by Tiana Laveen
Angel: What’s wrong?
Hassani: Nothing. I’m fine now… Everything is going great!
Angel: But what happened? I was on second base & had 2 pull the brakes because of u.
Hassani: I don’t want 2 talk about it right now, but I’ll tell u later. It’s taken care of though.
Angel: No, u don’t cock block & get off so easy. TELL ME.
Hassani: Later. I promise.
Angel: It was 1 of 3 things – Ur a bad kisser despite what I taught u but she is fine with it anyway, she broke up with u but now you’ve found someone cuter, or u got a woody while dancing w/ her.
Hassani: I gotta go
Angel: It was door number 3. U would have admitted the other 2. I’m going to fuck with you later about this, LOL! Bye, Boner Boy!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Erika had disappeared somewhere into the back of the restaurant and Cruz had left to go to an appointment. It was nice to sit in the lavish, hip eatery, and watch it grow, run by two of Saint’s favorite people working in unison to make dreams come true.
Erika looked as if she were about to burst, but Saint didn’t dare say such a thing. Besides, she had several more months to go. Regardless, he found her state of pregnancy to be beautiful and Cruz’s excitement about the pending arrival of his son heartwarming. Every day they discussed the preparations while at the office. He, Xenia, Jagger, Traci, Lawrence and Donna gave plenty of unsolicited advice about the dos and don’ts of caring for a newborn baby. Oddly enough, Cruz’s situation often gave him pause. Such a curiosity he was.
No one knew what Cruz’s child would be like. Would the man’s son be born a regular civilian like his mother? Would he be like his father, or a perfect blend of both parents? Only time would tell. Cruz was like them, but different. He could see things they couldn’t see—the darker side of life, death, blood spent, blood given. He could feel and hear things that they’d missed, for the nasty underworld was still playing within him like some radio he could not completely silence. Without him, Saint knew without a doubt he would have had a much harder time defeating the demons they’d confronted. His expertise was crucial, so much so that whatever the man relayed to him, Lawrence was sure to get the word out to the other King Angel Children in the world and they all benefitted in unexpected ways.
Cruz was not only the missing piece to making this shit go smoother in New York; he had universal keys to unlocking the desperately needed protection the entire globe required.
His father had taught him well, and some things, well, he simply knew instinctually.
“It’s him! I know it’s him!” Saint was suddenly snatched out of his deliberations as three women approached him, each carrying doggie bags and wearing upscale business attire.
“Excuse me.” One woman in a sleek black skirt suit and white blouse shifted in front of the other two. She tucked her shoulder length, wavy auburn and black ombre hair behind one ear. “I’m sorry to bother you, but can you settle a bet, please?”
Pressed for time, Saint casually glanced at his cellphone to check his schedule, then nodded at the woman. “I’ll try.”
“Okay. My coworkers and I came here for lunch and as we were leaving, I looked over and said, ‘That’s Dr. Saint Aknaten.’ You are Dr. Saint Aknaten, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.” He smiled as he got to his feet, slid his phone in his jacket, and grabbed his briefcase.
“I knew it!” The ringleader turned towards the other two, victory in her tone. She snapped her neck back in his direction. “You have no idea what a pleasure it is to meet you! I’m so nervous, oh my God!” She thrust out her hand and he promptly shook it, laughing within at the stunned faces on the two women that stood behind her. Their expressions were blank, but their eyes wide with shock. “You look even better in person! Wow! I need to ask you something, actually. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I’m sorry to have to cut this short, but I have an important meeting and—”
“Okay, um, I won’t keep you long, I promise.” The woman blocked his path. Saint looked down at her with a smirk, which she responded to with one of her own. “I promise,” she repeated.
“What’s your name?”
“Helen.”
“Okay, Helen, what can I help you with?”
If you weren’t married, your dick! That’s what the hell you can help me with! Damn, your tall ass is fine! And your voice, shit! Sexy as hell!
He cleared his throat as he accidentally tapped into her private thoughts.
“Okay, every time I get a man, it seems he is free for the grabbing but then as soon as I am with him … give him some fashion tips, you know…” She popped her collar, drawing light laughter from her friends. “Make him presentable so to speak, all of a sudden he starts smelling himself and the cheating begins. It doesn’t matter if the dude is White, Black, Puerto Rican, Dominican, Chinese—it’s the same ol’ song. And yes, I am skittles; I took your advice years ago and tasted the Rainbeau.” She chuckled. “But they all seem to do it!”
“You’ve read my books?” he asked, his brow arched.
“You’re damn straight. All of ’em.”
He nodded and laughed. “Then that means you’re a big girl and can handle the truth, no matter how bitter that shit tastes, right?”
“I drink lemonade with no sugar.” At this, her girlfriends burst out laughing again.
“Cool, peep this then.” He placed his hand on her shoulder, looked deeply into her eyes, and read her…
Her soul screams loneliness. Her mind is sharp.
She’s a fucking control freak. Cute woman, drinks a bit too much … but that can be handled.
“It’s not about being a Rainbeau dater. It’s about vetting quality mates within that Rainbeau-sphere. If every man you encounter is cheating on you after you’ve invested time and energy into them, then you are attracting that to you.”
She wrinkled her nose in confusion.
“Are you, like, talking about the laws of attraction?”
“Yes, in some regard, but you first told me that you are making him presentable. That means you’re not accepting him at face value and you’re trying to mold him into something he is not. That does two things.” He set his briefcase back down on the table and began to count off his fingers. “It tells that man you don’t find him okay, that you are not happy with him. Secondly, it suggests you think your ideas are better than his, and it was never about him in the first place—it was about you.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “It was about turning him into an accessory … like your purse, your sunglasses, your shoes. You do it because you have control issues, and no woman wants a man no one else wants.”
“That’s true,” one of her girlfriends said.
“So, once you finally get him into the physical shape you want him, wearing the designer clothes, speaking a bit more polished and all of that, right … well, shit.” He chuckled and threw up his hands. “Of course, he is going to attract attention. You built a chef salad and set it down in front of starving people, expecting them to just look but not reach out and try to eat. But you have created a situation in your relationship that you have not even acknowledged.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I don’t like what you’re saying, but I accept it.” She smiled.
“That’s good. That means you’re stubborn, a bit egotistical but teachable.”
“All right now,” she teased, giving a stern look. “You don’t have to hit below the belt, Dr. Aknaten.”
“Never that. I’m egotistical and stubborn, too. It’s not always a bad thing—but when it comes to love, it can be. I speak this way because you can handle it. You’re the lemon crusher, remember? And it’s what you need.”
“You’re right. I just didn’t expect so many seeds. Go on.” Her eyes danced with mirth.
“Now see, he hasn’t changed, only the packaging, but
since you built him, you think you still have control over him.” Saint shook his head. “Nothing could be further from the truth. You’ve created a monster. In fact, you’ve handed over the keys now to the public, made him public domain. But you’re bossy and territorial, like a man. You can’t control an alpha, sweetheart. You want him to look like an alpha, smell like one, talk like one, but how can he when a woman has sat back and dictated who he should be? There’s nothing wrong with giving advice and trying to help your mate, but when you try to totally reconstruct him, then that shows you never really wanted him.
“Or at least, that’s the message you’re conveying. His disrespectful behavior—the cheating and lying—is being done out of resentment, but he’s happy for the tips all the same, because now he can go out and find a woman he feels is more suited to his desires. You taught a beta how to pretend to be an alpha, and now he’s out there terrorizing the land, a sheep in wolf’s clothing.” Trey Songz’ “Slow Motion” started to play low in the background as he spoke.
“Well, shit.” Everyone burst out laughing. “How can I fix it? Let’s leave the past in the past. I want to start fresh.”
“Do you want to fix someone you converted or try to attract someone new without these consequences?”
“Number two.”
“Cool, that’s easier. What you want to do is let a man be a man. It’s that simple.” He picked up his suitcase and winked at her. “Be you, let him be him. Stop trying to play both roles, or worse yet, switch roles. You can’t say you want an alpha then think you are going to beta his ass behind closed doors. We’ll buck up, we’ll cheat, we’ll walk away, we’ll lie if you do that. Not saying that his personal choice to step out on the relationship is one hundred percent your fault, he was dead wrong but you do play a small part in it. Acceptance is the first step to recovery.
“Fact is, you’re an alpha woman, Helen, but you think you’ll become less of that if you back off, submit to someone deserving. No.” He shook his head. “That makes you more bad ass, Helen, because it proves you know how to alter a situation for the betterment of the both of you. Femininity is not weakness, beloved … it’s strength. Be a boss in the office, check your mate when he is screwing up and doing wrong, but other than that…” Saint shrugged and began to walk towards the door. “You have to let him be who he is. Watch.” He pointed at her before walking out the door. “You do what I advise, and everything will change for you, and for the better…”
It was one o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday and nothing was open in Saratoga, New York but chest wounds and housewives’ legs. Saint had had to travel to upstate New York to meet with a new attorney, one he was considering having on retainer as back up for the company. He had a feeling one could never be too safe in that department, especially with recent news articles pouring out of lawsuit happy plaintiffs suing for the smallest of inconveniences. Still, things had been quiet.
Too quiet.
He glanced at his gas gauge.
“I should’ve stayed on 87. I could’ve gotten off on exit 15 and been done with this,” he mumbled. He’d decided to take the more scenic route, compelled to deviate from his norm.
As he drove the three-hour journey back home, he attempted to keep himself amused with tunes from his playlists. Guordan Banks’ “Keep You in Mind” blasted through the speakers. He took a glance at the gas level inside of his Lexus once again, grimaced, and decided to pull off on the next exit offering gasoline and perhaps some fresh coffee. The last thing he wished was to fall asleep at the wheel, end up in a ditch, and have no fuel to escape some strange half man, half woodland creatures that wished to do him harm. With his imagination running amuck and his car running on fumes, he traveled on in hopes to soon eradicate the problem.
Minutes later, he pulled off State Route 9 and headed towards the Sunoco. Saint yawned loudly and pulled up to one of the pumps. The place was fairly vacant. Only two cars in the parking lot, and one big rig that was parked off to the side. The small store was brightly lit. As soon as he put his vehicle in park and shut off the engine, he sat there, unable to move when a tingly sensation crept up and down his spine. He sniffed the air, then carefully opened the door and stepped out. Looking in all directions, he took in his environment. Nostrils flared, he breathed in, exhaled, then repeated.
I just want to go home. Please, I just want to fucking go home.
Shoving his hand in his pocket, he marched towards the gas station, hoping and praying it was just the exhaustion talking, and his nose and mind were playing tricks on him. He headed straight towards the coffee counter, poured the tallest cup he could find, and made his way to the cashier. The warmth of the cup felt good and comforting against his palm, giving him much needed relief. He brought it up to his lips and took a small taste. The soothing, warm liquid slid down his throat, promising to ride shotgun within him for the long haul. The short young man before him wore a company ball cap, a face full of freckles, and a pleasant smile framed with thin, pale lips.
“Hi, that’ll be $4.99. It’s refillable, too. So, if you ever come back, you can use it again, the first time for free if you have our A Plus Rewards card, and then 59 cents after that. With the card, you get all kinds of deals on food, drinks, and some auto repairs, too. Do you want to sign up?” The man snatched a half-eaten Slim Jim from the counter and placed it beside a donut he’d been working on.
“Uh, not right now.” Saint could feel his sunglasses still on the top of his head. He removed them and shoved them in his pocket.
“Okay, well, you can always do it later by stopping in or checking us out online. Just keep your receipt.”
“Cool,” Saint stated, not really giving a shit, but not quite compelled to ignore the sales pitch either, and let his grumpiness cloud his common decency. “I think instead of my card, I might have cash for that.” Saint dug in his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash he’d planned to shove in Isis’ piggy bank. Peeling a ten dollar bill off, he handed it to the man and waited for the change. “I’m going to use my credit card for the pump.” He pointed out towards his car.
“Sure, no problem.” The man placed his change in his palm, then grabbed his donut and took another bite. Saint looked at him for a spell, and a real good feeling came over him.
That’s a good guy right there. He’s broke, working his way through school, has three part-time jobs, and barely gets a wink of sleep. He’s got a bright future and doesn’t even know it.
Saint bid him good night, then headed back out the door. He took several more sips of his coffee, then paused to sniff the air. He grimaced.
Son of a bitch…
Taking faster steps to his car, he quickly made haste to fill his tank and get back on the road. Quickly, he selected the grade of gas he desired, then grabbed the holder, jammed it into the tank, and waited. Saint leaned against his car, taking slow, even breaths. Goosebumps sprang all over. He looked down at his wrist, noting the little bumps and raised dark hairs. A thick swirl of black smoke eddied out the corner of his mouth, and he watched it float towards the sky until it was out of sight. The gas pump clunked, startling him out of his deliberations. His tank was full. Placing the heavy red holster back onto the pumping station, he sat in his vehicle, one foot in, one foot out. Again, he sniffed the air.
“Fuck.” Placing his coffee inside the cup holder, he opened his glove compartment and reached for his gun, sliding the damn thing inside of his coat. Then, he stood outside his car and scanned his surroundings, until his gaze landed on a secluded portion of the property.
There. It’s right there.
A large green dumpster with a warning sticker jammed on the front of it sat near the store, mostly shrouded in darkness and half dead weeds, as if existing in a world of its own.
Awesome. The only damn area that’s not properly lit is the very place I need to go.
Snatching his phone from his jacket pocket, he called Cruz.
“Yeah?” the man said groggily.
“Who
is that?” he heard Erika question, her voice just as woozy as Cruz’s.
“It’s Saint… What’s going on, man?”
“I’ve got a situation. I smell a demon, and it’s strong.” Saint glared at the dumpster area, not taking his eyes off it. “Not a Demon Child, but true-blue demon, Cruz. He’s at a gas station here in Saratoga and he has inhabited a host. I can’t see him, but I sense all of this. He’s fucking something, or someone … who knows.” Saint shrugged his shoulders. “So, my point is, he’s a bit preoccupied and doesn’t seem to realize that I’m even here.”
“He’s possessed a human body and is having sex,” Cruz repeated in a low voice, as if trying to work it all out in his mind. “And you’re certain it’s not just a Demon Child, Saint?”
“Cruz, I just said that, and yes, I’m positive. I’ve dealt with demons for years, you know this … long enough to know the difference. This isn’t human. Demon Children are just like us … two altogether different odors.”
“Yes, that’s true. I just wanted to double check is all. Why are you all the way in Saratoga?”
“Rainbeau Knight legal business.”
“By the time I get there to meet you, he’d be long gone, so you’ll have to go this one alone. I wish I knew which one it is specifically as that would help, but I won’t know which sin it is unless you’re able to get closer to him.”
“Hold on. You can help me another way.” Saint’s eyes narrowed on the dumpster, and he took in the sounds that were so faint, most would never hear them. He heard heavy breathing, sighing, moaning … could feel pain and pleasure. He immediately let down his blockades so Cruz could read his mind, and join him telepathically on his hunt.
“Okay, I can feel you now. I guess that’s your answer then, huh? You’re going in, with or without me. This is dangerous, Saint. You should have someone else with you for this one. I have a bad feeling about it.”