by Tiana Laveen
Saint braced himself, wondering who Jade was.
“I’m right here, Mom!” a woman called out.
Out walked a gorgeous lady with smooth, toasted almond skin, deep dimples and large, sparkling, honey-brown eyes.
“Honey, your husband is taking the children to the beach. Do they have swimsuits? I just thought about that and I knew Hassani wouldn’t know.” She chuckled. “Men never know these things it seems.”
“Mom.” The woman smiled sweetly at her, “Yes, I packed them bathing suits. I don’t know if Blake has one. Hey, Dakarai, are we taking, Blake, too?”
Dakarai stood on the other side of the porch, a silly smile on his face as he looked out into the front yard.
Blake…that must be Dakarai’s son…
Saint grinned so hard, his face hurt. The tiniest boy of the bunch trudged about—a fair skinned boy with dark eyes and bouncing dark brown curls that swayed in his face as he raced around the terrace, falling a time or two. He looked no more than three. Saint figured, though he didn’t allow it to soil his mood, that Dakarai got married very young, or he was a single parent. Either way, he didn’t want to focus on it too much; he preferred to enjoy all that was right with the world at that special moment…
“Yeah, he can go. He has a pair of swim trunks in his bag.” Dakarai smiled at his son who frolicked around, happy and free. The same smile Saint had had when his children were born. The same exact image of perfection and innocence, all combined. The same sense of pride, like when he watched his own children running around as small children… Nothing could replace or compare to that sort of joy. Suddenly, he felt his middle child’s glare on him. The man had paused and turned to him, as if just realizing he was sitting there.
Isis stood by his side, placing her arm along her brother’s shoulder and leaning on him playfully as if they hadn’t just been fighting seconds ago. Hassani joined in the huddle, his arms full of beach fun as he leaned in and kissed his little sister on the cheek.
“Dad.” Hassani’s deep voice broke through. “You’ve been uncommonly quiet. That’s not like you at all. By now, we all should have been hugged by you a million times, cussed out for the sheer hell of it, and then hugged some more.” This caused an uproar of laughter and nods of agreement. “Are you okay?” His son grinned.
Before Saint could work his jaw muscles to answer, the guy continued on.
“Your retirement home, as you call it, is real nice,” he said, glancing out towards the yard. “I know you all just moved in and haven’t gotten completely settled for the summer, but Mom, you did a great job and I saw Dad’s man cave…” Hassani smirked and shook his head, “…Black bearskin rug, wall to wall fireplace, and some things I won’t even mention within ear range of the kids. Dad is still a pimp.” This caused another outpour of laughter at Saint’s expense.
“You will never retire, but I’ll humor you in calling this home whatever you wish. I like the house; this is perfect for you two.” The man looked around the porch and inside the open front door, his words followed by more agreeable nods.
“This place is perfect for all of us to escape the New York winters, plus it’s nice to see the old house we grew up in for the first few years of our lives still here not too far away from here. Even though Isis doesn’t remember it, and Dakarai only recalls bits and pieces, I had some of my most special times there.” He looked at his wife, winked at her, then back towards Saint. “We, uh, drove past it, actually on our way over here. Made a little detour. I was tempted to knock on the door, try to find out if our old playroom was still intact!”
Old house? He was in L.A. for the winters, how befitting…
“I’m sure it was tempting. I’m glad you recall a bit of it, Hassani.” Xenia sighed, as if weary and needing a reprieve. “Your father and I have gotten up in age. We thought this would be helpful. Yeah, this way, we get the best of both worlds.” Xenia grinned as she tapped his leg. “Spring, Summer and Fall, we stay in Manhattan just like your Daddy likes it, and I’ve grown to love it almost as much as he does. But the wintertime? It’s L.A., baby.” She laughed, swaying as she did, causing her perfume to waft past his nostrils.
I want to kiss her so badly… Can I kiss her in this dream? If I try, will she disappear and I wake up? I don’t want to wake up… Just give me another second or two…I need to say something, to utter a cohesive thought so that, when this memory comes to life, it will be a real live déjà vu…
Opening his mouth to speak, he strained hard and gripped his wife’s hand as he pulled vowels and consonants together.
“It’s so nice to have you all here.” His voice sounded a bit foreign, slightly weathered, reminding him that yes, he was a grandfather now. He’d used it to shout at so many conferences, to sing off-key, and to whisper beautiful words into his Goddess’ ears, year after year, after year.
“It’s good to be here, Dad, oh, and the timing is perfect. We are gonna party harder than hard tonight and before the kids go to bed this evening, they want to see you dance. They don’t believe you still got it.”
“I still got it! I’ll dance any of these young people under the table!” Saint roared. “I keep current on all of that shit!”
Everyone burst out laughing.
“I love you so much.” Hassani’s voice cracked as he walked towards him. Before he knew it, his son was on his knees, gripping his trembling hand. “You’re the best father I could have ever had, Dad, despite all the gray hairs I gave you. I just pray that my children see me as half the man that you have always been…” Hassani rested his head on Saint’s lap. Saint smiled as his eyes watered and his heart twisted with such love… He ran his hand over his son’s soft, wavy hair.
Home. Sweet. Home.
*
“Ahhh, do me, baby!” The Humpty Dance played loudly in the hidden, glittery world below the hotel in Hunts Point. It was as if everyone had been vacuumed into a private burrow and sucked inside of a mysterious snow globe where sparkly black flakes rained down and magical powers abounded for all to taste and experience, at least for the evening. Saint and Lawrence had planned a special birthday party for Jagger and it turned out to be an epic success. The night was drawing to an end, and at exactly 10:07 P.M., Jagger was officially thirty-five years old. He was surrounded by beautiful people, including Xenia and Traci, and though Saint was biased, he put his bet on Xenia being the most beautiful of all.
His queen was a bit tipsy and Traci looked simply high on life as the two continued bumping their hips together as if dancing at some old disco club, strobe lights and all. At last, Traci broke free, made her way to the other side of the room to grab a bottle of juice. Saint watched his wife, clad in a short, slinky red dress that shimmered under the lights, as she moseyed around the pool tables, all of them pushed to the side to afford room for dancing. Lost in her own little world, she snapped her fingers to the beat, her beautiful, curly blown-out afro was her crowning glory.
Damn, she looks so good in that dress. I want to slide that shit up to her stomach, snatch her panties off and fuck the shit out of her. I can’t wait to get her back home tonight…
“Hey Saint!” Jagger interrupted his nasty thoughts. The man swished a bottle of champagne around. “I don’t feel any different,” he joked.
“Nothing special happens on the night you turn thirty-five. It’s just gradual.” Saint grinned at him. “I’m looking forward to finding out what else you acquire, though. It should be pretty damn interesting. Where’s Lawrence?” Saint looked around the place, unable to track down his wayward friend.
“In the john. Donna is throwing the trash away in the back. She insisted on cleaning up the cake plates and everything. Anyway, thank you, Xenia, everybody, for throwing me this great party.” The man looked sentimental, like a child that had won a surprise award out of the blue.
“Awww man, you know we had to do it big! Thirty-five is a big deal for us. Don’t spend all that money I gave you in one place.”
“All
that money?! Are you joking? It was a ten-dollar bill stuffed in a card, bastard! You cheap son of a bitch!” Jagger huffed, a smirk on his face.
“You need to look deeper inside the card, man… The ten dollars was a joke. Cut open the Hallmark when you get home.”
“Really?” Jagger’s brow shot up in suspicion.
“Yes, really!” Saint laughed. “Glad I said something. I thought you would pick up on it. You woulda thrown my hard-earned cash in the damn trashcan!”
“I’m too excited to think straight. Good lookin’ out.” He lifted a beer bottle to his lips and took a generous swig.
“Man, I wish I would have recorded Xenia, Donna and Traci being pulled underground.” Saint cackled, his eyes turning to slits as he relived the whole ordeal. “I warned them. I told them we could take them through the back door, to let us go down and then we’d let them in the ‘proper’ way.” He put his fingers in quotes. “But oh no, they wanted to find out for themselves!”
Jagger looked at him for a long while, straight-faced, then burst out laughing.
“I thought Traci was gonna need a change of pants after that. I was holding onto her and she screamed the whole friggin’ time. I’m surprised she didn’t burst my eardrum open. … I was kinda scared for the baby, too,” Jagger said grimly.
“Nah, man, I knew everything would be okay. What was really funny though—Xenia sounding like her mother the whole damn way down, man. It was like Mama Pam in stereo, ‘Oh My God! Lord Jesus on the main line!’” Saint imitated, making his voice high like a woman’s, and barely able to finish his rendition without falling out in chuckles. “Man, she dug her nails in me so hard, I’m gonna need five skin graft surgeries where she was holding me. She was like some alley cat, her fur sticking straight up in the back. Damn near choked me to death, too.”
“Donna was the only one looking halfway normal,” Jagger chided. “But she always looks pissed, like she’s constipated all the time, so what’s the difference?!” Both men turned peppermint stripe red as they continued to laugh at their spouses’ expense until the S.O.S. Band serenaded the last lyrics for, ‘Don’t Stop.’
“Man.” Saint caught his breath between giggles. “I am never taking her down that way again.”
“Traci isn’t coming either, but Donna may come again… Maybe her bowels are cleared now, and she’ll smile a bit more.”
Saint tried to not laugh, but his lower lip began to quiver and the laughter burst through like a rodeo bull set free from the gate.
“Okay, okay.” He put up his hand. “She’s gotten a little better. You have to admit it. We’ll have to cut her a little slack.”
“You haven’t had to deal with her as long as I have, but trust me, I’m trying.” Jagger grinned, a gesture followed by a stifled yawn.
“Awww man, you can’t hang! You’re getting old!” Saint teased, then pretended to jab him in the chest with a left hook.
Jagger laughed lightly. “I am… This was great though, man. I can’t believe it.”
“Glad you liked it. Well.” Saint looked around and slid his phone out his pocket, checking the time. “It looks like you’re off the hook anyway. People are starting to clear out. I guess we better get ready to go, too.”
Jagger grabbed Saint suddenly, bringing him into a warm embrace. “Thanks, man!”
“Yeah, yeah, get off me.” Saint laughed as he wiggled free. “Where’s my wife at?” He looked around.
“I think I saw her and Traci go into the bathroom.”
“Okay, well…” Saint stopped speaking when he looked towards the restrooms. As if in timed choreography, the women tumbled out, laughing and acting silly with their arms linked around one another’s. “Speaking of the little darlings now, here they are.” He waved Xenia and Traci over. The two women joined them as Saint reached into his pocket and retrieved his car keys.
“Alright man, I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay? Bright and early.”
“Slave driver,” Jagger teased. “Yeah, Boss, I’ll be there.”
“I need to go to the car dealership tomorrow afternoon at lunch. Maybe I’ll bring you along.”
“Another car?!”
“Yeah. I lost one, but thankfully didn’t lose my baby in the process.”
Jagger’s expression turn solemn when the man suddenly realized what Saint was referring to.
“So yeah, I want another one.” A white wisp of smoke circled out the corner of Saint’s mouth. “You down?”
“Of course…”
Lawrence and Donna joined the group as they all said their spirited farewells.
Saint pulled the two men to the side for one final word before disappearing out the place.
“I don’t know if you all felt it or not, but we had some uninvited guests outside for Jagger’s birthday party… They couldn’t get in.” Saint gritted his teeth as he watched Jagger’s peepers turn mint green. “Some of our new friends here disappeared for a while to keep watch.
“I figured something was up.” Lawrence’s brows bunched. “It’s like the wind brought a stench I couldn’t get out of my nose… I could smell them.”
“Well, they were nothing we couldn’t have taken out all by ourselves, but just stay on the lookout, okay? You must always watch your back when walking the streets until we get this situation under control.”
“Of course.” Lawrence nodded. “I always am and if I discover anything, I will alert you immediately.”
“Same here,” Jagger added.
Saint patted both of their backs, turned and took Xenia possessively by the hand.
“Come on, baby. Let’s get to the crib, thank the babysitter, kick her out and make it do what it do. You are comin’ out that dress ASAP.”
*
“Did you have fun at your party, honey?” Traci yawned as she ran her hand over her over-sized champagne yellow T-shirt and slid under the thick, white cotton sheets. “Mmmmm…” She sighed and moaned. A grin caught the corner of her mouth.
“You know I did. It was the best. Thanks. You did a good job planning that with the rest of ’em.” He hung his shirt over the side of a chair, then joined her in their cozy bed.
“Good. I did, too. So, how does it feel to be thirty-five?” she asked on a second yawn while re-plumping her pillow.
“The same as thirty-four,” he said. Leaning in close, he cupped her shoulder and kissed her nose. “Where’s my birthday gift?” He slicked his arm around her waist, ushering her closer to him.
“I gave it to you,” she said, smiling. “You didn’t like the new suit, tie and video games?”
“…I think you know what I’m talking about.” He grinned into her ear, then traced it with the tip of his tongue, causing her to coo and wiggle about. He gingerly ran his hand over her breasts, feeling the light cotton of her shirt impeding his progress. “Mmmm.” Turning her on her back, he mounted her, slowly running his lips up and down the side her neck. He relished the delicate touch of her fingers on his hair, then working their magic along the length of his back. She returned the sweet indulgence of a kiss along the side of his face, then welcomed him with the tantalizing embrace of her thighs around his waist.
“Mmmm hmmmm,” he moaned, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger. He continued to kiss and suck on her neck. “Now this is what I call a ‘happy birthday.’” Suddenly, his eyes heated up. There was no warning, no typical build-up; it simply happened, tore his irises apart.
What the hell is going on?!
He immediately shut them, not wishing to frighten his sweetheart. To make matters worse, a peculiar tingling sensation began from the bottom of his feet and worked ever so slowly upward to his knees.
What…the… fuck!
Noticing he’d stopped cold, Traci tugged at his shoulders.
“What’s wrong, Jagger?”
He refused to open his eyes. “Oh, uh…nothing. Let me use the restroom, baby. I’ll be right back.”
He jumped up as fast as he could, almost tripping
over the sheets, becoming a tangled mess as he literally hotfooted it to the john.
Goddamn it!
Slamming the door behind him, he looked down at his bare feet and legs, ran his hands up and down his hamstring as he inspected his skin… But there was nothing unusual going on, at least not to the naked eye. As he continued his observations, the sensitivity slowly subsided. It was one of the oddest feelings he’d ever encountered. He looked in the mirror, catching his unusual reflection, paying particular attention to his eyes. The damn things had gone bright yellow, the irises shaped like a cobra, jet-black and glossy like freshly laid tar.
“…I don’t believe this…” He grinned, then burst out laughing, slapping his bare chest.
“Saint said nothing changes on the thirty-fifth birthday? Well surprise-surprise, Mr. Know-It-All! Happy Birthday to me!” He cackled before turning out the light and returning back to his Queen to ravish her in the way he so deeply desired…
*
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Hassani, I’m not,” Saint stated dismissively as he pressed the heel of his foot into the plush, sable black rug and pulled a white sock onto the other.
“…And don’t ask about his parents, please, Daddy!”
“Hassani, I can’t promise that.” Saint slid the other sock up his leg, ensuring it was lined up just so.
“Daddy! You have to!” the boy pleaded, his big dark eyes glistening with the prospect of soon-to-fall tears.
“Hassani.” Saint grimaced. “Go to your room and finish getting dressed. Angel will be over here for lunch any moment now. You’re wasting time.”
“I’mma get dressed, I will, but you might say somethin’, Daddy, to make it worse! He still ain’t been talking to me. I don’t even know why I feel like dis! He ain’t commin’ no way!” The boy was beside himself.
“Hassani, your language is becoming deplorable, first and foremost. I suppose you are trying to fit in, make things easier for yourself, but dumbing yourself down is not the answer.”