Saved and SAINTified (35 page)

“Now,”
Nizsm said as he took a drink from his goblet. “Would you prefer to see sports? I have a beautiful new entertainment room with three large televisions. I can get some American stations as well.” He continued to grin, trying desperately to cloak the elephant in the room with a loosely veiled divergent.

“No
, thank you,” Lawrence replied, a forced smiled on his face. Osaze leaned forward, peering around the room, searching for a focal point to steady his nerves. He was becoming increasingly agitated and wanted the negotiations over with as soon as possible.

Nizsm
turned more toward Lawrence, sizing up the Native American. “Sports not your thing? A big strapping man like you? What suits your fancy?”

“This discussion,
Nizsm.” Lawrence’s reply was monotone and a slight attitude tickled the words he uttered. During long discussions Osaze had had with him, he’d discovered not only a like for Lawrence, but a similar spiritual kinship. He realized that Lawrence was quite underestimated. His quiet, peaceful demeanor was a farce. He was not void of blood on his hands; he simply did not wish to discuss it.

“So, Lawrence
.” Nizsm continued his subtle interrogation. “You are a friend of my cousin’s, yes?”

Osaze watched as
Lawrence pulled his strength away, and used it for his own armor before the conversation became deeper.

“Yes.”
Lawrence rubbed his hands together, prepared to place them over his heart to help create another barrier—stalling. He needed more time.

“There’s no need for that,
Lawrence.” Nizsm leaned back and rubbed his second wife’s leg, gathering the thin, colorful fabric all the way up to her thigh and exposing her brown, bare knee, as if in invitation. An uncomfortable stillness spread throughout.

“Oh, I believe there is,
Nizsm. We are trying to talk to you about the situation, but you’ve spent most of the evening trying to dig into our thoughts, to get information about Saint and the baby. I’m requesting that you stay on task. We have come in peace. We wish you no ill will. We would like to come to a compromise.”

“Your proposal is no good, though,
Lawrence.” Nizsm continued to casually rub his wife’s leg. He then turned toward her and pushed his tongue in her mouth, while his hand aggressively roamed over her breasts. Osaze cleared his throat and turned away in disgust.

“My father is on his way
. He will reiterate the same,” Nizsm finally said as he broke the tongue lock from his spouse. “You stated that Saint will not try to possess the power that comes with the birth of his daughter, but that is impossible. I will be stripped, and our family needs to stay in power, for the people of Egypt. It would be a disservice. And besides, he wouldn’t know what to do with her.” He grimaced.

“The father’s family of the Princess of Life has all of the power over the
Angel Children; however, not everyone wants that responsibility, Nizsm. It is a choice to carry out those duties, birthright or not.”

“It is in her!”
He slapped the table, temporarily losing his cool. Then, like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he flashed an award-winning grin and winked at the two men. “Look, gentlemen, I know you mean well.” He cocked his head to the side and caressed his wife’s leg once again. “But as far as I’m concerned, a grave mistake has occurred. It’s just a mistake.” He shrugged and broke out an unpleasant laugh.

“She isn’t a mistake,
Nizsm. No grandchild of mine is
ever
a mistake.”

“You’re right, Osaze. She’s not a mistake, just born of the
wrong
man.” Osiris’ gruff voice boomed throughout the vast room as he made his grand entrance, his cane clacking against the floor. A faint laugh followed his statement—as well as an ‘all-knowing’ expression on his rawboned face. The older man’s salt and pepper hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him a look of distinction. “It’s been a long while,” Osiris smiled pleasantly at Osaze who stood to greet him.

The older men embraced
with genuine respect. Osiris took his seat at the head of the table and surveyed the room. “I apologize for my tardiness; there was a pressing business matter that couldn’t wait.”

A hush
carried on the air as he spoke.

Osaze
met eyes with Nizsm. Neither man smiled. He hadn’t laid eyes on Osiris in such a long time, it jarred him in ways he hadn’t expected. Once the best of friends from faraway lands, that all changed once he told Osiris that he didn’t approve of how he was running things.

Osaze thought back to those days, the argument that led to an actual fist fight
, and though Osiris towered over Osaze at his staggering height of six foot seven, the shorter man prevailed. Osaze was stronger than he—psychically and physically—and the truth had been revealed.

A
nd now,
this
. His granddaughter was the coveted Princess of Life. The previous one was Osiris’ great-great-grandmother and even though she’d passed, her power reigned on since no one was born to take her place. This had kept their family in complete control over Egypt, for centuries—but now, that position was threatened.

Nizsm
stood and bowed at his father, then took his seat again.

“I know all about your son, Osaze,”
Nizsm sneered. “I did my research before our meeting this evening. He is from Cherubim blood, like me. I understand that due to that, he may make this difficult. He may have the boldness to try to oppose the world order, to try to derail things. He can have another child—just not
this
one, and that’s final.”

“You’re threatened by my son.” Osaze’s voice shook. “He is a good man, an honorable man. You
, on the other hand, Nizsm, have made such a heinous, unconscionable request. You are evil to your core.”

Nizsm’s smile
didn’t hide his evident annoyance. “I’m evil, hmmm? You’re foolish, Osaze. My father has love for you, even after that altercation that you started, I might add, but I do not. You threw his hospitality in his face! You’ve become too emotional. This isn’t personal. This is strictly business.”

“It’s always personal when my flesh and blood is involved
. My
only
child, what is left of my beloved Min Jae.”

Nizsm
slapped the table and burst out laughing, so hard he turned ruddy. His wives smiled, as if on cue and invisible puppet strings pulled at the skin of their faces. Osaze scowled at him and the laughter stopping short. Looking like the Devil himself, he honed his gaze on Osaze. “Min Jae? Inferior Asian blood!!! Beloved? You married beneath yourself and created a disaster.”

“We are all equal,
Nizsm,” his father corrected, pointing at his son. “Don’t turn this into a racial issue. We don’t discriminate, Nizsm. All Angel Children are chosen.”

“Even if I let her live, she’d be an abomination!”
he ranted on, ignoring his father.

Osaze rose from his seat.
Lawrence gripped his hand but the older man snatched it away and advanced on Nizsm, feeling no fear. Nizsm and Osiris stood as well, creating a formidable wall between them.

“Come on, Osaze,”
Nizsm said in a mere whisper. “You really want to do this? I’ll crush you like a maggot.” He fisted his hands at his side.

Osaze reached him, brewing animosity frothing over from his soul like molten lava.
It flowed through him as he stood against Nizsm, nose to nose.

Osaze pushed his finger into
Nizsm’s chest. “I will not tolerate you speaking of my late wife that way. I see that this discussion is over. I did as I was supposed to according to bylaws. I came in peace to offer a solution—a promise that Saint would not ignite domination over Egypt, or anywhere else for that matter. You could have considered it, but you have refused it, believing that he will not stand by that, and have insulted me and my family repeatedly this evening. We are done here!”

Osaze turned away and began to make his
trek out of the dining room, with Lawrence close behind.

“Osaze, please
, old friend, you must understand!” Osiris called out.

Osaze
ignored the pleas and walked away with heavy footsteps and a heavy heart. He was getting the hell out of there. He’d done his duty, he’d tried hard, but now, negotiations were dead. He’d hoped and prayed it would’ve ended differently for he knew Saint would show no mercy.

“Osaze!”
Nizsm called out. “It’s in Saint’s best interest to come here immediately. I need to speak to your son. You make sure you tell him what I said!”

Osaze stopped just outside the large door to the dining room and turned around.
“The fathers have spoken. Osiris and I are finished speaking since he agrees with you. That now leaves you and Saint. You will hear from him when he sees fit,” Osaze said.

“This
is not about land or division of property! This is much more serious. Waste time, and see where it lands all of you.”

Osaze blocked him out
and continued his steady pace out of the massive room.

“He is the only one I want to speak to from this point on!”
Nizsm continued behind him. “I want him on
my
turf. I want to look him in his eye—man to man. You make sure he knows that, make sure he knows who he is dealing with! He can’t win, he won’t win! This is
my
world, and I own
everyone
and
everything
in it, including Saint Aknaten!”

****

Saint’s feet clacked against the hard wooden floor as he descended down the extended hall. Passing black, thin-framed interracial advocacy posters and wide octagon shaped windows, he drew closer to his office with a blasé attitude. He shrugged.

“That’s fine
,” he muttered.

“I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”

Lawrence walked by his side and joined Saint inside of his office. Sweet floral scented breeze drifted from a cracked window. He closed and locked the door.  “Saint, your father and I spent over four hours trying to reason with him and his father. We could see who was in charge between the two.” Lawrence shook his head. “I told you all of this on the phone. The man is insane!”

“He’s not insane. He is drunk with power and corruption
—there is a difference. He knows full well what he is doing. Saying he is insane lets him off the hook.”

S
aint took his seat behind his desk and began to rifle through the desk drawers, overturning an assortment of office supplies, white security envelopes and mini-notebooks with handwritten notes.

Lawrence
sighed, sat down and stretched his legs.  “So what now?”

S
aint stopped what he was doing and gave him a cold glare. “You already know. I’m going to Egypt. What do you mean, what
now
? This shit is a no brainer.” The noise of rustling items returned when he resumed moving papers to and fro, the futile search adding to his annoyance.

“S
aint, you can’t. He just wants to get you there to size you up and figure out how to destroy you and the baby. Make him come to you!”

“Not on your life. I don’t want him anywhere near my family. I will let him have courtside advantage. I’m not afraid of him, Lawrence
.”

S
aint calmed when he found what he was looking for. He picked up the iPod, placed it on his desk and plugged in the external speakers. Lawrence watched in confusion.

S
aint scrolled through and selected, “I Ain’t No Joke” by Eric B and Rakim. Lawrence grinned and looked down at his lap, shaking his head. Saint bobbed and bounced, lost in the strong, loud bass of the melody that vibrated throughout the office. Lawrence laughed as he watched him sway to the beat.

“So
, more Hip Hop, huh? You look funny dressed in that Armani suit, bumping rap music.”

“That’s right
, and for the record, Hip hop and rap aren’t the same. This right here is
real
Hip Hop. Whether I’m in my Nikes, Timbs or a tux—this right here is genuine. It’s my self-promotion.” He rolled his neck and smirked. “It’s ’bout to go down!”

“Oh boy
, here we go. Saint, don’t get crazy. What are you thinking of doing?”

“I’m getting ready for ya
boy.
It’s my fight music, you know, like when a boxer walks out, right before he gets in the ring?” He grinned, not an indication of joy, but one built on the strong desire to tear someone from limb to limb. It would be downright delicious. “I’m not going to Cairo alone. I’m bringing New York with me. He can walk like an Egyptian, write his hieroglyphics and continue sending pussy-ass threats my way via my father and you, but I’m going to walk in like a mothafuckin’ B-Boy, spray my graffiti on his soul and fuck ... him ... up, South Bronx style, baby! Get ready for the boom bat, Nizsm.”

S
aint reached into another desk drawer, pulled out a cherry cigar and lit it. He leaned back in his chair, grinning as the smoky loops escaped in the air.