Saint And Sinners (52 page)

“Well that
fine little honey
is my wife!” Saint stabbed his own chest with his pointer finger. “Get your damn
hands off her.”

“Saint,” Xenia said calmly, though her face twisted with anxiety. “It’s okay, baby,”
she cooed, throwing on one of her award-winning television smiles. He wasn’t fooled—they
were not in front of a studio audience, and this was no show. “He was just moving
in close to get into the shot,” she further explained, trying to calm him down.

He knew she was lying, but what could she do? She didn’t want him to show his ass,
bring the good times to a crashing halt due to a jealous rage. Once again, Xenia figured
she could just handle this situation herself, and hell, maybe she could have, but
this was fucking disrespectful. It would be a cold day in Angel Child hell before
he allowed a man,
any
man, to push up on his woman in his damn face at that, and not call the son of a
bitch on it. Then, he looked into her eyes. Xenia was pleading with him…begging…

Okay…you really do need to pull yourself together.

He was prepared to let bygones be bygones, so he simmered down, self soothed and took
a step back…but then, the motherfucker had to go and push the envelope and take everything
to the point of no return.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” the man sneered. “Besides…it’s a free country, right?
She can’t take photos?” He huffed.

“Don’t try to be slick, you know what the fuck you were doing,” Saint said calmly.
Someone grabbed his arm but he shook them off.

“Marriage ain’t nothing but a piece of paper. You don’t own
this
. She still has the right to choose and maybe I’ll get lucky tonight.” The man abruptly
turned away and grabbed onto to Xenia again, this time, a bit tighter.

“Okay, you need to let go of me,” she stated loudly so that all could hear.

The gig was up. She now looked rather perturbed which turned on the fires inside Saint
once again. She couldn’t even play along anymore, try to make this shit go away. No.
It was as good as done.

“Come on, baby!” The man laughed and ran his palm over her tit, cupping it just so.

“Oh fuck…it’s uh wrap!” Saint heard Raphael yell from a short distance. “Man,
whoever
you are, you gotta leave! Leave now!” Raphael blurted, his voice trembling with concern.
He stepped beside Saint.

Saint jammed his face back into the guy’s.

“I hope that feel you copped was worth it to you!” he hissed between clenched teeth.

“What tha fuck
you
gone do, man?” the man laughed and rolled his eyes. “John Travolta wannabe ass!”

Suddenly, those words hit him in a new way…as if Sinclair was standing there, taunting
him, telling him all over again how he resembled John Travolta from the movie. He’d
forgotten all about that comment until that moment. A new breed of hatred formed in
the pit of his gut for the man, and all that had come before him…trying to fuck up
his life, hurt his woman…

The man chuckled. “Besides, your Oriental fortune cookin’ lookin’ ass ain’t got what
it takes. You ain’t got the
stick
to be able to handle all … this… ass on this pretty little woman right here, son.
She got the type of body that needs to be rocked steady!”

“What tha
fuck
did you just say?!”

“Saint…it’s not worth it, baby!” Xenia pulled his arm, but he shook loose.

“Okay man, get out!” Raphael blurted as he pointed towards the door.

“I
said
you can’t handle that big ol’ ass on your wife, man! Your dick probably the size
of a grain of rice! She obviously got wit’ you because of your money!” He could smell
the liquor rolling off the man’s tongue, loosening it, to feed an ego he wanted stroked,
but Saint didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t in the mood to pet a
damn
thing. The bastard was drunk… Didn’t matter, he’d make him suddenly sober in 3…2…1

BAM! Balling his fists just so, Saint launched the son of a bitch several feet across
the damn dance floor.

“Saint!” Xenia screamed out as the crowd roared and hollered.

The man hit the floor like a stack of children’s’ alphabet blocks. Blood flew through
the air as he fell backwards onto the shiny ground, aglow with dancing lights chiming
to the beat of, Sister Sledge, “He’s the Greatest Dancer.”

Saint went back for seconds. He was nowhere near finished. As he took his first steps
forward, he felt the familiar tiny hands pulling on him, and then others joined in,
trying to restrain him.

The D.J. screamed over the microphone—“Okay now! Cool down, brotha. We have a little
disruption it appears. Let’s make love, not war, people!”

“That was the ‘60’s, not ‘70’s!” someone screamed out. “Get yo’ decades right, man!
The ’70s was ‘Fight tha Power’, mothafucka, and he fightin’ it alright!”

“He had it coming!” someone else yelled, giggling behind their words.

Feeling overwhelmed, like a wild bull caught in a snare, Saint turned towards Xenia
then immediately snatched Raphael’s dark shades from his attire. His eyes were glowing
red; he could feel the heat coming and soon, he wouldn’t be able to hide it. It was
a damn iconic costume party, but nowhere in that damn movie had Tony Manero sported
piercing garnet eyes! Saint had lost complete and utter control. Seconds later, he
swooped Xenia up in his arms, clutched the frantic woman tight to his chest and hauled
her away, like King Kong in the damn jungle dashing off with the pretty little white
woman. She hollered in his ear and demanded answers, but “Rock Your Baby’ by George
McCrae drowned her out as he pushed her inside of the men’s bathroom, locked the main
door, and forced her into the handicap stall at the far end of the joint.

“What are you doing?!” she screamed when he locked the damn thing too and slid her
up the shiny navy blue wall, tugging on her pants like a kid does a wrapper on a sucker.

“You’re mine!”

“Saint, have you gone crazy?! You couldn’t possibly be drunk so quickly. We just got
here! Get off me!”

He paused, his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring, and his cock thickening to the
point that it was almost painful.

“You
really
want me to stop?” he said between gritted teeth.

He was met with silence.

He shoved her pants down her legs and her panties followed suit. Leaning hard against
her, his shoulder blade pressing into hers, he frantically undid his stiff pants button
and zipper.

“Ahhhh!” she screamed out, foraging her fingers in his hair when he thrust his cock
deeply inside of her, rocking her against the wall. “Shit! Saint! What tha fuck?!”
Her eyes rolled; she held on tightly to his back while he continued to drive within
her, over and over, forcing her body to slide and rock hard against the wall. He gripped
the back of her neck, the intensity in his eyes continued to burn. The glasses shielded
the show, protecting her from the anger that continuously formed and grew within him.

“Uhhh!” He raged on. He had to put his fury somewhere; things were becoming too strong,
too much.

First, he was losing his son, the close bond they’d had; second, he wanted Xenia to
always be protected, but he feared he couldn’t shield her from every single thing.
Besides, she was a grown woman. She didn’t need him running in to save the damn day
all the time, but he still wanted to safeguard her, all the same… He couldn’t help
it. He’d tried, in vain.

“I love you so damn much!” he screamed as his pelvis bumped harshly into hers. “Never
forget that!”

She gripped the back of his hair and sank her teeth into the side of his neck as she
came, almost breaking the skin. Emboldened by her moans, he pounded with all of his
might, fucked her hard and furious, his grunts loud and ferocious. She began to shake
against him when a second orgasm gripped her and before he could grasp the notion,
he released inside of her, lunging upward, shooting his semen within her wet, warm
confines for the second time that evening.

“Ahhhh…” He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. With a gentle hand, he
stroked the side of her face, his heart beating fast and frenzied in his chest. After
a few moments’ rest, they cleaned up and exited the bathroom in silence, only to emerge
to the scene of people dancing around, merry as ever. He’d walked away from a nightmare
and into an alluring dream. He didn’t give a shit where Mr. ‘Free World’ was or how
he was doing, as long as he got nowhere near him or his woman. People were line dancing
to “Rock with You”, by Michael Jackson. Xenia began to sway to the beat, a sexy smile
on her face.

“Come on, baby. I love this song.” She grinned. He was relieved she was talking to
him again after what he’d done on the dance floor, losing his cool like that. Yet,
fucking the shit out of her against that bathroom wall made up for all that, so there
was a happy ending after all. He smirked as he took note that her gait was a bit slower
than usual.

She took Saint’s hand and led him to the dance floor. There, they spotted Traci waving
them over while Jagger moved stiff as a piece of cardboard, trying to keep up with
the crowd. He’d never seen such horrific dancing—reminiscent of Frankenstein trying
to stomp roaches, a knee-less monster crashing the party. Saint pointed to him like
a child making fun of the class clown, then bent at the waist, laughing so hard it
almost hurt.

“Xenia!” Traci called out, all smiles as she moved effortlessly to the beat.

At least one of ’em has rhythm…damn.

“Please help your man, Traci,” Saint whispered while trying to get himself together.
Through his silly episode, he’d lost track of his Queen. He looked to the right and
left—no Xenia. Soon though, he caught sight of her maneuvering across the room, jumping
into the song as if she’d been born to do so. She’d left him in the dust…

Saint made his way towards her and stood between her and Traci, dancing with the crowd
and dare he say it, he was now having a wonderful time. Jagger had accepted his fate
and disappeared off to the bar. Saint clapped his hands to the beat, loving all the
smiling faces congregated together, moving to the same rhythm as if they’d rehearsed
all morning and afternoon. Then, in a flash, the song switched to ‘Night Fever’ by
the Bee Gees.

Oh no…

Before he could see him, he heard Raphael burst out laughing, getting the crowd going.
They clapped and moved away from Saint as if he had a contagious virus, offering him
the dance floor to do his damn thing. The D.J. chimed in, “We have our very own doppelganger…the
man out there…”—a spotlight suddenly came over Saint’s form—“…is going to dance for
us…at least his wife and friend say so!”

Xenia had escaped…once a mothafuckin’ ’gin!

What a sneaky ass woman. Dakarai got it honest…

She was standing close to the D.J., waving and nodding at him like some groupie. Then,
she signed off with a wink and a blown kiss. So what was wrong with giving them all
an eyeful? Deciding to go along with the game, he raised his hand in the air and caught
it before he began to sway to the beat, causing the crowd to go into a clapping frenzy.
He recalled the movie like he’d just seen it yesterday, and began to move like Travolta
had…doing the hustle as the lights of the dance floor glowed bright and changed colors
over and over, drowning him in disco passion. Zoning out proved easy. He felt like
he was the only one there, and in a way, he was. The clapping grew louder and louder
as he moved about, driven by the memories of his childhood when he’d wished to heaven
and hell he’d wake up one sunny, South Bronx morning and be able to move just like
the Italian guy in the movie. He later found out John Travolta was half Irish too,
but that didn’t matter…that bastard could dance and dress his fucking ass off, and
Saint wanted to be just like him.

The song finally came to an end, and the crowd burst out with a final applause.

“Now that’s what I call dancin’!” The D.J. laughed. “Who said white men can’t dance?!”

“…He ain’t white!” someone screamed. “Don’t you listen to the T.V. or read People
or Vibe magazine or anything, man? He half chopsticks and half King Tut!”

This caused a burst of laughter from many, even Saint.

“Hey!” Saint called out. “D.J., since you are on this Bee Gees kick, can you play
‘How Deep is Your Love’, too? I want to dance with my Queen. Come ’ere, Foxy Brown!”
Saint curled his finger in her direction, ushering the pretty little flower over.
Without hesitation, she made her way towards him and entered his world, falling deep
within his snug embrace.

Damn…she smells and feels so good…

“Xenia,” he whispered in her ear as they got into a good groove and people began to
pile back onto the dance floor to slow dance with their lovers.

“Yes, baby?” she whispered, holding him a bit tighter, the soft, synthetic curls of
her fro brushing against his face.

“I want to tell you, that…I need to thank you for being my everything.” He felt chocked
up. He wasn’t sure if it was the beer, the adrenaline from the fight he’d had earlier
with the mothafucka who tried him, or the way he fucked her with all of his might
against the bathroom wall—but he needed her so close to him at that moment, and needed
to pour out his feelings, explain to the woman that she was the reason he breathed.
His saving grace, his motive for living, loving, caring and sharing.

“You…are my oxygen. My heart, my limbs, my soul… I’m nothin’ without you, baby. I’m
sorry about getting so crazy earlier. I probably should have just grabbed you and
walked away, but…I can’t do that. I wish I could, but that’s just not who I am. I
know it’s a character flaw, I know… I’m going through some things, but I can get through
anything
as long as you are by my side, Xenia.”

She kissed him sweetly, her soft lips caressing the side of his face. They looked
into each other’s eyes for a long while, then hugged real tight again with him nestled
close to her, resting his chin gently on her head.