Saint And Sinners (111 page)

“How about just
a little bit?” he whispered into her ear.

Xenia tensed, then begrudgingly pushed him back from her seat between his legs on
the chair by the bay window.

“The kids are up. It’s the middle of the day,” she protested, a sexy half smile on
her face.

He ran his fingers up and down the side of her neck, then tilted her chin upward to
kiss the tip of her nose.

“Just give me ten minutes…twelve max.” He grinned as she looked up into his eyes,
smirked and turned away, flipping another page in her magazine.

“You need to stop. We’ve been wearing each other out lately. I promise it’ll be on
again tonight… Let’s just take a little breather,” she replied with a smile, her voice
husky. She placed her feet, clad in black slippers, on the table and casually crossed
her ankles. Saint got a whiff of the perfume sample she’d passed by, a card jammed
between the pages.

“Mmmm, that smelled good. What was that?”

She flipped in reverse and looked in the bottom right hand corner of the sheet.

“Says it’s Jasmine Noir by Bvlgari.” She brought the glossy, thick magazine closer
to her a face and took a hearty inhale.

“You should get it. I bet it would smell nice on you,” he encouraged.

“Maybe I will.” She yawned and laid her head back on his chest, turned to the side,
then set her sights back to an article about the latest fashion trends. Saint stared
down at her, emotion suddenly gripping him.

I’m so grateful she’s alright…that we’re alright.

He glanced at the tree painting, partially hidden behind a nearby couch and smiled
at it. Xenia was still debating whether she’d let him hang it up. She did have to
admit though, the damn thing was stunning. He ran his finger casually up the side
of his nose to cater to an itch, then slowly closed his eyes, deciding upon a nap.
As he got comfortable and the faint sounds of the children playing began to lull him
to sleep, just as he was drifting into the soft and cushy world of a divine dream
state, the doorbell rang.

“Oh damn.” He yawned, bringing his fist to his lips. Xenia grunted and stood, stretched
on her tippy toes and looked back down at him. “Are you going to get it?” He grinned,
his eyes hooded lazily.

“Well, I guess I am, Mr. Sleepy.” She playfully stuck her tongue out at him and sauntered
over to the front door. He could no longer see her as she rounded the corner but he
heard her pause at the keyhole.

“Everything alright, baby? Who is it?”

“It’s a large group of people.” she said, almost as if she had lost her voice somewhere
between shock and bewilderment. “One of them in the front is holding a red wrapped
box. It looks like a gift of some sort.”

Saint got to his feet, standing in white socks, pulled at his baggy black jogging
pants and scratched the side of his arm before walking to her. Looking through the
keyhole, he grinned.

“You don’t recognize some of ’em, baby? They were at Jagger’s party.” He removed the
deadbolt and opened the door, coming face to face with at least fifteen people standing
on his front steps, all dressed in leather and furs as snowflakes blanketed their
hats, scarves and eyelashes. Close to the front stood Cruz, grasping the box in question.

“Awww man, what’s up!” Saint slapped his hand, giving him a customary handshake. “It’s
cold! You all want to come inside?” Saint flipped his thumb behind him, towards the
inside of the place. A nice fire was roaring; he was certain they’d like to get next
to it. They all turned and considered one another, then nodded in agreement, taking
the invitation. In a matter of seconds, Saint’s foyer was filled with Angel Children
and Xenia had convened to the kitchen to put on a couple pots of coffee and tea.

“So, how are you doing Cruz?” Saint asked as everyone remained strangely quiet.

“I’m hanging in there.” The man gave a slight smile, his eyes vibrant. He clutched
a bit tighter to the satiny red box in his grip.

“That’s good.” Saint nodded. “Well.” He smiled and clasped his hands together. “I’m
surprised to see you all here. Haven’t seen you since the funeral.”

Just then, Little Bit, Armondo Martinez’s girlfriend, stepped forward. The Puerto
Rican woman donned a thick white bomber coat with white trimmed fur that cradled the
bottom of her face, almost cloaking her lips. Standing in her tight, dark blue jeans
and thigh high white fur boots, she stared at Saint, her eyes glossing over a smidge.

“Saint,” she began. “Thank you for your kind words at Armondo’s home-coming. I know
you didn’t know him like we did, but everything you said was true. I miss him so much!”
A tear rolled down her cheek. Saint grabbed her, brought her to his chest and kissed
the top of her head. “I know you do, I’m so sorry for your loss, for
all
of you. He was a good man, a great leader. He didn’t die in vain.” He looked down
at her stomach. She was only a few months pregnant, had just found out she was carrying
his child the day after his death. “And he will see his seed grow… He is watching
you and will see his son born, he is the forever protector.” She nodded and stepped
back, then cleared her throat as if to make a speech.

“The rest of our crew is working their day jobs and couldn’t get time off. Some of
us work weekends. The ones of us you see here right now took a little time off to
pay you a visit in person. Anyway, we got something for you…a thank you, for just…”
She shrugged. “For being you. There is a change in the city now. There is a new respect.
We all fought that night, we all risked our lives, but you put yourself against the
worst of the worst and survived, and that’s why Armondo was right.” She looked at
Cruz and motioned to him. “Hand it to him, please.”

With slightly shaking hands, Cruz handed the box to Saint, who accepted it, while
surveying each and every person before him. Xenia returned with a large silver tray
filled with cups of hot, fragrant beverages. Saint moved to the side to give her access
to the crowd as they appreciatively took what was to their liking, cradled their respective
drinks in their hands, and remained fairly quiet, minus the quiet ‘thank yous’ to
his wife.

“Please.” Little Bit nodded in his direction. “Open it.” She took a sip of her tea
and waited.

Xenia walked back into the kitchen then quickly returned at his side, this time, with
Isis in her arms.

Saint glanced at everyone out the corner of his eye and grinned. He then turned the
box to and fro, sighed and began to unwrap it. He uncloaked a plain, brown box. Staring
at it for a short spell, he then dug under the flaps with his fingertips and revealed
a large, black velvet pouch with silver rope at the neck.

“That’s pretty,” Xenia whispered as she peered over at his present.

Saint nodded, then pulled it open to find an unvarnished wooden box containing a rare,
vintage bottle of Jenssen Arcana along with a smaller bottle of Courvoisier L’Espirit
Decanter.

“Oh my God…” Saint gasped as he gingerly removed it from its confines. He shook his
head then glanced back at all of them before returning his sights to the bottle. “This
is remarkable. What a
thoughtful
gift! Thank you so much!”

He knew most of them didn’t have much money. They were struggling just like the majority
of mankind. He figured they’d all pitched in, and for that, he was truly humbled.

“That’s not all.” Cruz pointed to the box, forcing Saint to take notice of something
lightweight but large that had been pushed towards the back. He removed it and broke
out laughing.

“You all have got to be kidding me?!”

Everyone laughed.

In his hands was a golden crown that read, ‘The King of New York.’ Isis’ eyes grew
big as she lunged for it, trying with all of her might to reach the shiny thing. Saint
took her from Xenia’s arms, kissed her cheek and plopped the over-sized crown atop
her head. It slid to the side, pulling one of her baby blue hair bows along with it.

“You look smashing!” he teased in a British accent, giving the little girl one more
kiss. “Thank you all so much! I really appreciate it. Hey, uh…” He looked back towards
the kitchen. “If I would have known you were coming, I’d have made sure to prepare
an early dinner. Anyway, you all are more than welcome to stay, talk for a while,”
Saint offered sincerely. He longed to be around their magic, their good vibes.

“Nah, we gotta go.” Little Bit frowned. “We all got stuff to do and don’t wish to
impose, but we just wanted to give these to you. They don’t come close to what you
did for us, but we just wanted to show our gratitude.” And then, like that, the young
lady pulled in close and gave him a side hug, while simultaneously winking at Isis
and grabbing the little girl’s hand to play with her tiny fingers. “Thank you so much!”
she whispered in Saint’s ear before all of them turned and headed back towards the
door.

“Thank you, Little Bit, and all of you!”

People nodded and began to talk amongst themselves as they filed out the door. Right
after Saint closed it, another knock came.

“Oh, one of them must be back.” Without looking, he opened the damn thing and in rushed
Angel, covered in snow and his nose reddened like Rudolph’s. He hopped from one foot
to the other, looking about the place as if waiting for the damn train.

“What are you doing here?” Saint asked, his irritation no doubt more than evident.

“Hassani and I are goin’ ice skating. He ain’t tell you?” Angel smirked. Saint wanted
to cold clock the boy, but then he felt Xenia’s stare on him and pulled himself together.

“Hi, Angel,” she said sweetly as she took Isis back into possession. The little girl
touched her new borrowed crown, a big smile on her face as if she were the Queen of
England. “Yes, he’s ready. I’ll go get him, hold on.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Aknaten,” Angel said in a syrupy sweet tone, nauseating Saint to
no end. He reminded Saint of Eddie Haskell from, ‘Leave it to Beaver’—The ‘Hood’ edition.
The boy smiled so hard, his dimples practically caved in his entire face.

Saint waited until Xenia was out of sight, then pushed his finger in Angel’s face.

“If you try anything slick, devious, I swear…” then Saint sniffed around him and grinned.
“You haven’t smoked today. That’s good.” He nodded in approval.

“I haven’t smoked in
three
days. Why you think I’m jumpin’ around like this?!”

“Three?! You just busted yourself! I told you to stay off that stuff weeks ago!” Saint
sprang his finger in his face. “I’m not playing with you, Angel. You have one more
time to slip up!”

“Maaaaaan.” The boy dramatically rolled his eyes. “This is a process, Mr. Aknaten,”
he said sarcastically. “Work with a man. This shit takes
time
!”

“I’m not going to tell your ass again to stop cursin’ in my house, and I’m not your
man!” Saint looked him squarely in the eye, but Angel appeared completely unmoved.
He wanted to laugh so badly, but he couldn’t allow Angel to know the little ruffian
was worming his way into his heart.

“Oh, and good lookin’ out.” He raised his hand in the air to give Saint a pound handshake.
Saint complied and nodded. “My new foster home is real cool, man. They live closer
to the school. It’s a white lady and her old man, but they cool. She cook pretty good,
too. Usually white people don’t season their shit, I mean, stuff.”

It was becoming harder and harder to not burst out laughing as they waited for Hassani.

“I’m doin’ better in school now, too.”

“That’s because you all are on Christmas Break. Can’t get in trouble if you’re not
there,” Saint teased.

“Even before that. I haven’t gotten suspended in a while. That’s good too, ’cause
now my grades are up.”

Saint could tell Angel was now vying for his approval. The boy was at least attempting
to do right; the least he could do was cut him a little slack. He wrapped his arm
around Angel’s shoulder and looked at him closely.

“I’m proud of you. I really am.”

Angel nodded and abruptly turned away, evidently not wanting the man to make a big
production about it. Just then, Hassani came racing around the corner, with Xenia,
Isis and Dakarai not far behind. He was dressed in a thick, layered red and gray coat,
his gloves and scarf on, as well as his new wool hat.

“I’m ready!” He smiled gleefully. It almost broke Saint’s heart how his son lit up
with the type of smile he believed should be only reserved for him, but now he realized
he had to share the limelight; someone
else
occupied the little boy’s heart, and Saint had never been good at sharing. Pushing
his envy aside, he walked Hassani to the door.

“Angel, I want you both back here in two hours. No later, do you hear me? If you are
more than five minutes late, I’ll be calling you, and it won’t be a nice phone call,
either!” he barked as the boys busted out the front door.

“I got it! Hey, can we get some money, man? I mean! Sorry,” Angel shook his head as
if he were really broken up about slipping again. “Can we get a little cash to get
some cocoa ’nd stuff?”

Full of forced disgust, Saint plunged his hand in his pocket and removed his wallet.
He opened it up, waved Hassani over and thrust a twenty-dollar bill in his hand.

“And I want my change, too! That cocoa only costs three dollars a piece!” he hollered
after them as they made a hasty retreat.

“I gotta keep the rest for my finder’s fee and gas money!” Angel laughed without looking
back, as if he’d gotten one over.

“You don’t drive, you little punk! I’ll beat the change out of you if I have to! You’ll
be like five gold dimes and a half a nickel—impossible to find and a mystery on how
you were split in two. Remember my name, ragamuffin!” The boys ran off, laughing.

“Saint!” Xenia reprimanded with a frown. “How
dare
you talk to that little boy like that!” She slapped her leg in emphasis.