by Tiana Laveen
He sat at the boring thing before him. Though made of lustrous cherry wood and deep drawers, he eyed it like he was looking at a cheap knock-off. Granted, it was a well-put together piece of furniture, created by a true craftsman no doubt, but there was no comparison. Too bad, it would simply have to do.
He set to typing on his computer, when a thought suddenly hit him. The situation with Koki was complicated, no easy task. He needed all the help he could muster. Additional sets of eyes in all the right places had proved to not only be helpful in past ventures, but could be lifesaving. He snatched his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the contacts until he found the name he sought…
Officer Roman Elysio.
“Hello?” came a deep voice on the other end and the sounds of outside traffic in the background.
“Hey, Roman. It’s Saint Aknaten. I hope you remember me. How are you doing?”
“How could I forget you?” The man laughed smoothly as the external noises subsided. Saint assumed he’d stepped inside a building to get away from the ruckus. “How has been New York been treatin’ you?”
“Pretty damn good, man…can’t complain. Look, uh, Roman, I didn’t call to make small talk, so I’ll get right to it. Do you have time to converse? I’d like to speak to you privately, but of course, you may be at work right now so—”
“I’ll be off in an hour. I take it you need to speak to me about something important?”
“Yes. Can you meet me at the Tiki-Ti Bar on Sunset Boulevard?” Saint glanced outside his window and watched the traffic going past on the expressway.
“That’s one of my favorite places to get a great drink!” Roman laughed.
“Mine, too.” Saint’s lips curled in a mischievous smile. “I miss it…anyway, meet over there if you don’t mind, and drinks are on me.”
“You’ve got it. See you in about an hour and a half, if that’s okay.”
“Perfect.”
Saint disconnected the call and snatched his suit jacket off the back of his chair. He had important business to take care of, and if he had his way, his human arsenal would increase…by one.
*
It’s digital. Is it wrong? It can’t be wrong…can it?
Traci wrapped her apple green silk robe tighter around her frame as she sat on the edge of the ivory tub, staring down at the damn white plastic stick that read, ‘Pregnant.’ She felt as if she were in some outlandish dream and yearned to wake soon. Pressing her bare feet into the soft, fuzzy bath rug, she gripped the strip harder. The only proof that she was in fact fully alert, and this could be no nightmare, was her husband’s ear-piercing snoring in their master bedroom. She finally stood and made timid steps towards the double vichyssoise doors. Taking a deep breath, she opened them warily, as if expecting an intruder with deviant inclinations on the other side. She peered out at the well-built, half naked man wrapped up in thick, chocolate brown sheets, his tattoos running all along his exquisite, tanned body.
…That’s how I got in this mess in the first place.
Yes, that glorious body…the same body that held her securely, made her feel so protected.
She walked towards him, barely keeping hold of the pregnancy test that shook in her grip. He slept so peacefully; she simply couldn’t bring herself to wake him. She ran her palm across her chest, rubbing it until it reddened from her repeated, nervous touch.
Nuh uh… I’ll tell him later today. Hell, maybe tomorrow…
She abruptly turned on her heels to run away—some place far from Jagger—but the sound of the rustling sheets, followed by a loud yawn, had her pause. She slowly turned back to him, facing him head on as he rubbed his eye in the soft glow of the lighthouse shaped nightlight by their bed. He reached for her, so she went to him, her head bowed, slumped against his body, legs bent at the knees and the pressure of the entire world on her tiny shoulders.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He ran his big, warm hand lovingly across her back.
…And then, she burst out in tears and tossed the stick on the floor, wishing the whole situation would just simply go away…
*
The strong aroma of frying beef bacon, sautéed green peppers, cayenne sprinkled onions and scrambled eggs filled the sage green and cinnamon tiled kitchen. His wife, with her impeccable taste, had picked out the décor herself. She, Donna and Xenia had made several selections at various houseware and home design shops, running up obscenely high bills that Saint agreed to pay, without an ounce of hesitation. He’d thought that alone was a glorious thing, but nothing could make him happier at that moment than he currently was. In his most gleeful times, celebrations meant big meals so there he stood in that room prepared to make a piping hot pitcher of coffee as the woman he loved sat with reddened eyes, a balled up tissue in her hand and now, a silly grin on her magnificent face.
“I can’t believe this, Jagger. I really thought you were going to hit the roof!” She laughed sadly, dabbing at her eye.
“Traci,” he said. “That’s crazy, honey. Why would I be mad? I mean, yeah…” He shrugged and prepared the griddle for the pancakes. “We said we wanted to wait until we got settled in here, but everything happens for a reason.” He looked at her earnestly. “Baby, I am so damn happy! We’re having a baby! I can’t wait to tell everyone.” He shook his head in disbelief. “My mom has wanted grandkids for a while now…oh, and I need to tell Lawrence! And Saint!”
“If you tell Saint before Xenia, she’ll have a fit.” Traci chuckled as she smoothed her robe out, and then blew her nose.
Jagger nodded and laughed. “True. I guess I’ll let you do the honors.”
He sliced off a chunk of butter from the stick and placed it in a searing pan.
“So, how far along do you think you are?” he asked as he reached for his spatula.
“Mmmm, my guess is about four weeks or so. I’ll call the doctor this morning and schedule an appointment.”
Jagger nodded in agreement.
“I still don’t know how this happened, Jagger. I took my birth control pills religiously.”
“Well, they still aren’t one hundred percent, Traci. It happens.” He placed a glass of grapefruit juice in front of her.
Her mouth twisted to the side as she sat at the breakfast bar, an obvious nervous mess. He placed his hand over hers, leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
“How do you feel this morning?”
“Pretty good.” She yawned. “None of that morning sickness stuff. That, by the way, doesn’t just happen in the morning. Jagger, that’s what started this all. I was so sick yesterday afternoon. It was awful.” Her lips curved downward as she shook her head, reliving the horrid moment.
“I’m sorry. Glad you’re feeling better now.” He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he eyed the beauty, sitting there looking all sad and confused. “Let me ask you something.” He crossed his arms and she met his gaze.
“Yes?”
“Did you want a baby, but were just scared about what I’d say?”
“What? You think I did this on purpose?!” Her tone reached a higher pitch as she sat a bit straighter in her seat, ready to go to battle with him.
“No, no!” He threw his hands up and smiled. “I’m saying, once you realized you might be pregnant, did the thought ever enter your mind that this might be kinda nice?” He recalled an interesting story Saint had told him regarding the conception of Hassani…how interesting women were indeed…
She quickly looked away, circling the rim of her glass with her fingertip.
“…Yes.” A goofy smile creased her face.
Jagger shook his head, cracking up, and returned to his business at the stove.
“I thought so… How do you want your eggs?”
“Apparently fertilized.”
They both burst out laughing at that.
“I wish you could feel how excited I am right now…” he said after a few moments of quiet. “My heart is beating so fast, honey.” He put his ha
nd over his heart, as if about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “I promise to be a good father to our baby, Traci…I swear to you. Don’t worry about anything! I’ll take care of everything. Anything you need, I’m on it. I won’t complain. Just make sure you go to all of your doctor appointments and…”
“Jagger, honey,” she cooed. “You have a job, too. An important one… I don’t expect you to be chasing behind my butt all the time. But, there is no doubt in my mind that you will be an excellent father.”
He grinned, turned off the stove eyes and pulled out two cantaloupe-orange colored plates.
“Oh!” He put his finger up and reached for his cell phone. “I gotta call my mom, hold on.”
Traci grinned and nodded.
“…It’s ringing,” he mouthed. He could barely contain himself as he paced about in the kitchen. “Mom!”
“Jagger! What a pleasant surprise.”
“Yeah…it’s me, Mom, uh, I’ve got something to tell you.”
“…She’s pregnant.”
“You just ruined it! Why would you do that to me, Ma?!” He chuckled, placing his hand on his waist.
The woman burst out laughing.
“I had a dream two weeks ago about it. So glad I wasn’t wrong!”
He could picture his mom now, the little woman squealing and jumping for joy.
“Well, yeah, she took a test this morning…so, that’s all I got. Just wanted to let you know… Oh, and I love you.”
“I love you too, Jagger. I wish you’d come visit more.”
Jagger sighed in annoyance and shot Traci a look. “Ma, I’d visit every month if he wasn’t there. I’ve told you time and time again that as long as that man is in that house, I will not be coming there, ever!”
“…I know.” His heart dropped. The sadness in her tone was so thick, it depressed him so. “Well, thank you for calling me, honey and please tell Traci that we love her, and congratulations.”
“Yeah, I will…and I’ll send you a plane ticket to come visit soon, okay?”
“I’d like that, yes!”
They spoke a bit longer, then he disconnected the call. He tossed his phone across the way, turned his back and plated the food. Before he could finish, he felt the soft, warm hands of his Queen gathered around his midriff.
“Honey, it’s okay…”
He was quiet for a long while.
“You need to eat.” He turned towards her, causing her to let go of him as he handed her a plate.
“Jagger.” Taking the plate with one hand, she placed the other on his shoulder and looked up into his eyes. “I know this whole mess with your mom and dad upsets you, I know it does. They separate, get back together…been doing it all of your life, but now, they’ve been together for a while and…well, it bothers you. You’ve done all that you can, okay? You can’t make her leave him, and according to your brothers, he hasn’t laid another hand on her… That’s good, right?”
Jagger grabbed the woman up and buried his face in the crook of her neck, needing to feel her close to him.
“Yeah…it doesn’t make me feel better though. And with this…this news, this wonderful news that I’m going to be a father, too… I couldn’t imagine treating my child like he did me and my brothers, and the mother of my children so badly…so cruel.” He stood straight and stared into her almond shaped eyes. “Traci, I don’t know how to stop hating him. I watch Saint and admire him. Osaze seems so different than the man he described, and Osaze and I had a really good talk when I had come out to New York last year to help with his healing ceremony. He was frank with me, honest. He changed, and I just wonder why my father never did.”
“Baby.” She ran her fingers along his cheek. “First of all, a person has to want to change. Saint’s father didn’t like what was going on with himself and his relationship with his son, so he took the steps to mend it. Your father is just not there yet.” She took a deep breath. “Hate is a strange thing. My father told me, ‘Hatred hurts the person feeling it way more than the person they detest.’ You gotta let it go, Jagger. Your mother is grown, and you have your own family now. He was a horrible person, there is no denying that, but you are not him! He may not have repented, but he did one thing right—he had a son who is humble, smart, caring and the most wonderful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Jagger smiled. Pulling her in a warm embrace, he pressed his lips to hers then let them trail up her jaw.
“Mmmmm,” he moaned against her earlobe. “You make me feel so good…” He kissed her neck.
“Thank you, but you could really show me how much you care by letting me eat this wonderful breakfast you made. My eggs are getting cold!” she teased as she wiggled from his grip and hightailed it back to her seat. He watched the woman bop away and murder the food on the platter in no time flat. He loved watching her eat. Watching her sleep. Hearing her talk. He loved every damn thing about her, and now, she was having his baby…
…And that made him love her impossibly more…
*
Saint gripped his tiny aquamarine glass of something alcoholic and sinister-looking. The damn thing bubbled and frothed with white steam coming from the top of it, as if he were smack-dab in a witch’s lair and she’d served him her top of the line brew.
I actually miss Sunset Boulevard.
The Tiki-Ti Bar on Sunset Boulevard embodied a sense of weirdness and fun, and he’d missed the hell out of it. Just then, Roman came through the door, his handsome face paired with a wide grin as he jammed his sunglasses in his light blue shirt pocket. He immediately spotted Saint, their eyes locked, and the man’s dark irises glimmered under the lights. He navigated the thick crowd until he reached him, immediately taking the saved seat Saint had declared was his and his alone. Saint grabbed and bear hugged him, seemingly taking the cop by surprise.
“What a greeting!” Roman chuckled, clasping his hands together. “Wow, I haven’t seen you since the party you invited me and my family to.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while.” Saint looked down at his drink.
“What in the world is that?” Roman grinned, pointing to his concoction.
“Hell if I know. It’s the special. Tastes pretty good though…a bit too sweet, but it’s different.”
“I’m usually just a regular ol’ beer drinker, but this place makes you want to try all sorts of stuff. I rarely do it, though.”
Just then, the bartender approached.
“What can I get for you?” he asked as he vigorously dried a wine glass with a white towel.
“I’d like a—”
“Live a little!” Saint interjected with a sly grin. “Get this man a Pain Killer.”
The bartender nodded and left to prepare the cocktail.
“A Pain Killer?” Roman’s eyes smoldered with curiosity and his lips crooked to one side. “What the heck is that?”
“My man George actually got me to hip to them. It’s cinnamon, coconut and rum…damn delicious. You’ll love it, you’ll see.”
“Okay, I’m trusting you.” Roman laughed lightly then looked down at his joined hands on the counter.
“Yeah…trust.” Saint nodded as he peered into his barely disturbed drink. “That’s what this meeting is all about.”
“I’m not following you.” Roman turned towards him, his expression more serious now. “Thank you.” He nodded at the bartender as the man set his drink down in front of him.
“How long have you lived in California, Roman?” Saint glided his finger up and down his glass, feeling the cool, wet condensation as he geared up for his pitch.
“My whole life…”
“Have you ever imagined living somewhere else? Somewhere completely different?”
Saint was met by silence as Roman deliberated long over the question.
“At times…why?”
Saint sniffed and scratched his head, digging into his scalp a bit too hard.
I need to cut my nails…
“Well, I want you and your famil
y to move to New York. I want you to join me.”
Roman turned towards him, but Saint kept his gaze on the bar. Out the corner of his eye, he could see the man was in utter shock, his mouth hanging wide open.
“Join you? Join you with what?” He could hear the disbelief in the officer’s tone, loud and clear. “From what I know, Mr. Aknaten, you—”
“No, keep calling me Saint. Don’t jump back and forth like that.” Saint waved his hand at him. “We’re friends…or I at least hope so…”
“Uh, okay, Saint, from what I know of you, you are an author and therapist, and…” The man looked around cautiously then whispered, “And the baddest motherfucking Angel Child I have ever seen in my damn life.”
Saint smirked, took a frothy sip of his drink and set it back down.
“Thank you… Well, I’m glad you brought that up and think so highly of me, because I think the NYPD needs a mothafucka like you on their team.”
“NYPD? New York?! You want me to join the force in New York?!”
“Yeah…I do.” Saint sat straight and looked the man dead in the eye.
“Let me explain something to you, Roman. I know that you know, though you didn’t mention it, but I am what many call an advocate for black women and Rainbeaus.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“And how does that make you feel, Roman?” Saint smiled and turned away, taking another swallow from his glass. “Just because your wife is Hispanic doesn’t mean you’d necessarily understand and be open to the concept. I don’t take things like that for granted, you know, make those sort of leaps in logic.”
“Well, if I’m not honest, you’ll know.” Chuckling, the man took a nervous sip of his Pain Killer. “Damn…this is good.”
“Told you…” Saint grinned and continued to sip at his own drink.
“So, I may as well tell the truth. After meeting you, I did take the liberty to read some of your books.”
“Mmmm hmmm.”
“And well, you have a different viewpoint, a different approach, that’s for sure. I’m not against people marrying who they want to marry, but it does appear at times that you, well, take issue with black men such as myself.” Roman sat a bit taller, his deep voice dropping low, a hand on his chest for emphasis.