himself, happened
to be a transplant from California—From San Diego—and the two immediately buddied
up. The little white boy with dark brown hair and glossy, sad blue eyes, grinned too,
showing several missing teeth as he held the earphones to his head.

“Warren G is his name?” Todd asked.

“Yeah. My mom said she grew up listening to him. I found the CD and the old player
in our garage the other night. We gotta bunch of old stuff in there that my mom and
dad packed up from the old place. I was bored, you know, looking around. The song
is called, ‘Regulate’. The guy singin’ is Nate Dogg. I think he passed away though.
Anyway, I liked it; it reminds me of back home. That’s the sound of L.A.”

“Yeah!” The boy gripped the headset a bit tighter to his head. “I like it, too!” He
bopped about awkwardly, attempting to dance. Hassani stifled a laugh. He didn’t want
to make Todd feel bad. Besides, he liked him. Todd was a fabulous musician. He could
play the cello, violin, viola and the flute like a grown man. He’d won all sorts of
awards and prizes and they even featured him in the paper. To be with this musical
prodigy hardly seemed real. Hassani found him utterly amazing.

As he stood outside of the school, waiting for Mommy, Frederick and the cookie-faced
boy approached. Hassani could suddenly taste remnants of his lunch slinking their
way up his throat. The cheese pizza burned as it slid back down into the popping and
fizzing pit of his nervous gut. He fisted and unfisted his hands, even flung his backpack
to the ground, waiting for them. Yet, he was shocked to see they weren’t looking in
his direction. No, they weren’t gunning for him at all. Matter of fact, they hadn’t
messed with him since that first day when Angel made it clear what would happen if
they did. But they now had a new person to shake down, and his name was Todd…

“A white boy!” Frederick laughed heartily as he practically skipped towards him, for
all intents and purposes on cloud nine about his catch of the day.

“Yeah! White boy!” the cookie faced boy exclaimed with the same excitement.

“What old piece of shit is that you listenin’ to?” He snatched the ear pod off Todd’s
ears, causing the boy to rub his reddened lobes. Frederick put it up to his own ears,
and took a listen.

“Oh, this some olllld shit! I heard this before!” He grinned. “I usually don’t deal
with ancient pieces of equipment, but I’ll take this anyway. I kinda like this song.”
He snatched the CD player out of Todd’s hands. The darn kid looked like he was about
to cry.

“That…that’s not mine. It’s his.” He pointed in Hassani’s direction. “You should give
it back.” It was evident by Todd’s shaky voice, he was scared as hell. This time,
however, Hassani, wasn’t.

“Give me my shit,” Hassani said calmly, holding his hand out. Waiting.

The moon-faced boy burst out laughing.

“I ain’t giving you nothin’. Angel ain’t around here to protect your pussy ass and
word has it, he ain’t even checkin’ for you no more.” Frederick pushed past Todd,
almost knocking him down, and shoved his chest into Hassani’s. A strong, funny looking
dude, Frederick was taller, with a reputation to mess someone up. Hassani recalled
his punch all too well, but this time, he wasn’t backing down. Angel or not, there
would not be a second time.

“I
said
,”—Hassani gritted his teeth—“gimme my
shit
!”

“You spit on me, man!” Frederick handed the moon-faced boy the stolen music player.
“That’s yo’ ass!” He shoved his finger into Hassani’s nose and pushed him.

“I’m getting the teacher!” Todd said, making to run away, almost tripping over his
feet.

“The doors are locked now, stupid!” The cookie-faced boy cackled as Todd ran around
helplessly, trying to find an adult, hell, even another child that would assist. Once
people saw Frederick, though, no peer was willing to assist and no teacher happened
within sight.

“Don’t touch me again!”

And that was it. Frederick hauled back and landed a ferocious punch dead in the middle
of Hassani’s face, forcing him to fall back. He tasted the blood gushing from his
nose, over his lips. Before he could stop it, his eyes started to burn, his muscles
tensed—yet all of this was for Todd, not for himself. He heard the boy cry out when
the moon-faced boy grabbed him by the jacket, pushed him to the ground, and kicked
him in the gut. Hassani held his nose, the warm blood now running all over his fingers.
From Frederick’s expression, he realized he’d lost control.

“What…what’s going on wit’ your eyes, man?” he asked cautiously, taking a few steps
back.

Hassani felt warm tears running out of his tear ducts. Embarrassed and humiliated,
his anger level had never been so high in his lifetime. He stumbled to his feet, let
his bleeding nose go. He took a few deep breaths, forcing the redness in his irises
to subside. Then, he raised his fist and punched Frederick as hard as he could—right
in the nose, too, forcing the boy to fall down in pain, writhing and twisting against
the dirty pavement.

“Now you know how it feels!” Hassani seethed, pointing down at the jerk. “That’s what
you get! I told you to give me my shit back!” Hassani was now crying uncontrollably,
shivering, shaking like a leaf as the realization of what really happened became painfully
clear. He’d never been in a physical fight before, except for with Day-Day, but that
didn’t count. His adrenaline was rushing out of control and his heart beat so fast,
he wouldn’t have been surprised if he passed out.

Frederick screamed out, cursing, wailing, while blood gushed all over his ugly face.
Getting a hold of himself, Hassani raced over to Todd. By now, a crowd had formed,
and in customary fashion, just as Angel had warned, no one lifted one finger to assist.
Feeling a surge of energy, he singlehandedly plucked the moon faced boy off his friend
like a piece of lint on a sweater. He hadn’t even noticed how he’d cast him several
feet away, causing people to scream in wonder as the guy landed on his side, moaning
and declaring his arm was broken.

“You okay?” He reached down and helped Todd to his feet.

“Yeah…but you don’t look so good.” The shaken up boy handed him his CD player back,
now with a fresh scratch on the cover, thanks to Mr. Cookie.