Saint And Sinners (72 page)

“Yeah, I understand…” Saint looked towards the door, then back at Bomb. He deliberated
just leaving without saying goodbye. Bomb wasn’t the affectionate type, especially
when he was all nerved up, such as he was.

“Dejate de estar pendejeando¡ (Stop playing around.) Come ’ere and give me a hug.”

Saint grinned. His big brother seemed to be able to read his clouded thoughts. Drying
his hands quickly with a towel, Bomb took Saint into his arms, almost knocking the
wind out of him with the tight, powerful hug.

Such a strong person…physically astounding, even in his middle age…

“Relax,” Saint said into the man’s ears. His word carried with it a whisper of warm
breath, causing the long, slightly wavy black hair framing the man’s face to sway.
Saint swallowed as he caught a draft from the window, and then cherished memories
poured out in front of him, the scene dripping with surrealism. The scent of linen
filled the place, mixing in with cigarette and cigar smoke embers that still hung
thickly in the place. The food fragrances however had the starring aromatic role,
taking Saint to a place he’d only known as a little boy—a little Puerto Rican restaurant
Bomb would take him to and let him eat at until his tiny stomach almost burst…

All of the scents rolled together, making a special blend. He clung to that man a
bit tighter, smelling his freshly laundered shirt, the crisp, clean scent rising off
the collar intermingled with a slight trace of aftershave. The wispy hairs along Bomb’s
temple blew around his face long after Saint had spoken, as if carrying the meaning
of forever and a day. Saint touched the side of Bomb’s head, the way a mother would
inspect a child’s wound after a fall from a bike. Gently, ever so gently, he patted
his face Bomb loosened in his grip. The clenched muscles and tightness dissipated
as he welcomed the contact between the two. Saint stood over him instead of gazing
up at him as he had so many years ago, but he
still
received formidable love and emotionally looked
up
to the man, admiring him, thanking him, needing him all the same …

*

X
enia sat in
the apricot studio chair and cackled during commercial break. She was having a rip-roaring
time running the new ‘Xenia Aknaten’ show, and could not believe her luck. Not only
did she not need to co-host a current show and was given her own slot by her wonderful
friend in radio, they had also wanted her to name the show after herself. It couldn’t
get any better! She had awesome hours, a short commute, and today was her second week;
the groove had been snatched like a wig off a mannequin and she was wearing it well.

She spun around in her seat as she spoke with the producer, Rick, who was doing a
bang up job and keeping her in stitches with his corny sense of humor and teasing
of her celebrity drop-ins. Even Mary J. Blige stopped by; they’d had a wonderful time
together that afternoon as the songstress dished about her new CD and even answered
a few questions about her marriage and past relationship with the head singer of the
now defunct group, Jodeci. Soon, she was back on the air, so she drew serious, though
it was hard. Work in that studio felt more like a party. Yes, everyone was professional,
but she loved these people already. Down to earth, they cursed almost as much as Saint
and were brutally honest. She felt right at home.

Her introduction music began—Run DMC’s, ‘You Talk Too Much’, which made her, crack
up every time it played, especially since it was Saint’s idea. He’d teased her one
evening, accusing her of spreading everyone’s business on the air. Well hell! It was
her
job
to grab celebrity gossip with both hands and throw it in the air like confetti. She
did try to practice decorum, but she was good at this, and people knew they’d get
a fair interview with her, not a trashy spin of the facts. Her producer began to rap
the lyrics to the song and pointed at her. She grinned, again remembering how Saint
told her she should use that music.

“Xenia, this should be your theme song for that damn show! ‘You talk too much! Homeboy
ya never shut up!”

She threw a pillow at him and chased him around their bedroom, forcing him to lock
himself in their closet as if he were really afraid of her little self…but damn it,
that was a good ass idea!

She had to give the smart-ass credit. The song was funny, attention-grabbing and turned
out to be a big hit with both the callers and the guests. It became
her
song, and felt like an electric blanket against her skin as it played, forcing her
to always remember that she was having this exhilarating experience because she took
a chance, leaned on the shoulder of trust, and followed her heart and best friend
to a place called New York…

*

Isis’ soft lips
touched the side of his cheek, waking Saint from his slumber. He blinked his eyes
a few times while trying to focus, semi-dazed, only to see Xenia standing there in
an indigo and ash gray striped shirt, tied below her stomach. She’d paired it with
dark gray leggings and slip on black running shoes. A simple, relaxed look, yet he
found it sexy all the same. She ran her fingers through her curls and pushed them
back as she fixed a silver headband to her coif, gathering the gorgeous mass and forcing
it into submission.

“Hey, baby. I’m going to the store. Isis needs some new hair bows and I figured I’d
pick up a few things for the bathroom as well. We’re running out of Listerine, and
Dakarai could use another pair of shoes, too.”

“Yeah.” Saint yawned. “Are they here? They couldn’t be. The house is entirely too
quiet.” He grinned.

“The boys are with Mama… I can’t even believe I’m saying that! I can’t believe she’s
here. Who does that?!” Xenia chuckled as she scooped Isis in her arms.

“Your mother, that’s
who
. Well, we may as well accept it. Of course, Dakarai flipped out with excitement when
he found out his grandmother was in town.”

Xenia nodded. “Yup. I dropped them off at the hotel. She said she was taking them
to dinner at the restaurant there, and they were going to watch a movie in her room.
She’s supposed to come over for dinner in a couple of days. She is having waaaaay
too much fun out here.”

“Hopefully not
too
much. She might try to stay and then we’d have to move to another state…oh better
yet, another country.” Saint smirked.

“Saint!”

“I’m just kidding.” He smiled slyly, showing damn well he meant it.

He stood from the beige lounge couch in the front foyer area where he’d inadvertently
fallen asleep. After a long day of meetings at work, he came home to more construction,
although the finish line was near. He could barely recall what those meetings were
about. His thoughts had been scattered like flower petals on a wedding runner, only
his mind’s trappings proved far less attractive.

“Well, I better get going. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

Xenia turned away while Isis looked over her shoulder, giggled and waved.

“Byyyyye Daddy! Going to store!” she yelled giddily.

Saint laughed and waved back, then blew her a kiss.

“Bye, Isis. Have fun, baby doll.”

He watched Xenia out front, strapping Isis into her baby seat, then unfolded a yellow
throw blanket Xenia kept on the couch and settled down into the comfort of the soft,
overstuffed cushions.

“Ahhhhhhh…” He yawned.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been at home all alone, but he was going to
cash in on such an unexpected, tempting treat. A relaxing nap was way overdue, so
he hunkered down, pressing his face hard into the side of the tan and orange couch
pillow. Letting out a satisfied moan, he got comfortable as possible, nestling in
near the expansive bay window. This happened to be one of his favorite spots in their
home, a place where he could listen to the muffled city lullaby, the song of his heart,
as he dozed off, seduced by a dream in no time flat…

There she was…older and just as attractive, if not more.

…Xenia…My beautiful Xenia…

Her salt and pepper short-cropped hair framed her glowing face, barely a wrinkle in
time. Her dark eyes, though bright and full of life, looked haunted; they’d seen far
too much. That’s what made his damn heart sink. She had lived three lifetimes within
one being married to the likes of him, full of worry and frustration. She’d spent
years asking herself the same question over and over, each day wondering if that would
be the day her husband would be killed, dragged away in a body bag. He was the cause
of it all, but what could he do? Rather than make him feel even worse, though, she
tossed him a flirtatious smile as the sunrays danced along her flesh, highlighting
her toast-colored skin.

He looked out the open front door, his fingers pressing against the wiry screen.

Are we still in New York? Nah… This isn’t even upstate; where the hell am I?

He walked out onto the sizeable porch of the place, surrounded by colossal trees,
greeted by sweltering heat, the kind made of sticky, sweet lemonade and smelling of
chlorine filled pools. On such a day, one would just sit, watch and wait for the strawberry
red sunrise to set…and love every damn second of it. As he walked along, travelling
the expansive verandah, he could feel a slight stiffness in his joints…

I’m older, too. Yeah, this feels a bit different…

Saint smiled as he caught his reflection in the large window by the white wooden swing
that moved ever so slightly in the stingy breeze. His hair, still mostly dark, had
turned silver at the temples. The sun competed with the shine of his wedding band,
making it dazzle as it tried to prove who was the brightest of them all.

Still married to the love of my life, still in love…

He grinned at himself, finding he looked handsome for an old man. He took a seat on
the swing and sighed as the thing creaked under his weight. Not long afterward, she
came outside, holding two glasses of her all time famous honey lemonade. She passed
several ivory, ribbed pillars before she reached him and as she leaned down, he caught
sight of her generous cleavage, framed by a necklace made of black pearls. The old
broad still turned him on…

He took the cool glass and put the smooth rim to his lips. The ice chunks slid against
one another as if making love. The Queen sat next to him and crossed her legs, clad
in a pair of taupe capris. She placed her hand on his thigh, and they quietly swung,
back and forth in silence.

That moment proved the most peaceful and serene he’d ever felt in his entire life…

Then, the front door burst open and out poured four children. They looked oddly familiar,
but he wasn’t sure of their names.

Oh… Saint nodded in sudden understanding,