Saint And Sinners (71 page)

Saint rolled his eyes. “Yeah…so anyway, this white supremacy group tried to holla
at me. I ignored them, as I do anyone else that fits into the vein. But then, their
harassment of me increased to the point where I had to let others know about it, like
my bodyguard and so forth. Anyway, one night, I saw him at the dinner I was at, but
I thought he was a Rainbeau. He and I even spoke. It never even clicked until right
fucking now. Though I haven’t laid eyes on this guy Koki since I’ve been back here,
I know it has to be him. And he is Japanese by the way, not Chinese. Anyway Bomb,
there are some events that have taken place in my life in which this cat has shown
up…all of them bad.

“The next incident was some real fucked up shit that happened to me a few years after
that. I hate talking about it—it kills me, but…I was sexually assaulted by an ex-girlfriend,
man.” Saint wanted to look away in shame, but he refused. He held strong, kept his
back straight and looked that man directly in the eye. As humiliating and upsetting
as it was for him, he would not allow that woman to continue to steal his dignity.
She’d done far too much damage, and she would not pilfer another moment from his life.

“Maaaan! I’m sorry ’bout that, Lil’ Pharoah. An ex-girlfriend? Damn! You know, bein’
locked up that shit happened to guys all the time but you don’t really hear about
no chicks doin’ shit like that to men. Other women maybe, but not no man and no disrespect,
but you a tall mothafucka, you done filled out a bit, too. Still thin, but got some
muscles now… You don’t look like someone an average Joe would wanna fuck with. How
the hell did she do that shit?!”

“Yeah, well, she put some shit in my drink. I could barely talk, defend myself. I
just had to lie there and take it. My wife came out and saw her fucking me, thought
that shit was consensual. Needless to say, it almost cost me my marriage.”

After the weighty words left Saint’s mouth, he recalled Lawrence’s warning a couple
years earlier about how he’d never been cleansed, and all of the negative energy and
demonic attraction towards him had been increasing, never letting up. Since he’d turned
thirty-five, his life had turned into a chess game of survival. Much like a forbidden
puzzle, tossed at him to figure it all out fast, while a blood-tinged sandglass timed
his every move. It was all coming together now, piece after jagged piece, in his brain!
Krishna cleansed him and things had gotten much better…and now, that demonic energy
could no longer cling to him in the same manner. The day of reckoning was approaching.

As if having an allergic reaction, Saint loudly sneezed—then again.

Bomb sighed loudly, apparently still feeling the emotions of Saint’s most recent confession.
He stood, closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face before disappearing to the
other side of the kitchen. When he returned, he handed Saint a tissue. Saint took
it and blew his nose.

“Thank you. As I was driving home man, you know, after she did that to me…” he said,
clearing his throat, “…I noticed a car by me at the light. I was on the phone with
Raphael explaining what happened, and this Japanese guy in this souped up red Mercedes,
rolled his window down and winked at me. I was so messed up in the head that night,
I just blocked it out, didn’t think much of it.” He shrugged. “I figured he was drunk
or maybe gay. Shit, I didn’t know and didn’t care. I didn’t pay it any mind because
that was the second worst night of my damn life, hands down.”

…When Mama died takes first place…

“I got home, saw my wife’s face and knew there wasn’t a damn thing I could say to
make that shit right in her mind. If I had…if I had lost her, Bomb… I don’t even want
to think about it.”

Bomb nodded in understanding. He’d confessed to Saint he’d lost a good woman a time
or two. He knew the pain it left, regardless of who the person at fault happened to
be.

“All sorts of shit happened, Bomb. Some of it, this guy had nothing to do with; some
of it, he did. There are other things I have no idea if he was involved in or not,
and may never know. The funny thing is, I’ve never laid eyes on him, but after what
you said I can just tell…”

“How you know then? Break this down to me.” Bomb crossed his arms, his curiosity no
doubt piqued.

“… I saw his face in a dream I had a while ago. That’s how I know what he looks like.”

“Saint, we are going to need
years
to fully catch up. I can see that now.” Bomb grinned. “You couldn’t have told me
some shit like this while I was still using.”

“I know…”

“But now, I believe you because as crazy and straight up bonkers as this sounds, with
what I’ve seen and experienced with you, there is no doubt in my mind you are telling
me the damn truth. No doubt it was hard for you to admit this to me, ’specially knowing
that I may not take you seriously, or worse, think you were crazy. It has helped me
Saint…’cause for years, I thought this shit was just my imagination, or that the drugs
had done this to me. But, sometimes I wasn’t high, you know? I hadn’t taken anything
and I’d see or feel something in you…and now, yeah, well, it just makes sense is all.”
The man took a deep breath. “Tell me though,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“How have you been surviving all of this? What are your vices?”

“My family, Bomb. My family is my damn vice.”

Bomb nodded, gave him a lopsided smile and winked. “I can dig it, man… Yeah, I can
dig it.”

“Bomb…this man has been in our lives since the day you and I met,” Saint said solemnly.
“He removed you from the equation, knowing I needed you and you protected me. Without
protection, I was vulnerable. All Angel Children, Bomb, are vulnerable, especially
the multi-tiered ones like me. My father wasn’t helping me, and this fucker probably
knew my mother wouldn’t be around much longer.”

“I ain’t protect you, man! Stop sayin’ that! I let you down! Maybe all of this shit
could have been avoided if I wasn’t doing what I was fuckin’ doing! I had a job to
do, and I blew it!” Bomb became a fireball of emotion, erupting as if he were a grenade
and someone had snatched out his damn pin.

“Don’t argue with me about this, I needed
you
more times than you needed
me
. I’m not sayin’ the points you’ve made aren’t valid, Bomb, I understand and appreciate
it,” Saint spoke calmly, trying to bring the volatile man back down. “And I understand
I played an important role in your sobriety, in your life in general, but let’s just
agree to say that we helped
each other
out. I refuse to let you do this to yourself.” Saint clasped his hands together over
his knee. “I’ve come to the understanding that men like me need guardianship in our
younger years. Especially from where you and I were from, Bomb. We had the cards stacked
against us. I needed you there, with me; there is no doubt in my mind, and there never
was. People like you have been guardians of people like me since the beginning of
time.” He didn’t miss the way the man’s eyes glimmered from the revelation.

“Sometimes, we get guidance from other Angel Children; other times, from normal civilians,
just like you. You’re right. Everything you said today was correct. Nothing sounded
crazy. He knew your weakness and used it. He knew that the day would come when I would
return here, and he has been trying to circumvent it, to stop it along the way. Someone’s
been schooling him, and he has been taking his duties seriously. But now I’m back
because his efforts failed.” Saint smirked. “This time, he will no longer be a shadow,
hanging close to me, trying to tempt me or those around me. A light has been shined
on him. He’s been influencing people, making me the target…no more.” A green trail
of dense smoke snaked out the corner of Saint’s mouth.

“You will need to kill him,” Bomb said so smoothly, so matter-of-factly, it sent chills
up Saint’s spine. The man kept his face impassive, as if he’d simply mentioned movie
times at the local theater. “Blow his fucking brains out. I don’t care, but it will
need to happen.”

Saint looked down at his plate, the delicious food remained undisturbed. It would
be wasted for his belly flipped, turned and churned like freshly made butter in a
barrel from the revelations and stress of the matter at hand. Bomb’s statements had
come from somewhere deep, dark and personal. He craved vengeance in a way that was
fiercer than his preceding drug dependence.

“Are you afraid to do it?” Bomb dared him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. He rubbed
his five-o-clock shadow, making a scratchy noise.

“No.”

“Little Brother.” Bomb’s smirk grew fucking wings and spread wide, graduating to a
full-grown grin. He cocked his head to the side, his eyes turning to dark slits. “Have
you killed before?” He said it like he enjoyed asking, as if it were a great honor
to snuff another human being out like the amber glow from a cigarette butt.

“Yes.” Saint answered without hesitation, knowing that if anyone in the world would
judge him for such a thing, it surely wouldn’t be Bomb.

“You’ve got blood on your hands; you’ve already watched a man lose his life on account
of you.” He pointed to his chest. “I won’t incriminate myself, but you know I—”

“Yeah.” Saint rolled his eyes and chuckled. “You won’t throw yourself under the bus,
but I was tossed the moment I walked in here,” he half joked. “Telling you all this
shit…”

“You know I’d give my life for you!” Bomb said sternly, pounding his fist into his
palm. “I owe you that and more! I would
never
repeat anything you’ve told me. Not today, not
ever
. I don’t know what the fuck is really going on here, and I ain’t gonna pretend like
I do. Most of the stuff we’ve discussed doesn’t make any damn sense; my brain doesn’t
want to accept any of it. It’s far out there, like being perpetually high, but not
in a
good
way. But what I do know is that you’re a good man, a damn good man. You’re no longer
the little boy I watched over. You’re an adult, out here doing your own shit, making
the world bend and change. I also taught you the way of the streets, how to survive.
Get…his…fuckin’ ass!” Spit sprayed out of Bomb’s mouth as he yelled. “This ain’t just
about you anymore!” He snatched Saint’s untouched plate from the table and placed
the food in a Tupperware container.

“…It never was,” Saint whispered.

Bomb didn’t say anything to that, just slammed the dishes around in the sink. Hot
water screamed like a newborn when he turned on the old, stained faucet, caked with
hard water deposits.

“Sorry you went through so much trouble. I wanted the food, I did.”

Bomb shrugged. “Who gives a shit anymore about beans ’nd rice right now. I can cook
for you tomorrow, next week…next month.” He kept his back turned, his body looking
stiff as he rapidly moved about, anger pouring out of him to the tenth degree.

Saint slowly rose from his seat and slid his jacket back on. He walked behind Bomb
and just stood there for a bit, loitering. Bomb’s warped reflection danced in the
sink fixtures. The man had slowed a bit, but his eyebrows bunched so hard, they almost
touched. He gently laid his hand on his big brother’s shoulder…

How different would Bomb’s life have been if he’d had other parents? A better neighborhood
to grow up in? If he could have kept Saint in his life just a bit longer? Would he
have decided to become responsible, more caring?

Saint didn’t know if it would have made a damn bit of difference, and that blood had
already been shed and washed away. It was too late to look back and wonder. It happened.
It was over.

“Bomb, is your number still the same one you gave me last time?” Saint asked quietly.

Bomb nodded, still keeping his mouth shut.

“If I call you again, Bomb, I’ll need you to answer your phone. No more going to voicemail,
no more messages not retrieved. This is serious.” Saint cleared his throat, waiting.

“I paid my bill. Sometimes I forget, ’cause I’m not used to having responsibilities
quite yet, but it isn’t because I didn’t have the money. I just forgot and I was payin’
online, but the computer was down. I know what happened now… it won’t happen again.
I’ll go to the library if I have to…”

“You can pay it on your phone. Go to the bank tomorrow morning and ask them how to
get the app on your phone if you can’t figure it out.”

He nodded.

Saint was positive the man would take care of it. “It’s not your fault, Bomb.”

“It is. If I wasn’t doing all that crazy shit back then, you wouldn’t have gotten
away from me without me knowing, and I would’ve realized what was going on. I ain’t
sayin’ I would have become some sweet guy, straight laced and square, but I would
have still been there for you, like I was supposed to!”

There was no point in arguing with him. Bomb had swallowed his guilt whole, the skin
and bone included, and it choked him as it pushed down his throat, leaving him impaled
and barely breathing. He shot Saint a look and abruptly turned back to work at his
cleaning routine. He passed rough hands along the rim of a glass with a wet, white
dishrag. Saint feared the damn thing may burst in his grasp. In that instant, he saw
the craziness growing inside of the man, the craziness Bomb was known for since he
was a teenager. The kind of madness you didn’t want to be the brunt of, for there
was no way you’d survive it if he unleashed it upon you.

“Go on,” he urged roughly, turning the water on a bit harder as he rinsed the glass
and set it on a blue plastic rack to dry. “You need to get back home to your family.
We’ve talked; my phone situation will be taken care of. I’ll get it worked out. We
will never speak of this again, like I said. Just let me know when it is fuckin’ handled.
Do you understand me?”

Saint hesitated.

“Goddamn it, answer me mothafucka! Do you understand me?!”

Bomb threw a spoon across the room and it hit the window. His tone of voice damn near
shook Saint’s core. Saint fought with shock and bewilderment that the man now knew
what he was capable of, and
still
felt a sense of comfort even after all that was shared and what they’d endured together.
He couldn’t help but smile at that. Bomb would never make him feel like a freak. His
big brother still saw him only as Lil’ Pharaoh.