The Naughty Sins Of A Saint

by Tiana Laveen

  The bed itself should be comfortable and be able to accommodate both of you. I recommend, if you’re into more adventurous sex acts, that you have bedposts. They’re essential for certain positions and sex play. Don’t let anyone sleep in your marital bed. I don’t care if it’s your parents – don’t. Changing the sheets won’t change the energy they leave behind. When we sleep, we’re communing with God, and he’s talking to us, so if you allow someone else to do that in your bed, their thoughts and spiritual conversations leave an imprint in your space. Those are private conversations, your dreams, and only your ‘queen’ and possibly your offspring should be able to be there. That’s why guest rooms are essential. If you’ve gotten married, and you still have a bed that you’ve had sex in with other women, you have to get rid of it. The mattress isn’t enough. That bed has recorded what you’ve done, and now you’re placing a new soul there. This is why I never allowed any woman I was dating to stay in my home overnight, let alone my bed, except for my ‘queen’ whom I was already married to. She’s the only woman that’s ever slept in my bed. Now, sometimes you can’t get around sharing these energies – like those of us that frequently travel and stay in hotels – but as far as the place you call home, that has to be revered. Does anyone have any questions before I continue?” Saint asked as he took another drink from his glass. He saw a hand shoot up.

  “Yes,” Saint said as he looked at the tall, dark-brown-haired man.

  “Do you have any suggestions if you’ve already had multiple women in the bed, including your current ‘queen?’ Can that be reversed in any way?”

  “No. It’s like trying to stop a pregnancy once the sperm already fertilized the egg. It’s pretty much a done deal.” People laughed. “You have to get rid of the entire bed. This is one of the reasons why when some guys fuck a bunch of different women at their house, the man’s energy gets all out of whack. He has all that female energy moving around in his home. All that female energy is attached to a human being, a human being that may have been in love with him, obsessed with him, wants to fuck him again, wants to hurt him – you name it. He keeps bringing more women in there, adding to the pile of mess. He may as well have a bunch of dead bodies in there because that’s essentially what he’s created, a graveyard. The same thing happens to your bed, just worse, because the bed allows a place for rest, sleep, love making, and communing. All those activities have emotional attachments whether we realize it or not. Let me give you another example. For those of you who have been to Amsterdam, there’s an almost indescribable energy there. It feels forbidden. When you walk into a brothel, the energy is thick. There’s a legal sex trade going on, people are high, and many of the women don’t want to fuck but just need to get paid. The energy isn’t positive. They’re allowing men inside them that they don’t give a shit about, and the men fucking them don’t care about them either, they just want to bust a nut and leave. That energy hangs in the air like fog. It strangles anything that resembles love and purity. If you stay in there long enough, it’ll choke you. You may feel really strange after you leave, almost like you’re high yourself, but you didn’t smoke anything. Some people say they suddenly feel depressed and don’t know why. Others have even reported feeling suicidal. It’s because of the walls; the energy was recorded.”

  As Saint concluded, everyone that was sitting stood up and whistled and clapped. Saint made his way through the crowd, taking his seat as other presenters approached the stage. None of them commanded the same attention that Saint had. He had a special presence, a special power over people that was undeniable.

  Ludacris rapped over the speakers, “My chick bad, my chick hood, my chick do stuff that yo’ chick wish she could…”

  Xenia watched as Saint lit a tightly rolled cherry cigar and blew out rings of thick, white smoke. He poured himself a glass of brandy then grabbed her by the waist, leaning over and tickling her ear with his lips. Xenia laughed as he cuddled her. He put his brandy glass down, reached under the table discreetly, and finger-crept slowly past her knee and up her thigh. He scooted her dress up while his hands continued to search her skin. She tried to smack his hand away to no avail. He continued to talk to people who walked past and stopped to speak to him. He snaked his fingers through the hole in her pantyhose and rubbed up and down her lips. She continued to push in vain, trying to inconspicuously remove her husband’s hand. He finally pulled away a few minutes later.

  “I can’t believe you just did that!” Xenia said as she hit him on his back. Saint laughed and looked at her. He leaned in closely to her, cupping her around her jawbone as he brought her face closer to his, kissing her as people continued to walk past and look at him with admiration. A muscular man with a bald head and thick, dark-brown goatee approached the podium.

  “Before the night continues, Saint, we all wanted to congratulate you on your marriage. We all wish you marital bliss with your beautiful ‘goddess.’ We’re so happy for you and are honored that you allowed us to meet her tonight. God bless, Man. Wishing you both a long life together, many children, and complete happiness ’til death do you part.” Everyone applauded. Saint smiled and nodded in appreciation of the kind words. Xenia looked at Saint and kissed his cheek as she squeezed his arm.

  “You still hate me?” Saint asked sarcastically as he picked up his glass and took a taste. He blew out another series of cigar rings as he looked at her, winking and licking his lips.

  “I didn’t know you smoked, ‘Mr. Health Nut,’” Xenia said as she shook her head and began to refill her wine glass. Saint grabbed the bottle from her hands and finished pouring it for her.

  “I don’t really. I just do it here,” he explained as he cracked a crab leg in half with his hands, pulling out a large chunk of sweet, white meat. The night continued on, Saint keeping Xenia near, guarding her voraciously as men tried to catch glimpses without staring her in the eye. Some women stewed with hefty jealousy while others complimented on what a beautiful couple they were. After the discussions were over, the handshakes were complete, and the wine was drunk, Saint rose, took Xenia by the arm, and said his goodbyes as they made their way back to the front door of the establishment. T-Rex followed closely behind, eventually standing in front of them. He retrieved their coats and cloaked Xenia first, and then handed Saint his. Saint leaned over to Xenia and whispered in her ear. “It’s two in the morning, but you’re not going to sleep when we get home.”

  Xenia rolled her eyes and decided to play hard to get, “I don’t think so. I’m going straight to sleep,” she said, hiding a budding smile that would reveal her deceit. Saint looked down at her, took her hand as he ushered her out of the revolving door into the cold, wintry air as they waited for his car to be brought back from the valets. “Yeah, you’re going straight to sleep, spread eagle and blacked the fuck out,” he said straight-faced. Xenia looked up at him and stuck her tongue out. Saint looked down at her and licked her lips before sliding his tongue inside her mouth as he squeezed her so tightly she could feel his chest rising and falling against hers. They pulled away from each other and enjoyed small-talk as people continued to walk up to Saint, shaking his hand and some asking for his autograph. He happily obliged as he continued to wait by the sidewalk. T-Rex spoke to the valet attendants and waited on Saint’s behalf. Xenia looked at the sparkling lights abound, not immediately noticing that Saint’s facial expression had abruptly changed. Xenia studied him, worry consuming her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” he said as he started to look around frantically, still keeping her close to him.

  “What do you mean?” she asked as she looked around, not seeing anything that looked out of place.

  “Something’s just not right. Someone’s in my space,” he raised his voice anxiously.

  “Saint, calm down. There isn’t anyone here,” Xenia said as she patted his cheeks. He looked down at her, anger spread over his previously calm face. The vein in his neck popped as he cont
inued to look around in all directions, gripping her wrist tightly.

  “Saint! You’re hurting me!” Xenia said as she tried to free her hand. He grabbed her, pulling her firmly to him as he continued to look around agitatedly.

  “You’re scaring me!” Xenia screamed.

  He looked down at her again. He relaxed his grip on her wrist but still kept her close. “I can’t explain it,” he said. “I can feel it though.” Just then, his car pulled up. T-Rex immediately opened the passenger’s side door first. Saint rushed towards the car, moving through the small crowd of people as he escorted Xenia towards the open door. Heavy footsteps drew near – quick, steady, rapidly increasing with each step. A scream rang out as a man cloaked in black from head to toe approached, carrying a revolver, his arm extended as he raced at full speed. He moved towards Saint and Xenia as if he had wings and was flying. Xenia spun around, her world flashing before her eyes. Her scream rang out as people ran in all directions. She turned back around, trying to dart out of the way. Saint turned towards the gunman and saw the barrel aimed at the back of Xenia’s head. He grabbed her shoulders, jumped on top of her, and pushed her to the ground, covering her with his body, pinning her down on the cobblestone sidewalk. He felt intense heat flow through his back. The gunman shot three times and continued running, disappearing into the night just as fast as he had emerged. A crowd formed around Saint. He could hear his name being called then heard nothing more as all six of his senses melted away into a sea of darkness.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 9

  “Dripping…what’s that? Machines? I can’t feel anything. Whose voice is that? Dripping…cold water in my arm…something’s stuck in my hand. Dripping…what’s that dripping noise? My body hurts. Am I dreaming? What?” Saint’s eyes moved rapidly under his eyelids. His arm twitched as he exhaled deeply. He suddenly heard monitors beeping and going off, then footsteps quickly approaching him.

  “He’s awake!” someone screamed out. Saint’s eyes cracked open. He looked around anxiously, staying perfectly still as he tried to focus. He licked his dry lips as he continued to strain. He felt his arm being tugged and saw a man approach his face.

  “Mr. Aknaten, I’m Dr. Phillips. Can you hear me?” Saint looked at him, trying to find his voice. He shook his head ‘yes.’

  “Can you speak to me, Mr. Aknaten?” Saint’s tongue felt like it was made of stone. It was fat and dry. He lifted it to the roof of his mouth, trying to form words to no avail. He rested briefly and tried again.

  “Yeah…yes,” he responded. Raphael rushed towards Saint, knocking the doctor out of the way. His tear-streaked face was a map of the days of anguish as he waited somberly for his best friend, his brother, to awaken.

  “Saint!” Raphael screamed. “Saint!” he screamed out again. Raphael’s wife entered the room, grabbing her husband by the arm, dragging him out. “Give them time to talk to him, Raphael,” Latrice urged, hugged her husband.

  “Mr. Aknaten, can you understand everything I’m saying?”

  “Mmm…mmm…my name…is…Duh…Doc…Doctor Ak…naten,” Saint corrected. His chest rose up and down as he tried to gain strength to speak again.

  The doctor laughed. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ and my apologies.”

  “Dr. Aknaten, let me explain what’s happened. You were shot seven days ago. The bullet missed your heart by three centimeters. You’re very lucky. You lost a lot of blood and went into a coma.”

  “Xen…ia,” Saint murmured. The memories of what happened flooded his mind. It all became crystal clear.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand you,” the doctor said.

  “Xen…ia…wife…my wife. Where…is my wife? Xenia!”

  “Dr. Aknaten! We need you to calm down!” One of the nurses said as she looked at the monitor attached to his heart.

  Saint flailed his arms violently, ripping his IV out of his hand. The monitors blinked and beeped. Saint attempted to get out of bed only to fall forward, landing on his side on the cold floor. His back ached. Blood seeped through the bandage over the left wing of his angel tattoo. Three male nurses entered the room, breaking through the thick fog of commotion. The men raised Saint’s long body into the air, placing him gently back onto the bed.

  “Dr. Aknaten, I understand that you’re upset, but you’re making things worse for yourself. Please try to calm down. You can’t afford any excitement right now,” Dr. Phillips explained. Saint breathed deeply, trying to lower his blood pressure as he felt his heart rate increase to the point that it was painful.

  “Why…can’t I move…my legs? I can’t…feel them,” he asked.

  Dr. Aknaten, the bullet missed your heart but fractured your spine,” Dr. Phillips said. He paused a moment before continuing. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but it’s highly unlikely that you’ll walk again.” Saint turned away and gazed out of the window. He watched as the chimney stacks blew large puffs of gray smoke. The weather was windy and dismal. Two feet of snow lay on the ground.

  “Is she…dead?” Saint asked as he pushed his face into his pillow. “If she’s dead, I…want…you…to let…me…die.”

  “I’m not sure who you’re referring to,” Dr. Phillips said. “Let me get some more information for you,” he said before stepping out of the room.

  Saint looked at one of the nurses. “Tell him… never mind. I can…feel her. She’s…alive. She’s upset. Please find…her and…bring her to me.”

  The nurse looked at Saint and patted his hand.

  “Everything is going to be OK, Dr. Aknaten. Just relax,” she said as she administered the pain reliever and sedative to his newly secured IV. Several minutes later, his eyes rolled back until finally, he could no longer keep them open. He began to dream:

  He was hostage to the surreal imagery, surrounded by odd music that seemed to be playing backwards. He could almost smell the black raindrops with silver streaks that poured upward, towards the sky in slow motion. A white figure approached him. It got closer and closer. A familiar scent caught Saint’s attention. “Who’s wearing Chanel No. 5? Mom is, of course.” Saint’s mother stood next to him, rubbing her fingers through his silky black hair.

  “Hello, Son,” she said in her usual soft spoken voice. “I see you’re hurt.” She smiled pleasantly, hugging him tightly. She reached behind him, and gently removed the bullet, then tossed it into the air. A black raindrop caught it, carrying it far away.

  “All better now,” she said as she kissed his cheek and disappeared into the sky.

  * * *

  Xenia stood in front of the hospital, exhausted after spending another night in Saint’s hospital room. Her bloodshot eyes stung from crying. She had been trying to reach Saint’s father to no avail. “Shit!” she screamed.

  Raphael raced outside and screamed, “Xenia! He’s awake!” Xenia dropped her phone. Latrice raced after him, out of breath, gathering Xenia’s belongings as she watched both of them race back to Saint’s floor. Xenia ran into the sterile hospital room and looked as Saint was fast asleep.

  “He’s not awake, Raphael,” Xenia said, disappointed. “He’s still in a coma.” Xenia turned away, rubbing her temples.

  “He was! He was up!” Raphael exclaimed

  One of the nurses came into the room and rubbed Xenia’s arms. “Are you Xenia?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Xenia answered.

  “Mrs. Aknaten, your husband has been asking for you. He did wake up but was so upset we had to sedate him. He should be up again in about an hour. We need him to get some rest.”

  Xenia nodded as a multitude of grateful tears raced down her face. “I missed him! I haven’t left his side except to go pee, and the one time I do, he wakes up. Another hour feels like an eternity,” Xenia said to Raphael.

  “It’s OK. We’ll be able to talk to him shortly.” He patted her back.

  “I still can’t reach his father,” Xenia said to Raphael. “He’s not answering his phone. Saint only had one number for him in his c
ell phone.”

  “I’ll find him,” Raphael reassured. “I’ve been to his house twice, and he wasn’t there, but I’m going back over today. His father travels to Egypt to visit family. That’s where he probably is, but I’ll find out for sure.”

  “Raphael, thanks for being here with me, with Saint. I know you’ve been missing a lot of work, and I appreciate it. You and Latrice have been great,” Xenia said as she wiped more tears away.

  “I’m a manager at a jewelry store,” Raphael pointed out. “I can set my own hours – and even if I couldn’t, I’d be here. Saint’s my best friend. I couldn’t…imagine my life without him.”

  Xenia wiped her runny nose, walked across the hospital room to Saint, and looked closely at his face. She repeated what she had been saying to him each and every night as she grabbed his hand. “Saint, I love you. Come back to me, Baby. Please.” The tears streamed down her face, leaving translucent streaks and falling onto her shirt. She slept with his coat wrapped around her at night, refusing to clean the blood. The low sound of the television would lull her to sleep. In her dreams he was alive and well with his arms wrapped around her. She could hear him laughing, feel his kissing her, and smell his freshly washed skin right after they’d made love in the shower. She would always wake up frantically realizing he was still in a coma.