Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father

by Laveen, Tiana

  “So Henry is asking for money?” he asked suspiciously.

  Xenia rolled her eyes and elbowed him out the way. “No. He asked Porsche, he didn’t call me. Porsche called and told me, and then I called him.”

  “Xenia, can’t you see what is going on here?” He put his hand on his hip, looking down at her as if she were some idiot.

  “Saint, I could believe that if he called and asked me! He didn’t. He was trying to fix this on his own.”

  “Okay, whatever you say,” he said flippantly as he opened the refrigerator. “Is any of that smoothie you made left?”

  “Yeah, it’s in the back.”

  She didn’t look at him, only felt his lips caress the back of her neck.

  “I wanted to take some with me, so I came back before I got out the driveway.” He grabbed the container, poured it into a plastic travel cup and snapped the lid over it. “See you later, baby.” And just like that, he was gone.

  Xenia stood there for the longest, gripping that carton of milk and staring blankly at the kitchen cabinet. Hassani burst into the room from the backyard, breaking her out of her trance.

  “Mommy,” he said out of breath, cradling his basketball under his arm while his friends waited for him out back at his basketball hoop. “What is a boner?”

  Xenia’s jaw dropped in shock. She leaned away from the counter, noting the closed and locked front door. Saint was gone. No one was there to assist her.

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Dante said it. He won’t tell me what it means.” Hassani got past her, opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a grape-flavored Gatorade, chugging it before she’d found an out.

  “Uh, ask your father when he gets home. He is good at that sort of thing.”

  “It must have somethin’ to do with sex, then.” Hassani smirked. “Can I call him right now and ask?”

  “No you may not.” Xenia grimaced, putting her hand on her hip. “Go on back outside. I’m sure you’ll remember still by the time he gets home.” She grinned as she watched him disappear.

  “Boner…Lord.” She turned back toward the milk carton and pulled out a glass and sippy cup for Isis, then looked up at the monitor to check on Dakarai who was playing a scholastic video game in his bedroom. She tipped the glass to her lips, taking a small gulp, and then another. The first swallow was for her thirst. The second, for her worry…

  ~***~

  Two weeks later…

  “Pon de river! Pon de bank!” Saint chanted in his faux Reggae voice over the tunes of Elephant Man, causing Hassani and Dakarai to burst out laughing at the sight of him moving his body to and fro to the beat. He gripped Isis in his arms and dipped her, as if they were in a ballroom competition. He caught Xenia out the corner of his eye placing glasses and sippy cups on the table, a smirk on her face. The woman tried her hardest to not laugh, but resistance was futile.

  “Kick out ya shoes because ya foot Dem nuh Cramp!... a lock Jamaican an Bronx!”

  She shook her head. “Saint, you’re crazy. That’s funny. You actually really sound like him when you do that.” She continued to laugh as she disappeared from view. He slowed once he heard the doorbell and before he could cross the room, his daughter gripped his fingers, a strange expression on her face. He glared at her, unsure what to make of it. Then, there was a hard knock. Saint paused and stared at the closed door. Xenia peeked around the kitchen entrance, her oven mitt on.

  “Did you invite someone over for dinner, baby?”

  “No. I was going to ask you the same.” Saint drew closer and looked through the peephole. Three police officers stood there, one taller than the others. The cop smirked and waved.

  “Hassani, turn the music off for me please.” Saint waited as the boy walked swiftly to the music center wedged between two large, concert sized speakers. Like a pro, after seeing his father do it numerous times, he hit three buttons and the sound ceased.

  Saint stabbed the intercom and cleared his throat.

  “May I help you gentlemen?”

  “Is this Dr. Saint Aknaten?”

  “Yes it is.”

  “We would like a word with you please.”

  Saint’s tongue thickened and heat rose in every limb of his body. He swallowed and called out to Xenia.

  “Baby!”

  “Yeah, did you find out who it was?” She came out the kitchen.

  “Yeah, it’s the police.”

  “The police?!”

  “Dr. Aknaten, we need a word with you please!” the officer repeated, this time with obvious annoyance.

  “I don’t know what this is about, Xenia.” He handed Isis to her. “Please take the children in the kitchen.”

  “Hassani and Dakarai, come on and get ready to eat.” The boys huddled around her, but looked over their shoulders at their father as they walked slowly away. The party had come to an abrupt end. Saint unlocked the double front doors, opened the right one, and stood to the side, motioning the three cops to march in, single file.

  “Hello, Dr. Aknaten. I’m Officer Reynolds. This is Officer Dale and this is Officer Kerney. Nice place you have here.” The man looked around the house, his legs in a cowboy stance, large hands on his narrow hips. His lips twisted and nose wrinkled, as if he’d gotten a whiff of something rank. Then he shot Saint a look, as if to say, ‘what is an ass like you doing with a nice crib like this?!’

  “I bet the mortgage is something wild.” He looked over at the two officers then handed Saint a certified grin, as if his photo were being taken. “You are under arrest.”

  Snatching Saint in his grip, he turned him around while the other two cops stood on each side of him.

  “What the?! What is this about?!” Saint demanded.

  “You are being charged with felony embezzlement. It is a Class G felony.”

  “What?! I haven’t embezzled anything. This is insane!”

  Xenia crept out of the kitchen, holding Isis to her chest as their sons peeked around her legs.

  “What is going on?!” she hollered out.

  “Ma’am, please stay exactly where you are,” Officer Dale announced.

  “Look, there has been a mistake! I didn’t steal anything from anybody!” Saint protested, his wrists squeezed so tightly a shot of pain crawled all the way up to his shoulder blades.

  Officer Reynolds turned Saint back toward him, snapping him in place, causing Saint’s head to bobble. The man’s thin lips twitched a bit, as if he were amused.

  “Daddy…” Hassani called out, his eyes big and glassy. Saint looked at him. Rage mixed with shame, creating a sundry of dank emotions deep inside of his gut. He wanted to believe this was all a bad dream, but witch’s brew causing his stomach to knot told him he was fully awake.

  “This isn’t right!” Saint shouted resentfully. For a split second, he contemplated breaking out of the handcuffs and going toe to toe with the officers, but he knew that would end badly and shook it out of his mind.

  “Sir.” The cop rolled his eyes. “You will have your day in court.”

  Then, he went on to read him his Miranda rights. Thoughts of violence reemerged, tempting him. Saint wanted to break free from the tight handcuffs, punch all of them in the back of their heads and kill whoever had released the beasts on him, allowing the sludge to contaminate his sanctuary. He looked back at his family as he broke out in sweats and his stomach tightened with anxiety. All of those eyes were on him, eyes that trusted him. Eyes that believed Daddy was, well…a saint.

  “Who filed this? Who is accusing me?!” Saint demanded as they dragged him out his own home. Saint almost tripped over the threshold as the cop rough handled him.

  Officer Reynolds turned to him, his eyes hooded and dark. “It is all there in the complaint. We will talk about this when we get you to the station.” And just like that, they were gone down the driveway toward the police car.

  “I’m not saying another word to any of you without my attorney. Xenia, call Ned, please!” he shoute
d.

  She nodded and kept her chin high. He knew she wanted to cry, but she kept a brave face for the kids, so they could be lied to once again and be led to believe it was all some silly mistake. It was a mistake all right, but far from silly. No one was laughing, but someone was going to pay…

  Saint seethed as Officer Reynolds pressed his puffy palm on the top of his head and pushed him inside the back of the car like he was nothing. He looked up at the big house, the door now darkened with his entire family huddled close. He saw a flash and twinkle—Xenia holding her cell phone as she spoke into it. Her mouth was moving, and he prayed to God she’d actually reached Ned and not his voicemail. He lowered his gaze from her, not wanting the kids to see him like that any longer, and then they drove off.

  He was quiet on the long ride to jail. In his rage, he felt his pupils turn blood red. He quickly shut them, closing his eyes completely. The ride was bumpy, and the cop continued to speak into his radio as they drifted along. The scent of fresh sweat mixed with heated leather swarmed together, making his stomach turn.

  Soon, he’d be disrobing, changing into jail attire and sitting in a cell with nothing to grip onto but a slither of hope and a chance to be released so he could sink his teeth into the mothafucka that did this to him.

  He was definitely up shit’s creek.

  Pon de river, pon de bank…

  ~***~

  Thirteen hours later…

  “This is some bullshit!” Saint stormed out of the precinct, Ned and Xenia by his side, barely able to keep up. He was seeing red but kept himself fairly cool, so as to not scare the poor attorney away at the sight of creepy eyes.

  “Saint, it is, but let me handle this, please. You are free to do what you want, just don’t leave the country. There was a larceny single scheme charge as well, but that was dropped in place of embezzlement. We know you didn’t do this, so just trust me, we will get it worked out.”

  “Let me find out who the fuck did this! I’ll kill—”

  “Saint.” Xenia’s eyed widened as she glared at the back of Ned, trying to warn her husband to simmer down. His muscles slightly relaxed as he heeded her directive.

  “Out on bail! Ain’t this some shit! This is going to hit the tabloids, everyone is going to know and it will hurt my wife and children, Ned!”

  “Saint,” he said dryly as he looked at him through his rear view mirror. “You are innocent until proven guilty and your company is behind you.”

  “How can I embezzle from my own company anyway?! And even if I could, I didn’t steal anything!”

  “Well, you have 401ks Saint, and the charges are that you nickel and dimed them and took additional proceeds for some of the conferences. The allegation is that you pocketed those funds, in addition to your own cut.”

  “I understood the charges, Ned!” Saint rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’m telling you that is untrue and bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit! All of it!”

  “Whoever did this to you did their homework because salaries did go down once you did a mass hiring, but it didn’t coincide with the initial budget prospect.”

  “That’s self explanatory, but the wages didn’t go down, we just made sure everyone stayed the same. What does that have to do with this, though?”

  “Well, it looks suspicious when charges like this come into play because you only hired a third of the people you set out to, and there were no raises last year as you stated but also, you are missing bank records and the health insurance went up a little. All of this is normal business, but it raises a brow when someone accuses another of double dipping.”

  “Ha! Ain’t this grand?” Saint laughed like a lunatic. “Your man was in jail on white collar theft charges, Xenia. That should look real great on your list of achievements! Picking a criminal as a husband.” He grimaced, losing a bit of his mind.

  Xenia snapped her neck in his direction. “You didn’t say anything to the police. That is good.” She was unbelievably calm as she turned back around. “Your attorney is on it, so just relax, baby.”

  If he only could…but he appreciated her being his strong backbone at that moment. Yeah, bones…and he planned to break each and every bone inside of the person that caused this to happen to him. They’d pay dearly…

  ~***~

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Two days later…

  “So basically that is the end of that segment, and we can wrap it up. Weston, make sure you get Jason the final report by Wednesday.”

  The room smelled of coffee and spearmint. A whiteboard with sloppy handwriting hung behind him and through his best efforts, Saint was conducting business as usual.

  “Is everyone in compliance?” The men in the meeting nodded. “So, our last bit of business this afternoon is the—”

  Suddenly, the alarms in the building went off, causing Saint and everyone else to look around in confusion and murmur amongst themselves. He put his hand up to get them to calm down. He’d had a bad feeling all morning, and something told him he was about to find out exactly why.

  “Okay, everyone settle down.” He marched up to the front of the room and hit two controls. The alarm stopped once he picked up a receiver in the wall that went to the main control branch of the building.

  “Hey Tony.” Saint locked the conference room door and glanced once more behind him, showing a calm face when inside he was chock full of concern. Tony was the head of building security and that alarm went off for one reason, and one reason only—an unauthorized trespasser or unwelcomed guest was on the premises. “Yeah, someone rang the alarm. What’s going on?”

  “I rang it as a heads up. Saint, we tried to reach you on your cell phone first.”

  “Shit, I accidentally left it on my desk. What’s going on?”

  Saint gritted his teeth, wishing Jagger and Lawrence were present. Instead, they were on a local follow-up involving a discrimination case against an interracial couple at a synagogue in New Hampshire.

  “The I.R.S. is here. They want to see you. We had to let them in. They are in the records room, in our database, and on their way up to your floor. They should arrive in approximately two minutes and forty-five seconds…now, make that forty-four.”

  “What?! What the hell are they doing here?”

  “Mr. Aknaten, I honestly don’t know. They refused to answer any of our questions.”

  This can’t be happening. First the police come and arrest me, now this!

  Saint abruptly hung up. Everyone in the room was quiet, waiting for him to explain what the hell was going on. He put his hand up and tried to remain unruffled.

  “Gentlemen, there appears to be some sort of misunderstanding. I’m sure this won’t take long. Please stay in here and discuss your projects amongst each other. I will be right back.” He unlocked the door and stormed out, his black suit jacket swinging wildly with each stride.

  “Mr. Saint Aknaten?” said a monotone, masculine voice as soon as he reached his office and turned the knob.

  Saint sighed and entered. Two men were inside, both wearing shiny badges.

  “Yes…”

  “Hello, Mr. Aknaten.” They drew near. One stood about five foot seven with choppy auburn hair and the other about five ten with dark brown, sad eyes. “My name is Officer Giles and this is my partner, Officer Hyatt. We received a complaint two weeks ago regarding your past tax claims, the records you submitted, and we also received one concerning your company.” The man looked down at his phone. “This is a financial agency, an independent bank, correct?”

  “Yes,” Saint lied.

  “Well, we didn’t wish for it to come to this. We rarely make house calls but we’ve tried to contact you on a daily basis to no avail.”

  “What? I’ve received no calls or notifications about any matter dealing with you all. I would’ve responded promptly. I do not cheat on my taxes nor would I put this company at risk by doing anything underhanded. What is this all about? What complaint?”

  “Well, it appears that your ta
xes, dating back in 1997, were missing several bits of information and some deductions were not properly filed. However, after our internal investigation, we found you innocent of the filed complaint.”

  Saint sighed with relief. “Then why are you here?”

  Both officers glanced at one another. “Is this your office? May we talk to you privately?”

  Oh…shit. What the fuck is going on?

  “Uh, yes, please come in.”

  Saint took a seat behind his desk as the two men made themselves comfortable. One looked down inquisitively at Saint’s desk, turning his head to and fro until the realization struck him that he was looking at a damned naked woman with an afro. The agent looked both shocked slightly amused, and were it not for the circumstances, Saint would’ve engaged him in conversation about it.

  “Mr. Aknaten, it appears we will need to do an audit. Now, please don’t be alarmed. We have faith that you will have all corrobating evidence for the expenses filed, but at this point, Naisier Financial Agency is under official investigation.

  The Rainbeau Knights of the Round Table had unanimously voted to call the name of the bogus front company Naisier, in honor of a Rainbeau Knight who had passed away the previous year.

  Saint leaned back and swiveled in his chair. He placed the end of an inkpen to his lips and stared at the two men, studying them.

  “I received no calls or mail, as I stated,” he offered calmly. He clasped his hands together and smirked. “May I ask who filed this complaint?”

  “We are not at liberty to divulge that information. But we did find it was a legitimate claim.”

  “Are either of you concerned that I am telling you I received no phone calls or mail? To me, that shows someone dropped the ball, or someone made sure that it didn’t happen so I’d have the escalated situation we are dealing with right now—to actually deal with you two face to face.”

  Both men looked at each other, appearing a bit uncomfortable. “Mr. Aknaten, I’m not sure why you didn’t receive the correspondence but at this point, we simply have to move forward. We don’t delight in making house calls and seldom do as stated, but the amount of funds rendered—”