Saint And Sinners: The King Angel Child of New York

by Tiana Laveen

  His father was immediately at his side, waiting…

  “Well?”

  “This is it…”

  “I figured you’d say that. Saint, the house is spectacular.” The man looked up at the ceiling and all around. “Seems a bit overpriced, but…” He shrugged. “For Manhattan, this size, and your champagne taste, yeah…I could see you here.”

  “Look how big this damn bedroom is, Dad. Do you know how much sex I can have in here? All over this damn room!” He waved his hand around as if it were a magic wand. “The possibilities are endless!” He burst out laughing before he could even complete the sentence.

  “Saint!”

  Saint slid his hand over his stomach as his laughter increased tenfold. He’d done it simply to mess with the man, and Osaze seemed to realize that as he glared back at him.

  “I will need to get it sound-proofed, though… Xenia is a screamer.”

  “Saint! Please!”

  This only made him laugh even harder. He had to laugh, because inside he was falling the fuck apart. Something was going on. He couldn’t stop his racing heart, and now that the coast was clear, the damn lavender smoke from the side of his mouth roamed freely.

  “You hear that? Is there music playing below us? It’s real faint.”

  His father gave him a puzzled look.

  “Never mind. Okay now, there is one additional bedroom up here, so I’m thinking I can keep Isis there and then Dakarai and Hassani can be right down this short staircase.” Saint looked at the floor plan in his hand, then all around the place, taking in inventory, planning it out in his mind. “There is this huge seating area right outside of their bedrooms that can be turned into a children’s library, and the boys have a bathroom they can share, just a few feet away. It’s big too, plenty enough room for the both of them. It has a long vanity, but I can have it turned into double sinks easily for them.

  “Then, down on the first floor,” he said, pointing in that direction, “there is that massive family room with the big fireplace…the den has a fireplace too. Then the nice big office, another bedroom, that can be a guest bedroom and a huge, unfinished basement, too. The basement is old and rough according to this photo here, but it is a worthwhile investment to get renovated. It runs the entire length of the house. I will get the basement partitioned off. One half can be my man-cave and I can probably put an indoor pool down there, too…one of those skinny ones, what are they called?”

  “Lap pool…”

  “Yeah, a lap pool.” Saint was running off at the mouth, talking incessantly. He had to, in order to ignore the inexplicable things going on in his brain. He continued to hear music, the vibrations moving under his feet, yet he knew it was all in his outrageous, tormented mind.

  “Have you done what I asked, son?”

  “And then I can change the fence, too. I could even probably enlarge the dining room by taking away that one wall, or part of it. I can have a New Year’s Eve party there. It would be a blast! I’ll get the best certified contractors I can find.”

  “Saint…”

  “You think that would work? Huh?” More sweat ran down the side of his face as he continued his rant, his heart racing so fast, it seemed to be made of cheetah blood. He suddenly felt light headed, as if a mere small gust of wind could knock him right off his feet.

  “We can’t fit the basketball stuff in that backyard according to these dimensions. Well, we could, but it would be cramped. We might have to—”

  “Saint!”

  “Yes, goddamn it! I took in the area, I feel it!” Saint screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice carrying and echoing in the huge, empty place. “Something is going on right below my damn feet, like the fucking earth is alive! Like the shit is breathing! Like we are one and the same! It’s like a warning, an omen, a sign, I have no idea what the fuck it is!” Saliva sprayed out of his mouth during his damn fit. He’d lost complete control.

  “Why are you angry?” his father asked calmly, slowly walking towards him. He placed his hand on his shoulder, showing comfort instead of judgment.

  Saint swallowed and took a deep breath as he gripped the white banister, trying to govern himself. He felt as if he may melt, slide right down the damn steps and form a puddle.

  “I’m going to have to do some things I don’t like, Dad. The city is calling me, I’m here, and now, it’s trying to make me do things…things that many would consider wrong.” He slumped down on the step; his father joined him, sitting directly beside him. Their knees touched as they shared a moment of silence.

  “Look son, whatever it is, you will be prepared for it.” He placed his hand on his leg. “Try not to worry.”

  “…I’m about to find out some shit I wish I never fucking knew about, Dad. I can just feel it.”

  “Well, that happens sometimes…”

  “But that won’t be enough. Once I find out about it…” He looked earnestly at his father, his skin clammy and his stomach agitating as if he’d eaten rotten food and needed his guts pumped. “I won’t be able to just acknowledge it, I’ll have to do something about it…and when I do something about it…” He turned away, looked down between his feet as his back slumped even further and his hands hung loosely in front of his knees. “…Once I find out about it, and when I do something about it, it won’t…be pretty. This is going to be bad, Dad, very bad.” He ran his hand roughly through his hair. “It’s going to hurt, real fucking bad. Something evil is around here, not the house, just this whole fucking place. Something I either overlooked before, kinda like being in a trashy place and getting accustomed to it, or it’s new. I just wish I knew so I could gear up for the shit because whatever it is, it isn’t going to take ‘No’ for an answer…”

  *

  “I like this fuckin’ song, this is some good shit.” Jai Paul’s, ‘Crush’ blasted through the wall-to-wall nightclub speakers. Koki laughed lightly, a cigarette dangled out the side of his mouth, as he sat at the bar, drinking a Sidecar. He sucked his teeth and sneered, lust crawling up his body like fingers trying to gently wake him from a deep slumber as two women forced their tongues down each other’s throats. He stood to his feet, wide legged with his white leather jacket zipped up part of the way. The other night had been epic. He’d walked through the fucking door and caused a beautiful disaster, and it only had only taken a moment or two. He was on the road to a magnificent advancement, and the world seemed to be at his beck and call.

  He sat in the bar, his friends all around him as drinks poured, secrets were told, and acts of debauchery unrolled like a blood-soaked red carpet. Making his way up to the two women, he playfully pulled them apart before shoving his tongue down the pretty blonde’s throat. He kissed her deep and hard, winding her hair around his fist, tugging gently then a bit harder as his hand circled her tit, making the nipple stand erect.

  “How about you two come home with me?” he asked, snaking his arms around their shoulders. The other woman, dressed in a form fitting red shirt and Boho black pants, curved her lips in a frown as she twirled a dark brown clump of her hair around her fingers.

  “You guys are really something. What makes you think either of us are interested in you? Do you know how many times we’re asked to do threesomes?” She rolled her slanted blue eyes. Koki sniffed the air, inhaling her cockiness and her sweet brand of bullshit. She was no true lesbian but try-sexual, and he wanted in on the goddamn action.

  “You don’t have to be interested in me to want to fuck me.”

  “I don’t do men.”

  “When did you decide that?” He smirked and casually looked over his shoulder at nothing in particular before turning slowly back towards her, cocking his head to the side. “This morning? Anything she can do,” he winked at the blonde, “I can do better. You want your pussy ate? I’m a professional snatch swallower.” He nonchalantly looked down at his fingernails and continued. “You want your tits sucked? Call me your newborn baby… You want a strap on? I have the real thing…and I can
go all night, no batteries needed, no silicon required. I can scream like a lipstick lesbian bitch,” He tossed the blonde a smile. “And grunt like a fucking stud with a trigger happy finger.”

  “…But you can never grow a pussy.” She turned to walk away.

  He snatched her by her necklace, causing the silver chain to snap as he hoisted her aggressively towards him, triggering her lip to quiver and her eyes to water.

  Fear.

  Fear is the prettiest bitch in the room with the ugliest attitude. She pretends to be hatred…because hatred pretends to be hard, tough and unfuckable. Are you the prettiest bitch in this club, Jackie? Yeah, I know your name…but you didn’t tell me yet, so shhhh…I must keep quiet until you give me the key to everything inside of you. I’m going…to take…you down…

  He pressed his lips against hers and slowly caressed her cheek, sensually taking her by the hand and leading her along the winding, seductive road to Hell. As if in a trance, her eyes lulled practically to sleep, until he stepped away from her but held onto her wrist lest she fall back and hurt herself. The woman’s face broke out in a welcoming smile, as if he were an old friend.

  “…You can kiss,” she uttered, staring deeply into his eyes.

  The blonde piped in, breaking into the conversation.

  “You want to try him out?” She giggled, rising on her tippy toes as she enthusiastically wiggled about.

  He knew they’d done this shit before, taken strange men home. Ah, yes, this should be fun.

  “Yeah.” Jackie chewed nervously on her nail. “Why not?”

  As they exited the bar, the news came on…

  … What started as a birthday party in Carroll Gardens for a twelve-year-old child ended in a bloody shoot out for recently paroled drug king pen, Joey Hernandez of the notorious Blanco Cartel. Sixteen people were murdered, including Mr. Hernandez who was scheduled to testify against Kyle Hempstead next month for the Christmas robbery that took place last year. The police arrived on the scene after gunshots were reported; however, there were no witnesses as to who the assailants were. No one was seen coming or going. We will give updates as this story unfolds…

  *

  Xenia sat at the small table with the emerald and beige checkered cloth in her father-in-law’s kitchen while soft elevator music played on an old applesauce yellow radio. A miniscule vanilla scented candle sat in the middle, the flame dancing and swaying to a slight wind, source unknown. She hadn’t been there since right before her husband had healed the man. It had been far too long. The two males hung out in the adjoining living room, arguing as usual. This time it was about Saint’s father’s extensive collection of hand-dipped incense sticks. She could hear Saint making fun of the poor guy, not cutting his father an inch of slack.

  “But you’ve had these same old ass incense for over five years! If you light it now, Dad, it will smell skunk, like, burnt autumn leaves or some shit. You want your house smelling like weed, huh? Is that what you want?”

  “No, but you made sure it did every chance you got in your younger years!” her father-in-law scoffed, causing Xenia to chuckle at his witty comeback.

  “Well puff, puff, pass, and give, Senor Aknaten, because that’s what’s about to happen…let me throw this shit out.” This statement was followed by pounding footsteps, then the sounds of a slight scuffle. Afraid she’d unravel and fall into a fit of laughter, Xenia didn’t dare cast her eyes in that direction.

  “Get off of it! Put them down this instant!” The older man screamed, his deep voice much like Saint’s, only the tone weathered with wisdom and age.

  “Fine. Here is what gets me, man. You buy incense and burn it everyday, Why won’t you just pitch these and replace them? Incense is cheap! You can go right down the street and get like ten or twelve sticks for two damn dollahs. What are you planning to do with ’em, huh? Rub them together and make a bonfire? Marshmallows ’nd shit? What the hell is goin’ on, man?!”

  “It is of no concern to you. Mind your business, Saint. You leave those alone!” Osaze’s voice was gruff, forceful, but Saint seemed to not give a damn as he continued to rile the man into a frenzy.

  “My husband is harassing his father again, I see.” Xenia smirked and shook her head as she took a sip of her fragrant blueberry tea and looked around, esteeming the feminine touches that Kyung Mi had put in the place. It was livelier and smelled sweet, putting her in mind of freshly peeled tangerine skins and lemon slices simmering in a hot pot, peppering the air with their intoxicating fragrance. Burnt orange curtains now covered the kitchen window and a small lilac flower, her favorite color, sat in a small terracotta pot above the sink. The stacks of tattered newspapers and dated magazines that once resided on the counter were gone, replaced by thick hardbound and colorful Korean cookbooks, some propped open showcasing glossy pages with vibrant photographs of mouthwatering dishes.

  “Yes.” Kyung Mi laughed, her back turned as she stirred an old, gigantic black pot with something magically delicious bubbling from it. Whatever the woman was cooking, it made Xenia’s stomach roll with expectancy and her mouth fill with anticipatory juices. “Saint has a way of getting under Osaze’s skin.” She chuckled. “I think it’s good for him, though. I think Osaze kind of likes the teasing, too.”

  They both burst out laughing.

  “I suspect the same.” Xenia couldn’t help but agree. Osaze knew how his son was, and it did appear he relished the contact at times, even if it involved a silly quarrel and the two of them bouncing about the room like ping pong balls. The kitchen grew quiet for a few moments.

  “Xenia.” The woman turned from the stove, looking rather serious as she held tight to a silver ladle, moist with broth. “I hope I’m not out of line with saying this, but…” She paused, cradling the large spoon to her chest, compressing her small breasts as if filled with worry. “I really admire you.”

  Xenia’s concern faded, replaced by a smile. Kyung Mi had such an alluring, motherly presence about her, as if she were born from the prince of peace and released into the crazy world to be an immeasurable blessing upon anyone she spoke to, let alone touched in some way or lived with.

  “Thank you so much, Kyung Mi. I really look forward to getting to know you better, and I am so happy you and Osaze met and got married. He’s like a new man since you’ve been in his life.”

  “Yes, uh, speaking of which,” The woman looked down at her pale, veiny feet, fitted snugly in a muted pair of plain bisque colored flats. “I have…questions. I can ask later, if you don’t mind. This probably isn’t the time.” The woman peered out the arched doorway at the two men, who now spoke in somewhat hushed tones.

  Xenia sent her a perplexed look, then it dawned on her.

  Oh well, of course she’d have questions… I wish I had had the wife of an Angel Child to speak with when Saint and I first fell in love…

  “Uh, yes…I imagine you do. Kyung Mi, please feel free to speak to me. You don’t have to be shy about it. Anything we discuss, I will keep to myself.”

  Kyung Mi hesitated, then gripped the back of a chair parked at the table, pulled it towards her and quickly sat in it as if in the middle of a game of ‘Musical Chairs’. She cupped her hands together, let her eyes every now and again wander towards the living room, and then took a deep breath. The poor woman was even shaking, her slender shoulders vibrating under the thin fabric of her floral print blouse.

  “I, um, well…” She grinned nervously. “I sometimes don’t know what to say to my husband. You see, I know he can do these things…strange things, and I don’t want him to feel different. I mean…” She ran her hand over her creased forehead, her eyes growing tight, as if her thoughts had become a muddled mess to wade through with a broken paddle. “I think sometimes he is self conscious, afraid he will frighten me. He goes through great lengths to ensure I see nothing. I don’t want our marriage to be that way though, Xenia. I want him to feel comfortable to be himself.”

  “Ahhhh.” Xenia nodded. “I unders
tand what you’re saying. That has to be very frustrating. Have you…seen anything yet?”

  “Well.” Kyung Mi glanced back out the door. The men moved about still, their voices slightly carrying. She then turned her attention back towards Xenia, staring hard, as if she had X-ray vision. “One night when…” The woman blushed a bit, causing Xenia to smile somewhat wider when the apple of her cheeks turned a deeper pink.

  “It’s okay, it’s just us girls!” She reached over and placed her hands over Kyung Mi’s.

  “Yes.” The older woman’s smile grew. “Thank you.” She coughed, then continued. “One night, while we were together, he, uh, well, right while he was going to…you know…”

  “Yes, I know.” Xenia nodded, careful to not say anything off-putting. She didn’t know Kyung Mi to the level she’d like, to be able to joke about such matters with her just yet. She hoped in time that would change.

  “His eyes changed colors…” Kyung Mi paused. “I wasn’t afraid. I am surprised that I wasn’t actually.” She shook her head, as if still in disbelief. “But I felt calm. It was different. But I was not the least bit afraid of my husband. Osaze, on the other hand, must’ve felt it… Afterward, he withdrew into himself, wouldn’t even look at me…as if he were ashamed.” She slipped her hand away from Xenia’s and touched her own eyelid, pointing to it. “Do they feel it?”

  “Yes. Saint told me it is like a slight burning, as if a squirt from an onion got inside. He said he is used to it now, barely pays attention to it, but from what I understand, they know more times than not when their eyes have changed colors, especially when they are angry. Their eyes are like mood rings, basically.”

  “Yes…yes, that is a good comparison. I can understand that. That makes it clearer.” The woman nodded, then took a deep breath. “Well, he seemed rather upset afterward, and he would not speak to me. He just went to the bathroom, then returned a bit later and got in bed. He didn’t even wish to speak of it. I tried to talk to him, Xenia, but he remained…” She paused, as if looking for the right word.