Sinners & Saints (Sinners & Saints #1) (11 page)

“Someone is holding them for ransom,”
He says staring back at her. “I will get them back.”

People don’t notice when snakes enter
their gardens. I do. I am that snake. I am the original snake that poisons the
garden and bathes in the ruins. Now a new snake is here and unlike me she wants
to suck out the poison and grow fruit that can last forever. I see it in those
blue eyes of hers. The way she looks at me, silently chastising me. She is
trying to undo my masterpiece. She doesn’t know her place. I think it’s time
she found out it’s not at the head of the table.

HUGO

I hear the music. Around this time of
night, Poppy is dancing her life away through this place. I decide to get up
and follow the music and laughs. They’re on the back patio. Ms. Eleanor on her
white lounge chair, drinking heavily while Diego, her latest lover
—
a thirty-year-old Latin male escort
—
is rubbing her feet. Every couple of
years she hires a new one, a personal lover for her. Always Latin, always
similar to one another. It’s as if she has developed the perfect man in her
head.

Jordana is sitting in the other chair,
bobbing her head and smoking a joint. Cody is enjoying the view while he types
on his laptop. Poppy’s twirling in her white kimono that’s open completely,
revealing her leopard bra and shiny silver shorts. Juliet is dancing with her.
She sways her head from side to side with a joint also in her hand. I grab my
gold cigarette case from my back pocket along with my lighter and light me up
one. Exhaling the smoke, Juliet glances my way.

           
“Come
on, Hugo! Dance with us!” Poppy says laughing and stumbling into Juliet.

           
“I’m
good,” I say.

           
“Oh,
come my dear!” Ms. Eleanor snaps her fingers. “The night has arrived and the
lovers are awake! Join them!”

           
I
roll my eyes at Ms. Eleanor’s clouded words. I didn’t even notice August
sitting on the end of the palette cross legged, smiling so hard gazing up at
the dancing Juliet and Poppy. Juliet reaches down towards him, grabbing his
hand, pulling him up. A nervous August scratches the back of his head and bites
his thumb as Juliet and Poppy start to dance around him.

           
“Come
on, August, it’s easy. I swear,” she tells him.

           
He’s
not going to do it. Last time a girl tried to get August to dance, he ran away
and wrapped himself in a blanket and sat in the corner of his room.

He wraps his arms over his head and I’m
just waiting.

August’s face slowly starts to untwist.
My eyes broaden at the shocking revelation of my brother I have never seen
before. A glimpse of normalcy has been discovered as he stares at Juliet. He
smiles at her. Looks at her. His smile shows the adoration he has for our new
guest and it intrigues me. What is it about her that has him like this? His
laugh brings me back to reality and his child like persona returns as he jumps
up and down with his hands holding onto hers. He’s starting to do it too hard.
He should start to unwind, but Juliet isn’t bothered. She just laughs with him
and jumps just as high as him. My brother is enjoying himself with a person he
has known for less than twenty-four hours. That is a record.

           
He
smiles my way and I nod, acknowledging the fact that I see he is happy. When we
were kids he always asked me to look at him whenever he did something fun and
exciting. Now it’s just a smile my way to make sure I’m looking. It’s our
thing. I think Juliet is noticing our thing, which is why she is headed my way.

           
She
tilts her head, her eyes in amused disbelief. “He doesn’t like rainbows,
butterflies, or dancing?”

           
“Do
you even like the pair of colorful symbolisms that were created to lead people
to dream of fraudulent hope?”

           
“Rainbows,
yes. Duh! They’re rainbows. Butterflies, not so much. Actually I have a phobia
of them. I find them to be ugly demonic beasts masked with radiant wings to
throw people off of the fact that they’re bugs.” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Kind of like you.”

           
“So
you think I’m radiant.”

           
“Yes,
it covers the pest in you.”

           
“Butterflies
aren’t really known as things that present a problem.”

           
“Oh,
they definitely are. People are just too bloody blinded by those beautiful
wings. Cut em off. It’s just an ugly bug. Now that I think about that,
butterflies can be used to describe wealthy people. Cut off the money, we’re
just like the rest of the world.”

           
“You
talk a lot.”

           
“And
you don’t nor dance.”
 

           
“Dancing
is a brilliant ritual created, but I don’t normally participate.”

           
“Why?
Because it shows you actually have fun?”

           
“Oh,
I have fun.” My gaze falls over her body. Her tongue slides between her teeth,
her eyes that are dazed from the weed start to glisten.

           
“Well,”
she seductively drawls. “Why don’t you try joining us happy people out here?”
She grabs my hand and my insides start to do this weird thing. It feels mild,
but it’s there. It’s just like when she touched my face and pulled off my
glasses. This unsettling feeling inside me bothers the shit out of me. She
notices it too as we both stare at her hands touching. The benevolent smirk on
her face right now as she takes sympathy on me, waiting to move until I do.

Frustrated, I take one last inhale of
my joint as she leads me and pass it to a dancing Poppy. I don’t necessarily
breakout into smooth dance moves, but I move my feet from left to right and she
laughs and grabs my hand. She turns herself around. I bring her close to me
with my arm around her waist. She gasps and stares at me confused as I lean in
close, my lips barely touching her nose.

           
“I
want my sunglasses back,” I say and she finally breathes, her warm breath
coming across my skin.

           
“You’re
going to have to win them back.”

           
“How
am I supposed to win back something that is already mine?”

           
“Think
of something to impress me.”

           
“You
want
me
to impress
you
?”

           
“Yep,
you amaze me, that’s for sure, but you have yet to impress me.” My pause causes
something to shift in her eyes. Hope appears in the iris as her eyes brighten
at me. At what she sees in me. She sees something I don’t even know about.

           
“Well,
I guess I’ll be needing to go purchase a new pair then.”

           
I
let go of her. I mentally will her away, but she just stares at me, amused. She
stares at me amused at me being mutinous. I walk away. My hands at my sides, I
rub my fingers together causing friction amongst the friction Juliet has
invested in me. I don’t have time for her and I sure as hell am not gonna work
to impress her. She wants us to bond and for me to let her know all my inner
feelings or what not. I may want to do very dirty things to her, but no pair of
sunglasses nor ass is worth that bullshit.

           
Besides,
ass is never hard for me to get. It may be simple, but I am content with
it.
 

           
“What
are you doing here?” I ask Scarlett who is standing in my bedroom in nothing
but heels. Blonde hair pinned up and every single part of her body is freshly
shaved.

           
 
She dramatically sighs with her hands on
her hips. “I changed my mind.”

She walks slowly to me. “It would be
very rude of me if I did not tend to the one person who knows how to make me
wet without buying me expensive things.” She stares at me as she unbuttons my
shirt. My breathing goes rapid. I used to be so eager when we first started
doing this, but she taught me to be patient. I am with every woman, but I still
can’t be patient with her, not now. I seize her hips as I dig my fingers into
them, pressing her naked body against mine. I yank my shirt open, wanting to
feel her breasts against my bare chest. I take hold of her chin and pull her
mouth to mine. I waste no time deepening the kiss. She still tastes the same.
Her breasts are still the perfect C cup. I drop to my knees and watch her mouth
drop as I kiss the sweet spot that has been like a drug to me since I was
fifteen. She smiles and moans as I dive my tongue deeper and she gets off on
watching me watch her. Her grey eyes become intense and she bites her lip. She
grabs a handful of my hair as my tongue does things that can never fail. I
enjoy this shit. I enjoy bringing Scarlett, the hardest girl I know, down to
her knees. She does just that as she comes, shaking and wrapping her arms
around my neck.

           
She
kisses my mouth, tasting herself and takes my shirt off. I stand up bringing
her back up with me. I turn her around, ravishing her neck and massaging her
breasts. She slides her hand around my neck and with her other hand unbuttons
my jeans, unzips my zipper, and reaches inside. I grab the hairpin and release
her gorgeous blonde hair. I wrap it around my fist and gently pull her head
back. She laughs a little and strokes harder. I walk us forward to my bed and
bend her over. I rub her back and ass and trail kisses long them. I flip her
over and push her onto the bed.

           
She
is laughing and I take off my pants and underwear. I crawl over the bed and
separate her legs with my knee. She’s the only girl I go raw in. No one else.

           
“I want to feel all of you,”
she
whispered the first time we had sex.

           
Now,
I don’t know. So I ask.

           
“You
still want to feel all of me inside of you?”

           
She
slowly grins. “Always.”

           
I
rise up on my knees and watch as I slowly enter her. I grip her waist and pull
her and push myself deeper. She gasps and giggles. Her red painted fingernails
rub over my abdomen as I move my hips in a slow roll. She moves her hips,
meeting me in the middle. My breath becomes ragged. My left hand lets go of her
waist and massages over her breasts.
 

           
“I
fucking missed you,” Scarlett says between moans, “Fuck me.”

           
When
I watch women enjoy me fucking them, I like to think it’s a painting. Each
woman I paint with my brush. The strokes are either slow or rough. I either
take my time applying the paint, creating a clear picture like Van Gogh or I
could just attack it like Jackson Pollock. No clear picture
—
only paint dropped, poured, or thrown
onto the canvas creating something wild and intoxicating. Pollock is usually my
favorite. People thought his work was rushed. I personally think it was
unsubtle and well cultivated. He saw the picture beneath the drips of paint.
Just like I see the art of Scarlett.

7

JULIET

“Well, looky here,” Jordana says. I
turn around in my chair and see Scarlett with her hair down in a white men’s
dress shirt
—
I’m
assuming Hugo’s white shirt
—
and light
blue flannel bottoms
—
Hugo’s
—
on. Hugo’s right behind her with bed
hair, a white tank, and a similar looking pair of light blue flannel bottoms.
Scarlett has this bright annoying smile plastered on her annoyingly gorgeous
face.

           
I
haven’t been jealous of someone since I was maybe, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?
This is not cool. This isn’t even bloody normal. I’ve only been in this fucking
country for two days and yet already I fancy someone to a point of offbeat
feelings.

 
          
They
join us for breakfast, both of them taking a seat across from Cody, August, and
me.

           
“I
see we have not trailed far from raging waters,” Ms. Eleanor says before rising
up from her seat. “I must depart now. Enjoy the day, my lovelies.”

           
“Does
anyone ever get what she means?” Cody asks after she leaves.

           
Some
of them say no or shake their heads.

           
“I
get the raging water part,” I say boldly. “It can be a violent desire or
passion or just pure fury.”

           
I
look at Scarlett who is still smiling, probably impressed with my boldness,
while Hugo isn’t of course. At least he doesn’t have his sunglasses on. His
lips may not show, but his eyes certainly do.
  

“And of course with water there is
always drowning,” I finish.

Scarlett sighs, still smiling but
equally bothered by my comment and sips her mimosa. “So, Juliet,” she addresses
me, sitting back. “How are you enjoying Manhattan so far?” She deliberately
places her hand on the back of Hugo’s neck, waiting for my answer.

           
“I’m
no stranger to New York, but yes it’s fine.”

           
She
nods, still smirking, still her hand on Hugo’s neck. She’s marking her
territory and not just with Hugo but with everyone at this table. Probably the
whole damn city.

           
“I
was told after you graduated you went traveling?” I say.

           
“Yes.”

           
“Sounds
wonderful. Traveling all over. Finding the love of your life. He is the love of
your life, right? Or are you participating in the usual blue ruin of
marriages?”

           
I’m
very bad right now, but oh well.

           
Scarlett’s
smile only broadens. “Hugo was right… you are a nuisance.”

           
“I
know, my mum always says that it would make it difficult to find me a proper
gentlemen to marry as if we’re in 1760.” Even though Hugo is complaining about
me to Scarlett I think it says a lot that he’s mentioning me at all.

           
“Mothers
always want what is best for their daughters. My mother taught me that to
survive in this world a woman must use what she has.”

           
“And
that’s what you do?”

           
“Yes,
it is.” She leans in, folding her arms over the table. Everyone gets really
quiet and I can see that I am about to receive today’s lesson from Mama lion.
“I understand life has been good for you. Your parents are all about tradition,
probably your mother more than your father who has an open mind and can’t
always say no to daddy’s girl. But for some of us here at this table, we have
received a different type of parental guidance. We do what we know and what we
know is that it’s perfectly normal to have affairs. My fiancé comes from a
family like yours so no he wouldn’t be able to accept my certain
extracurricular activities, which is why God gave us free will… meaning the
choice to keep secrets. Although you take pleasure in questioning others, I do
trust that you know how to keep secrets.”

           
“Of
course,” I say calmly and we continue with our stare down. I have to admit; her
fiery grey eyes give me chills. Her warning for me to basically keep my mouth
shut about her indiscretions.

I’ve known people like Scarlett before.
Girls who are careless people who want what they want and don’t care whom they
hurt to get it. Cunts. That’s what they are, true cunts. I was one of them.

           
“I
have to go,” Scarlett says, standing up. She looks down at Hugo. “Escort me
out.”

HUGO

“Who the fuck does she thinks she is?”
Scarlett snaps once we get into the foyer.

           
“Obviously
a brave girl,” I say amused.

           
“You
think this is funny?” she asks sharply.

           
I
roll my eyes. “Scarlett, don’t be sensitive.”

           
“I
am not being sensitive. I am only stating a problem and that is the bitch with
the accent.”

           
“She
won’t be a problem.”

           
“She
likes you.”

           
“I’m
aware.”

           
“What
are you going to do about it?”

           
“I
don’t know.”

           
“What
do you mean you don’t know? You have a new housemate who is practically serving
herself on a silver tray. You could easily break her.”

           
“I
would love to break her. Two days of being here, she’s already getting on my
nerves, but she’s…” I trail off.

           
“She’s
what?”

           
“Strange.
Quirky, witty, not a dumb ass. Let’s not act like the usual women I go for fit
in those selective categories.”

           
“You
know what? I don’t have time for this,” she says putting on her sunglasses.
“Get your shit together and have a good day.” She grabs the back of my neck and
pulls me down for one last kiss. It’s hard, still carrying the frustration
Juliet laid upon her. She walks out and closes the door behind her.

           
“Women,”
I mumble to myself.

           
“Trouble
in paradise?” Of course she’s here. I turn around and see a gloating Juliet
standing a few feet behind me.

           
“What
is your deal?” I step towards her. “You don’t know us and yet you judge us.”

           
“I
can’t help that your girlfriend is a self-centered bitch.”

           
“Self-centered
bitch is correct, girlfriend no.”

           
“Oh
yeah I forgot, you don’t do romance or anything remotely nice or normal.”

           
“Why
do you have a problem with my choices in life?”

           
“I
don’t,” she lies.

           
“Oh,
you don’t?” I step closer. “Are you sure about that?”

           
She
takes a few steps back the closer I get. She keeps going until she is between
the wall and me.

She observes the situation and
whispers, “Well, this surely is throwing me off my game.”

It amazes me that she has no problem
admitting when she is uncomfortable which sort of makes me uncomfortable. “You
don’t want this game, Juliet. I advise you on it.”

“I thought you liked games.”

“My sins are my sins, Juliet. Know your
place and stay out of my business and Scarlett’s too,” I warn her and for a
moment my gaze drops to her lips. I wonder what it would be like to kiss her
right here and now. I bet her lips are soft. I also bet she’s a biter. I like
that. I feel her breath quickening along with mine. There’s that unsettling
feeling again. I step back as she watches me. I turn around, walking away.

           
“Hugo,”
I like the way my name sounds coming from her mouth. I turn around. “Every
saint has a past and every sinner has a future.

“Oscar Wilde.” I say, knowing the
origin of the quote.

           
She
smiles to herself. “I have a thing for quotes.”

           
“Me
too.” Then it hits me. “In fact,” I walk back over to her, “why don’t we
develop a game out of our mutual admiration for words of wisdom?”

           
She
narrows her eyes at me, not sure. But she has already crossed this barrier and
I’m pretty sure this red riding is stubborn enough to not run away from the big
bad wolf.

           
“What
do you propose?” she asks.

           
“A
game for the summer to pass time. If a person gives a quote and the other
doesn’t know who originated it, the winner gets to do whatever they want to
that person.”

           
Her
brow arches. “You’re implying something sexual.”

           
“If
you want. I’ll even let you give a few rules now if you have concerns.”

           
“No
sex,” she says adamantly. “The winner can do something…” She trails off looking
at my body, licking her lips and smiling. “Sexual, but intercourse is not one
of them.”

           
“Fine
then,” I agree easily. “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in
front of him, but because he has confidence in what is behind him.”

           
No
way she knows that one.

           
“G.K.
Chesterton and let me guess what’s behind you is the ability to stay in a
perpetual brooding?”

           
“Funny,”
I deadpan, but I must admit I’m impressed.

           
“Sometimes
you have to pick the gun up to put the gun down.”

           
Now
my brow arches. “You know Malcolm X?”

           
“Like
I said, you’d be amazed… I really loved the film too. That Denzel is superb in
everything he plays in, don’t you think?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer.
“Oh and by the way, the G.K. Chesterton quote, he didn’t say he had confidence;
he said it’s because he loves what is behind him.”
 
She just smiles to herself and walks
away.

           
Fuck
me.

JORDANA

I am loving the change in dynamics.
Juliet being here is certainly altering our intricate universe. I like her. I
don’t like a lot of people, but I like her. Hugo needs someone to challenge
him. I care for the cold bastard. He and I have always been close and even
though he’s a jackass, he has always looked out for me even if he uses a dumb
excuse for doing it. Like the time Scarlett tasked me in seducing the wife of
the husband her mother was having an affair with. Don’t ask me why, Scarlett
rarely explains why she wants to ruin someone. I was all for it because the
wife was hot. Seducing her was easy
—
it was the
not developing feelings for her that was a problem. The woman was a complete
saint and it was not a cover. All her philanthropy was out of heart. The only
sinning she committed was, well, adultery, but all in all a good person. I
wasn’t planning on outing her indiscretions, but that Scarlett she just
couldn’t wait. I felt bad and even though she went back to her husband, the
damage I had caused bothered me. Hugo saw that. He told me to get over
myself.
 
Showed no affection, but
then a week later I received a visit from my mother. It was a surprise and a
good day. Went to the Met, a poetry reading, and she even took me to a gay
nightclub. Yeah, my mom is cool like that. It was what I needed that night and
when asking my mom what made her come from her cabin in Blue Ridge where she
isolates and writes, she said Poppy called her. Poppy doesn’t do things like
that. Not because she doesn’t care, she just doesn’t think about shit. She also
can’t keep a secret. So Poppy told me Hugo came to her and more ordered her
than requested. He said to call Jordana’s mom and tell her she needs her.

           
That’s
why I don’t care about Hugo’s behavior. He’s an arsehole. That’s not an act. He
is definitely an arsehole, but he’s an arsehole that can be… what’s the word?
Reclaimed. When I say reclaimed, I mean he can be an someone who has a purpose.
Reformed into an arsehole that can truly admit that, although he is an bastard…
he is also a person. A person with feelings, cares, hates, and loves. I get it
when trying to reclaim someone who portrays themselves as something they’re
entirely not.