Saint And Sinners: The King Angel Child of New York

by Tiana Laveen

  “Stop being such a fucking wimp, Ataru, Jesus Christ! Do you bleed? Huh, man?! Do you have a period once a month? Shit! Pussy ass mothafucka…” He picked up his cigarette and tapped it anxiously against the ashtray, determined to never let a motherfucka see him sweat. “Even if that is true, that whole shit in Egypt was different. There is no comparison. This is New York. This is my city, my turf. He hasn’t been here in fucking forever. The world changes every damn millisecond. And besides, he knows how this works.”

  “What makes you think he can’t just come in here and turn everything upside down?” Ataru huffed.

  Still in that ‘run for your lives’ zone. Despicable, fucking disgusting.

  “Anyway, Look, just chill, for real.” Koki rolled his eyes. “You are fuckin’ up my high, killing my vibe with all of your anxiety… and you!” He glared at Pablo. “Stop bouncing around like that, like a fucking jack rabbit on hydraulics!” The man immediately stopped and looked down at his shoes, refusing to make eye contact, as if suddenly ashamed.

  Like the slow moving wing of an eagle, Koki removed the cape from around his neck. The thing landed like a memory along the floor, slightly disturbing the clippings of his hair that lay along the laminated black and white checkered floor. He rose from his seat, standing tall like the head fucker in charge that he was. Everyone stood back, giving him room to step down and walk freely. The place grew quiet as he made his way to the center of the place, and put his hands around his hips. Manhattan, New York on a Tuesday afternoon had gone from uneventful to full throttle in a matter of moments.

  Two Dominicans sauntered past the shop, glaring inside on their way, giving slight head nods in Koki’s direction. He nodded back; after all, it was the polite thing to do and he prided himself on his reserve and manners in public. He was a businessman, and well, this latest development meant just that: business.

  I knew the good times would soon be challenged. This is the type of shit I live for… Wished it would had happened a bit differently, but that’s okay. I’ll find a way to work with the hand I was dealt.

  He smiled to himself as he rolled in his private thoughts like a caterpillar crammed in its tomb of a larvae-like cocoon.

  Who are you trying convince? Yourself or them?

  He continued to converse inside of his head, making sense of the shit.

  Fuck! It’s cool… it’s cool…

  So, Saint Aknaten is back in New York, and this time, it ain’t just a visit… He’s here to stay.

  He looked up at the ceiling, wishing to set it ablaze, too.

  “Give me a minute alone, please. I need to think,” he commanded. Everyone, including the barbers, walked away into an adjoining area while he began to slowly pace back and forth.

  Something is definitely up. I knew, from a young age, my lot in life. I started early in trying to secure it. When he left this place, I was put into power. There was fear was that he’d learn of his calling, and then stake claim. He didn’t. Instead, he moved away, and things became much easier. Now that he is back, he will try to take it away from me. I don’t give a fuck about the power, contrary to Ataru’s feelings. I just want to enjoy myself, and…do what I was designed to do. That is part of dignity. That is the reason my ass is on top, and everyone else is at the bottom. I follow the damn rules to a ‘T’. I follow inherently what I am, and what I’m about, and that is to rule and provide choice.

  That’s the whole problem, though. We were designed to do things; it is the way of our people. Saint and his kind can’t seem to understand that. I respect the mothafucka’s hustle; he’s just been dancing to the wrong beat. New York is mine though. It’s always been mine since the moment I was conceived. I guess we’ve been doing our job a little too well…

  Heroin is back on the street in droves…

  Scholastic scores have plummeted…

  Human morale is at an all time low…

  Domestic violence, rape and murder have increased worldwide…but yet, we are supposedly so much more civilized, right? Education is power? Those born with souls do not acknowledge them, and those that are born soulless try to suck and taste that of which we never had…

  He grinned and gave a slight chuckle. No one said a fucking word, no one moved as all eyes glared at him from a short distance. He was sorting some things out, and he needed not one damn muscle to twitch.

  Yeah, well, here he comes. Here the mothafucka comes…

  “Alright, you all can come back in, now.” He waved them over nonchalantly. A few moments later, people were back in the groove of things, moving and talking as if no intermission had ever taken place.

  “Hey.” Koki looked over his shoulder. Clad in his favorite, soft white leather jacket, he plucked a wayward hair from it, flicking it to the ground. “Pablo, get Zoo on the phone, please.” Pablo nodded, coasted his cellphone out of his slouchy blue jean pocket and placed it to his face as he moseyed away into the recesses of the place. Before anyone could ask a question or utter a word, Ataru was at Koki’s side. He placed his hand on his shoulder.

  “I trust you.” The man’s eyes grew impossibly darker as a sly grin creased that snow-white face.

  “Good, that’s real good, Ataru.” Koki rolled in the words, knowing that Ataru was pleading with him to take action, to stop this shit before it got too far. But that was the reason why Koki was in charge, and not him. Ataru was too emotional, too hot headed and worrisome. No, they needed a mothafucka who didn’t give a shit, one who remained cool headed under pressure and would follow the guidelines, not crumble down at the first hint of a problem. They needed a bastard like him, who knew how to fight with his hands, weapons and his mind. He surmised Saint was similar, or he wouldn’t be able to command the sort of respect that the son of a bitch drew. He understood the man was a multi-tiered, South Bronx born and bred, half breed—a cocky, family man with a penchant for high-octane punanai.

  It was a weakness. Saint loved pretty women and sex, in particular. Everyone had at least one limitation, and it wasn’t his fault that his Creator made mankind that way. This was just poor planning. Word also had it, Saint’s passion for pussy had been squelched once he found his soulmate. But Koki knew people—he knew them all too well—and with a bit more time, invested research and observation, he’d find out just what ol’ boy had been up to.

  Anyone can be brought down; you just have to find out their favorite flavor, what they treasure most. And Koki was determined to find out… He’d open up a candy store and dare Dr. Aknaten to take a stroll and not touch his delicious, sweet wares. But Saint was no fool so he had to be sly about this shit, stay in stealth mode. No problem. He was up for the challenge.

  Koki lit another cigarette, cocking his head to the side as he cradled it close like a newborn baby before he blew crack addiction into the tiny victim’s freshly formed nostrils.

  “Koki,” Pablo declared. “Zoo said ain’t nobody seen him today, but they’ll be on the lookout. He got some friends, too.”

  “Good. Fine.” Koki smirked as he blew out rings of carmine smoke. “We all need friends, right?” He grinned extra wide. “Make sure no one confronts or touches him. I don’t want any of you anywhere near. He’ll smell you, and it could start some shit. We don’t want to rattle his cage just yet.” He kept his back turned then walked out the shop. Soon, his two cohorts were by his side. He sniffed the air and smelled death, despair, depression and destiny. The shit was mouthwatering, fit for a buffet of buffoonery.

  …And that’s what these people are, clowns!

  Koki sneered at all the people moseying about on the streets, feeling nothing but contempt and disgust.

  They make fun of their own lives by acting so fucking ridiculous on a daily basis, and yet I am somehow the bad guy?

  “For now, boys, it’s business as usual,” he announced. “Well, just keep tabs on him is all. I don’t want to be broadsided. Let’s try to hope for the best, and if the worst comes into play, we’ll be ready for that too, okay?” He shot
Ataru a reassured glance. His brother nodded right before the trio made their way down the slightly sloped street. As they passed several individuals, Koki waved his hand, feeling the human turbulence rising off their auras like smoke from a barbecue pit.

  Soon, the night would fall and they’d really get into it.

  “Supposed to be a full moon tonight,” Pablo huffed, breaking the silence as they marched shoulder to shoulder down the street. “We’ll be busy.”

  “Indeed we will. People always act like idiots on full moons. Mix that with alcohol, some drug-use and overall pisstivity, and you get entertainment for a lifetime.”

  “The emergency room will be packed.” Ataru piped up, a tinge of excitement in his voice.

  Soon they arrived at the parking meter where Koki’s navy blue, Cadillac Elmiraj awaited. It glimmered, as if dripped in sopping wet paint. They slid inside, got situated on the white leather seats as Koki started the engine and pulled away from the curb, noting an eager woman waiting to take his place for the prized spot. He caught the twinkle in her eye through his rear view mirror, winked at her, then heard her scream when someone swooped into the spot, almost side swiping her. As he drove away, he knew the police would be there soon. That woman had had a very bad day…and things were going to escalate faster than a crackhead doing the Latin hustle for a hit. All he’d done was look in her direction, and wink…a simple closing and opening of his dark brown iris, and she was well on her way. She made her choice, and now the chips were falling where they may. How sweet it was to reign supreme.

  But he wouldn’t close his lids and fall into a cushy dream. Oh no…there were more pressing issues at hand. He desired to sit back in his apartment and smoke a few pineapple blunts, drink a little Patron, but now wasn’t the time. He had work to do and if he failed, it would all be gone within the blink of a demonic child’s eye…

  *

  Chapter One

  “I saw you! … And hiiim, and hiiiim… Walkin’ in thaaaa rain! You were hoooldin’ hands, and I’ll nevah be the saaaame! Remember that shit, Xenia?” Saint hooted as he danced around the middle of the vast living room, the wistful memories of the music taking him away to a time long ago. He didn’t miss her smirk and eye roll as he did a turn, pivoting perfectly as if he’d been trained in the Juilliard School of Dance. He shimmied his narrow hips and gamboled closer and closer to her as she lounged about on the couch, her purple cell phone tight in her grip and her concentration elsewhere.

  The woman pretended not to see him under the swaying, dull lights, or hear him amongst the simple rifts and blaring music. He sang even louder now, his shaky voice off key. “I saw you, Xenia! I saw ya, damn it! Yeeeeah!” Jetting his long tongue out, he made the moist tip touch the bottom of his chin in an obscene way. He snapped his fingers to the damn beat, pushing his white Nike sneakers into the plush cream rug with each smooth slide and glide. “…I missed you too, yeah, I missed you so much I followed you today! Ha ha! … Do uh Rambo! … cancelled all those credit cards, yeeeeeaaah…everythang, Xenia!” He kept on singing the lyrics, putting her name in the middle of the mess.

  Now she was laughing, slumped over on the side of the couch.

  “Saint, you have lost your damn mind again. So silly… You need to put on a shirt, too. Lawrence and Donna will be over here soon.” She sighed and cradled her phone a bit closer.

  As if a needle had skipped abruptly across a spinning album, Saint came to an abrupt halt. “What? Donna and Lawrence? For what?” His brows bunched as he tried to gain understanding. He had an entire evening planned, at least in his mind—a full spread of all-you-can-handle fabulous fucking—and now Lawrence’s cock blocking ass had thrown a torpedoing boomerang, in his case, a fucking bow and arrow dipped in poison, decapitating the sexual strategies, ruining the whole damn naughty notion. The kids were with Mama Pam and Porsche for a few hours, and he was certain that tonight would be an evening fit for a King and his Queen, a night in which he’d slowly sink his teeth into Xenia’s soft, delicious ass. So many plans…so many wicked, dirty, soiled, filthy plans…

  “You don’t remember anything lately!” She dramatically rolled her big, dark brown eyes and tossed her cellphone haphazardly on the nearby table as if in disgust of his lack of retention. “I told them I would watch the baby while they went and got a bite to eat.”

  “Watch the baby? Bite to eat?!” He turned the music down, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

  “Why are you repeating everything I say, Saint? Yes, a bite to eat, ever heard of it?” She chuckled. “Food? It nourishes our bodies. You remember what it was like, honey, not having any free time.” Her facial expression softened as she tried to elicit leniency and mercy. She put her foot on the heart-string powered gas pedal as her eyes slightly hooded, and her lips dipped, drawing him into her world of cottony sorrow and pitiful pity. It was the saddest face he’d ever seen.

  All that was missing was some tragic violin music to accompany her depressing theatrics. He hated that even after all of this, he still didn’t find in him a beating heart that gave one shadow of a damn. No empathy poured forth, only a throbbing dick that was being ignored by the object of his affections. He wanted her all to himself, and now, that wish was being stomped on and crushed like a budding forest fire right before his very eyes. He could almost envision the solemn speaking Smokey the bear with the brown Ranger hat from his youth, pointing in his direction and saying,

  ‘Only YOU can prevent forest fires!’

  “Remember when Hassani was real tiny and we didn’t take a break from the whole new parents, thing? We hardly got any alone time. They need some time together, baby. Newborns can be a lot of work.” She nodded, trying to drive the point home as he regarded her with his very own mask of pity, but it was all for himself.

  Saint slumped clumsily against his shiny, ebony media system that took up practically the entire wall. His fingers ran over the ridged dial as he begrudgingly stopped the music altogether. The dance was over…the horizontal one, too…

  “I’ll be back.” He turned away and journeyed up the winding staircase to their master suite, in search of a T-shirt to throw over his exposed, tattooed torso. He’d been bopping like a damn peacock, trying to woo the woman. It was all a show that garnered a rather lackluster premature curtain call.

  Maybe Tyler will go to sleep early?

  He became rather hopeful, bubbling with renewed optimism as his long fingers raked through his clothing, a glimmer of a smile forming on his face. He removed a plain white T-shirt from the rack, slid it on and carried on to the bathroom. With a sigh, he rocked on his heels as he lifted the toilet lid and glided down his jeans and boxers, causing them to puddle around his ankles. Clearing his throat, he stood there for a second, then closed his eyes as his piss hit the water waiting below.

  It will be nice to visit with Tyler though… I remember when Hassani and Dakarai were that little. Seems so long ago.

  He grinned as he shook his cock, re-dressed then made his way over to the twin black granite basin to wash his hands. He pumped the soft, liquid peppermint soap, lathered up and looked at himself in the mirror as he ran his fingers under the warm, relaxing water.

  He is a cute baby. I bet he will be smart, too, just like his old man…

  Saint could see right away the little sweetheart was an Angel Child. He had kindness in his dark brown eyes, just like his father. The baby was the real deal, not just a placebo, a sugar pill of good will. Donna had softened a bit since she’d given birth. The woman still acted a bit standoffish, but rudeness was no longer an accurate description, much to his amazement. Saint supposed it was her way of saying, ‘Thank you’ for the crucial health advice he’d given during her turbulent pregnancy, and for being there for Lawrence when his nerves had become frazzled and completely undone like ratty shoelaces. The baby’s heart rate had dropped dangerously low during his birth, and it took Saint and Jagger to calm the man down, physically force him to sit so they could talk some sense into
him. Saint knew it would be okay, he’d felt it, but at times like that, there was no point in trying to be rational with a man who believed his child may die at any moment. He’d never seen Lawrence worried before, at least not to that level. He was always the one bringing others back to their core, centering them, but now, things had reversed, and it was the damndest thing to witness. Amazing how fatherhood changed men…

  He dried his hands and circumnavigated his way down the steps, his thoughts swaying from sex to work obligations and ideas for a much-needed vacation. As he drew closer, he could hear chatter and the air acquired a certain flavor. The scent of kindred spirits floated about, titillating his senses. He could smell his own kind, and the two vibrant souls were oh so wonderful…

  Lawrence and Tyler…

  The corners of his lips lifted as he hastened his pace, his feet beating the floor in rapid strides.

  “Heeeey.” He grabbed Lawrence by the shoulder, brought him in close and gave him several hearty pats along the back. “Good to see you, man.”

  “Good to see you, too. Uh…” Lawrence looked over his shoulder at the partially opened front door then back at Saint. “Donna will be in in a sec. She is finishing up a phone call and getting the baby bag out of the car,” Lawrence explained as he awkwardly switched the infant boy to his other arm. Saint shot a side-glance at Xenia who appeared to not have noticed anyone else in that room but Tyler. A sunny smile broke into her face, and her digits twitched like those of a vampire exposed to sunlight. The baby fever had been born within her yet once again, and no one mattered more in that instant than the little one in the diaper. Saint rolled his eyes, huffed and crossed his arms, all while simultaneously grinning. He had no idea how’d he’d gotten wrapped up with a woman that suffered from extreme infant mania.