Saint And Sinners: The King Angel Child of New York

by Tiana Laveen

  “Well?” Lawrence urged after a few moments. “Call her.”

  Saint shot him a menacing glance, then dialed his wife’s number, putting the woman on speakerphone.

  “Hi Xenia…” he started, sounding like he was being crushed under a pile of fallen brick. His heart skipped beats as he danced around pending words, scattered about in his brain like scrabble pieces for a game.

  “Am I on speakerphone?” she asked warily, a ’tude in her tone. In the distance, he could hear his children laughing and playing. Dakarai was the loudest, and it made him smile ever so slightly.

  “Yeah…Jagger and Lawrence are sitting here. I got your voicemail, baby. I have good news, and I have bad news, which one do you want to hear first?”

  A brief pause ensued.

  “The good news…”

  “The situation that you have, that we have, is not of your own doing.”

  “Saint, uh…I don’t want to talk about this in front of…you know…”

  “Baby, too late. They already know. Now, just listen. That man that ran into you, the one you told me about on the voicemail, well, we’re pretty sure he put a curse on you, Xenia.”

  “Oh my God! I knew it, Saint! I knew I wasn’t doing this to myself but I couldn’t figure out what was happening! It was like my body was fighting me every step of the way. Okay, well, now we know, that’s good, right? Yes…that’s good because we know how it happened and we can get rid of it, right?”

  “…Yeah, that’s good, but…”

  “And the bad news? Saint, what’s the bad news?!” The woman was entering a state of panic and he wasn’t sure he could steer her clear of it.

  “We know how to remove the curse.”

  “That’s good, too! Let’s do it then!” She sighed openly in relief.

  “Xenia…” Saint ran his finger down her photo in his phone. He closed his eyes and sucked in air, hating that moment in time, hating it for the trouble it would cause. “Are the children within hearing range?”

  “Uh, not really, but just in case, hold on…Hey!” she called out. “You all go into the play area, please!” Everyone waited while the tromping of feet got lighter and lighter until it could be heard no more. “Okay, what is it?”

  “Xenia, there is no easy way to do this. You have to…you have to kill the man that did this to you. It’s the only way to break the curse.”

  “What?! Saint, are you serious?!”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  The woman didn’t speak for a long while.

  “Xenia, if I may address you… This is Lawrence. I don’t need to ask how you are doing. I think we’ve got that covered.”

  “Hello, Lawrence…” Xenia said weakly, as if she’d just awoken from a sound sleep and fell the fuck out again, this time into the fiery pits of hell.

  “Yes, uh, I just explained to your husband the gravity of the situation. I know you are not like us, you are a civilian; thus, the act of exterminating a life is not exactly on your wish list. I get it. However, I have additional information that may make you understand the severity of the issue at hand.”

  Saint shot Lawrence a look, his brow raised. He wanted answers, damn it.

  “I thought you’d told me everything. What information?!” Saint barked.

  Lawrence nodded and raised his hand, motioning for him to hold on.

  “Um, Xenia.” Lawrence concentrated back on the phone, elevating his chin so that his voice would ring out with more clarity. “You know how the spell basically made you disgusted with the idea of intimacy with your husband?”

  “…Yes.”

  “Well, these types of curses have a tendency to get worse and worse over time. By worse, I mean they can spread to others.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well.” He shrugged. “There is no exact science to it, but it can become like a virus, airborne, if you will. From my recollection, and I plan to verify this as soon as I get home, but after about a three month period, it becomes kind of like the HIV virus, very evident and detectable by most psychic tests. It can cause other women around you to also endure the same experience with their mates. It is also transferred to the same sex, by the way, versus the opposite sex, but it could make, say, Donna, Traci and any other woman you hang with have the same reaction to us…” Lawrence paused for effect. “As you currently feel towards Saint, so others will feel the same towards their husbands. You’d have to basically alienate yourself from everyone for the remainder of your life and to top it off, once Isis got to an age in which she would have fallen in love with someone, you could give it to her, as well. So you see, it is imperative that this be stopped as soon as possible.”

  “Xenia, no disrespect, I love ya, you know that, but please don’t come to my house right now. I can’t have Traci gettin’ this!” Jagger blurted, causing everyone to look at him in awe as a clear wave of terror moved through his big body like a lightning bolt. “I’m sorry, but this shit scares me now!”

  Saint’s eyes narrowed on the man, but he had bigger issues to deal with other than Jagger’s insensitivity.

  “…And let’s use Jagger’s fear that he just broadcast at the most inappropriate time as an example.” Lawrence grimaced at the man. “Let’s say Traci did get it, Xenia. She would never be able to get rid of it until you, the source of it all, snuffed out your assailant. In the meantime, Traci could be spreading it to others, and it would go and on, wrecking havoc.”

  Xenia exhaled loudly. “Okay. Saint, can you track this motherfucker down so I can get this over with?” she declared rather calmly.

  Everyone in Saint’s office stared at the phone, their mouths dropped—including his own.

  “Baby.” Smirking—and dare he admit it, full of pride for his strong, resilient woman—he leaned back in his seat. “You know Jagger and I can find almost anyone. Just give us the most information you can about him. Let’s start with his physical description and the time frame he was there.”

  “I can do you one better.” He could picture her clicking her tongue on the side of her mouth as she customarily did when she was vexed and prepared to pull the rug out from under some bastard’s feet. “I will call Mama to come over here to watch the kids, go to the office tonight, and get the surveillance tapes for that day from the security guy, Rodger. He and I are pretty chummy, I’m sure he will let me have it, and then I will let you see them. That way, you, Lawrence and Jagger can take a look for yourselves. This son of a bitch was on the elevator. There is a camera in there, Saint.”

  “Perfect, baby, and while you are doing that, the three of us will be devising a plan on how to get this guy lured and cornered, okay? Yeah… we don’t need much, just to catch his scent if you will, and we will be able to track him.”

  “Very well,” she said dryly. “I want this done tonight. If I have too much time to think about it, I, well… never mind. We need to do this now. Do you understand me?!”

  “Loud ’nd clear, baby…loud ’nd clear.”

  Xenia abruptly disconnected the call and Saint could not wash away the smug smile glued to his face.

  “Well boys, looks like Xenia truly is ride or die,” he said with satisfaction, crossing his arms. “I have several guns. I already trained her how to shoot, but she’s never killed anyone before. Regardless, she is prepared. Oh, and call your wives. It’s going to be a long fucking evening. Bank on it.”

  *

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Mmmm hmmmm! That’s what I said, girl!” Pam cackled as she moved the big, heavy frying pan from one eye to the other. “You otta see this damn house they got here in Man-hatin’, girl! Look like something out of a magazine, yes ma’am!”

  “Manhattan,” Gloria corrected.

  “Naw, I meant what I said… I see more transvestites and gays here than all of California combined! All these men out here wanna have a damn va-jay-jay! They hate they damn selves! I wanna pull they asses aside and tell ’em it ain’t all of what it’s cracked up to
be!” She caught her reflection in the stove; her cheeks had become rosy from repeated bursts of laughter. Just then, Dakarai bounced in the kitchen, his arm full of colorful puzzle pieces.

  “Grandma!” he blurted, as he always did. Dakarai had a way of calling for her as if he himself were on fire. He had a loud, raspy voice that was rather mature for his age, and it carried, just like her’s.

  “What is it, baby?” she asked as she turned over a pork chop, her mouth watering while the brown rice and onions cooked up nicely in the other pan.

  “Can you do this puzzle wit’ me? ‘Sani said he busy. He ain’t busy, Grandma! He sittin’ there on tha phone talking to that boy with the tattoos and Isis don’t know how. All she do is throw the pieces in the air and laugh and then she try to make me play with her dollhouse. I don’t like doing that but if I don’t, Mommy try to make me so I rather not ask ’er at all.”

  “Dakarai, let me finish cookin’ and I will do the puzzle with you, baby. You want something to drink? Where is Isis and Hassani at, anyway? Ask ’em if they want chicken or fish for dinner.” She paused and put her hand on her hip as she looked down at the handsome little stud.

  “But we already ate, Grandma. Mama fed us before she left.” He got comfy at the table, sorting out his Spiderman puzzle pieces just so.

  “Oh, she did, did she? Well she ain’t tell me nothin’!” Pam huffed as she turned back towards the stove. “Sorry ’bout that, Gloria. I’m watching my grandbabies.”

  “How nice!”

  “Yeah, Xenia had some sort of emergency and had to run back to work.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Chile, I don’t know! With Xenia you never know what the deal is. She act so damn secretive lately, like she runnin’ numbers for the mafia or some shit. She tell me when she try to talk to me, I never believe her, which ain’t true! Dakarai, get yo’ grandmamma the butter, please.” She opened up the oven to check on her cornbread.

  “’Kay.” He slid off the chair and marched towards the refrigerator. “And get yourself some Kool-Aid I made for y’all. Especially you, Dakarai. You skin ’nd bones! Look like something that should be chained and shackled to a wall in a damn dungeon!”

  “Mommy said we shouldn’t drink Kool-Aid, Grandma.”

  “What fuh?! Giiiirl! Dakarai is trippin’, hold on. If Kool-Aid was good enough for ya mama butt when she was growin’ up, it’s good enough for you, too! Besides, it’s purple! Who don’t like purple Kool-Aid?!”

  “Mommy said it has a bunch of peas-serve-tease in it and that you gotta add too much sugar to make it taste right. So she don’t buy us none, no matter how much we beg in the store, Grandma. I like the Kool-Aid Man! He bust through brick walls ’nd say, ‘Ohhhhh Yeeeaaaah!!!”

  “Preservatives? What don’t have preservatives, now, huh?! Xenia and Saint are two crunchy, Jesus sandal wearin’, granola chewin’ mothafu…” She stopped herself short. “They are hippies now, is what they are. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little Kool-Aid. I’m sure she mean well, Dakarai, but if you wanna try it, you gone right on ahead!” She turned back towards the stove and huffed in frustration. “Girl! Xenia got the kids grazin’ in the grass like goats ’nd shit!”

  Gloria burst out laughing.

  “… Eatin’ nuts and berries like Tarzan and Jane. Dakarai over here lookin’ like flies should be buzzin’ around his damn head, like he supposed to be on some damn commercial in a third world country with a 1-800 number under his emaciated ass for fund raising ’nd shit, skinny ass boy! And Isis eat so much, I’m surprised her gut ain’t bust open. She act like they ain’t fed her a damn thang since the day she was born and it’s probably ’cause all I see over here is a bunch of fruit and strange vegetables that ain’t got no flavor. Hassani is sometimes so damn picky about food, I’m surprised he even still alive, still breathin’! He should be on a ventilator any day now.”

  Her friend kept on laughing and trying to catch her breath. “You ain’t right, Pam.”

  “This is crazy! You should see Xenia now too, girl.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She done lost ’bout fifteen pounds since living here! She says it is only five or six lbs. and I say the devil is a liar! Her ass done turned into a vertical skatin’ rink! Look like a damn wall. I was tempted to nail a picture to it…flat like Arizona. Somebody need to staple a photograph of what it once was to a telephone pole and say, ‘Missing – Xenia Aknaten’s ass…if you’ve seen it, call this damn number!’ That woman needs a sandwich with extra cheese.”

  Dakarai burst out laughing and handed her the stick of butter. He walked back across the way and stood there, trying to look innocent.

  “You mind yo’ business, little boy!” Pam smiled at him as she pointed in his direction. He kept grinning as he poured the purple concoction into a large glass with an unsteady hand.

  “So yeah, girl, I’m liking it here.” She couldn’t get the big smile off her face as she peered down into her hot pans, pleased with the progress. “Saint keep askin’ me when I’m leaving. He been tryna get me outta here ever since he found out I was in town. I know he love me though. He ain’t foolin’ nobody. Wait ’til he find out I am staying. I got it all mapped out.” She moved the spatula through the rice and turned the heat down. “I will spend my winters in L.A., ’cept this one ’cause they need me, girl. Porsche ain’t got all these kids, only tha one; her needs aren’t like Xenia’s. In the spring, summer and fall, I will live here. I even been lookin’ at apartments. They high as hell, but I can swing it. I got a little savings stashed away…”

  “Have you told your daughter you are staying close to her?”

  “Naw! I ain’t told Xenia yet. I’mma surprise her. I can tell she happy that I’m here. I’ll just hand her a copy of my lease and be like, ‘Pow!’ You’ll have to fly out here and see me, chile!” She cackled.

  “Yes I will! I’m going to miss you, Pam! Who else is going to do my hair?”

  A miracle worker, that’s who! A damn genie in a bottle, Brittany Spears style ‘cause ain’t nobody else brave enough to take on that mess!

  …But she kept the thoughts to herself.

  Just then, she jumped almost ten feet in the air when Dakarai burst out in song.

  “Owwwwwww weeeee! Dis good, Grandma!!!” He smacked his lips appreciatively then took another big gulp. This time, it left a purple ring around his glossy mouth. His eyes became real strange, the pupils dilated as if he were falling into a sugar coma. “Mmmmm! Ohhhh, boy!” He polished off the glass and served himself a refill in record speed. “’Saaaani!” he screamed out, racing from the kitchen with his big, plastic blue cup gripped tightly in his palm, filled to the rim. “You gotta try this Kool-Aid Grandma made! I call it, purple pitbull! Isis! I know you want some, too! You want somma everything!” He disappeared with the beverage, ready to share his newfound treasure with the whole wide world.

  “Girl, my grandson done had purple Kool-aid for the first damn time and is actin’ like a crackhead now!” Pam turned to the side, holding her gut as laughter poured from between her lips. “You ought to have seen him, he just raced out of the kitchen like he drank some damn rocket fuel.”

  “That is too funny! You are gonna have to get a video camera and start taping this stuff.”

  “Whew, child! I know, right? Not letting kids have Kool-Aid is like no toys for Christmas! I don’t know what type of rodeo Xenia is runnin’ over here, but she definitely need my help! Yeah, chile, and my old ass is gonna get a driver’s license, too…”

  “I could never drive in New York City!”

  “Yes, honey! The traffic is scarier than Oprah Winfrey without makeup, but I’mma make it do what it do! I’m about that life, Gloria! I feel young and free again out here. It’s just something about it! It gets ya blood pumpin’! ‘Adrenalin’, they call it!”

  “Well, I think you better clear this with your daughter and son-in-law first, Pam.”

  “I’m grown! I can move wherever the hellsss
I want to! Hold on, Daaaaakarai! ’Sani and Isis! Get in here and get somethin’ to eat… I know your mother ain’t feed you nothing but bean curds and hard as leather dried apricots! I seen those odd ass collard greens chips she bakes in the oven, ol’ nasty ass shit! Girl, Xenia be cookin’ vegetables in the damn oven, greasin’ ’em down with olive oil, sprinklin’ sea salt on it and sayin’ they veggie chips! Like they came from a damn bag in the store! That shit belong in one bag and one bag only, the garbage bag! Well, I gotta go, I’m caught somewhere between the moon ’nd New York City!” Pam cackled as she disconnected the call…

  *

  Saint watched his woman fidget with her thin gold necklace. The moon shined on Xenia’s profile, gave her dainty nose a light blue sheen of illumination. Lawrence was stationed around the corner, and Jagger, well, he was close but his exact coordinates unknown as the man flipped about here and there, morphing into shadows. Now, all they had to do was wait. Saint’s thoughts drifted about, but he made certain to not engage Xenia in conversation. Her nerves were a wreck, and she made it crystal clear she didn’t want any small talk or unnecessary banter. The woman had her game face on, and Saint hoped and prayed she’d be able to go through with the shit. Xenia was a softie when it came to things like this…and well, he supposed it kept her mortal, connected to the spirit of universal human life. It was also a thing he loved about her, but at times like this, it could be a perilous trait. He shook his head, and reflected over the past hours’ events. After reviewing the tape rather extensively, an idea came to him. Why not present the situation to Cruz? Maybe he had data that could change and roll the tide in his favor. The inkling had hit him like an epiphany, and of late, his psychic intuition seemed to be spot on. Not only could Cruz tell him where the son of the bitch stayed, he also gave him vital information on how to handle the situation. It saved them a hell of a lot of time, and furthermore, he received more enlightenment than he’d ever bargained for…

  Cruz’s home was modest, at best. When Saint walked in, his damn ‘hello’ echoed as if he were speaking into a canyon. Interestingly enough, despite being verbally disowned by his father, the man had left him the property, as well as a small inheritance. Cruz kept the walls in colors of pearly white and dismal gray. Only a handful of childhood, rustic furniture dotted the place. It was the home in which he grew up, indeed, and not a thing appeared to have been updated. He’d returned to it after the death of his father, and gutted the place of all Satanic inklings, décor and memorabilia. Regardless, the negative energy within the walls proved a damn doozy. Saint’s nostrils flared as soon as he stepped inside, catching the odor of despair-filled trapped souls, the angst of the dearly departed and the sulfurous nausea of demons lying in wake. He wished he could set the place on fire, allowing those trapped to finally escape, and the evil spirits within to meet their fate.