by Tiana Laveen
Xenia clicked over.
“Mama?” she answered in a whisper, as her children still lay asleep around her. She stroked Isis’ hair like one would a kitten. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
The news was on showcasing the city being torn from tree limb to tree limb, making Xenia’s gut ball up with unease. She had no room for any more anxiety; her stomach had loaded with nervous tension without a centimeter to spare.
“Xenia! I’m up in Macy’s!”
“What are you doing there at this hour, Mama?!”
“’Cause they was having a blue light special sale and I wanted to get some stuff for my new place.”
“New place? Mama, what are you talking about?” Xenia gently slid Isis and Dakarai’s head off her lap and gingerly got out the bed, so as not to disturb them. She walked into her bathroom and closed the door.
“Never mind that, I’m in trouble. I got into a—how can I say it?—an altercation with some fast lipped heffas who tried to take me there! These women from New York got some big ass balls, but they was gone learn today! I’m Michael Jordan of this shit, and I got the biggest balls of all! That’s beside the point now though… I gotta get outta this damn store!”
“Mama! There’s a horrible storm going on, my cell phone has only been working half the time, and you are in a store having fights with people! I don’t have the patience for this!”
“Yeah, I saw on the T.V. how bad it’s getting. What the hell is goin’ on? I can’t go outside, but outside is safer than in here!”
“Mama, please!” Xenia begged. “You are too far from the hotel. Just stay where you’re at.”
“But if I leave, they won’t be able to get me… Accordin’ to the news reports, the streets are all messed up. I could try!”
“Mama.” Xenia closed her eyes and rubbed them in frustration. “Just stay put! The police won’t even be able to get there, probably, okay? With all the stuff going on right now, they aren’t considered about you and some women arguing in a clothing store! You should be okay. Just lay low and save your battery life on your phone. We shouldn’t even be talking right now. The electricity keeps going in and out here, too.”
“What kinda crazy business is going on with the weather out here?! What did the weather man say, Xenia? If I wanted to be in an earthquake type situation, I coulda stayed my behind in California! The streets are all uprooted, like someone dug into them with a bulldozer! It looks crazy!”
“Yes, it is crazy, so don’t go doing anything insane, Mama. I can’t deal with you right now. Just stay inside, for goodness’ sake!”
“You ain’t gotta yell!”
“Mama! I don’t have the time or patience for this right now.”
“You ’bout as moody as this damn weather! Here I am about to go to the big house after being disrespected, and all you can do is yell at your poor mother! Well, I got news for ya. I may just pack my things and go on back to California since that’s how you feel about me!”
Xenia sighed and almost dropped her phone as she slumped forward, cradling her knees.
“…And I’m caught in a rain storm, too!” the woman added. “Tell me what the man on T.V. is sayin’. What is going on?!”
“Yes, Mama, you’re caught in the rainstorm like all the rest of us, and you want to know why?! You asked me why so I’m finna tell you!” Xenia gritted her teeth, wanting to unleash once and for all.
“Don’t lecture me about shopping! They had a two for one on—”
“Because your son-in-law is in the streets fighting, Mama! That’s why! There is a gang war going on that you refuse to accept or believe, but let me tell you, when they fight, they fight big! Now, I have to go!” Xenia disconnected the call, wishing she could have slammed it down. She marched out of the bathroom and slid back in bed among her children. Their body heat against her frame made her feel a bit better as she focused on the news, now showing distant images of the Brooklyn Bridge closed down due to large amounts of debris and a fallen support beam…
*
Chapter Thirty-Eight
…He will try to trick you…
Saint heard Krishna say those words once again inside of his head… Feeling the blood pouring from the side of his head, he swiped the spot, gathering a hefty amount of red upon his fingertips. He reached down to his feet as his body was flipped and tossed around like a fish caught on a line, and charged forward. He searched frantically into the darkness, prodding and punching until he could make out anything tangible.
There you are, mothafucka!
Koki became crystal clear, a crimson blood streak glowing upon his cheek. The two men paused and stared at one another, brewing and fermenting in their mutual hatred. Saint attempted to get to his feet, but Koki seized him once again, taking him to the side of the damn bridge, yanking him by the damn leg and dragging…dragging…dragging. Saint fought and twisted, for he knew the man wished to do one thing, and one thing only—toss him overboard into the gloomy waters below.
“Ahhhh!” Saint screamed out, punching at the air. As he called out and scrambled to get control of the whirlwind situation, the rain flooded his mouth. Koki was strong, crazy, and on a mission.
“Die!” the man screamed out as he slammed Saint against the railing in a bid to hoist him over the pulleys and steel cables into the open waters. In a flash, Saint saw the city in peril, his wife mourning and his children, fatherless. His eyes burned so bright red, he had no doubt they made the flashing lights on the police car appear like a dimly lit lantern. He had to muster the strength…
The two struggled, hurling profanities at each other as the rain continued to stomp them to bits. His eyes set ablaze as if flames danced within the corneas. The entire bridge seemed to rage and combust with the heat of his ferocity as he gathered the fortitude to lunge forward with all that he had.
“Ahhhhh!”
Racing on pure adrenaline, Saint wrapped his saturated hands around the fiend’s tattooed neck. He squeezed and squeezed, pressing his thumbs into the bulging muscles, blind to frantic fingers that clawed at his secure stronghold. He delighted in the dulling, glazed-over black eyes reminiscent of those on a poisonous serpent. Koki was expiring in his very grip.
“You want me to die?!” Saint screamed over the noise pollution of the city in chaos and the pounding rain, beating his enemy with aquatic fists of fury. “I’m going to introduce you to the Angel of Death, Koki! I’m going to hand deliver you to my Angelic father!” He pressed a bit harder, his anger, hatred and disgust for the man boiling deep within him, now steaming out of his fucking pores. But then…he looked further into the Demon Child’s eyes, and saw flashes of something, much like the sight of a new penny shining through the waters of a murky pond. Keeping his hold on him, he looked a bit deeper, and then, he saw it… There Saint was as a little boy, crying on his slumped, broken down mattress in the tiny area he called his bedroom in the South Bronx. Such a depressing scene—a little half Egyptian, half Korean boy, all in the alone in the big, wide world…
Koki grinned widely, even as Saint continued to squeeze the life out of him, infuriated by the continuous torment the man attempted to land at his feet.
“I know this is what you want! I’d rather you live imprisoned within your own sick, sordid world, but never be ever capable of harming another person again. But you won’t stop!”
“…I…can’t…stop. I will not stop…for you…or…anyone else. I have…integrity,” the man choked out, seemingly beginning to lose consciousness. Heat poured from underneath the bridge, vibrancy, life and death. He could hear a million heartbeats, confirming his suspicions…he had company. He’d planned for that as well, but for now he stayed on the task at hand.
“I know you can’t, Koki…so I’m going to help you.” Saint swallowed down a shred of pity, snatched his blade from his back pocket and jammed it in the hellion’s throat. He made it swift, not daring to drag the shit out. He wanted this over and to go fucking home!
“Suh…Saint.” Koki maintai
ned his smile as he gurgled a bit of blood, and began to relax his resistance.
“…Yes.” Saint paused, the knife deep in the man’s flesh, but the rain brushed the blood away before he could delight in the redness pouring forth from the bastard’s skin.
“You love her… I can smell it…on you…What…does it feel…like…to be…in love?” Koki’s eyes took on a warmer tone as his skin grew paler. He looked eagerly into Saint’s eyes, almost pleading. Not for his life…no, but for an answer to his dying question. The man waved his hand, as if to shoo someone away, someone attempting to approach, but not clear to the naked eye. He snarled, prepared to take any mothafucka out on a drop of a dime, but once again, gained his composure. He glanced down at him curiously as the rain continued to pour upon him, washing the blood away, blending it into the streaming rain, carting his sins away.
“…It feels like a place you’ll never know, unfortunately, Koki.” He swallowed. “It feels like heaven. Imagine the best sex you’ve ever had, that feeling, the pinnacle, flowing through your heart a hundred times over, all day…every day…” And with that, he finished the deed. Koki’s eyes rolled back and his body grew limp, while at the same time, Saint removed his skull in one clean slice. He caught his breath for a few seconds, then cast the severed head into the violent, rising river…
*
All floors in Lennox Hill Hospital were jam packed with frantic staff and victims of the storm. This included Cruz who now slept soundly while Lawrence, bloodied and bruised, stood outside his door with a tightly wrapped newspaper under his arm. All he could think was, ‘poor kid’ when he saw him. He’d risked his life for the cause, and in that, one found true honor. This was something Lawrence could appreciate, especially since he knew his dear friend Saint had had the fight of his life. He wouldn’t be pleased to report back they’d lost quite a few Angel Children in the pandemonium, including Armondo Martinez, who’d fought a damn good fight, but succumbed to a stab in the heart. Nevertheless, he died with a smile on his face and Lawrence prayed over his dead body as he closed his eyes for the final time.
He looked around the place, at all the commotion, then spotted a man storming towards him, his hair dripping with rain, his dark clothes drenched…doused to the bone. Lawrence curled his lips in a sardonic smile. He had no doubt about the asshole’s identity—Koki’s brother, Ataru.
“Move,” the man demanded, cracking his knuckles as if he were someone for Lawrence to fear.
Grinning, Lawrence tossed his damp, long tresses over his shoulder. “Move?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You heard me the first time, Chief.”
“So you can kill Cruz, I take it? I’m so sorry, Ataru, but I can’t let you do that.”
“I’m not going to play games with you. I will murder you right here in this fucking hospital if you do not get the hell out of my way!” The pale Japanese man trembled with anger, his eyes bloodshot and a vein protruding in the middle of his forehead and neck.
Lawrence sighed and put his hands on his hips, causing the newspaper to fall and smack the ground. The moment Ataru looked down at it, he grabbed the fucker and snapped his neck clean, then watched the carcass slump to the floor. As casual and can be, he reached down to retrieve his newspaper, tucked it under his arm and resumed his post.
A few moments later, he casually waved over a nurse.
“Hey, this guy collapsed right in front of me! Don’t know who he is,” he said. “But I think he needs medical attention…”
*
There would be no special burial for Koki; it was far too risky. No, he had to be dropped into the water below to become carp food and a fisherman’s worse nightmare. Saint watched as one faint splash echoed, and then another, much louder, when the rest of Koki’s body hit the ocean surface, too. After a moment of deliberation, he turned away and walked the bridge, feeling as if he weighed a ton from his saturated threads. The night moved as shadows came alive, and his glowing red eyes dared a mothafucka to move one damn muscle in his direction. As he approached the end of the bridge, he could clearly hear the sirens and fire trucks, and even the pounding rain began to slow down as he assumed his new post. He looked down at his hands, fully expecting to see them caked with blood. He was wrong—the rain had completely washed all of it away, leaving his form almost without a trace. He soon approached his car, illegally parked on the side on FDR Drive. After hopping inside, he took a little while to decompress.
I’m alive…
He grinned as he turned on his music, immediately falling under the spell of Eric B. and Rakim, “Follow the Leader”, on full blast.
Taking a ragged breath, he immediately called Roman.
“I’m finished,” he choked out, while the musical beat and clean lyrics soothed his broken soul. “You can open it up now.” Saint swiped at the rain water that still streamed from his nose and face.
“…I’m already on it.”
“I knew you were near,” Saint said with a smirk.
“Yeah, I figured you did, but I made sure not to get too close, in case he picked up my scent. I heeded what you said, but I refused to have you sitting out there alone, man. Not going to happen. You told me back in L.A. you had some dealings going on with Demon Children. I know how they operate. At first I thought he was getting the best of you, and I’d have to come down there.”
“Good that you didn’t, man. He would have sounded an alarm.”
“What are you talking about?”
“…There were over three hundred of ’em, Roman, on the under side of the bridge, hanging there like damn bats. I kept my word, so he kept his to some degree. If I had brought my clique, or had you jump in, it would’ve been mayhem; we would have lost more lives. All he had to do was say the word and they would have tried to destroy me, but he never did and I read him as I was taking his fucking life.”
“Damn. What did you find out?”
“Koki was the best at what he did for a number of reasons, man, but he did have an interesting set of beliefs. He told them to stay back…to not raise one finger.”
Roman was quiet for a long while as Saint started his car and began to drive through the oddly desolate streets.
“Why do you think that was? I mean, if he had their help, they could have tried to overpower you and he could have lived.”
“…Because it is more honorable to die for your cause than to die because you couldn’t handle defeat. That’s who Koki was, and remained determined to be.”
Saint disconnected, removed the grenade from his pocket and placed it delicately in the car cup holder. He’d brought the damn thing in case he had to pull the pin and blow up the entire fucking bridge, kill all the demon children vying to get a taste of him, just in case they got any ideas. He sighed, then made another call. The phone rang a couple of times, until a raspy, haze-filled voice answered.
“Little brother…Lil’ Pharaoh,” Bomb uttered on the other end, sounding as if he’d been in a deep sleep.
“It’s done. It’s over man. You’ve been vindicated.”
“Good. All of this bad weather, that was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes…”
“Come over for dinner next week. I mean it. Don’t make me chase you down.” Bomb declared.
Saint laughed lightly. “I won’t, man. I promise.”
“I hear your good music! That’s that shit!” Bomb laughed raucously, complimenting him. “Takes me back!”
“Ain’t it though! Yeah…” Saint grinned reflectively. After a few moments of silence, the man brought the somber tone into full focus.
“I love you.” Bomb’s voice broke up a bit on the phone. “You’re like my flesh ’nd blood. Don’t you ever forget that!”
“I love you too, big brother.”
Bomb disconnected the call fast, most likely not wanting to get emotional on the damn phone. Saint’s last call was his most important of all…
Xenia picked up on the second ring, and from her short breaths, he co
uld tell the woman was a ball of twitching nerves.
“I’m finished, baby. I’m comin’ home. It’s over.”
“Hurry to me… hurry to me so I can wrap my arms around you!” Her voice trembled.
“I’m almost there. Put the children in their rooms, grab two glasses of wine, fluff your pillow, and lie on the bed completely naked and spread-eagled for me. When I walk through that damn door, I want to hunt you, stalk you, find you, devour you and claim you as mine, all over again. I need to make love to you again, baby…and I need to do it until we both can’t take it anymore. Whose pussy is that?” He smirked as he swiped his tongue along his bottom lip, then gently sunk his teeth into it, getting off on her hurried breathing.
“It’s yours…”
“I know it is…and I’m comin’ home to get what’s mine.” He disconnected the phone and put his foot on the accelerator.
People started to re-emerge from the confines of their homes now that the rain had completely stopped. Trees were knocked down, debris seemed to be everywhere, and many cars looked as if they’d been wrecked…but this was a small price to pay.
For these people of New York had no clue—that evening could have been the last on which they could have had a choice, the free will the Creator promised to them. A fair choice, one that had the pros and cons to create growing pains and lessons learned. A chance for survival after choosing the wrong game to play, an opportunity for redemption and understanding after taking a risk in the hopes of love conquering all. Yeah…it had been a big torrential downpour. Prodigious torrents are infamous for leaving destructive paths in their wake, but they also wipe the slate clean for a brand new, fresh start…
*
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Wale featuring Tiara Thomas in the song, ‘Bad’, the remix edition, played as thick, purple curtains opened slowly over the sold-out stage in New York’s Metropolitan Opera House. Golden lights gleamed down on the platform, showcasing a panel of three women speakers. Xenia sat there, staring down at her intertwined fingers, then flexed them. She occasionally nodded in agreement while the two women before her made their speech. One was a psychiatrist, the other, a health and beauty expert, and then there was Xenia… Saint’s Queen, radio personality and mother to three wonderful children. She slowly lifted her head and looked out into the audience where, in the front row, sat Saint, next to Lawrence, Jagger, Traci, Donna, the head Rainbeau Knight Officers, Valerie, Naomi, and George, who sat regally beside his Goddess.