“She’s not your wife, yet,” Lawrence snapped. “Trust me, girlfriends act different than spouses.”
Saint smiled up at him from the table. “You got that right. Look man, if you have to go, that’s fine. Jagger and I will get home.”
“Hey, why don’t you get a tattoo, Lawrence? Surprise Donna with something! Get a flower and her name or something,” Jagger offered, as if it were a novel idea that would be well received.
“Hell no! I told you she’d kill me. She doesn’t like tattoos, piercings, none of that. She likes a more conservative look.” His voice trailed toward the end.
“But what do you like?” Saint asked, feeling the devil dancing within him, putting him into a mischievous mood. “Look at you, man.” He scanned Lawrence from head to toe. “You got long ass hair—that’s not traditional or conservative. You wear tribal vests sometimes; you aren’t cookie cutter, Lawrence. I’m not trying to start a fight, but why do you let this happen?”
Lawrence huffed. “I love her, and I like a peaceful home, Saint.”
Saint paused, then rubbed his chin. “Do you want a tattoo, man?”
Lawrence just stared at him.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Hey, Katrina,” he looked over his shoulder at the artist, a young woman with a bright red Mohawk and a pierced eyebrow, “I want this man to get a tattoo, my treat.” He pointed to Lawrence who stood with his jaw dropped, as if frozen in time.
“No.” Lawrence waved his hands in protest. “I can’t!”
“If you don’t, I’m docking your pay for a week,” Saint threatened. He was full of shit, but he had to put fire under the man.
“Come on, Saint! Why would you do something like that?!”
“Because you need it, damn it!” Everyone got quiet as Saint’s voice boomed inside of the parlor. “I saw the desire in you as soon as we saw the place. You’ve been itching to get a tattoo for years. Now I know it’s not in you to act like me and this fool over here,” he shot Jagger a glance and winked at him, “and that’s good. Be yourself, Lawrence, but for God’s sake, grow some damn balls and get the shit on your body! She will never fully respect you until you stand up to her. You say you want peace, but it is at the cost of your own happiness. This is bullshit.” Saint turned away angrily. He was a bit remorseful for how he chewed Lawrence out, but the libations had the effect of making him say what he felt. Lawrence was so madly in love with Donna that he did anything she asked, even if it went against his basic wiring. Saint knew what that felt like, to take the abuse of a woman you loved because you needed her so badly…
Flashes of Xenia’s teeth dragging against his cock that one time sprung to mind then. For a while, the woman had despised him, believing he’d cheated, and he could feel her raw hatred for him, in every thrust inside of her as she used him for his dick, over and over. Such a need turned men into puddles of nothing, and he never wanted to feel that way again—and sure as hell didn’t want to see one of his dearest friends get the same treatment.
“It would be different if she had a real reason why she didn’t want you to get it, but it’s just to make sure you stay how she likes you to look,” Jagger said, adding his special touch of instigation. “I’ve known you practically my entire life, Lawrence. I know you tone it down with her, now come on, we are brothers! Let’s all do this!”
Lawrence sighed and ran his hands down his face, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Okay…I’ve always want an eagle on my back. Eagle symbolization means a lot to me.”
Saint and Jagger whistled and applauded loudly.
“Stop moving, sir,” the artist warned Saint as he squirmed about beneath her touch.
“Oh sorry,” he apologized, his grin larger than life. “That’s my boy!”
Before long, Lawrence was on a nearby table, gritting his teeth, his head down, causing a flurry of his long, dark tresses to fall forward. There he was, a sight for sore, reddened, drunken eyes that belonged to his two best friends. And they had fun watching him, their mouths curved upward and their hearts soaring in inebriated pleasure…
~***~
Xenia couldn’t quite place it. She watched Shianne walk away and waved goodbye to her as she continued to deliberate over the entire lunch. They’d gone out plenty of times, getting to know one another, sharing tidbits and joking about, but the young lady appeared guarded, as if she had secrets. Xenia shrugged off the thought, figuring that, like she’d been as a teenager, the poor girl had some battle scars from a rough childhood. It was the same old story all the time, but she was concerned about it getting in the way of the young lady’s future. She had so much potential, and Xenia didn’t want to see it squandered. Her gut told her that something was amiss and maybe, with a little more trust built, more time invested and pep talks galore, she could get Shianne to open up. She had to admit to herself that she did enjoy her company. It was moments like these that reminded Xenia of just why she had started a mentoring program over a decade ago. Shianne needed it, and seemed to gulp down everything she said like a delicious drink through a straw.
She made her way past the studio and paused when she felt his eyes on her. Leave it to Sinclair to drown a good mood like an animal in a pool of water. She didn’t dare cast her attention his way. Instead, she smiled, looking head on with an air of, “I hate your guts. And your own guts hate you, too…”
~***~
Two days later…
“Mmmm hmmmm, yes, I understand.” Xenia closed the refrigerator door and set the caraffe of chilled fresh orange juice on the table, her silk, purple robe swinging behind her while Isis clung on her hip. The tiny girl reached in vain for her mother’s dangling diamond necklace.
“Hassani, no! No video games at the table, please.” She shot her seven-year-old a glance then turned back toward the kitchen to stir peanut butter cookie batter for later that evening.
“Yes, Donna, I will speak to Saint but I do not believe it will alter the situation. You see, I’m not able to control what they do when I’m not around, nor would I wish to, unless he was in some sort of danger…Yes…” Xenia rolled her eyes and turned in a circle. “Uh huh, okay. Well, I would love for you and Lawrence to come by for dinner soon, please…of course, okay…you too…” She disconnected the call and casually tossed the phone on the kitchen counter.
“Mommy,” Hassani traced the side of his chair. “Do Dakarai and Isis have to come with me to Tae Kwon Do class today? Day-Day makes stupid noises and Isis always screams and cries!” he complained. Over the past month or so, Xenia had noticed Hassani trying to gain his independence. He at times seemed to hate being tied at the hip with Dakarai, their sibling rivalry typically in overdrive, though they loved each other to pieces.
“I’m sorry Hassani, but yes. I can’t just drop you off and walk away and I don’t want to call Chantel or have the nanny watch your brother and sister for that short period of time. I promise you that if Isis gets fussy, I will take her out of the room and Dakarai has been warned to not interrupt your lessons anymore. Speaking of which, do you know where he disappeared to?”
Hassani grunted in disappointment and pointed upstairs. “He is in his room trying to find that puzzle game… I don’t know why, he always loses the pieces.”
Xenia smiled and turned back toward the bowl, and watched the batter thicken. The sound of cartoons played low in the background.
“Mmmm hmmm!” Saint walked in, causing her to look his way. He licked his lips and winked at her as he wrapped his white robe around his waist. “Where’s my food, woman?!” he teased as he nestled behind her, kissed her on the back of her neck and played with Isis’ toes.
“What do you want this morning?” She kissed him quickly then turned back around. Taking Isis from her grip, he pretended to slow dance with the baby, making the little one laugh and show a partially gummy grin.
“Isis and I want grits and eggs and toast, ain’t that right, little mama?” He continued to dance around and dip the little
girl, causing her silky black hair to fall back. She rewarded him with more giggles. He grabbed a napkin and dabbed the drool off the corner of her mouth, then kissed her forehead.
“Good, something easy. I have a lot to do today, baby.” Xenia began to spoon the creamy cookie batter on a lightly greased cookie sheet.
“Want me to watch the kids?” Saint offered as he walked to the kitchen table, taking a seat across from his eldest son.
“Saint, can I trust you? It seems if you have the children for more than a few hours, strange things happen.” She shot him a disapproving glance. “Because the last time I trusted you—”
Saint threw up his hand. “I know, Xenia. You said no more overnight trips, but it wasn’t that bad! I had everything under control. You baby the kids too much, never let them have any fun. They’re my kids, too…so protective.”
Xenia shook her head in disbelief. “Someone has to be! You just toss ’em around like they are toys! Treating them like Spiderman, crawlin’ walls! Cake for breakfast?! I heard about the other stuff, too! Don’t even try me.” Her eyes narrowed as she pointed an accusing finger at him. “Anyway, yes, if you could watch them it would help.” She turned back toward the counter and walked over to the double oven with the tray. “That way I don’t have to call Mama. Hassani has class at three, so I’ll be back before then.” She set the cookie sheet back down and slid on her black and white checkered oven mitts.
“Now,” she placed the cookies inside the oven and removed a pot to prepare the grits, “do you know why Donna called me, Saint?” She grinned, but didn’t dare let her sneaky spouse see it.
He cleared his throat, no doubt stalling, buying time.
“What’s up, little man?” Saint asked, ignoring the question. “You can’t speak to your daddy when I come in the room?”
She turned around and saw him smiling at Hassani who was sneakily playing his video game.
“Hassani, I’m not going to tell you again. Put it away or I will take it.” The boy huffed and slid the thing across the table.
“Hi, Daddy,” he mumbled as he turned toward the television.
“She doesn’t like me,” was all Saint offered after a big swallow of juice. He bounced the baby up and down on his knee. “She called to complain, right? You should hear her, Xenia. I can hear her talking sometimes when I’m on the phone with the man…yap yap yap yap yap!”
“Saint.” Xenia snickered, placed her hand on her hip. “You’re not being fair, you don’t know their situation. She may have been to hell and back with that man and besides, I wouldn’t say she doesn’t like you…you are just a bit much for her, okay? Now don’t try to skirt around the issue. Why in the world did you make Lawrence, of all people, get a tattoo?!”
“I didn’t! I asked him if he wanted to get one. He did. Donna needs to chill the fu—” He caught the curse word before it fell off his lips in front of the children. “She needs to chill out, settle down. Damn, she won’t even let him breath.”
“Saint, I know you and Jagger had something to do with this, so you can just stop trying to sell fire to a volcano.” She turned away and placed a quarter of a stick of butter into the large pot of cooking grits.
“I found it!” Darkarai bounced down the steps and into the kitchen, his beloved animal farm puzzle tilted at an angle as he made his mad dash.
“Baby, hold it straight or—,” a loud crash of wood hitting the marble floor startled everyone, “…the pieces will fall.” Xenia sighed. She slapped her mitts on the counter and met with Dakarai to help him pick up the wooden cow, horse and chicken.
Hassani burst out laughing. “You’re so goofy!” He covered his snaggle-tooth grin with his hand, then burst out laughing again.
“Hassani, don’t be mean. Stop laughing.”
“You shush up!” Dakarai screamed out angrily, tears welling in his eyes. He always seemed to take it personal when these animals were harmed in any way. “Dat’s why you like Erica!”
A hush came over the room. Hassani’s face reddened and his eyebrows, thick and dark like his father’s, lowered in a frown.
“Erica?” Saint repeated. He lifted the glass of juice to his lips, fighting off Isis’ hands as she tried to tilt it in her direction. “Who is Erica?”
“Mmmm, I know who.” Xenia smiled as she bounced back to the kitchen. “A very pretty and smart little girl in Hassani’s class!”
“Mommy, no!” A livid Hassani shook his head in protest. Her heart warmed. Her son was experiencing his very first crush. How adorable!
“Dakarai, how’d you know about Erica?” Saint asked sternly but Xenia wasn’t buying it. He too found the situation hysterical.
“I…” he started, then went silent as he held his animals possessively to his chest and joined them at the table.
“You’ve been reading minds again.” Saint shook his finger at his son. “I told you about that. Now I’m not kidding.”
“But he started it, Daddy!”
“I don’t care. Hassani has you blocked, but you did it anyway. That’s not right. If this continues, I will find a suitable punishment.”
“Saint!” Xenia said sadly as she scrambled the eggs in the large cast-iron skillet. “Come on, now.”
“Come on now, nothing Xenia. It is an invasion of privacy and he is going to get hurt. He will let this slip out with the wrong person, and all sorts of trouble could start. Dakarai, I’m not doing this to be mean, I’m trying to protect you. I told you some people wouldn’t understand this gift you have, so it is best to not use it until you are older and can control it better. I mean it. If I find out it is still going on, then there will be consequences.”
Dakarai looked at him puzzled as he placed his animals onto the table.
“Consequences means that something will happen that you don’t want to happen because of what you did. Do you understand?”
“Like a woopin?”
Saint shot Xenia a look and smirked. Dakarai had received one spanking in his lifetime. It came to pass as a result of fingerpaint on Isis’ face and Xenia’s favorite coat.
“Look, it will just be something you don’t want, okay?” Saint leaned back when Xenia placed his plate in front of him and took the baby. Saint scanned the plate and frowned. “Baby, where is the toast?”
Xenia rolled her eyes and set plates of eggs and grits in front of Dakarai and Hassani.
“Yeah, Mommy! Where’s da toast?” Dakarai asked around a mouth full of eggs, following his father’s lead.
“You see what you did?” she whispered as she lifted Isis higher on her hip. “Look, I have to get ready to go. You can make your own toast and make the boys some, too.” And with that, she sauntered off up the steps.
“But it would only take you a second!” he hollered out as he gripped his fork.
“You’re right, so that means it would only take you a second as well.”
“But baby, you make it so much better than me!” he whined. Xenia continued on, ignoring him. “Ain’t this ’bout uh…”
“Saint, watch your mouth around the kids!” she hollered out.
“I was gonna say beaut! Ain’t this ’bout a beaut…” He snickered.
~***~
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Well, are you excited? Only two weeks until the show starts.” Shianne walked briskly, her trusty iPhone in hand. “You’re off next week for the trip, and then when you return, voilà!”
“I know! I am excited and it happened so fast. I have no idea where the time went.” Xenia smiled as she took another sip from her diet coke. “I hired someone to take over the radio station. I’ll still do the weekend edition but at least that is taken care of and I can rest easy.” She sighed in relief, while tossing a wad of paper in a nearby trashcan. “I can’t wait, Shianne. Thanks for being so helpful these last few weeks.”
“Oh, please.” Shianne pushed her glasses up her nose. “It’s my pleasure.”
Sinclair glared from the sidelines, his arms folded and his f
ace twisted so tight, it looked as if an invisible fist were around it, crushing it to death.
What the hell does this joker want now?
“Uh, Shianne, can you give me a moment?”
“Of course.” Shianne tossed Sinclair a curious glance and walked away, her ponytail swaying behind her. Xenia’s heartbeat pounded out a tune inside of her core. Her breath became labored as she took quick steps toward the bane of her existence.
“Sinclair.” She put her finger in his face. “Nice stunt you pulled at the meeting today, trying to make me look bad in front of my colleagues. When is this little game going to stop?”
Sinclair shrugged, looked down at his cuticles then back up at Xenia. “When I get tired of you,” he declared, tapping his foot as if music were playing. “And besides, everything I said was true. I just wanted them to make sure they had the right woman. You’re a deal breaker. If you don’t bring the show higher ratings, its death rests on your shoulders. You have no television experience, Xenia and it isn’t something you can learn overnight, though I do applaud your crash course efforts.”
Xenia veered back, containing herself. Her mouth dropped as a laugh of shock rang out from between her lips. “You are a music producer! Yet here you are on a television show set! What nerve.”
“I have experience, extensive experience, sweetie.” He jabbed an ink pen in his mouth and twirled it around like a toothpick. “With music videos and big corporation commercials. You have none.” Then he threw the pen on a table and glared at her before grabbing a chilled bottle water from a nearby cooler and taking a long, slow gulp.
She refused to respond. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of taking his bait. Xenia had daydreamed of ways to get rid of the S.O.B., but as of yet, nothing came to mind.
“I’m not saying you can’t pull it off, but I’d hate for you to be the final nail in the coffin.”
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