Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father

by Laveen, Tiana

  Once you sink your teeth into possession, into the tasty meat of revenge, you always want it, hunt for it, seek it. He’d kept tabs on such things, and this time even more so, for things had gotten personal. He should’ve known it would be time to dine again soon...

  Things had been calm, but that was always when something jumped off. Peace came at a premium and he’d have to once again pay the hefty price. Despite all of that, he relished the tranquil moments, like those spent with his family.

  Isis was a true pleasure, his new baby girl. He’d spent quite a bit of time playing hooky from work, just to be alone with the gorgeous dumpling who sported her daddy’s eyes and her mother’s sultry lips. She was a firecracker, spirited, beautiful, fun and full of bubbly life. At twelve and a half months of age, she’d already tried her hand at walking and succeeded. She also seemed to relish naps, something the boys never cared for. Her giggle was his new default ringtone as well as his personal, pocket muse. He felt himself relax as he went through the photos of his children on his phone, and smiled at them, keeping them in mind for the meeting he’d scheduled this afternoon. Going on a tour of memory lane, he recalled the time he’d snapped each picture: Hassani throwing a basketball, Dakarai having a melt-down in his little white polar bear pajamas, and the birthday parties, holidays and everything in between. Soon he landed on one picture in particular, the one that made his heart stop—the beat then resumed, echoing deep within his soul then pulled him deep inside of himself, dragged him into a dark tunnel, love drunk and totally hung over every time he stared into her damn eyes...

  Xenia, baby...

  He slicked his tongue over his bottom lip and tilted his head slightly to the side, shaking it as he daydreamed of her legs in the air, practically by her damn head as he’d dicked her down nice and proper early that morning, making her utter his name and nearly carve it into his back with her fingernails...

  Mmmm, Mmmm, baby...I need to get a little more of that as soon as possible...but...you were so wound up. It took you a bit longer to warm up...I need to stop this bullshit on your behalf. He is fucking up my sex life. I can’t have that. I gotta hear that pussy purrrrr....

  “You must be Saint,” a husky voice called out, interrupting his wayward perversions.

  Saint practically slammed his phone down on the white linen cloth and leisurely stood up as he eyeballed the man approaching him. Approximately six foot one, the man had medium brown skin, full lips set around gleaming white teeth, and bright green eyes that were undoubtedly befitting of a snake. He buttoned his tan Armani suit jacket and as he reached him—yes, undoubtedly Armani. The devil dressed to kill extended his hand, wielding faux friendship on a silver platter. Saint fought the instinct to grab the damned extended limb and slam the man down to the ground, then kick him so hard and fast in the throat, his damn esophagus would crush and cave upon the blunt force. The lessons from Jagger had been painful but provoking. He now knew how to fuck someone up in half the time it took him previously, and he wouldn’t mind trying out his new skills on this slimy specimen. He played it out in his mind, in that split second, but instead, offered his own brand of a grin and gave a hearty handshake. He knew he shook it a bit too hard as the man’s dark eyebrows bunched ever so slightly when Saint put a dab of his strength around the daps he was giving.

  Yeah, it hurt just a bit, didn’t it? Gooooood....

  Satisfied with the callous gesture for the time being, Saint smirked. He felt the man’s energy in that touch and sucked in air, trying desperately to never feel that again... His intentions were clear.

  You are exactly what I think you are, man.

  “Sinclair Grayson, have a seat please.” Saint extended his hand toward the chair across from him and tried to sound chipper, friendly—he was certain he’d bombed.

  “Well hello, we finally meet,” the man said smoothly as he sat down comfortably, as if he belonged there like an intricate part of the upholstery or as if he were doing someone a favor out of the kindness of his little poisoned viper heart. “Xenia has told me so much about you.” The man’s smile was a bit too wide, the kind that invited Saint’s fist to run into his exposed teeth.

  STRIKE!

  ...making them fall down like pins in a bowling alley lane.

  “Yes, I’m sure she has...” Saint picked up his glass and took a thoughtful sip. “Great wine...” He looked aimlessly down at his menu again as he monitored his words.

  “I don’t usually drink this early in the day.” Grayson smiled pleasantly as he raked a hand over clean-cut, faded hair, an air of judgment in his tone.

  And I usually don’t fuck someone up without at least two sex sessions, a generous lunch break and a work-out in the gym but we do what we must. Sacrifices have to be made...

  “But I may make an exception this one time.” He kept eyeing Saint’s drink. “That looks nice...what kind is that?”

  Saint’s eyes narrowed as he slowly squeezed his balled up black linen napkin on the table. He clutched it, relaxed his fingers, and clutched it again and again, using it as a stress ball instead of seizing the man in his grip. The struggle to not do him bodily harm was growing harder and harder, but he knew if he did, Xenia’s wrath would come down upon him, and he wanted not one taste of that.

  “It’s Caymus Special Selection Cabernet Sauvignon...one of a kind.”

  Sinclair kept a poker face as he closed his menu and offered Saint a manufactured grin. “Sounds just up my alley.”

  So is a mothafuckin beatdown...

  “Sinclair, so let me explain why you are here.” Saint lay back leisurely in his seat and crossed a leg over the other. A waiter approached with warm, moist hand towels. They both took one. Saint slowly went over each finger with the heated cloth, while meticulously surveying his cuticles. A testosterone cloud hovered above their table, threatening to pour rain. “First, let’s go over the basics, a little background if you will.” Saint paused, looked up at Sinclair and smirked, then winked. “I invited you here to speak man to man about a situation that has arisen that has made my wife, shall we say, a bit uncomfortable.”

  He watched Sinclair closely, gauging him for any sly reactions. The man kept a hold of his poker face. Saint wasn’t impressed—he could sense the strain fermenting between them.

  “Xenia’s agent, Kia Davis, and her business partner, Julia, who I know you are well familiar with, knew of a position here that had opened up regarding a co-host for a revamped show on NBC.”

  There was a brief pause as the two men appeared to be mutually studying each other.

  “I gave my full support and encouragement, urging her to go interview for it.” He looked down at his lap, shook his head and smiled. “I said”—he waved his hand in the air as if reenacting the scene—“‘Yes, baby, please do this. ‘The Morning Tea’ sounds perfect. You’re ready.’” Despite his present company, calmness came over him at the thought of Xenia and all she’d endured and worked for.

  “She is a magnificent talent. She has a way of pulling an audience in and making them hang on to her words. So it was no surprise to me that she got the position—was offered it right there on the spot. It starts in approximately two months. Her commute wouldn’t be far and our daughter would be over one year old by that point, so,” he shrugged his shoulders, “things were working out fine. I’d never do anything to hold my wife back, to interfere with her goals and aspirations as long as it isn’t a detriment to her or our family.” Saint paused and reflected as he looked briefly down at the table. He drummed his fingers on the tablecloth then casually handed his towel back to the waiter who paused in their presence, then dismissed him with a slight wave.

  “Then, she finds out that her new boss will be you. Her ex-boyfriend. What a conundrum how that all unfolded.” Saint shot him an all-knowing glance. He caught his bottom lip with his teeth and bit gently into the flesh…smiling. The man didn’t budge.

  Playing it cool I see...

  “No one told her that you were the prod
ucer of the show, Sinclair.” Saint narrowed his eyes on his companion, knowing full well the man was up to his eyeballs in bullshit. “I asked Julia about this. Though she knows you, she had no idea you and Xenia had dated at one point in time and that. well,” he said matter-of-factly, “it didn’t end, shall we say, on the best of notes. Nevertheless, Xenia was quite upset, Sinclair, when she found out that news.”

  Grayson smiled and rubbed his hands together like a fly about devour a plate of hot, steamy shit.

  “Well,” he said. “She has no reason to be. It’s all water under the bridge, Saint. I assure you of that. I’m glad she reconsidered leaving, especially on account of me. I have no hard feelings. I think Xenia would be a great fit and we needed someone like her on next year’s season of ‘The Morning Tea.’ It is a sleepy, early hour morning show that needed some vitality, and well,” he smirked, “Xenia has plenty of that...”

  Xenia, I need to hit this mothafucka! Please! Just one damn time!

  Saint cleared his throat and kept a calm masquerade. “Look,” he said, popping a soybean appetizer from the table in his mouth. “Xenia is my wife. We have a fulfilling life together, three children that make our world go ’round. Her career is at the highest point it has ever been, which I am sure you are fully aware of. She doesn’t need the show, and actually came home to tell me she was sending a letter to resign before she even got to officially start, considering this latest information. All this time, you all have been doing practice runs and she is there to observe how the show runs, get used to it, since television is not her forte. Of course, in my wife’s typical fashion, she was dedicated to learning the craft—she put both feet in. Now, fast forward, she has some sort of beef with you on the set. She came home quite angry a few weeks ago, determined to never go back. I talked her out of that. Do you know why, Sinclair?”

  “Why?” he asked, looking down at a piece of lint on his napkin, seemingly distracted or bored.

  “Because I know no one would be as stupid as to say or do,” Saint’s lips dropped downward then turned into a slick smirk, “anything inappropriate to my wife...you know, crawl their way back into her life.” Saint moved his fingers on the table, as if they were walking. “Being the smart businessman that you are, I know, you’d never do something so foolish...” Saint leisurely picked up his wine glass and took a thoughtful sip as the threat wafted in the fragrant air. “Yeah, this is some really good shit...” He smacked his lips appreciatively.

  He caught Sinclair’s expression—tight, nervous and angry. And he loved it.

  Yeah, you slick piece of dog shit. Show me what you’re really made of...

  “Of course not, she is a married woman now.” Sinclair clasped his hands together and cleared his throat. “She made her choice. I want nothing more from Xenia than professionalism.” His voice was low and guarded, coated with a slick veneer to hide the stinking truth he wasn’t unearthing. “Also...” He smirked, his green eyes gleaming up like nightlights. “Some would say she was mine first...but that was a long time ago.” He waved his hand playfully, as if it were an afterthought.

  Saint sucked his teeth and looked casually over to his right as he rested his glass back down. He arched an eyebrow, keeping up the charade and taking his sweet time to respond. Then, he got serious. Narrowing his gaze on Grayson, he let him burn under the intent perusal, and made his golden eyes glow like flames. Sinclair’s puzzlement grew. No doubt he was wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Saint let him have it for a while, let him see the ‘real Saint’.

  “I’m a jealous, possessive man, Sinclair. I will be the first to admit this flaw about myself. It is not my best trait, but,” he shrugged nonchalantly, smiling, “we must accept the good with the bad. You see…” Saint cleared his throat. “I’ve built my world, my happiness, around this one woman and so it is imperative that she remain happy, that she is pleased, because her mood affects mine, and vice versa. Now, with that said, I encouraged Xenia to see this through, letting her know that you’d never cross the line, because well, you’re a professional...and, I understand you don’t know me personally, Sinclair, but you need to be told a little something about who I am.”

  “And what’s that?” Sinclair asked blandly, while running his finger slowly around the rim of his glass of water.

  “That I’m an only child, and I’m not good at sharing. I am really stingy about my shit.” Saint broke into a hearty smile, one singed with a warning. “I know you have a lot of clout in L.A., I understand that. I know you’ve made and broken careers with a scrawl of your ink pen or an email sent to someone at just the right time but...keep in mind,” he pointed casually across the table, “this is the wrong time to try to rewrite history.”

  The waiter returned.“I’d like a glass of that, please, thank you,” Sinclair said, pointing to Saint’s glass of wine.

  “Actually, It’s by the bottle,” Saint grinned. “Please, help yourself. They have it chilling for me in the back.”

  The waiter disappeared, leaving the two men alone to overdose on their own testosterone while he retrieved it.

  Sinclair’s platinum linked watch band sparkled as he clasped his hands together on the table. “Saint, honestly, I am surprised by how this conversation is playing out. Man to man, as you say, I’d never disrespect you the way you disrespected me back then...but that’s all water under the bridge as I’ve said so many times now, so let’s just move past it.” He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, his chin raised as if he truly believed the conversation would come to an abrupt end.

  “No, you can’t say some shit like that and we move past it,” Saint said quietly as he leaned a bit closer to the man he wanted to pick up and toss out a window. “Let’s get some facts straight, because you see, I know how men think Sinclair, and that is exactly,” Saint pressed his finger into the table, “why I asked you here. Whether right or wrong, we, as men, feel how the fuck we feel, and there doesn’t have to be a reason but…fuck feelings. As I always say, they don’t mean shit, so let’s put your balled up, bitter panties aside and...”

  “Panties?” Sinclair gave a faux laugh and rolled his eyes.

  “Yeah...panties, because you’re turning this shit into something emotional. All this she was mine first business, but you say you aren’t after my wife.” Saint rolled his eyes dramatically. “Just man up to it, own the truth. This is a business meeting, Sinclair, so let’s keep that in mind, but since you went there, let me explain something to you.”

  “...Yeah, explain it to me...” Sinclair mocked as he looked casually over his shoulder then back at Saint, popping a soybean into his mouth as if it were a peanut.

  “You weren’t her boyfriend, okay, son? You two were dating, period.” Saint smacked the table. “You didn’t put a ring on that shit. You were off and on, and if you would have been serious about her, a cat like me could have never rolled in and took over where you left off. Now, we can move past it but if you try to go there with me again,” Saint clicked his tongue against his teeth and pointed at him, “I will make this extremely uncomfortable for you, Mr. Grayson.”

  “You’ve only heard one side of the story, Mr. Aknaten.” Sinclair grinned—a smile befitting of a king sized sewer rat who’d just landed in a trash heap of rotten delicacies.

  “There is only side of the story: the truth, and you don’t possess it.”

  “And apparently neither do you...”

  “I’m done fucking around with you.” Saint gritted his teeth, his tone calm, but the blood in his veins racing. “You sit there acting like you have the utmost right to pull the sneaky, sleazy shit you did...you knew damn well she didn’t know you produced the show, because you had just arranged that, the day prior to her arrival. You said you didn’t know she was interviewing, that may be true, but once you found out she’d gotten the job, you immediately tried to go in on her...questioning her, asking her out, as if she were still a free agent. Everybody in this goddamn town, everyone in the damned c
ountry knows Xenia is married to me and,” he paused and grinded his teeth, “... roll your eyes one more motherfuckin’ time, man!”

  Sinclair grinned and smoothed his napkin on his lap. “Now who is wearing panties? You sure are getting worked up. I knew we wouldn’t get out of this restaurant without this turning ugly. Mr. Aknaten, you’ve brought that New York thuggin’ shit with you, I see. I’m not your son, and your cursing quota has surely reached its limit today. What a filthy mouth you have,” he said upon a sigh. “In any case, that’s not how I do business. That’s not me. I wasn’t sure if that was just an ‘on-air’ persona you had, but I see it extends outside of your famous personality. You really are that abrasive. It doesn’t suit you. You seem classier than that, a man with your knowledge and education and all and besides, Xenia can take care of herself, right? She is a grown ass woman.”

  “...I take New York wherever the fuck I go.” Saint offered a crooked a smile, took a sip of his wine and tapped his foot a few times. “Classiness? I don’t need to put on airs. There is a time and place for every damned thing, and right now, I’m here to settle a situation before it turns into an issue, because if it turns into an issue, you are going to have problems and I’m the last man you want to have a problem with...”

  “You aren’t helping Xenia by acting like this, you know that, right? Look Saint, I want her to be successful and I know she can be. You don’t need to bring this to me, it’s unnecessary and —”

  “I wasn’t finished talking. I’m her husband—this is what a husband does, he protects the Queen and I will do and say whatever the fuck I want and how I want, as it pertains to what is mine. And she is mine, do you understand me, Sinclair?” Saint chewed his bottom lip as he collected the rest of his thoughts. “As long as we have that clear, and you don’t try anything slick, I can be on my best behavior. But if you try to take me there, then it will be the biggest mistake you ever made. She chose me. Accept it. Produce the show, nothing more,” Saint said coolly as he took another sip of his wine, amazed by his even tone during the heated altercation. He had barely raised his voice, but his words surely stung, all the same.