Saint And Sinners: The King Angel Child of New York

by Tiana Laveen

  “I can dig that…that makes since. What would you do if you found out this person had been doing this? And on top of that, you know you will have to deal with him eventually and when you do, it more than likely won’t be a friendly visit.”

  “Saint, I’ve learned many valuable lessons in my life. One of which is, wherever you direct your attention, that’s where your energy goes. Whoever and whatever you allow in your world, in your interpersonal space if you will, you ultimately convert into that. So…” She turned slowly in his grasp to face him, meeting eyes. He looked at her lips, wanting to press his own to hers so badly, but he felt so intrigued by what she was sharing, he didn’t want to stifle the moment with an act of uncontrolled passion that could derail the knowledge she was bringing him. “If I am obsessed with someone, and spending most of my energy thinking about them and wondering what they are doing and even trying to control them, then I will, in some ways, become them. That’s why my grandmother used to say to me, ‘Xenia, if you hate someone, that means you want to be them.’ I never really understood what that meant until I got older. If someone is standing around for years and years, talking about how they hate such ’nd such, obsessing about it, then it always goes deeper than what is being shared…what is being seen.”

  “There’s more…”

  “Yup, you bet. There’s always more. From where I come from, that sort of thing is considered gathering intelligence so when they come after you, when they really get ready to lay in to you, to strike and strike good, they have all the information they need to make sure you are not only hurt, but never coming back again. Because, in killing you, they kill the part of themselves that they hate, too… It could be,” she said with a shrug, “that they hate what you have, detest the life you live. It could be a hundred different things, but it all comes back to how you make them view themselves. You become a threat, not because you did anything, but simply because you are a reflection.”

  Saint nodded and took a deep breath. He rested his forehead against hers, then kissed the bridge of her nose as she circled her arms around his waist as well.

  “You are one of the wisest women, wisest people period, I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

  “Hmmm, thank you.” He closed his eyes, no longer able to see her face but he could hear the smile in her response. “Glad I could help.”

  “You did, you really did.” He straightened a little, leaned back from her, but kept her in his embrace.

  Cocking his head, he bent down for a kiss. Like with his first kiss, he felt butterflies in his stomach, ramping up, taking flight. The woman did this to him, made him feel gloriously flustered. He pushed his lips into hers with urgency, his passion now flooding, bursting through the gates of his soul. He sucked her inside of him, stealing a bit of her, never getting enough. “Mmmm…” he moaned as they continued to kiss. He let his hands roam up and down her back, bunching the chocolate brown leather coat wrapped around her beautiful body.

  “Mmmm, baby,” he murmured again, then returned to their lip lock, his heart beating faster and faster as he slid his tongue inside of her mouth. Then he reached to her head, her crown, and ran his hands over and through it. The coarse texture turned him on and the taste of honey and lemon on her tongue from the hard candy she’d eaten earlier made him wish to never release her from the embrace.

  Xenia kissed him back just as passionately, her feverish movements all-consuming. With hungry fingers, she explored the nape of his neck as she pressed her body into his, stirring him up all over. This went on until they both realized they needed to be on their way.

  Reluctantly, they parted. Saint took both of her wrists, and looked into her eyes once again, feeling breathless, feeling like that experience had been essential to get him through some rough times ahead. He etched it in his mind, feeding off it already, as if he were starving for her love. Then they made their way towards the steps to take the long journey back of out of Lady Liberty.

  But to Saint, it wasn’t the statue that gave him independence, but his sweet, beautiful, intriguing and intelligent Xenia. She was the one who’d set him free, and gave him permission to truly be his God-given self…

  *

  Saint ran his finger down the wooden maiden’s breast. Her delicate wrappings of protection were brushed off to the side, a heap of plastic packaging joined with the dilapidated cardboard landfill that had been dumped in the far corner of his new office. The scent of freshly laid carpet and brand spanking new pungent ink cartridges assaulted his nasal passages while Question’s, ‘Dream Catcher’ played gently in the backdrop of the office and his brain. He swiped at his nostril and grimaced, the fumes giving him a slight headache. After a few moments, he picked up the phone and dialed Jagger’s line.

  “Hey, Mr. Daddy,” Saint teased, a crooked grin on his face as he looked down at his reflection on his desk. “How’s everything going?”

  “Fine over here. I didn’t think so much construction would take place… Dusty! Hey! Hold on Saint…” Jagger said. “…Can you put that over on the first floor instead? It goes in the lobby,” he explained to someone. “What’s up, Boss?”

  “Not a damn thing ’cept you. That’s the best news I’ve had in a while. Is Traci going to tell Xenia or should I?”

  “She said she was going to wait until after the first doctor’s appointment. That’s scheduled for next week.”

  “Not to ruin this special moment, but…” Saint ran his palm against his desk, a twinge of nervousness washing over him as he delved deeper into his thoughts. “Did she express any concerns about the baby, Jagger?”

  “Nah, not really. I mean, from what I understand, Xenia pretty much told her what might happen and she loves Hassani, Dakarai and Isis… She sees that, for the most part, they are just normal kids. I told her if our child is in fact…”—the man hesitated—“Hold on…someone is walking past… What’s up, Jake? Great… So yeah, like I was saying. I told her that if our child is in fact an Angel Child, our childhoods vary. Some of us show our gifts earlier than others, etcetera, but it also depends on what those gifts are and what happens after full development. I explained what multi-tiered means, as well as strength levels. She didn’t say it, but I’m sure she’d be relieved if the baby wasn’t born with these ‘gifts’. I can’t say I blame ’er. What mother would want their baby to have a harder life? That’s basically what happens.”

  Saint nodded in agreement. He couldn’t argue with the man. Suddenly, Lawrence came through his door holding his son.

  “Oh, wait, man, Lawrence is here with Tyler.”

  “Okay, hit me back.”

  “I will.” Saint disconnected the call.

  “What is little man doing here?” He immediately stood to his feet, a grin on his face and his arms outstretched to embrace the boy. He felt like Xenia…craving to hold a little one even if it killed him. Looking rather amused, Lawrence handed his son over, yet an uncomfortable vibe filled the room as soon as he took his seat.

  “What’s wrong?” Saint asked as he looked at the little baby, smiling and cooing in the tiny guy’s face.

  “Nothing really wrong, just an observation. I wanted to tell you this earlier, but I’ve been busy with my baby. Anyway…” He paused and looked at Saint, a distressed expression on his face. “Your energy is shifting, Saint. It feels similar to when we first met…when you were after Stanley.”

  “Mmmm, I see.” Saint sucked his teeth, ready to hear the rest.

  “You’re gearing up, every molecule in your body is cohesively working together to survive a storm.”

  “Koki?” Saint drew his brows together. Lawrence nodded and took a seat in front of Saint’s desk.

  “Give me a second to take in what you said,” Saint huffed and tightened his hold on the baby. “My mind must be slipping.” Saint shook his head, unable to figure out why a headache had begun to pulsate within his skull. “Why’d you bring the baby again?”

  “I brought the baby in with me because Donn
a needed to take care of something. The worst of the construction is already complete, so I didn’t feel he was at any risk, and besides, my office is ready and that is where we stayed. Donna will be here in a moment to pick him up. She needed to run some errands and I told her I could bring him in for a few hours.”

  Saint nodded in understanding.

  “Figures… Things were going too well.” Lawrence shrugged.

  “Do you know what he’s up to?”

  “No, not really, and trust me, I’ve tried, but what I do know is that he is becoming restless. He is a rather odd person.” Lawrence sighed. “He’s hard to read, and not because he’s blocking. Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem to practice blocking. Demon Children many times have the same gifts we do…yet, he isn’t utilizing that one.”

  “I believe that may be due to exposure,” Saint explained. He itched for a cigar, but nixed the idea because of Tyler. “They have to say who they are when we ask, just like demons.”

  “They only have to do that with Angel Children like you,” Lawrence corrected. “Not me.”

  “Well, regardless, they are to never run from identification. It is an odd oath, especially since everything else about them is a lie.”

  Lawrence nodded and ran his hand awkwardly over his jacket sleeve.

  “Let me run something past you real quick, Lawrence.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Remember when I asked you about Hassani’s eyes changing colors?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think mine started changing colors until I was like, seventeen or so. I know you said some of us mature at different speeds, but…” He placed both palms on his desk. “Is there anything else you can share with me about that?”

  “It happens.” Lawrence shrugged. “What I can add is, it may not even be that he is maturing faster. The other possibility is that during stressful times in a child’s life, certain gifts can manifest sooner due to the body responding to the anxiety within the person. With everything we discussed previously regarding Hassani, I can tell you almost emphatically, it makes perfect sense.”

  Saint sat back and mulled that notion over a bit, feeling more at peace with the situation.

  “Saint.”

  “Yeah?” He bent low and kissed Tyler’s forehead. When his lips landed upon the child’s flesh, a burning sensation filled his brain as a vision unraveled.

  “Ahhhhh!” He grimaced and before another moment could pass, Lawrence was on his feet removing the boy from Saint’s grip.

  “What’s wrong?! Did something happen?”

  “Yeah…” Saint sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Wow! That was…wild!”

  “What is it?” Lawrence returned to his seat, holding his son protectively close to his chest.

  “Jagger told you, right?” Saint’s brow rose.

  “About Traci being pregnant?” He grinned. “Yes! Isn’t that great news?”

  “It is…and I just had a vision you may want to know about.”

  “What?” The man ran his hand over the boy’s loose, dark curls.

  “Tyler is going to marry that child when she is of age… It’s a girl.”

  The blood seemed to drain from Lawrence’s face.

  “Are…you…serious?” He then broke out into laughter. Saint felt relief the man’s shock was short lived.

  “Completely. Your son and she are soulmates. See? There was more than one reason why you and Jagger met. We can’t interfere, though. I shouldn’t have told you…” He was having definite second thoughts now that the cat was out of the bag and meowing.

  “I promise I won’t do anything about this. What will be will be. I’d advise you not to tell Jagger though.”

  “Why not?”

  “Saint, If Tyler does something typical of almost any teenager or young man, like go joy riding, Jagger will act as if my son is not fit for his daughter!” Lawrence chuckled. “Just because he and I are best friends, it would no longer matter. He’d throw all of that out the window. Can you imagine that man with a little girl? Well, according to you, that’s what he’s having… It’s over, Saint. Oh my God. She won’t be able to go anywhere without her father chasing everyone away!” He snickered.

  Saint laughed and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and I know that feeling already, even though Isis is nowhere near being a teenager. Just the thought of someone hurting her makes me want to grab this invisible person I haven’t yet met and ball them up in my bare hands like a wad of old newspaper,” he snarled.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” Lawrence joked.

  Saint tapped the desk with his fingertips and looked off into the distance. The sounds of the construction fell into a dull drone while his daydreams continued to unfold and his gut churned with concern.

  “Lawrence, look, you don’t even have to tell me how serious this is. I know this time, I could die. I also know…” he paused and looked down at his desk, no longer seeing the maiden, only swirls of glossy wood that reminded him of lava flowing down a valley of hell. “I know it’s my duty, my calling. Should I not survive this, I ask that my Creator do what I’ve begged him to do since the first time my life lay on the line.”

  “And what’s that?” Lawrence continued to stroke his son’s hair, but Saint didn’t miss the way the man’s hand slightly trembled.

  “To just let me have my Queen as soon as she passes…let me meet her at the gate. That’s all I want. That’s all I need…”

  *

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I’m down here at the Sheraton on Charlton Street!”

  “Mama!” Xenia was seeing bloody red, and not simply because of her deep claret suit that fit her freshly showered body like a glove. “Why in the world would you come into town without telling me first? And why didn’t you just stay with me if you wanted to come visit?”

  “So you and Saint can cramp my style again and try to play games with my mind? No thank you, little sista! I’m hip to both y’alls asses! I don’t know how he found out about my mama, but it was either you or Porsche that tol’ him that mess!”

  “Mama, no I did not and you know I didn’t.” Grimacing, Xenia put her hand on her hip.

  “Keep lyin’ to your mama like this, the Lord will split you in two and then Saint will be married to an identical twin instead of a fraternal one. And besides, I need to get my nightlife on and I ain’t tryna be all-quiet in your library, nun-sanctuary of a house with monks walkin’ around swangin’ incense on gold chains! Forget that, baaaaay-bay! I can’t even smoke, havin’ to go outside in the damn cold! Last time I was out in that itty bitty ass garden of yours, my damn nipples got so hard and frostbitten they almost snapped the hell off and coulda been mistaken for acorns by the damn squirrels!”

  “Oh, Mama…” Xenia rolled her eyes.

  “Oh Mama, nothin’! How’d you like that to happen to me, huh? The damn wildlife playin’ kickball with my lady parts and then runnin’ off to their little squirrel homes with my appendages! I coulda been nipple-less on account of y’alls asses! The ride from the airport was the damn kicker though. What a damn mess…”

  “Well, that’s what you kind of get, Mama for not calling me so I could make arrangements for you to be picked up.”

  “I ain’t in the mood for one of your Dudley Do-Right lectures, Xenia. Look, my nerves is bad…you should see my hands shakin’. This funny lookin’, long nosed man wearin’ one of them pink polyester turbans from the Family Dollah was swervin’ and weavin’ through the streets like he was duckin’ and dodgin’ in a damn boxin’ match! His accent was so damn thick, I thought he had a loaf of bread stuck in his mouth, jam and butter included. And den the damn meter was still runnin’ while he drove all slow in some parts, tryna be slick, like I’m some silly ass old lady from unda some heavy rock at the bottom of the Mississippi river.

  “These mothafuckas think all out-of-towners are corn fed and stupid. I told that ‘My-Dream-of-Jeanie’-lookin’ son of a bitch to gas it like immigration was com
in’ after his Saudi Arabian ass! Pretend he on a damn flying carpet! Gun it like somebody stole some damn scratch-off lottery tickets from his papa’s corner store, shit! He know he over here illegal, and then tryna nickel and dime folks like I’m stuck on Stupid Turnpike and can’t get off the main road. These immigrants make more over here in one damn day, girl, than they did in one year in their own country, you know that, Xenia?”

  “Mama, I want you to stop watching Fox News.”

  “This shit is a fact! Back home, they runnin’ wild like mice on Prozac! I ain’t no Republican, but I got repub. tendencies when it comes to these damn boarder jumpers and thieves! And they always got somethin’ slick to say about black folk, like they better than us. I gotta news flash in their native tongue for they silly asses—all these white folk want them to do is clean their damn houses and run ’em around all over town in they little wind-up cab cars but they all up in these white folks’ asses like it ain’t nothin’! Them same white people will turn right around and call the police on their sombrero wearin’ butts once a silver spoon come up missin’ from the kitchen, despite the fact that little Johnny stole the shit for his meth habit and let Felipe and Maria go down for the rap!”

  Xenia stared out the window, trying to escape the conversation via a daydream, but nothing worked. Her mother continued right on, spewing the rhetoric.

  “These white folks ain’t studdin’ them damn Mexicans…’cept to scrub some toilets and they out here fallin’ for the okee doke, the legal ones voting Republican. That’s some dumb ass shit if I ever heard of it! That’s like you uh slave, and you givin’ yo’ slave master a voluntary lap dance, and happy about the shit, too. Ain’t that some mess?! They the ones that want their leeching asses deported and that money they sending back to they mama and all fifty of they siblings…taxed! They better wake up and smell the damn Columbian coffee, the oranges from their side of the Mexican road carts or wherever the hell they comin’ from. Don’t matter, they all act the same when it comes to this shit.”