Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (65 page)

“Is it fish head pie or somethin’?” Hassani asked, worry in his voice, his expression grave.

Saint and Jagger burst out laughing.

“No.
” the woman peeled back a pan covered in aluminum foil, exposing a delicacy fit for a sweet-toothed King. “It’s layered banana pudding and wafer cookies,” Kyung Mi offered with a sweet smile.

“Count me in!” Dakarai and Hassani
blurted at the same time as they craned their necks, licking their lips in anticipation.

The evening
had been perfect, like a mouthwatering dessert topped with a plump cherry…

~***~

“Dad, why did you keep that pretty little thing from me?” Saint pestered, making the man turn one hundred different shades of red as they stood in his bedroom. Saint had shepherded the man in there and backed him against a wall, literally. Everyone else was finishing up dessert, but Saint was just getting started with his evening taunting festivities.

“You tap that ass yet?”

“Saint!” His father sounded angry, but the corners of his mouth lifted in a reluctant smile. This only spurred Saint on.

“Come on, Pop.
Tell me. Man to man.” Saint crossed his arms. “You finally, you know, do ya thang, huh? Handle that situation?” He smirked, biting his bottom lip. “Did you beat the dust off that punanni?”

“You are hopeless!”

“What? Old cats like you need love too! She give ya the skins? Drop them Depends?” He was getting carried away and no longer cared. His father’s reaction was too hilarious to stop just yet.  “If you need any pointers, I’m ya man!” Saint spread his arms wide, an invitation.

“Why would I go to my son for intimacy advice?!”

“Why wouldn’t you? You’ve got a professional right here in the family! Geriatric sex is big in sex therapy now!”

“This is not up for discussion.
That part of my life is private. You are a revolting man.”

“Thank you! That’s the best compliment you’ve given me in weeks!”

They both burst out laughing, then a pregnant pause followed.

“I didn’t know how you’d react
,” his father finally said.

“You can’
t be serious.” Saint’s brow rose. “I’ve wanted you to get out there and date for the longest. You have no idea how happy this makes me.” Saint looked toward the closed bedroom door then back at his father. “I like her, Dad.”

“Do you?”
His father’s eyes lit up with delight. “You know how sometimes we are blinded. I wanted your opinion, to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. I’ve never dated a woman that wasn’t an Angel Child, Saint. Even before your mother, I dated a bit here and there,”—he shrugged—“and they were all the same as me, introduced to me by my parents usually. It was custom. This is all new to me. I’d like to tell her about me, but how I go about it is a bit baffling.” His father sat on the bed, looking a bit defeated.

“Yeah, interesting you say that. Jagger is going through the same thing, only he has
gone too far in my book and the woman is none the wiser. Once things get serious, we have to tell the truth. I’m glad you realize that.”

“Jag
ger hasn’t told his girlfriend?” his father asked in disbelief.

Saint shook his head. “Nope.” He pushed his hands in his pockets. “It’s unbelievable, I know. He is going to though, we discussed
it. He had a bad experience and it kind of messed him up.”

Osaze nodded in understanding. “How do you tell a woman something like this? It will sound ridiculous
, but I must.”

“You love her, don’t you?” Saint asked with a slight smile.

His father hesitated, then nodded and smiled. “I do, Saint. It’s a different type of love than I had for your mother right now…” He hesitated, seeming to drift in thought. “It hasn’t matured to that level yet, but it’s a start. I feel it has great potential to be so much more. I care a great deal for her, and… I would like to be with her.”

“I know
you do.” Saint nodded sympathetically and placed his hand lovingly on his father’s shoulder. “You know what, I have an idea. We can knock out two birds with one stone. Tell me what you think of this…”

~***~

“So, tonight you’re doing it, right?”

“Yeah,” Saint mumbled
around a mouthful of toast as he sat in the concierge’s lounge gripping his cell phone. “Xenia is taking Isis uptown for some shopping and I’m taking Hassani and Dakarai over to Jam’s to get ’Sani’s hair cut.”

“Jams!
Now that’s a blast from the past.” Raphael chuckled. “Well, from what you told me, you have to rest up afterward, right?”

“Yeah…but I will be in town for a few days so you can swing by
, or we can meet up and hang out before I go back. I went past your old crib when we were coming through. Memories! Now you’re living high on the hog with all those snooty neighbors,” Saint teased as he blew Xenia a kiss from across the table. Hotel guests moseyed about, picking at sliced fruit, eggs, bagels and glass carafes of juice stuffed in buckets of ice.

“
Hypocrite. I’ve seen your neighbors, man.” Raphael laughed. “It’s funny you mention that, actually. We are thinking about moving back to the city, maybe to Queens.”

“Really?
That’s what’s up, man.”

“Yeah, business was better there, believe it or not
, and the girls miss their old friends. Junior don’t care either way, or so he says, but I know he misses it, too. It’s just different ’round here upstate, man. It’s one thing to visit, but when you live here, it feels awkward. I ain’t used to this shit.” He chuckled.

“I know what you mean,
boy, do I know what you mean. So yeah, tonight is the healing ceremony and then I’m to rest for two or three days at the hotel before returning home. We definitely have to get together before I head back out. Xenia wants to see your kids and Latrice so maybe we should make it a family thing.”

“You know it. I’ll
give a call later on today. You be careful, Saint. I’m serious man. You know I love your father like a dad, too. I’m worried about both of you.”

“I know. Jagger is here
though.” Saint watched his friend stuff an entire bagel in his mouth then chase it with a carton of milk. He shook his head in disbelief and smirked.

“Yeah, Jagger..
.” Raphael sneered.

Saint laughed and drummed his fingers on the edge of the
crumb-covered table. “I know he isn’t your favorite person, but you will like him, with time. He takes some getting used to.”

“…If you say so,” Raphael said sarcastically. “Catch you later, playa playa!”

“Most def!” Saint laughed as he disconnected the call. He leaned back in his chair and took in the scene. Isis was sitting in a high chair with a plate full of grapes and strawberries, a smile on her face. Hassani and Dakarai were quietly playing their handheld video games, both with jam and bread crumbs bordering their mouths. When he turned his attention to his wife, she was staring right at him, her legs crossed and an understanding, motherly expression on her beautiful face.

“Are you nervous?”
She picked up her cup of tea and took a sip.

“I wasn’t…but now I am. A little.” He smiled weakly.

“What concerns you most?” She set her tea down, reached across the table and took his hand.

“That I won’t be able to get rid of it
…that I’ll have to be stopped before it is finished.”

She nodded
. “This is part of the healing, Saint. Whether it works or not, you coming to him to do this means a lot. It shows where you two are in your relationship. Just two years ago, you two were at each other’s throats, barely on speaking terms. Two years before that, you only spoke once or twice every few months. Now, not more than a couple days go by—this is the healing, baby, right here.” She clutched his hand tighter and he fell in love with her for the one-millionth time that day. Damn, he loved that woman.

“You’re right. Thank you, baby.
I feel better already.”

Xenia cocked her head slightly to the right and nodded. What a beautiful sight she was…

~
***~

“I didn’t want her dead. That’s why I told you to poke holes, not slice the brake lines. You did good, baby. She survived, but she won’t forget the shit.” He chuckled. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Don’t
ever call me again.”

“But if I can’t call you, how do I know where to send these fat checks?”
Sinclair laughed.

She’d played her part and he’d gotten a two for one deal. Saint had been out of the office for days and had been admitted into the hospital as well. It was amazing what a little cash would do to open
hospital staff’s mouths.

He’d debated visiting Xenia, to make it seem as if he was a concerned friend but decided against it. Her car accident had been covered on the news
and when he saw it, he popped a bottle of champagne, one he’d been saving for a special occasion.

“I don’t care about the money, just leave me alone!”
Shianne protested.

The woman
sounded as if she’d died and gone to hell. Her nerves seemed to be a wreck and though Sinclair delighted in these changes of events, he still found her response somewhat disturbing.

“What’s wrong with you, huh? You want money, that’s all you care about, and now you are saying you don’t care? Hmmm, I’m a man of my word.
Why are you acting so crazy? What’s your problem?”

“You don’t know who you are dealing with, Sinclair! Please!
You have no idea what he is capable of!” she blurted in his ear, startling him. “They kept questioning me about some IRS business, thinking I had done something. I didn’t know what the hell they were talking about, and told them so. If you’ve done something else, God help you!”

He hadn’t told her ass a damn thing
about the Internal Revenue Investigation for a reason. That was a private business matter between him and Payton Bishop and when Shianne said
they
, his heart skipped a damn beat…

“Who is this
they
?! Who in the fuck have you been running your mouth off to, Shianne?”

“How can I tell anyone anything when I don’t know what they were talking about
, and I don’t know these men’s names, either!”

“Who the hell are these men
, Shianne?”

“
Two men were at my apartment the night of the accident. They know Saint, Sinclair. I think they work for him. I’m afraid!” He could tell she was shaking on the other end of the phone, a ball of nerves gone wild. “One was at my place first, he tied me up with his belt and the other—”

“Whoa! Why in the hell didn’t you call me and tell me this shit
days ago?!”

“Because they are
your
problem now! You should’ve never started this. They know you put me up to the brake job. They know it, Sinclair!”

“You told them I told you to cut the brakes?! I’m going to fucking kill you
, Shianne, you brainless, stupid ass whore!” He sprayed spit all over his phone in a fit of rage.

“
I didn’t tell them shit and as far as you murdering me, I doubt it, you son of a bitch,” she said coolly, reminding him of Payton. “I’m boarding a plane in three minutes.” He wasn’t listening previously, could hear her breathing and the sounds of heels clicking. Now, as she quieted, it was all crystal clear…

Flight G3BA is now boarding…

Shit!

“
You will never see or hear from me again,” she cried out. “They said if I thought
they
were scary, that I should see Saint when
he
gets mad! They were monsters! Glowing eyes, moving things around without touching them. I thought I was hallucinating but it was very much real!”

“Shianne, please! Now look,” he
said, trying to sound calm. “Do you know where they were going when they left your house?”

“T
hey went to the hospital to see Xenia. You’re a dead man, Sinclair!”

She disconnected the call.

He tried to call back over and over, but it went it went straight to voicemail.

“Goddamn it! That bitch threw me under the bus!”
he cried, throwing the phone across the room in frustration.

He paced around the house, trying to steady his nerves.

“Fuck! Think…just think, Sinclair.” He held his hands over his ears and pondered. After a few moments, he settled down. “It’s her word against mine. They have no proof.” He laughed, a half-hearted chuckle. “And all is not lost. I’m still tearing him up. Once the IRS is done with him, he won’t have two nickels to rub together…yeah.” He smiled, gaining new confidence.

Get ready to come off those dollars  and do some prison time
, Saint. Time for you to have the same thing done to you that you did to me… Eye for an eye. Xenia may be still alive, I didn’t give a shit either way, but I’m not done with you yet…

~***~

Saint looked up at the muted gray sky as he got out of the cab on Corona Avenue in Brooklyn—Elmhurst to be exact. The boys were still hyped up after riding the subway part of the way and thinking they were cool.

“Awww man!” Hassani
leapt out of the cab, still carrying on as Saint opened the door to Blades Barber Shop. The boy was talking like a New Yorker, amusing himself. “Did you see that one cat that was dancin’? He dance almost better than you, Daddy, and there was that crazy lady talking about a bird nest was on fire and how she hate llamas. I love this place!”

Saint could see the gleam in the boy
’s eye; he’d been bit by the Big Apple…not the other way around. New York consumed people; no one took a bite of it. It was like the Little Shop of Horrors—‘Feed Me, Seymour!’—only those devoured lived to tell the tale and loved that they’d been caught up in the feeding frenzy. Dakarai, on the other hand, swimmed in bewilderment. The youngster stood in a daze on the crowded sidewalk, looking up at the tall buildings all around, then eyed the barbershop with its red neon lights and ‘help wanted’ sign in the window.

No. This wasn’t Jams. Saint found out Jams was long gone, but Raphael recommended this place, said he took his son there every Thursday and the crew there could handle
Hassani’s unique grade of hair.

“Go on in, Hassani. Let me get your brother.”

“Dakarai, come on, now.” He grabbed his son’s tiny arm. Dakarai kept looking around in wonder, seeming overwhelmed. The city was intimidating for many and sometimes, he forgot that.

“Daddy?”

“What is it my main man?” Saint held the door open for him.

“There’s
weird stuff happenin’.”

“What do you mean
?”

“Well
.” He shrugged in his over-sized dark red shirt. “Everybody look different than at home. I heard a lot of Spammish on the train and—”

“Spanish…” Saint corrected
, smiling.

“Yeah, and everyone sound different. Nobody sound like back home. It smell different here
, too. The people act different. Why aren’t there any pom pom trees?”

“
Palm trees… Because palm trees don’t exist in every state, Dakarai. Matter of fact, the palm trees you see near our house were flown in many, many years ago because palm trees didn’t grow in California naturally. They were brought over and now are a staple of the state. Only places like Florida have them grow naturally. And you hear people speak Spanish all the time in L.A.” He ushered his son inside and had him sit next to Hassani in one of a row of slightly worn, red chairs. Reggaeton music played in the background, helping to lighten the mood.

“But it sound different here. They talk like dey mad here…but they not really mad though. They just talk like
dey mad ‘nd they move real fast and you call people cats and sunshines.”

Saint burst out laughing
. “Son and cats? Just an expression, Son.”

Dakarai burst out laughing. “See, you said it again.”

“Son!” Saint repeated, making the boy laugh all over again.

“
You and your brother are something else.” He plopped down next to them, leaned slightly forward and checked his watch. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed and looked around the place. Before long, a Puerto Rican man with a fresh fade and black, shiny clippers in his hand waltzed over to them.

“What’s up
, man? What can I get for you?”

“My son here, the oldest,
needs a haircut.” Hassani looked up at him, his dark brown eyes shining. “A fade.”

“What about you?”
the man asked with a smirk, eyeing Saint’s loose waves that were running amock.

“I’m straight. I don’t let anyone touch my hair. I cut it myself.”

“I could hook you up, man.”

“Ahhhh, I don’t know. I was going to cut it later on today.”

“I tell you what. I bet I can hook you up fresh, and if you don’t like it,” the man pointed to an area of the shop that appeared to have T-shirts for sale as well as silk-screen materials. “You can pick any T-Shirt you want over there for free, and get one for your sons, too.”

Saint rolled it over in his mind while he rubbed his chin.

“Come on, Daddy! Don’t be a chicken!” Hassani taunted, causing everyone to laugh.

“Oh, I’m a chicken now, huh?” Saint’s brow rose. “Okay, bet. Come on, Dakarai. You can sit on my lap.”

“My name is Sleeper by the way.” The man grinned, showcasing a chipped tooth, as he got Saint situated in his booth.

“Alright Sleeper, nice to meet you.”

Hassani stood close by, quietly watching.

“Now, how do you usually cut it?”

“I leave my sideburns. I don’t fade it. I taper it in the back though and leave it longer on the top so you can see the wave pattern, but not so much that it can fall in my face unless it’s wet.”

“What about your widow’s pe
ak?” Sleeper asked as he got all of his cutting supplies out.

“I leave it.”

“Sounds good to me, let’s roll.”

Saint sat back while
the sheers moved so fast across the top of his hair, if he blinked he would’ve missed half of the experience. Then came the clippers. Vibrating and buzzing, the man meticulously went over his sideburns, tracing them and blunt cutting them to perfection. He spun him around, causing Dakarai to pretend he was on a ride while Saint held the little boy around his waist. Sixteen minutes later, Saint looked in the mirror, duly impressed.

“Now, don’t know if you’re married or not but you will be after this cut here tonight!” Sleeper bragged.

“I gotta give it to you, man.” Saint held a black hand-held mirror up and looked at the back of his head from various angles. “You hooked this up. Great job.”

“
Gracias. See, I know what it was…” He dusted Saint off then removed the black robe. “You have a different kind of hair and people mess it up, right?”

Saint smiled and nodded
. “Yup. My sons are the same way. Dakarai just got his hair cut and the guy did a decent job, but his hair is a little curlier than mine.”

“Where’d you go? Over on 5
th
street? That looks like Dugart’s work.”

“Nah, we from L.A., man.”

“L.A.! Why you sound like one of us, man?!”

“My mistake
.” Saint laughed. “I’m from the Bronx, moved to L.A. about eight years ago. My wife was out there so I moved to be with her.”

“Oh, okay, yeah
’cause I was like, ain’t no way he sound like this from L.A., man. Now, what about the little man right here?” He pointed to Hassani, smiling wide at him.

“Hassani’s hair
, as you can see, is almost just like mine. It’s a little thicker, but the texture is pretty much the same. I’m real careful about whom I send them to and they can’t always be cut by the same people. I learned that lesson the hard way. Black barbers tend to know how to deal with Dakarai better, I guess, because his hair is a little coarser but Hassani just gets messed up by everybody.”

Sleeper burst out laughing. “Well, he won’t today. Hop in the seat,
lil’ man.”

Ten minutes later, Hassani’s hair was faded to perfection.

“Damn, I wish I could take you back to L.A. with me!” Saint spun Hassani around in the chair, checking out Sleeper’s handiwork. “You like it?” he asked, knowing his son’s answer already.

“Yes! It looks good. Thank you.”
The little boy grinned happily up at Sleeper.

“You’re welcome little man
, and since I know you are just in town visiting, I’m going to give you those shirts anyway but you gotta promise that when you come back, you always come here and ask for me.”

“You got it, man.” Saint slapped an ample amount of cash in his hand, causing Sleeper to take a step back.

“Is this—um, did you mean to give me this?” the man asked as he counted and recounted the crisp bills.