“Just give me a few minutes.”
Saint smiled and started undressing her. He pulled her covers over her and caressed her cheek. “I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I have to disappear for a while.”
Olivia sat up. “What are you talking about?”
“In order for me to be with you, I have to do this one last thing.”
“Does this one last thing include killing someone?”
“Honestly?”
“Please.”
“Maybe.”
She became silent.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to try and resolve this without anyone having to die. Usually, I can do that.”
“And what if you can’t this time?”
He didn’t respond.
“I can’t let you do this. If you have to kill someone to be with me… then maybe it’s not meant for us to be together.”
“This person is a piece of shit.”
“But he is still a person.”
“I thought you wanted to be with me.”
“God, knows I do.” She gripped his hand. “But not if you have to murder someone.” She felt a chill run down her spine as she watched the whites of Saint’s eyes turn coal red.
“This is crazy,” he said standing up. “I must be losing my mind.”
“Wait,” Olivia said, getting out of the bed and grabbing his arm. She jerked her hand away. The arm she grabbed a hold to felt nothing like the one she held last night. The muscles in his arm felt like steel coils, poised to strike.
“I can’t change who I am. I can never have a normal life. I got half of the world’s law enforcement after me, and the entire underworld murdering anyone who they think is the Saint.”
“Listen to me for a second—”
“There’s nothing to listen to,” he said as he stormed toward the bedroom door.”
“Saint Christopher, please.”
He turned around and slowly walked back toward her like a panther about to pounce on its prey. Olivia backed up til her back was against the wall. His lips were inches away from her ear. “Never mention that name… again,” he growled.
Too stunned to move, Saint was out the front door and out of her life before Olivia felt safe enough to peel herself off the wall. She experienced, first hand, why so many feared him. The Saint wasn’t a man who became a beast when provoked. He was a beast, period.
Chapter 12
“You know you could’ve stayed home and got some rest, right?” Grace said to Olivia.
“No she couldn’t,” Mr. Ryan said. “Olivia always cuts my hair on Saturday afternoons.”
“One Saturday wouldn’t have killed you, old man,” Grace said.
“If I would’ve walked in here and Olivia wouldn’t have been here—”
“Calm down, old man,” Olivia said. “Sit still before I accidentally zeek you.”
“You ain’t never zeek nobody, so if you zeek me, it would be on purpose.”
“Actually, she did zeek somebody,” Baby said. “Remember that politician running for Governor a few years back?”
“That wasn’t by accident,” Olivia said. “He was a creep. Remember him, Grace?”
“Yeah, the one who was on TV. Talking about how his wife is the backbone to his success, and then the following week, he’s sitting in your chair trying to be your sugar daddy.”
“She already gots a sugar daddy,” Mr. Ryan said.
“That’s right, sugar daddy,” Olivia said, kissing him on the cheek. “Can I have five hundred dollars, sugar daddy?”
“Shiiit, I ain’t even got enough to pay for this fifty dollar haircut. I remember back in my day when a man could get a cut, a shave, and a hell of a conversation for a quarter.”
“This ain’t the fifties, pop,” the teen in Grace’s chair said. “Prices rise, pop. It’s called inflation.”
“Call me pops again, and the left side of your face is gonna be inflated.”
Everyone, including the teen started laughing.
“You got that, pops… I mean boss playa.”
“Damn right, recognize a playa when you see one. I was a playa when the game was The Game. When the playas played by the rules, when honor, and respect weren’t just words, they was your life.”
“Honor and respect still exists,” the teen said. “Only their known by different names. Heckler and Koch.”
Mr. Ryan shook his head like he just sucked on a lemon. “Damn ghetto cowboys. I remember when Huey Newton used guns to fight for our rights.”
“Huey who?” The teen said.
“Huey, who?” Mr. Ryan repeated in shock. “Huey Newton, one of the founders of the Black Panthers.”
“I heard of the Black Panthers, but I never heard of that cat.”
“What?” Who was the other founder?” Mr. Ryan asked Olivia.
“Bobby Seale.”
“What year was it started?” He asked Grace.
“In the sixties, I believe.”
“Nineteen sixty-six,” Miki said. Everyone turned in her direction.
“What? I remembered that from high school.”
Mr. Ryan looked at Baby. “Who was their minister of information?”
“History ain’t my thing, Mr. Ryan.”
“Anyone? Who was their minister of information. With all these black folks up in here, somebody’s got to know.”
Everyone looked at Miki. “Don’t look at me.”
“Eldridge Clever,” a woman said, standing by the front door. “He also wrote a series of essays that were later collected in his book Soul On Ice, which was published after his release from prison.”
The shop was silent. The woman admired the salon’s deco and nodded when she recognized some of the paintings on the wall. She was wearing a black and gold pant ensemble. The patchwork Kimono jacket was open to reveal the matching bustier top. Her black satin pants ended at the back of her Luichiny stilettos. Her hair was fashioned into a soft layered cut with frosty highlights. It was curled and styled to frame her face. Her tear drop diamond earrings and diamond necklace mesmerized anyone who stared at them too long.
Olivia looked down at the woman’s right wrist. She couldn’t help but admire the different colored diamond bracelets. Some were white, some canary yellow, and others pink, there were ten in all. Her makeup was flawless. When she locked eyes with Olivia, she walked toward her. Her walk would tell anyone that she was important, royalty even. Back straight, chin up, shoulders squared.
“I’ve never seen you around here before,” Mr. Ryan said, remembering how to talk.
“That’s because I’m not from around here,” she said, not taking her eyes off of Olivia’s.
Olivia didn’t hear it before, but she heard it now. The woman spoke with a slight accent.
“Miss Martin.” The woman extended her hand.
Olivia shook it. The woman’s hand was deceptively rough, and surprisingly strong.
The teen stared her up and down. “How did you know the answer to that old ass question, ma?”
“I’m not as young as I look.”
“And I’m not as old as I look,” Mr. Ryan said, winking.
“Forgive me,” Olivia said, “but I can’t place your face, right now. Did we ever meet?”
“Not formally, but we know of one another through a mutual friend. My name’s Josephine Delacroix, and I’ve been dying to meet you.”
Olivia’s heart dropped to her stomach.
Josephine was the only one who picked up on Olivia’s initial shock. The thing that everyone else did pick up on was the fact that neither woman had released the other’s hand.
“If it’s not too much trouble, is there some place where we can talk?” Josephine asked.
“Ah… sure.” Olivia put her clippers down and washed her hands.
“Hey, hey, you didn’t finish cutting my hair,” Mr. Ryan said.
“Grace will finish you off.”
“Y
ou know that nobody touches my head, but you.”
“Well, then, sit here until I get back.”
“What the hell—”
Olivia was escorting Josephine to her office before Mr. Ryan could get the rest of his sentence out, and before everyone else could figure out what just happened.
When Olivia closed the door behind them, it seemed like the room temperature dropped a few degrees. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms as she sat behind her desk. “Have a seat.”
Josephine refused to sit. “If I don’t sit behind the desk or at the head of the table, I don’t sit.”
“Well then, can I get you something to drink?” Olivia started to stand.
Josephine stopped her. “I’m fine.” She looked around the office. “Is this where you spent the night with my Saint?”
“Excuse me?”
“Saint walked in here eight o’clock last night and he didn’t leave until six this morning.”
Olivia stood. “I think you better leave.”
“I think you better lose that attitude before I forget that I’m a lady.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Josephine kicked off her stilettos and walked up to her. Even with her heels off, Olivia still had to look up to her. “Don’t let that phony kick boxing class you’re taking get your ass kicked up in here.”
Olivia’s eyes widened.
“I know everything about you, and all four of your brothers.” Josephine grinned when Olivia’s stance softened. “I just want to talk.”
“Then talk.”
Josephine backed up. “I don’t know how much you know about Clayton.”
“You mean Saint Christopher?” Olivia couldn’t wipe the smug smile off her face when she saw the shocked expression on Josephine’s.
“How much do you know about him?”
“He’s lied to me so much, I don’t know what’s true and what’s not.”
“That’s my Saint.”
Olivia exhaled. Initially, she was going to tell her everything Saint shared with her just to show her that Saint had shared things with her he never shared with anyone else. At the last moment, she realized if she revealed that she knew too much, Josephine would have a bullet put in her brain.
“I didn’t come here to threaten you or cause any bad blood between us. Saint and I have a long history together. One that is stronger than blood and more precious than life. Right now, he has to do what many would call a suicide mission. In order for him to do what he has to do and survive, he can’t be distracted in anyway.”
Olivia shook her head.
“I need Saint Christopher to be the Saint. If he isn’t at a hundred percent, he will die, and that would kill me. And I refuse to be the only one losing someone dear to me. Now, what I want is simple. If you care for him at all, you will end whatever it is you think you two may have.”
Josephine’s subtle threat bit into Olivia’s soul. “What if I love him?”
“Sometimes, our love is tested by letting go of that which we love most. If you really love him, you will let him go.”
“Even if I wanted to let go, I have no way of contacting him.”
“I know my Saint. He will see you tonight before he leaves.” Josephine slipped her shoes back on and smiled at her. “I trust you will do the right thing.”
Olivia folded her arms and looked away.
Josephine walked to the door and opened it. “A little word of advice. Your receptionist, Miki, met a tall, light skinned man at the club last night, and she agreed to have dinner at his place tonight. Tell her to cancel. He’s raped every woman he’s ever been with.”
“And how do you know this?”
“He works for me.” Josephine exited the office.
A few minutes later, Olivia walked back to the floor.
“You okay?” Baby asked.
“Miki, you’re going out with a tall, light skinned man for dinner tonight?”
“How’d you know that?”
“Call him and cancel.”
“Why?”
Olivia walked up to her and whispered in her ear what Josephine shared with her.
Miki picked up the phone. She couldn’t dial dude’s number fast enough.
“Hey,” Mr. Ryan called out to Olivia as she headed toward the front door.
“Not now,” Olivia said, without looking back.
Josephine controlled her breathing as she got ten feet within her car. Van climbed out the back seat and ran to her. Josephine collapsed in his arms.
“You should’ve never come here, you’re wound isn’t fully healed,” he hissed. “I could’ve taken care of this myself.”
Josephine shushed him as he helped her into the back seat.
“Take us to the hotel,” he said to their driver.
Josephine reached for the handkerchief in his shirt pocket, and dabbed her forehead with it. “I had to come,” she said weakly. “I had to see her for myself. Had to let her see me, make her feel my words.”
Van opened a bottle of water and put it to her lips.
She took a couple sips. “Are you one hundred percent sure, Saint didn’t see you tailing him?”
“I’m a hundred and ten percent sure.”
Josephine stared at him.
“If he knew I was following him, would he have led me here last night or to her house this morning?”
“I’m too close. I can’t afford any mistakes.”
“I don’t make mistakes.”
“Neither does he.”
“You should’ve let me take him out when I had the chance.”
Josephine put her finger to his lips. “I can’t let anything happen to you. When this is over, you will be my new Saint.”
Van beamed with pride.
Josephine laid her head back on the headrest and stared out the window. No matter how many men she’d been with, she only loved Saint. She didn’t care where she was or who she was with, whenever he called, she was there. That was their understanding.
When she hired the female assassin to go after him, it wasn’t to kill him. She only wanted to test his love for her.
“Seduce him,” she remembered telling her. “Do what you have to do to make him fall in love with you.”
“And then what?” the assassin asked.
Josephine didn’t answer her then and there because she knew her Saint. She knew he would pass the test. He could never love another.
“I’ve been seeing someone,” she remembered him telling her one night. “She’s incredible. She might be the one.”
“The one? What are you talking about?” Josephine asked him.
“I think I may be falling for her.”
It was five years ago, but the pain she felt in her heart now, just thinking about it was just as sharp as it was five years ago. “Do you love her?”
“I think I’m starting to.”
“But you love me?”
“Yes, but our love is different.”
It took every fiber of her being to maintain her composure that night. As soon as he left her Villa, she called the assassin, and in blind rage, gave her the order to kill him. She wanted her to stab him through the heart.
“Josephine are you okay?” Van asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She had poured her heart out to Saint in the dentist office. She wanted to leave her life of stress and just disappear. The only thing she didn’t tell him that day in the safe house was when he killed Marion Claude, she wanted the both of them to disappear, and live a simple life together, the way they did at the covenant.
When Van called her at the hotel last night and told her that he followed Saint to the salon and he didn’t emerge until the crack of dawn, she knew Saint loved Olivia. And when she looked into Olivia’s eyes, she knew she loved him, as well. He betrayed her once again. This time, his living will not be an option.
When Olivia left the salon, she went straight to the precinct to see her brother. Josephine had put the fear of God in her. Saint, Jose
phine, Marion Claude, Petrescu, she finally realized just how dangerous they were. Mike had offered to get a cop car posted outside of her house, but she refused. She just wanted to put him on point. They agreed that they should all get together at the salon tomorrow afternoon and figure out what the next move should be. Now, she laid in her bed, wide awake. Josephine said Saint was leaving tonight, and that he would be by to see her.
She loved him, but as much as it hurt her to admit, she could never be with him. They could never have a normal life together. Saint would forever have to look over his shoulder. She jumped when the phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. When she didn’t recognize the number, she got butterflies in her stomach. She let it ring six times before picking it up.
“Hello.”
“Before you hang up, give me a chance to apologize for the way I came at you this morning.”
Hearing his voice gave her goose bumps.
“Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No.”
“I should be doing this face to face. I’m coming over.”
“Where are you?”
The door bell rang.
“At your front door.”
Olivia sprung out of bed and reached for the pair of jeans she threw on her chair earlier. She then put on one of her oversized sweaters, and then pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
When she opened the front door, she barely recognized the man standing in front of her.
Saint was dressed in all black. He was wearing an unzipped, three-quarter lambskin jacket. Under it, he had on a double-zip merino sweater and a pair of wool, pinstriped slacks. His loafers were calfskin, and his glasses were a pair of gold filled titanium with onyx flecks. He dyed his hair and beard, giving them a salt and pepper look.
“Can I come in?”
His eyes were dark brown, his face rounder, and the gap between his front teeth was gone.
She moved to the side to let him in. “You’re leaving tonight, I see,” she said, eyeing the leather weekend bag he was holding.
“Yes.”
“Nice disguise. You look like a middle aged corporate executive going on a business trip. If we were on the same plane, sitting next to each other, I wouldn’t even recognize you.”
In The Cut Page 15