Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (10 page)

She cleared her throat and dialed his number, looking at her mother intermittently as th
e older woman shook like a leaf. Suddenly Pam began doing the cabbage patch, her arms moving as if she were churning butter, causing Xenia to burst out laughing.

“I knew that would make you laugh! Cheer up!”
Pam called out. She took another drag of her nicotine treat and turned away, twisting her lips to the side as puffs of smoke twirled up toward the night sky.

“Sup!” Saint answered, seemingly out of breath.

“Nothing, just calling to let you know I’m dropping my mom off at her friend’s house and the children are with me. Are you still at the restaurant? What are you doing? ” Xenia asked. “You sound like you just finished running a marathon.”

“Uh, just at the gym with Lawrence, Raphael and Jagger...
we’re just hangin’ out, you know...warming up.”

Xenia couldn’t put her finger on
what it was specifically, but of all these years knowing her husband, she now could often detect when he was hiding something. It was almost indescribable, but his tone gave it away, ever so subtly.

“Okay,” she huffed. “What are you up to, Saint?” she looked back at her boys
and Isis in the middle, all fast asleep in their car seats.

“
...Nothing, baby! We, uh, are just here at the gym is all.”

“I know you are, and I know the
facts of what you are saying are true, but what are you
doing
at the gym?”

Just then Pam swung the car door open
and plopped down in the seat. “Some man wit’ a pink and yellow polka dot cowboy hat and bright green mittens on just took a piss on that storefront not less than ten feet from me! Lock tha damn doors!” the woman barked as she clumsily fumbled around with the locks, causing all of the windows to go up and down in her apparent fear and frustration.

Xenia sighed and locked the doors, still gripping her
cell phone while she watched her mother flutter about.

“
He was gigglin’ and bouncin’ around, makin’ little bird like noises, chirp mothafuckin’ chirp,” Pam continued, looking Xenia sharply in the eye. “What is a grown ass man doin’ with mittens on and taking a piss out in public?! Is he baking a cake tonight right after he wizzes? Is R Kelly doin’ a new country music video, a duet with this Achy Breaky Heart fool?! Please don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart that I pissed, goddamn it! Pam just don’t understand! This damn place ain’t safe no more. Pauline has got to move outta Watts!”

Xenia
shook her head at her mother in disbelief.

“Uh, baby, sounds like
you’re busy.” She didn’t miss the amusement in Saint’s voice. Apparently he’d overheard the whole thing. “Tell Mama Pam I said, ‘hello’. I gotta go, sweetness. The fellas are waiting,” he said smoothly.

“Mmmm hmmmm
.” Xenia twisted her lips. Pam had saved Saint from the inquisition he was about to receive. Once again, her mother had come to his aid, unbeknown to him. “Alright, well, you be careful...” she said dryly.

“Uh, okay. Love you!
… Stop it, man! I’m not ready, shit!” and he quickly disconnected the phone before she could respond to his bizarre outburst.

Xenia slowly closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat.

“What’s going on, Xenia?” her mother asked calmly as she snapped her purse shut.

“Mama,” she kept her eyes closed and rubbed her forehead
, “I’ve had the day from Hell. You know that television show I’m supposed to start in a few months?”

“Yeah, ‘The Morning Tea’. That’s a boring ass show, you know that? They needed someone like you there
, that is for damn sure. Don’t nobody wanna see the old cast from 90210 and all that otha bullshit! Pamela Anderson’s ol’ used up ass...”

“She was from Baywatch,
Mama.” Xenia said, exasperated, still holding her forehead.

“Baywatch, hoe watch,
watch that show get mothafuckin’ cancelled on
my
watch! I don’t give a jimmy crack corn turtle shit
who
it was! No wonder their ratings dropped and besides, it come on like at six or seven in the damn morning. Who is up at that time and wanna see some D-list celebrity makin’ cheddar biscuits?”

“Well,
Mama, that’s why they—”

“
They had Kim Kardashian’s mama on there makin’ pasta balls! Don’t anybody care about that woman and what the
fuck
are pasta balls?! The only—”

“Mama...”

“Balls that woman care about is the ones her money hungry, nasty ass daughters’ juggle in their mouths ’cause she sho’ know them trifling ass bitches are her ticket out! And I ain’t hatin’.” Pam threw up her hands as if in surrender. “Kim is a pretty girl, I’ll give it to her, but let some black woman make a sex tape wit’ Brandy’s little brotha! Hmph! She wouldn’t get wifed up by a basketball player or some big time rapper with a lock-jaw chin knock her ass up. I guarantee you that, lil sista! What is that boy’s damn name? Brandy’s brother.”

“
Ray J.” Xenia sighed.

“
Yeah, Ray J… Ol’ wanna be sex symbol silly lookin’ ass… He can’t hold a note in a bucket, either. His squid lookin’ sister got all the talent but back to Kim.” Pam’s index finger hung lazily toward Xenia’s face as she made her case. “She screwed him on camera, but if it was one of
us
, we would
never
soar to instant fame; we’d soar to instant lame! These men throwin’ themselves at them heffas but when we do the same shit, we a hoe...and anotha thang—”

“Mama
, I—”

“That one host, Marvin?
They need to fire his pompous ass, too! I can’t stand his little hoity toity British accent, either.” She held out her pinky finger as if she were drinking tea. “Someone need to do somethin’ about that man’s damn hair, Xenia! I put that on everythang!”

“Mama, he is a nice guy...I don’t even know if—”

“He might be nice but the honesty police is obviously off duty! Somebody need to tell ’em. Got tha nerve to be sittin’ there all stuck up and rollin’ them beady ass eyes around in his funny lookin’ face. How could they let him go on the air like that?”

“Mama, please...I need
—”

“
Look like someone took a can of brown spray paint, and just went to town all over that pointy ass scalp of his. Shit is shiny and shellacked, like spit-shined patent leather shoes. And his hairline practically starts on the back of his damn neck, like his head is wearin’ a tiny hula skirt made of wet cat hair! He need to let that shit go, just shave it all off!”

“Mama—
” Xenia rolled her head around on the headrest in exasperation, gripped the steering wheel and tried to remain calm through her mother’s treacherous rant.

“
You know I notice things like that, Xenia. I can’t help it, I’m a hairstylist by trade. His head’s shaped like a damn bowling pin, Strrriiiike! Like the shit got caught in a vice, squeezed the fuck out of it. I bet he was an easy delivery, slipped right on out like he was covered in Vaseline. Ol’ pointy headed mothafucka, head shaped just like the tip of a butter knife. I bet he eat tea and crumpets, ol’ football headed sonofa—”

“Mama! Sinclair was there
on the set. That is what I’m so mad about!” Xenia blurted, unable to take it anymore. She looked back at her children, watching their bodies move and squirm when her elevated voice interrupted their restfulness.

Her mother veered back, as if a
poisonous snake had crawled out from under the driver’s seat.

“Sinclair? That sneaky son of a bitch?! What was
he
doing there?”

“Mama, you aren’
t going to believe this.” She twisted her body, faced her mother head on. “Somehow he managed to finagle his way in there—how, I’m not sure, and now I work for him.” Xenia’s voice trembled. “I told him I quit, but I know I am still legally bound. I have to figure out how to get out of this.”

“
Did you tell Saint?” Her mother’s eyebrow rose.

Xenia shook her head
. “Not yet, but I will tell him tonight. I called my attorney and she is going to try to figure something out. Saint wanted me to do this show, too. I am so pissed I can’t see straight!” She shielded her face with her hand as she leaned back in her seat. “Sinclair kept wanting to talk about me running off with Saint, leaving him behind.” She sucked in air and rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous.”

Pam squinted her eyes and pointed in her daughter’s face
, her red lips twisted downward, the scowl fit for a sea hag. “Don’t you let him mess this up for you, Xenia! Now, you tell Saint what happened, he has the right to know, but don’t you dare let that Sinclair mothafucka have the damn satisfaction! I never liked him, you know. Now put this car in drive, shit.” Her mother faced forward. “Pauline waitin’ on me and all I will be able to tell ’er when I get there is that a cowboy hat wearin’ man wit’ mittens was takin’ a piss and my daughter’s ex done rolled in like a tumbleweed, tryin’ to be a killjoy. I hope she doesn’t want a weave. I ain’t got nuttin’ to sew it on!”

Xenia tried her damnd
est to stifle a laugh as she continued down the road. She didn’t want her mother encouraged.

“Poor baby’s edges smooth as a baby’s ass from them damn microbraids she kept gettin’ from that African chick she met at the swap
meet. I tol’ ’er,” Pam yelled sternly, “never trust a person’s name you can’t even pronounce! Now her hair gone like the wind and not even Scarlett O’Hara can bring it back!”

~***~

“Come on, man!” Jagger taunted as he stayed hot on Saint’s heals, his arms boxing the air at lightning speed. “Who taught you how to fight? An alley cat?!”

Saint
ignored the taunt and spared a glance toward Raphael. The man had his face covered with his hand, as if unable to watch the brutal fight unfolding.

“And don’t think about trying to cheat with your powers either!” Jagger warned
with a grin, no doubt enjoying the way Saint was blinking repeatedly and backing away from the large man that cast a humongous shadow across the ring. “You aren’t talkin’ shit? Now this is a first! Why are you so quiet, Saint? I haven’t heard a peep out of you since I fattened your bottom lip!” He cackled.

Saint’s eyes narrowed. The motherfucker had caught him off guard. As soon as he got on the phone, Jagger eyeball
ed him from a distance, then like an eagle coming down for a delicious meal, he stole a left hook right in Saint’s mouth, causing swelling and a small trickle of blood. Saint dropped his phone and the two got into a nasty squabble, forcing Lawrence and Raphael to use every muscle in their damned bodies to pull the two powerhouses apart.

“D
on’t you worry about me, Jagger,” Saint said coolly. “You cheated and you know it. You told me no powers, and then you took your best shot while I wasn’t looking, on the phone with my wife.”

“Always be alert, Saint. Let that be a lesson to you!” Jagger’s crooked grin was getting on Saint’s nerves. He wanted to pound his face in, and set the damned thing straight.

“I’m gonna get cha, Jagger.” Saint put his hands higher up in a classic Muhammad Ali pose as his feet danced around the ring. He and Jagger continued to move around one another—the other man taking swift jabs in the wind, inches away from Saint’s face. “I’m just studying you is all, seeing how you work, letting you get winded and when I get a hold of you, you will—”

BAM!

“Son of a bitch!”

Jagger burst out in
uncontrollable laughter and ran to the side of the ring holding his stomach.

“Saint! Are you okay?” Raphael called out. “You need to zap him, beam him across the room or whatever the hell you do!”

“No powers.” Jagger snapped his head toward Raphael. “No way will that work. We all know Saint is stronger than me in that regard. He’d win. This way, the fight is fair,” Jagger warned.

“It isn’t fair! You are trained to kill! You were in the Marines!” Raphael protested angrily.

Lawrence remained silent, holding his arms across his chest. He was his usual quiet self, only
this
time, he appeared to be in heavy thought as he observed his two friends trying to possibly murder one another.

Saint remained on the ground, looking up at the ceiling as
tiny birdies, twinkling stars and bright four leaf clovers danced around above him, just like in the cartoons. The right side of his head throbbed and his body felt as if it were turned up a million degrees until it and the sun were equals. He rubbed his jaw, convinced a tooth was loose. The man was powerful. He hit so damn hard, it took his breath away, made him briefly question his whereabouts and left a dull, throbbing pain on the point of contact. Jagger had landed a punch that warranted him the unofficial, undisputed, heavy weight champion of the Angel Child world. And to be so solid and built like a brick, the man moved fast, putting Saint at an even greater disadvantage.

It’s Trac
i...

Slowly, Saint got to his feet
, dusted his knees off, casually rubbed his face and squinted, trying to pretend that he wasn’t seeing two of Jagger in the near distance. He started to move around again, jogging in place, concentrating with all of his might.