Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (102 page)

“But seriously…” He paused briefly. “There is so much you two have to look forward to, and I just wanna ride shotgun and take it all in. As Lawrence said, we are all sisters and brothers now. What affects you affects Xenia and me and vice versa. Call us day or night, about anything, because we’re family now. Jagger, unlike Lawrence and Traci, you and I share a family situation in common. You see that man?” Saint pointed out in the crowd toward his father and his girlfriend. Osaze smiled and waved.

“He’s your father now, too, okay?”

Jagger’s eyes immediately glossed over as he nodded in understanding. His father wasn’t there, and he didn’t want him to attend, but his mother and brothers arrived looking stellar, and that was all he could’ve asked for.

“My father wants to be in your life, so not only do you have me and Lawrence as your brothers, Xenia and Don
na as your sisters, you also have Osaze in your corner.”

Xenia wiped a tear from her eye.

“I want you two to have a wonderful life together and in my heart, I know that you will. This is the most important day of your lives because it marks a brand new chapter filled with love and trust. Traci, this man will tear the world up to be with you, and I know his heart is in good hands.”

She
, too, wiped a tear away and nodded.

“Now, without further ado, let’s toast
…oh, and Lawrence, I plan on getting messed up tonight so are you the—”

“The designated driver?!”
Jagger and Lawrence said simultaneously, causing everyone to burst out laughing and clap. Even if they didn’t understand the inside joke, the way it was orchestrated and timed tickled the funny bone of those in attendance.

Lawrence got to his feet again, and the three men clinked their glasses together and laughed.

Saint snatched his mic off, pulled Jagger closer to him and whispered in his ear, “I’m so proud of you, man. Today is your first step into our world. Marriage is a ride. Buckle up and enjoy yourself. Welcome to the club, man.”

Jagger gripped him and gave him a huge hug, causing a storm of applause at the sight of their strong embrace…

~***~

The Disc Jockey stood behind his turntables amongst a sea of black and red wires. The laptop computer before him flashed in green and white, reflecting on his black slacks. He grabbed his microphone, and the suave voice that came out of the short man
forced Saint into observation. He announced the newlyweds and everyone clapped, expecting the customary dance between Traci and Jagger, then Traci and her father—a proud man with cheeks fit for a cherub. However, Traci surprised everyone when she waltzed to the music booth. She whispered something to the DJ, and he made an announcement.

“The beautiful bride would like another dance with a very special fellow. His name is Daiquiri—”

“No, not like the drink!” She stomped her foot in annoyance. “Da-car-reee!” Traci whispered, but loud enough to be heard.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dakarai Aknaten, and she would like the floor for just the two of them.”

Slowly but surely, people cleared the way and Xenia popped out of her seat, taking a twisting and turning little boy with a rumpled face closer and closer to the object of his affections. There she was, standing there in her long white beaded gown that sparkled like diamonds. There were a few snickers and ‘ahhhhhs’ from the crowd as Dakarai stood there turning fifty shades of red in his tiny tuxedo, white flower lapel and long braided ponytail, his hair faded on the sides.

Traci approached him, bent her back just so, and before the song could begin, the boy clutched her thighs with a firm grip and buried the side of his head in her crotch, causing a ruckus of laughter. She slowly began to sway back and forth as Ben King crooned, “Stand By Me.”  Dakarai’s smile almost lit up the entire room all on its lonesome. He was in seventh
heaven as onlookers clapped and continued to pine over the sweet scene.

Jagger had returned to his seat and watched on, his hands were covered in lamb meat
grease. Saint wrinkled his nose. The man ate like an animal. He pushed it aside and pulled Jagger closer, “You better watch my boy. He just might take your woman,” he teased.

Jagger laughed with a cheek full of food, then popped one shiny finger in his mouth and licked it.

“I know. You better get your child, man. That little slickster has his gum-ball covered hands all over Traci’s ass!”

Saint burst out laughing and shrouded half his face with his palm. It was true. Dakarai was taking liberties due to being vertically challenged, and getting a bit carried away.

When the song ended, Traci served a sweet kiss on the cheek of the little guy, causing his eyes to widen in sheer delight. She made her way back to the table as others piled onto the dance floor, but Dakarai just stood there, in his own little world. Saint watched him from a distance; he was on cloud nine and what began as one of the worse nights of his life had turned out to be one of the best.

Dakarai’s first love loved him back after
all…

~***~

Albion Correctional Facility hosted an unbelievable library. Payton found herself perusing the periodicals, her short nails running along the hard-bound spines in colors of gold, black and tan. Since her incarceration, she’d had some time to think. Much to her surprise, she didn’t hate it there; in fact, she found the quiet a welcome reprieve. She’d never been in a position to simply stop and think. The morning of her phone call to the police regarding her involvement, she’d rehearsed in her mind exactly what she was going to say, and how she was going to say it. She admitted she’d made a mistake, but it was caught in time, thus, she should only receive a slap on the wrist. Saint had put her between a rock and a hard place—spend some time in prison for lying to the police and IRS and filing false claims, or be exposed as a female rapist and die bleeding to death in the middle of her living room, courtesy of Mr. Aknaten. She believed she was tough enough to survive a prison stint. Though it wasn’t ideal, she soon discovered her law degree afforded her all sorts of perks amongst the inmates. She became the ‘jail house’ attorney, giving legal advice in exchange for favors, commissaries, hair braiding and food.

The police didn’t buy her story and she was promptly arrested that same day. She
’d anticipated it, and had sat in her home in the dark waiting for them, with one small peppermint scented candle burning. It reminded her of Saint. His hair often smelled of it, and she used to love burying her nose into those wavy, blue-black tresses. She didn’t hate him or blame him for her predicament. This was a fresh chapter in her life. She wanted to turn a new leaf, dedicate herself to something uplifting. She knew she could never practice law again, and through that realization, she also accepted that because of the demerit, she no longer had the same zest for it anyhow. This was much more fulfilling—helping those that couldn’t help themselves. While in the courtroom, she pled guilty, much against her attorney’s urgings. She was tired. Tired of running, tired of having to be cunning. Tired of hurting and hurting others. She wasn’t evil, or so she told herself, though sometimes she wondered. Nevertheless, she wanted to make amends for all the ill she’d caused others. Some would say Sinclair Grayson had ruined her life. Payton now believed he’d saved it. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be in prison, and there, she found the peace she so desired. Now, no one was calling her, banging on her door and wanting her to work her ass off for only a quarter of her previous salary after her fall from grace. She still wouldn’t call herself a sexual predator, though she knew that Saint definitely felt that she was…

He was the only man she
’d ever loved, and for whatever reason, it just wasn’t meant to be. The prison psychologist told her how her issues with her father had caused her to fall into a downward spiral. Funny, she’d heard that before from Dr. Aknaten…her former therapist and lover. She now understood her unhealthy attachment to the man. Saint, in fact, reminded her of her old man. She knew he didn’t love her, and that made him all the more appealing. He was a looker, just like her high yellow father, a color struck fellow with limp hair and a paper-thin mustache. The man wore pinstriped suits, slick hats, alligator shoes and a suave smile paired with a pair of dreamy, deep-set mahogany eyes. Payton came out dark like her grandmother, and hated how the man would look at her, as if she disgusted him. She learned to hate her dark skin from him, learned to despise everything about it, no matter how many times Saint and many other men told her how beautiful she was. She hadn’t told Saint everything about her parents, but he knew enough. He felt a sense of empathy toward her, knowing her pop was verbally and emotionally abusive. Her father was a sociopath, and his daughter was cut from the same blood-soaked cloth. She wanted closure, with Saint, with everyone, so she sat on her cot in her cell, and penned a letter…

Dear Saint,

I know you didn’t probably expect to hear from me again. I want to tell you, though I know you’ll never believe me, that I now understand what you’d been trying to tell me all those years ago. I understand that my life is a reflection of trying to be someone I never was. Life could have been different for me, had I not allowed an abusive situation to define me. I’ve been an angry, hurt woman for most of my life. My intelligence carried me through. I realized, early on as a young girl, that my exceptional grades were my ticket out of hell. Though my family was middle-class, you know hell is not always monetary. My father was a tyrant, and I sought him in all of my romantic relationships. Saint, the worse you treated me, the more grateful and attracted to you I became. I suppose once I attempted to return to you, I saw that you were no longer that man. I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that some men really can change. I had never seen that before. The guys that treated me poorly are now treating other women poorly, so imagine my surprise when I saw how you revered your wife. And then, that surprise turned into jealousy. I won’t deny it, I wanted your wife’s life. I felt it belonged to me, that I’d put in the work, but I failed to understand that you’d changed. That meant your choice in women had also changed. You no longer wanted to be with someone like me, someone who is admittedly damaged. See…I did read your books :).  I know you said I didn’t love you, that I just loved the twisted sex and the dysfunction, and that may be true as well, but I did love you, Saint. I still do.

When we spoke the last time, you stated that I wasn’t sorry for what I’d done to you. Though I still tell myself I had lost my mind that night, and it wasn’t really me, apparently it was. I am sorry for violating you in that way. It was a horrible thing to do, and there is no excuse for it. I can’t live with it. The more I grow and recover and heal, I just can’t deal with it, Saint. I cannot believe I did that to someone I love. Something so horrible. All I can do is to continue to apologize and pray for forgiveness. I know I have no right to ask you for anything, but would you please not share what I did with anyone, please? I don’t know how Sinclair got the information, but he did and if he can get it, it means others can as well. That is the one thing I just can’t seem to face, but I can face the time that I have to spend in here.

I am now helping women here in prison, especially the ones that got framed or took a bit for a man who is free in the streets, while they are in here rotting. I am giving them legal advice and taking them step by step through the process. These women could have never afforded an attorney like me, and now, they have me at their disposal. It’s rather ironic, but I’m like a celebrity in here now. You wouldn’t believe it. I have plans for when I get out. I’m going to return to New York and take the little bit of savings that I have, and start a place for girls. A place where the inner city daughters can come and talk and have a safe haven. I can’t do that if I have a sex offender rap on me. So, that’s why am I asking you to please find a way to make sure that information doesn’t get out. As you may or may not know, I pleaded guilty, Saint. I deserve to be here. Not just because of the lies I told on you but because of what I did to you and your family. I do not feel sorry for myself, no pity at all. I’ll admit, initially I was afraid. I, of all people, know firsthand on what happens to some people in prison, but maybe God is looking over me. All I want to do is better my life and be a good example.

I don’t want anyone else to hurt like I did. I remember something else you said to me
. You said, ‘Hurt people, hurt people.’ I now understand what that means. That’s what I did, and now, I have to hurt again, because two wrongs don’t make a right. I hope you can forgive me eventually, but if you can’t I understand. I have three years to serve, and I may get out in two if I stay out of trouble, and God willing, I will. When I first arrived here, I was in terrible shape. The inmates asked me, ‘What did you do?’ and I responded, ‘Fell in love with the wrong man.’ That answer is incorrect. The real answer is, ‘Fell out of love with myself.’

Speaking of God, Saint, I’m not sure what has occurred with your transformation. Initially, when we had our situation in front of your home, I thought you may have been demonically possessed. I don’t believe that anymore for a demonically possessed man would have surely killed me right then and there
, and even after the false allegations I’d told the IRS, you still spared my life. I won’t say that I’m necessarily grateful for how you handled yourself with me, but I will say this: I always knew you were different from others, Saint, even with all the hell you took me through while we were together. That’s why I held on. I always knew you were odd too, and that made you all the more endearing and a magnet. Whatever it is, you seem to have come to terms with it as well. I will always love you. Nothing can change that. I believe you were my first true love, and will be my only love, but I know that you’ve made your choice, and it was the right one. I have accepted that fact. I can’t give you anything, but my wish for you is eternal peace and serenity. Why? Because that’s what you always said you wanted.