Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (31 page)

Goddamn it! I knew it was
this!

Jagger leaned back in his
seat. A part of him fought screaming at the man; a lion’s roar gurgled inside of him but he stifled it.

…
Make that motherfucker’s Fonzie ass hair blow the fuck back!

His thoughts raced between, ‘Mind your business, Saint
’ and, ‘As if I would…’

“Because,” he rocked in his seat, looking anywhere but in Saint’s eyes, “I haven’t found the right time.”

“Ahhh, and so the lies begin.” Saint shook his head and looked down at his desk. “You coulda told her right before the first time you fucked her.” He smirked and picked up his cigar, took a long, hard pull on it, his cheekbones drawing in, eyes narrowing and turning pitch black. He tapped it, a few ashes fell, then he placed it back in the ashtray. Saint grinned sarcastically in an ‘ain’t shit funny, but I’m going to smile anyway.’ vibe.  “You had plenty of time!” Curls of smoke exited the side of his mouth and the man’s voice now sounded as though he’d just taken a hit of weed—choked up, slighter higher octave, chasing a chance to breathe. “You think that’s right, man? How would you feel if you were her, huh? Dating one of
us
, and didn’t know shit? We’re freaks of nature! And I don’t mean that shit in a bad way, but we’re different! She has a right to know this shit.”

“I never said she didn’t.” Jagger glared at him, and he could feel the heat rising in his body. He didn’t like how Saint was speaking to him, but he knew the two could end up on the floor in a nasty heap, tearing
holes into each other’s flesh and no matter how many good licks he got in, how much blood he’d draw, Saint would end up victorious, and it sickened him. Now a part of him regretted teaching the motherfucker how to fight better…

“
What if she gets pregnant, huh? You think that’s right? Pregnancy with an Angel Child is different, and you know it! There is no guarantee the baby would be a commoner, Jagger. Look at me, I’ve got three kids and all three of them are Angel Children!”

“She’s on that birth control shot…”
He rolled his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter, there are other problems
with this scenario. We don’t always marry our own kind; Lawrence and I are living proof of that, and hell, your ex-wife was a commoner, too! So you can’t do this, Jagger. Are you trying to fuck this up? Your relationship? It sure seems like it!”

“No!”

“Then what are you waiting for?!” Saint’s eyebrows bunched as he ran his thumb over his mp3 player. “Coming From Where I’m From” by Anthony Hamilton started to play. He took another puff from his cigar, then blew out thick, opaque rings. Jagger didn’t know if his mind was playing tricks on him, but they seemed to be shaped like skulls and bones.

“
What if she finds you in a precarious position, huh? What if she sees your eyes turn red, or yellow, or so damn silver it looks like you have no damn eyeballs at all!” Saint raged, pounding his desk. “My wife knows what the fuck I am, Jagger.” He leaned way back in his seat, causing his chair to strain and squeak. “Xenia has known almost since the moment we met, and still to this day, it freaks her out a bit, so why in the hell would you take this sort of chance?”

Jagger grimaced and crossed his arms over his chest. If
loathing had a face, it would look like his…

“
You think I wasn’t afraid to tell her, huh? I was. I loved her from the moment I laid my eyes on her, man. From the first time I saw her, I knew she had to be mine, and then I had to tell her…had to let her know who I was, before things went any farther and at that time, I was still confused. I had no idea what to call it, what to do with it; I just knew I had it. Imagine trying to explain something to someone you’d die for, and you just met her, but you can’t even explain it to your damn self. Yet you know if you keep it a secret, you could lose her forever. I had to weigh my options. I had to take a risk!” Saint slapped the desk loudly, his anger more than apparent. “I wanted her to see
me
, Jagger! I wanted her to see who I was, completely, so that she understood who she’d made love to, and what I was about!”

Jagger looked down at the floor
, then slowly back up.

“Look,”
Saint said more calmly. “Jagger, man, I don’t want you to lose Traci, okay? You think you are saving yourself heartbreak by delaying this, but you’re just creating it.” He paused; his eyes darkened into in a hazy, muted gray with tinges of orange. A rather strange an unnerving combination… “Why am I the only mothafucka saying something right now? Why aren’t you talking?!” His voice rose again.

Jagger gritted his teeth and lo
wered his head, cracking his knuckles. The heat in his eyes intensified. He glared up at Saint. Saint smirked then cracked up laughing.

“Oh, so now you want to fight me, man?”
he said casually, placing his cigar back down in the ashtray and running a finger across his chin. “You wanna fuck me up for making you have to face some shit, making you have to
feel
?” He slicked his tongue over his bottom lip and shook his head.

“Tell me something, Jagger
.” He tapped the desk with his fingertips. “Had you told even your ex-wife?”

Fuck you, Saint.

Saint burst out laughing. “What was that? You just cussed me out in your mind? Really, man? Look at cha, chest heaving, sweating, cracking your knuckles so hard they’ll be putty in a second…eyes so red, looking like fresh blood, the first draw from the knife across a throat. I know you want to reach across this desk and punch me, rough me up a little… A big man, afraid of a little thing called love.”

“Fuck you!” Jagger stood to his feet,
his chair crashing to the floor. He was bursting inside, a fireball of angst, his energy scattered, violent and angry. He was turning into the animal Lawrence had warned Saint about.

Saint remained calm and glanced at his computer.

“No, fuck
you
, Jagger. Better yet, you’ve already fucked
yourself
. That’s the honest truth. Don’t be angry with me, I’m your brother…”

“You’re
no kin to me. You think you can run my life, tell me what to do. Lawrence may go for that shit, but I don’t! My job is to work for you, period. Nothing else. Stay the hell out of my private life. I’ll tell her when I get good and damn ready.”

“Private life? Are you serious?! Goddamn
, man! The woman hangs out with Xenia, they’re friends now! You didn’t even give a heads up! Xenia called us ‘Angel Children’, and Traci didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about. Do you know what kind of position you put my wife in?!”

“Just shut up. Now.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are talking to, man?” Saint swallowed. His tone was calm, but the warning was loud and clear. His eyes glowed bright red, then he appeared to self soothe as they returned to their natural golden with a honey glow. “What if Xenia had gone and told her all the details, huh?! She’d be hearing about the shit from a woman she practically just met, instead of the man she’s been in a relationship with and fuckin’ for over a damn year!” Saint shot up from his seat, his eyeballs now matching Jagger’s—blood red was back in action and ready to party… “Why won’t you do the right thing?!”

“Because she’ll
leave me! She’ll think I’m a monster!” Jagger raced toward Saint’s bookshelf, hooked his hands around rows of books and knocked them to the floor, along with the bookcase, causing a loud thud. The entire office shook from the impact, as if an earthquake had hit. The room suddenly felt like it was spinning, the residual smoke spread with a life of its own, encompassing his form, attaching to him as if it had feet, leaving him prickly and visually impaired, blinding him with a heavy, foggy touch. The murkiness grew and grew until he could no longer see Saint, but he heard the man’s voice, and it ran chills down his spine. Deep, low, yet hauntingly soothing, it echoed throughout the room, as if three people were saying the exact same words in unison.

Calm down, Jagger. Calm down, man. Come on…
take a deep breath…

Jagger tripped
amongst the chaos, holding onto the wall, trying to keep his balance as it seemed the entire place was turning upside down. He could feel Saint approaching, yet his eyes still weren’t able to capture the man.

“You just keep pushing and pushing!” Jagger screamed
out, punching at the air, hoping to connect to Saint’s form in a violent storm of fist-fueled brawls. His emotions were raw, bloody and sensitive. “Don’t you think I’ve thought about all of that?! So many times I got ready to tell her, and then, I’d look at her, and I just couldn’t. I don’t want to lose her…I
can’t 
lose her, Saint…” He fell to the ground, defeated, wanting the entire world to just disappear.

A new song began,
growing louder and louder. Anthony’s Hamilton’s, “Do You Feel Me?” hit him with its bluesy sounds, so crisp and painful.

“…Baby, is my message gettin
’ through?”
went the heart-wrenching lyrics…

“I’ll help you, Jagger, okay? Xenia and I will be there
for you…” Suddenly, out of the fog, Saint appeared and placed his hand gently on his shoulder. Jagger shook, trembling from his powerful touch…

One soft touch, and a
ll that clout…

It jolted him. The power. The purity. The beauty.

Love.

He was open and Jagger gasped for air
. He reached for Saint’s hand that rested upon him. He held on, feeling like a wounded infant. He looked up to find Saint observing him with concern and possibly pity on his face. And he glowed…The smoke never touched one hair on the man’s head. He was framed in the fog as he stood there, shimmering like a damn star…

Saint slowly slid his hand away and helped him up.

“You okay, man?” he asked quietly as if nothing out the ordinary had happened.

“Yes
,” was all Jagger could muster.

Saint
slowly turned his back and disappeared back into the curtain of haze. Jagger assumed he’d returned to his desk. He steadied himself and waved about in the air, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when the mist once again cleared.

He
wasn’t sure what to say or what had exactly happened. He simply knew he felt fear…and unbelievable rage because there was nothing he could do to stop it. He made his way back to the fallen chair, picked it up and slumped down in it, cupping his forehead, eyes closed. His heart beat so loud, he could hear it in his ears.

He could hear
Saint typing on his computer. The clicking sound mingled with the now subdued hum of the music.

“So,”
Saint said. “You let me know how and when you want to do it, and I’ll be there if you need me. Like I said, I’ll make sure Xenia is as well. She might be able to help Traci understand it a little better than we can, since she was once in her shoes. At this point, we have to kind of treat it like an intervention.”

Jagger opened his eyes
and found Saint staring at him.

“If she is the one, and I suspect she is, she won’t leave you, Jagger.
The woman for
you
won’t leave you because of this, Jagger. You have to trust me on this. I’ve been down this road, man.”

“Told my
ex-wife.” Jagger looked down at his shoes and smirked. “Told ‘er and she didn’t believe me, said I was crazy and had post traumatic stress disorder from the military, and being around death so much. I never brought it up again…but then, after I found out my son wasn’t biologically mine, I…I…”

Saint
clasped his hands together, looking serious. “You what, Jagger?”

Was this the same man? His voice was so soothing, so calming, like a
soft lullaby. Just moments prior, Saint screamed at him so loud, he made the music when he’d first entered the room sound like a whisper. Now, he had this unbelievable calming affect ever since Jagger had his nervous breakdown, right there in his office. It was truly as if it almost never happened, like Saint had a huge eraser, and worked to move Jagger’s distress out of sight, and out of mind. His movements, everything about him made him relax. Jagger’s eyelids got heavier and heavier… He fought the sandman and stayed on task.

“I became angry, and…I’m not sure what happened, but she screamed. Any chance I had of getting her back, of fixing our marriage, was ruined at that moment. It’s like I turned into the incredible
Hulk. Once the dust settled, our house had over eighteen holes punched clean through the walls.  I did all of that in less than sixty seconds, to keep from touching her, from taking my anger out on her. I’m not a woman beater.” He looked at Saint, offering sincerity. “I saw that growing up. Always feared I’d turn out just like my old man…and in that instant, I felt for the first time I could understand how a man who loved a woman could hurt her. I never understood it before that, but at that moment…at that moment, I understood it completely. And I hated myself for understanding the temptation!” His voice wavered.

“And now you’re afraid that when you tell Traci, she will respond in the same fashion as your ex-wife.” Saint leaned back in his chair, stretched and placed his arms behind his head.