Saint And Sinners: The King Angel Child of New York

by Tiana Laveen

  “Nah.” He laughed lightly, his stomach fluttering a bit as he looked away from her. Then he turned back in her direction, regaining his nerve. “That’s not it. I love this house. I love it a lot actually.”

  “Then what is the problem?” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “The problem is I can’t relocate the house, Xenia.” Frustration dripped from every syllable he now uttered. He was pissed at himself, but also in dire need and there was no way to run from the reality of the situation, not one second longer. “I can’t move the damn house. It’s not our pad, it’s this whole damn place!”

  “Shhhhh! You are going to wake the baby,” she reprimanded while taking him by the hand and leading him farther away from earshot, into the ‘piano’ area.

  “Look, Xenia.” He gripped her arms, feeling desperate, as though, if the woman didn’t give him what he required, he’d die right there on the damn spot, a broken pile of nothingness for her to try and make sense of. “I want… to go… home!” His chest caved as he swallowed his own spit, practically choking on it. He must have sounded like a child, a distressed toddler needing the comforts of his mother’s lap but he couldn’t help himself—it had to be said.

  “Saint, what is going on with you? You are home.” And then her expression softened and a side eye glance caught him by surprise. “You’ve been drinking…” She smirked.

  “Goddamn it, no! I mean, well, yes, yes, I’ve been drinkin’ but that’s not it.” He spun in a circle, gripping his hair, forcing himself through the mess he didn’t quite understand his damn self. He faced her once more.

  “I want to go back to New York, Xenia, my home. I’m fucking sick and tired of L.A.! It’s killing me. Look at all the bullshit we’ve been through?” He threw his hands up towards the ceiling as if the answers were there before his eyes, and what he had to do was show her, and all would be well. “Look at this craziness. I moved here because I love you.” His eyes narrowed on her as his heart seized with panic and sadness fell upon him like New York snow. “Because I’m the one that asked you to marry me and I turned your whole world upside down, I wanted to make sure you were not disrupted any further. I never wanted to move here, baby. But I did it for you. That was my doing, you know, snatching you away from everything, so I felt like…shit!” He turned away from her, frowning, trying to form the right words. This wasn’t going the way he envisioned it.

  In his mind, he said all the right things and before he knew it, a moving truck or two would be pulled up and they’d be on their way. She’d accept it, just like that. He realized at that point that he had in fact been watching too many movies and realism had left out the backdoor without so much as a ‘goodbye.’

  “I felt like I owed it to you, to make a go of it here. You had your show, and James was here, so it all worked out, you know? It all fell into place. Now that your television show contract is almost expired and you told me you aren’t going back next season, I figured this is a good time to really consider this.”

  He’d rendered the woman speechless. It was clear on her face and the way her dark brown eyes drilled into him, she was completely taken aback, damn near flabbergasted. Xenia’s mouth hung open, and her eyes widened even further, as if she’d truly forgotten the entire English language…and Spanish, too. Her fingertips gently dragged across her blouse as she glanced to the floor then looked back into his eyes.

  “Saint…I don’t know, I don’t know what—”

  “Just tell me you’ll at least think about it, baby. Please! I’m serious. None of this shit I’m telling you is my own trumped up notions. I know I sound self-regarding; it’s fucked up, I know it is, but I’ve thought about you and the kids, too. We all could have a wonderful life there.” He touched his chest as if delivering a moving speech. He hoped that he truly was. “Whatever place you want to move into, no matter the cost, I’ll buy it! Well, wait, I mean, don’t find some billion dollar place, but you get what I’m sayin’.” He tumbled over his own words, feeling like a crazed maniac, but he couldn’t reel himself in.

  “Saint, you—”

  “Xenia…I know!” He ran his hands over his face, sick that he’d even brought it up now that he saw the hurt in her expression. “I’m sorry…I know…I know…”

  This was a bad idea. You should’ve just suffered in silence…

  Before he knew it, her lips were pressed to his, shocking him, making him stumble back on his feet and almost land on his ass. Her small fingers traced his ears as she slicked her tongue into his mouth; making him feel light at the knees as he bent down to meet her height. He returned the favor, kissing her feverishly, his libido skyrocketing after being temporarily put out to pasture.

  “We’ve had this discussion briefly before,” she stated after taking a gentle step away from him, but grasped and held his hand all the while. She looked at him keenly, her top lip turned upward ever so slightly at the ends. “About three years ago, we had this very same talk.” She put her finger in the air. “Only you wouldn’t admit that you wanted to go back home, Saint. I knew this day would come though. You know,” she shrugged, “I really shouldn’t have been surprised that this is happening sooner than later—that you’d come to me, just this way. Don’t feel badly, baby. I understand.” She smiled up at him, giving him instant relief.

  “Okay…okay, so I haven’t totally surprised you, that’s good.” He exhaled loudly, letting out the wind that had built in his gut as he fretfully scratched along his jawbone. “So, how do you feel about it, you know, moving?” He released her hand, leaned against the piano and crossed his ankles, watching her every move, needing to make sure that she was surely okay.

  “Well…” She shrugged. “You know I love New York, Saint. You remember how when I first started visiting you a lot there, I was having so much fun. I don’t know much about the schools though, the things that matter now. It was fine when it was just you and me…but there are other things…and people…to consider now.”

  “I know, and I’ve thought about all of that. I’ve done a lot of research, and Raphael keeps me in the loop, too, especially since he moved back to the city. This isn’t me trying to get my way.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m serious,” he reassured. He knew his damn reputation with the woman. When he wanted something, he wouldn’t let up, but this was not just for his benefit, and he needed her to see that, to realize and understand it. “I think it may actually be perfect to raise our children there.”

  “How so?” Now her look of disbelief returned, but this time, he was prepared for it.

  “Our children are gifted. They are Angel Children, like me. I know you and I differ on this, but to me,” he touched his chest earnestly, “they need to see the real world. L.A. isn’t real, baby. The people here are plastic. Not just their bodies, but their minds, too. They live in a bubble. This isn’t how life really works. Why do you think people make so many jokes about the lifestyle out here? It is almost like being in another world.”

  “Saint, not everyone in L.A. is like that! Look at me?! What a ridiculous stereotype.” She grimaced and put her hand on her hip, her lips twisted like ropes. “I’m not like that,” she reiterated, taking obvious offense, “… and I was born and raised here. Do I look plastic to you? Am I delusional to you? I think not!”

  Well, this escalated quickly…

  Saint sighed. “Of course not. I didn’t mean everyone, like, literally, baby. I’m just saying that people pretend here, the culture is different. They try to be something that they aren’t, just to compete with a neighbor that is just as delusional as them. It’s like they care more about what someone is driving and wearing, than paying their damn bills and being legit. Everyone…I mean, a lot of people out here want to be models and actors. Like that is the only thing a person can do… It’s just crazy to me. Where I come from, baby, it’s just…it’s just, shit, you see what you get and get what you see.”

  “Oh, so New York is some Utopia?” She smirked, n
o doubt baiting him. He should’ve known that Xenia would get defensive about him downgrading her town, acting like Los Angeles was a pink Barbie palace wrapped in glitter and dashed dreams set smack dab in the middle of Hell. He supposed he would be irritated, too. They had an East Coast – West Coast battle at least once a year. Usually it dealt with rappers, only this one was crucial and worth its weight in gold, not mere bragging rights and the annual 2-Pac versus Biggie debate.

  “No,” he ran his hand over his face in frustration, “but it damn sure beats this shit. I’m…I’m so fucking tired, Xenia.” He moved farther away from her, rounded the blood red piano and slumped on the bench as if an arrow had shot through his heart. He almost touched the keys, then remembered sleeping Tyler just a room away. He hung his head as if ashamed, and a part of him actually was. He remained that way until he felt her fingertips travelling through his tresses, messing them up, spreading them around in a circular motion. It felt so damn good…uplifting…it felt like… home. He slipped his tongue over his bottom lip, reached upward and grabbed her hand in a firm grip. He spread his fingers over her flesh until he latched hard enough to bring him continued comfort, ensuring she’d not stray from his embrace. “I’ve had good times here, Xenia. I’m not…I’m not saying it has been all bad, it hasn’t. It’s just that, a little bit of me has been drifting away. I’ve been losing myself. It’s like the beach. When the tide comes in, it steals a bit of the sand and seashells away. Little by little, the shoreline becomes smaller and smaller…

  “I don’t want you to be unhappy though, baby. I don’t want our kids to be miserable. I’m just telling you, because I have to be real with you, you know? So, I’m just saying that I feel this way and it is coming to a head.”

  They were quiet for a couple of minutes, then she slid her hand away from his and joined him on the bench. They sat side by side, the hem of her white yoga slacks softly brushing against his ankle.

  “Saint, I tell you what.” She turned his face towards her, gently gripping his chin like a child’s. “Let’s plan to take a trip there, look at some property, go to some of the schools, look into childcare, and all of that. Let’s see what job opportunities I could possibly get. I haven’t even asked you how you plan to handle the Rainbeau Knights—that is major, but I’m sure, you’ve thought of that as well.”

  “…I have.” His voice shook and strained as he tried to curtail his heightening enthusiasm, but it was too much of a challenge to clip his smile. “And, since this house is fully paid for now, instead of selling it and getting the money, which is still an option, I was thinking of something else. Maybe, and I know Mama Pam doesn’t like hand-outs or much help from us, but what if we asked her to move in and Porsche and your niece to stay here? I know that it’s a lot of house for just them, but that way, like two or three times a year, we can all come up and still stay here and the kids can spend some time over their summer breaks. Besides, your brother Ira will be home soon, and he’ll need a place to crash. It could be the four of them. The only thing I’d expect them to do is pay the utilities, and we could cover the rest.”

  Xenia smiled sweetly at him, looking up into his eyes as she ran her hand along his cheek. “Saint, that is very generous and sweet of you, but, you’re right, this house is too big in Mama’s eyes. She complains about that all the time to me and the upkeep would be too much. Trust me, I know.” She lightly laughed. “How about this instead—if we find a place we like, and everything lines up right, we will put this place on the market but get Mama a bigger house than she currently has so that when we visit, we all can stay with her rather than in a hotel.

  But I don’t want to stay with Mama Pam at all. I just offered that in order to make the transition easier. Saint kept these thoughts to himself, however.

  “I think if I put it that way, she’d be more inclined to let us buy her a new house like we’ve offered for years. She is going to be really pissed when she finds out I’m moving though, Saint. She doesn’t say so, but she depends on us for moral support. Mama doesn’t have much family anymore. When she stopped hanging with the Bloods, she lost a lot of connections that way, since that is how she was raised. My father was one of the original Bloods, one of the earliest members of Piru. My mother was a teenager then, it became a way of life, but when she disassociated herself after she became pregnant with Porsche and me, she became isolated and in some ways, vilified. She even had to wait for them to jump her out. They don’t really do that as much nowadays. I hear it is a different mindset, but it happened back then, and it was brutal.”

  “They beat her ass so she could leave the gang, even while she was pregnant?”

  “Well, they wanted to but because of my father’s affiliation, they did her a favor,” Xenia rolled her eyes as the sarcasm dripped off her tone, “and waited until we were born, but yeah, she had a scheduled beat down. It almost landed her in the hospital. That’s how bad she wanted out.” She sighed, looking sadly down into her lap. “I know she wouldn’t want to move in this house, so,” she shrugged her shoulders, “she may go for that alternative…”

  A tightly wound knot formed in the pit of his roiling abdomen. He didn’t want to hurt Mama Pam by taking her eldest daughter away from her, and her grandchildren, too. Not to mention the kids saw their grandmother at least three times a week—she was just that involved. Mama Pam was an active nana, putting those children before her own needs and desires. The consequences of his aspirations, he realized more and more at that moment, would leave many beyond upset. He’d try everything in his power to make sure she got to visit whenever she’d want, and Porsche too, in hopes that would make it easier…but they had to move forward regardless. Before he could relay his thoughts, Xenia scooted a bit closer to him, bestrode the bench, facing him head on. She cradled his face between her soft palms and pushed her thick, succulent lips against his.

  Another sweet kiss…

  In return he wrapped his arms around her small waist and before long, found himself grinding into her body, his dick hardening with each thrust as his legs straddled the bench. A womanly, feathery moan flowed from between her lips as he grinded a bit harder, the head of his cock urgently knocking at her ‘clitoral’ door. Then, the doorbell rang.

  “Shit…that ended before it started,” he whispered, reluctantly pulling away from her.

  Xenia smirked, then laughed lightly as she stood from the seat, clearing her throat as if she, too, had been temporarily caught up in the moment.

  “You must’ve forgotten Tyler was here. Nothing more was going to happen anyway. Can’t have lewd acts going on near that child!” She teased as she made her way across the marble floor.

  “His eyes are closed, wouldn’t have made any difference!” Saint craned his neck, watching her open the front door. Soon, his boisterous children, sister and mother-in-law entered, their voices carrying and echoing throughout the place. Saint’s fingertips brushed against his dick over the material of his pants as he readjusted the damn thing. He didn’t want it to continue to salute in front of mixed company. Tyler had been awakened by all the ruckus. The poor boy whimpered a bit, moving to and fro under the sheets before his eyes closed once again when Xenia picked up the young one and kept him cradled to her generous bosom. Before long, after feeling his erection was properly disguised, he got up on his feet, stepped away from the piano and administered hugs and kisses to everyone. Isis rose on her tippy toes and pulled at his pants leg.

  “Yes, baby?” Sticky crumbs framed her lips and what appeared to be jam coated the corners of her pouty mouth.

  “Thirsty, Daddy. Juiiiice?” She asked, her big golden eyes shining up at him.

  How could he say no to such a lovely face?

  Before he could give Isis something to drink, the doorbell rang once again and Lawrence and Donna stood there, but not for long. Donna raced towards her son as if he were in dire straights, but thanked Xenia extensively as she plucked the child from Xenia’s grasp. Lawrence took hold of the diaper bag, an
d an all too familiar expression creased the poor man’s face. The man’s eyes were hooded, as if sleep was all he desired. He knew that face…he used to look like that, too. Saint rolled in laughter as Lawrence stood there, shaking his damn head in disbelief. He quickly got a hold of himself, but it was difficult.

  “…All she did was call Xenia over and over and over!” the man barked. “Add to that, she looked at photos of Tyler on her cell phone the entire meal! I finally had to take her phone away. She’d show them to me, like I had never seen them before, like I had no idea what my own child looked like!”

  Saint couldn’t help but smirk. He covered his twitching lips with his palm, loath to instigate the situation further.

  “No, I didn’t! Okay…well, I showed you a few pictures but it wasn’t that bad.” Donna leered, causing everyone to laugh.

  “It was.” Lawrence’s brows bunched. The man was clearly suffering from sexual deprivation, a desire for quality alone time with his wife. “But anyway, Xenia, thanks so much. We really appreciate it,” he added, trying to calm his nerves, no doubt.

  “No problem at all! And if you two want to do it again soon, just give me a call. It takes practice, guys. You have to train yourself to take a break,” Xenia explained matter of factly as she watched them and her mother, sister and niece say their farewells and walk out the door. The boys went to their playroom, putting back silence in the room, as if they hadn’t been out playing and horsing around just moments earlier. In that instant, it was just the three of them standing there.

  “Juiiiice!” Isis demanded, obviously feeling as if she’d been long forgotten.

  “Of course, my princess!” He smiled as he plucked her from the ground and carried her inside of the kitchen. He placed her on a white breakfast barstool, then opened the refrigerator. He removed a jug of homemade tangerine juice and her coveted pink princess cup from the cupboard. After carefully pouring some inside of it, he handed it to her. Isis gripped the glass with both hands and gulped down the contents frantically, barely breathing between hearty sips as her cheeks swelled with liquid over and over again.