Saved and SAINTified (36 page)

“
They think that I'm a new jack, but only if they knew that – They who think wrong, are they who can't do that!”
Rakim rapped.

“You talk so much shit, S
aint.” Lawrence shook his head. “But, I know this time you mean it.” He drummed the arm of the chair and grinned.

S
aint smirked. “It’s nothing, Lawrence. You were afraid of the bastard, I can understand that, but I’m not—not by a long shot. Weak ass mothafucka  ...  he can’t
see
me.” Saint continued to bob his head, working himself up as smoke now filled the immediate air around him in a thick, eerie fog. “He wants to meet
me
? Big daddy? Ha! Mano y mano?” He laughed. “Fine. Shit won’t go as he planned. He better chat it up with that damn Mr. Wizard, dungeons and dragons, white robe Rocky Balboa lookin’ mothafucka...”

“Stop! You’re killin’ me!”

“...cracked crystal ball and sloppy tarot card readin’ ass ... damn Oracle, Miss Cleo lookin’ ass. None of that shit will help him.”

Lawrence
had practically lost it. He ran his hands down his face. Tears streamed from his eyes and he doubled over.

“
Because fuckin’ with me,” Saint blew out another stream of perfectly formed smoke rings, “is like screwin’ a blind chick, man. She never see ya cummin’!”

****

One week later...

“So it’s down to two,”
Jagger explained as he poured an obscene amount of sugar into his steaming black coffee.

S
aint watched the white compact crystals snow from the clear container into the awaiting dark, hot liquid. He tapped his fingers along the restaurant table as they remained quiet.  The smell of scrambled eggs, bacon and fried chicken filled the diner. It was three in the morning, and they both were visibly tired as they laid back on the red, split foam, and partially duct-taped booth seats. The secret meeting had been scheduled in advance at the eatery—a twenty-four hour greasy spoon off of Crenshaw. Maybe due to paranoia on Saint’s part, but he didn’t want it at the office and here, despite the time of day and neighborhood, he felt strangely safe and at peace.

“Down to two,” S
aint repeated as he tapped the mug filled with watered down cinnamon tea. “What are their names?”

“Hill and Brooks.”

“Hmmm ... interesting.” Saint chewed his lip as he continued to stare down into his cup. “Brooks is a different one. Something about him has always rubbed me the wrong way. He came in right before James’ passed away. I didn’t screen him; he came in through the committee. Do you have any idea how the mole has been blocking?”

“I don’t think it is an intentional block. He is in information collection mode
, so nothing would tip us off unless we were searching for it,” Jagger laughed lightly, “like we are now. I highly doubt anyone in there, ’cept Lawrence, knows what you are though—what
we
are, I should say.”

“You know what?” S
aint took a sip of his tea. “James and George had told me a while back about a situation that happened years ago, in the ’70s. A government official, his name escapes me, found out about the group. It was in its infancy, but the guy was racist and threatened to sing like a bird. He was also involved in some organized crime and other crap. Anyway, at the time, that sort of thing upset James because he was just getting everything off the ground and he didn’t want to risk his career, but then just like that,” Saint snapped his fingers, “The guy was gone,  like a ghost.”

“Did he leave on his own accord
, you think?”

“I don’t know. They never heard from the guy again,” S
aint picked up a spoon and tapped it lightly against his cup, “but James always felt like the man got away, so the fear always hung over their shoulder, you know? I have a nagging feeling that that situation is somehow wrapped with this one.” He set the spoon down, and sat further back in the slumped booth. “I felt it even stronger a couple of days ago.”

Jagger
nodded. “Sounds plausible. I’ve had a hunch it was government related but wanted to delve deeper before telling you my suspicions.”

“So
, here is the deal.” Saint slapped his palms on the curled and worn burnt orange placemat. “I need to leave. I have to go out of town. I’m going to...”

“
Egypt.”

“Yeah,
Egypt. So, what I will do is...”

“Can I tell you something?”
Expression serious, Jagger leaned over the table and ran his hand roughly back and forth over his buzzed haircut.

“What?” S
aint dug in his pocket and pulled out a pack of gum, quickly unwrapped a piece and tossed it into his mouth.

“I don’t know everything that’s going on, but
...”

“Good. You’re not supposed to. It’s personal.”

“Well, if you tell me more, I can help you. Stop blocking. I can tell you what I
do
know. You’re going to need some help if you are...”

“
Jagger, stick to what you’re doing and stay out of this,” Saint snapped as he pushed back in his booth seat. He picked up a toothpick and twirled it anxiously between his forefinger and thumb.

“Come on, S
aint! Are you still hot about our initial meeting? We’ve had so many conversations since then. I thought we squashed that, man?” Jagger rested his cupped hands on the table, a look of near dejection on his face.

“We did.”

“Well then, why the blocking and giving me the cold shoulder? Lawrence won’t even tell me why he had to go to Egypt, but obviously it is something involving
you
.” He scratched at his five o’clock shadow.

“Because the less you know
, the safer you stay. Lawrence got cut off as well. I can’t afford for anyone to be read by this person. You could accidentally put my family in jeopardy. I have to deal with this man solo from this point on. It’s best that I keep him as contained as possible.” Saint moved his gum to the side of his mouth, then took another sip from his cup.

“Okay, but I’m a blocker
. That’s one of my calling cards, Saint. You know that now! You tested me. You found out I can block with the best of ’em.” Jagger counted his fingers as he laid out each point. “I’m good. When I set up a fortress, no one can get in. I’m an awesome stealth reader. I can also infiltrate thoughts, and do false programming as well as erasures, even when aggressively blocked.”

“
You’re not as good as a fully developed deaf mute though.”

“You know a deaf mute?” Jagger asked with wonder.

“You could say that.” Saint shifted in his seat. “And anyway, you can’t read mine. You can’t erase me or infiltrate,” Saint said smugly. “And I can read you just fine. It takes a lot of work, but I got through before and I can again.”

“Yes,
you can get in, but you’re the exception.” Jagger rolled his eyes. “And anyway, what about all the other skills I have that could help? Transport, for instance.”

S
aint stared intensely at Jagger.

Lawrence
had happily reported to him that Jagger had one of the desirable gifts of soul transport and ‘reminiscence erasure’. It was a treasured and coveted ability amongst Angel Children and it didn’t seem to have rhyme or reason as to who was born with it. You’d just have it. Saint wasn’t aware of the gift; he’d done it a few times but Lawrence let him know that he could do even more with it than he imagined. He had no control over it and wasn’t sure how to maximize its potential.

“I can teach you how to become tangible, not just transport, S
aint. You
need
a teacher. It comes to me naturally. For you,” he shrugged and slicked his tongue over his bottom lip, grinning as he rubbed it in, “not so much.”

S
aint made a face and looked away. He didn’t want to talk about that anymore.

“I knew I’d have to go to
Egypt,” he said. “I tried to tell Lawrence and my father that, but they wouldn’t listen  ...  told me I had to follow the rules. Anyway, if a bunch of people have private information about me and my plans, then it’s a wrap. He can tap into any one of your asses when your guard is down. It’s not even worth the risk.”

S
aint waved to the waitress and slid a ten dollar bill across the table. “So, proceed with your investigation, Jagger and I will join you in the final phase.”

Jagger
nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

The waitress made her way over to S
aint, smiling down at him as she toyed with the collar of her red shirt and shoved a wad of light pink gum to the far side of her mouth.

“Did you need anything else?”
She picked up his empty tea cup.

“Yeah
, a sharp ass machete, a grim reaper hatchet, a Smith and Wesson and a glock I can get through airport security. Do you have that on the menu?”

“Excuse me, sir?!”

*
***

Saint watched Xenia place another piece of buttery popcorn into her mouth. Her dark eyes glued to the television, its reflection cast a soft blue light on her face. Suddenly, she jumped and screamed, sending popcorn flying into the air and landing haphazardly on the floor. She tossed her head back, exposing that beautiful laugh he adored.

“It’s good we told the boys to go into the playroom!”
She chuckled.

The children’s muffled chatting and stomping feet could be heard in the near distance as she and S
aint watched, ‘The Hills Have Eyes.’ Saint groaned, stretched his green jogging pants covered legs and lay across her lap, using her upper thighs as a pillow. He propped his arm under his head and glared at the television, semi-daydreaming. He relished the feel of her fingers running lightly through his hair.

“Is something on your mind, baby?” she asked as she picked up the remote control from the side table and paused the movie. S
aint turned flat on his back, crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at her. His warped reflection danced in her gleaming eyes. He contemplated for a few moments.

“Yeah. Baby, I need to go out of town, to
Egypt. There is a family issue I need to attend to.” The sound of the oscillating ceiling fan high above them was all that could be heard for several moments.

He watched her facial expression
switch from concern to confusion.

“Is your father okay? Wasn’t he just in
Egypt?”

“Mmmm hmmm
, he is fine, but I need to go now, too. I won’t be gone long, maybe four or five days, max.”

“What’s going on?”
The apprehension was now clear in her eyes.

S
aint stared at her, reached up and ran his fingertips slowly along her chin.

Baby, please
. I’m doing this for you...

“You are so beautiful, baby
...”

“Nice try. What’s going on S
aint?” she asked with clear agitation as she adjusted impatiently underneath him, forcing him to sit up.

S
aint sighed loudly, slid his hands roughly down his face. He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. “I have a cousin, by marriage, that’s been ... causing some trouble. I need to go see about it because it is affecting a lot of people and has the potential to do quite a bit of damage.”

“You never told me you communicated with your family in
Egypt. This is news to me, Saint.” She raised her brow, suspicion clearly in view.

“I
don’t
communicate with them. I need to, though. Look Xenia, I don’t want to get into all of the details. It won’t help you to know. Just let me handle this, please.” He glanced down at her stomach then turned away, trying to mask his own distress and agitation with her obvious distrust of the situation.

“Fine
.” She abruptly pushed him the rest of the way off of her and stood, wiping popcorn crumbs off of her slightly protruding belly bump and breasts. “You told me we wouldn’t keep any secrets, yet you’re clearly hiding something.” She picked up the bowl of popcorn off of the table and made her way into the kitchen.

“Shit
.” Saint cursed and walked after her. Once he caught up, he gently tugged her shoulder, turning her toward him. “Baby, now look. Remember how we spoke about my abilities, and how you didn’t need all the details of what I do?”

Xenia
sighed and looked away. He knew she knew exactly how this conversation was going to go—and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Yeah, obviously you do
,” he answered for her. “Well, this is the same thing. Please, just trust me. I’m not being evasive to hurt you, but it is best I just keep it like it is. I will not stay long, okay?” He kissed her on her cheek. She turned away, her anger beyond apparent.

“
Egypt, Saint?” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “When are you planning to leave?”