Saint And Sinners (106 page)

W
ale 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.

They all gleamed in colors of silky ebony, crisp white with gold embellishments. The
music continued to pump while the five-minute intermission came to a close. Then,
the host stood to his feet, the only man on the stage, and approached the podium.
He grabbed the microphone, cleared his throat and moved around a 3x5 card with a few
handwritten notes scribed upon it.

“And now, I’d like to introduce the final speaker of tonight’s Annual Goddess Convention.
The nationally acclaimed radio talk show host of New York’s Xenia Aknaten Show and
former co-host for ‘The Morning Tea.’ She is a hard working black Queen, a mother
of three blessings and the wife of our own notorious and beloved, Dr. Saint Aknaten.
I would like for you all to give a hearty welcome to the beautiful, talented, elegant,
Xenia Aknaten!”

It seemed as if everyone jumped to their feet like Jacks in the box. Xenia felt her
eyes grow wide and she was certain her smile matched as she approached the stage,
careful to not trip over her long, white one sleeve gown that hugged her just right—classy,
soft and elegant. A gold roped belt hung loosely around her waist, and long dangling
gold earrings had been paired with the ensemble, truly making her feel like a full-fledged,
majestic Queen. Her hair stood high and wavy from a masterful braidout and on the
side, a golden floral pin with diamonds along the petals. A gift from Saint, which
he presented to her before they left the house. She ran her French manicured fingers
up and down the sides of the podium, waiting for the crowd to simmer down and return
to their seated positions.

“I want to first thank Nick Johnson for that wonderful introduction.” She looked over
her shoulder at the man who was now sitting in her seat. He offered a benevolent nod.
“You are too kind.”

Swallowing hard, she turned her attention back to the crowd.

“Good evening, Goddesses, Queens and Empresses.” The room lit up with applause. “This
entire venue is sold out. Ladies, we’ve outdone ourselves tonight!” More applause
broke out. “Look at you all,” she said, moving her hand towards the sea of people,
smiling as she surveyed the ladies dressed to the nines. “You’re wearing beautiful
gowns, your hair is done to perfection but most importantly, your minds are
open
to receive the gifts that the other two speakers bestowed to you. Tonight, you heard
about the psychology of the black woman in this country as it pertains to our self-image.
That was an excellent place to begin. … You then heard about healthy living choices,
such as the foods we consume, exercise regimens we should consider for de-stressing,
and overall health, as well as ridding ourselves of toxic people in our lives. All
of this amounted to one thing, and one thing only—how to take care of yourself so
that you become a
better
version of
you
.” She pointed out into the audience.

“As many of you know, my husband, Saint Aknaten, is here tonight amongst us.”

The crowd bristled up once again, mostly women jumping to their feet and clapping,
causing many to burst out laughing at someone’s screams of hysteria.

Xenia shot Saint a glance, her lips twisted in disbelief, which only forced him to
burst out laughing with full gusto—holding on to his side, teeth all showing—acting
as if his ass wasn’t eating it all up. She grinned a bit wider, shook her head, and
continued.

“Obviously, he needs no introduction. However,” she said, stepping away from the podium,
now relying on the microphone pinned to the top of her gown. “I do…

“I spoke at one of Saint’s conferences previously. It was impromptu, unplanned. Tonight
is an important evening. I’ve been deliberating on what to say to all of you lovely
ladies for months.” She paced slowly, her high heels clicking against the polished,
wooden stage.

“And then, I realized that my
own
story, and the lessons I’ve personally learned, were just what the doctor ordered.”
She winked at her husband, who, on cue, winked right back and blew her a kiss.

“Saint, from my understanding, brings me up at every single Rainbeau conference he
speaks at. So, many of you who are married, or your husband, that have attended the
Rainbeau Conferences, already understand how devoted he is to our needs as black women
and what he thinks of marriage and family. When I met this man however, I did not
know that. Matter of fact,”—she paused and shrugged—“I didn’t know who he truly was
at all. You see, I was working in Los Angeles, which is where I’m from. I was the
host of a popular nationally syndicated show that many of you probably listened to
and we’d have guests come in several times a week. Some were recording artists, some
were actors and comedians. I was afforded the opportunity to travel all over the country
and sometimes outside of it, such as Canada, The Bahamas, or Jamaica, for work related
ventures. I was able to rub elbows with some of your favorite singers and music producers.

“I had a good life, or at least that is what I believed at the time…and then I met
a
different
guest, Saint Aknaten.” The crowd grew to a hush. “Yes, he was a guest of mine. A
doctor that specialized in the ‘grown and sexy’ topic,” she said, putting her fingers
up in a sign indicating quotation marks. “That of sex education. The thing was, he
paired it with other topics, things that would incite, infuriate and anger many people
not just across the country, but across the world. Saint had a fresh perspective and
insight into interracial relationships. The problem with me, however, is that I was
not open minded enough to receive the information he was trying to share on my show.”
She touched her chest earnestly.

“Matter of fact, I was
completely
revolted by the notion that he could have anything worthy to deliver. I’d read a
couple of his books in preparation for my interview… I do that, you know? I’m one
of those people that never has a guest on my show unless I’ve heard their music, seen
at least a couple of their movies or read a book a two. I don’t feel that is proper
preparation if I do anything less. So, I thought I was prepared for him and I already
had my eyes set on him and my mind made up, before he arrived at my studio. I was
planning to attack all of his key points, but what I
didn’t
expect was how very
angry
I became during that interview.” She gritted her teeth, paused and continued.

“Ladies, I was looking into this man’s beautiful eyes, and when I say beautiful, I
mean that sincerely. You have to be up close to him to see all the unbelievable nuances
of his appearance, but his eyes are like the color of the sun as it goes down for
the evening, in Sahara Africa… They sparkle with gold, amber, a touch of green…changing
colors.” She winked at him once more, causing him to smile and drop his head in shyness.
“So, I had to look at this beautiful man that I despised before he could even properly
introduce himself. I looked into these eyes, these hypnotizing eyes with the longest,
most lush dark eyelashes I’d ever seen on a guy, and I hated that I found him fine
as fuck!”

The crowd burst out in laughter and clapping. Xenia laughed in response, enjoying
to the fullest this trip down memory lane. “You see, he was going to have to pay for
that. Because not
only
did I want no part of interracial dating; not only did I believe he only saw black
women as sexual objects; not only did I on some level find him to be vile, overly
cocky and annoying… I was attracted to him, and it was strong, ladies. It wasn’t
just
his physical being; it was the way the bastard walked!” More applause came through,
as well as laughter and whistles. “Ladies.” She smiled and lowered her head, shaking
it. “Saint walks like he has something important to say, every. damn. day.” Snickering
meandered through the crowd. “He has a big presence, and even if he were only 5’7
instead of 6’3, or 6’4, depending on who you ask, he would be
just
as big, because that is just how his aura is. It was also the way he smelled, ladies.
Don’t we just
love
a man that smells great?!” Many women in the audience smiled and nodded in agreement.

She grinned, surely blushing a bit as she reminisced. “He smelled…like a man. As simplistic
as that sounds, I mean that in a good way, a great way. His cologne wears him, he
doesn’t wear his cologne.”

“Whew chile!” someone screamed out, causing more laughter.

“And…his voice.”

Several women popped up from their seats and applauded.

“Ladies, I know you’ve all heard him on radio interviews and many of you have heard
him speak in person last year for the first annual Goddess Convention. He could be
singing, ‘Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer’ or all the lyrics from the theme song
to ‘Scooby Doo’, and it wouldn’t matter!” Xenia burst out laughing, causing others
to do the same. “He would
still
sound cool and sexy. Now…” She cupped her chin and looked out at the audience. “I’m
no fool. I could tell he was flirting with me. He wasted no time in doing so. That
made it even worse for me, you see…because he was confirming the attraction was mutual.
That made me even
angrier
at him. He just couldn’t win…

“I had decided that this man was nothing more than a person who hated himself, his
culture, possibly his mother, and was obsessed with the sexual prowess and possibilities
he felt were exclusive to women of African descent. I had never in my life dated interracially
before, unless you include the half Mexican and half white boy from fifth grade who
I had a crush on. His mother made these delicious strawberry cookies, and I wanted
to be his friend so I could have some all the time.”

Xenia waited for the chuckles to subside before moving on.

“But as an adult, I did not entertain the notion of interracial dating and marriage.
And the crazy thing was, it wasn’t that I was against it, but I felt it would contradict
my stance regarding the black community. I’d feel like a traitor, you see? How could
I love my people and myself, then lie with the enemy?” She paused, allowing the crowd
to marinate on her words. “There were times when I’d do a double take at a cute white
guy; there were other times I’d see some Asian or Latino man smile or wink at me before
I’d even met my husband, and sometimes, I’d think, ‘Yeah, he looks nice…’” She let
her voice trail away as she disappeared in the recollections. “But that would be it.
I simply wouldn’t entertain anything more.

“Despite the fact I was ready to settle down, despite the fact I wanted children and
I wasn’t getting any younger, I
still
didn’t consider expanding my options. Black men make up 6.5% of the US population;
Black women, a bit more. If I wanted to just date black men exclusively, that number
dropped even further because gay black men were not checking for me. Some black men
are not interested in dating black women. I had my share of that, too. So, that made
the amount to choose from even smaller. I was not checking for black men that had
been repeatedly incarcerated, either. I saw what happens, they are in my family. It
messes up their chances of having a decent job, and there is resentment and anger.
Many in my hood growing up had been locked up, sometimes due to no fault of their
own, I want to make that perfectly clear because the justice system aint just, but
I had to sit back and witness the effects of this—whether they were wrongly jailed
or not … and that brings me to the crux of my discussion with you ladies tonight.
We are in the middle of gang warfare…”

Saint glared at her, his eyes narrowed, a brow raised as he folded his hands thoughtfully
over his lap.

“You see, before I can talk about what I have right now, today, and how I got over
the hump, I have to tell you where I came from, and my mentality. I grew up in the
hood. Every day, I heard gunshots. I could look out my window and see palm trees,
children riding on their bikes and the wooden sticks leftover from a delicious red
popsicle in my front yard—and the music to that visual soundtrack was loud! Arguing,
domestic violence, fighting in the streets, and twenty-four hour gang activity—it
was all there and more. My mother, my father, my aunts, my uncles, and most of my
cousins are a part of one of the most notorious, prolific gangs in the US and now,
internationally: the Bloods.” A hush came over the audience.