Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (9 page)

“So, yeah,” Raphael continued.
“We didn’t give a shit. If we ended up in Staten Island, we just did. Anything was better than what was goin’ on right that fuckin’ minute. The cops in back are like on our damn asses and the cop in front, this big Buffalo Bill lookin’ mothafucka is barreling down on us. We were about to be sandwiched or one of us was going to get caught, no doubt. So, as soon as those damn doors opened and people started coming out, we made a mad dash and got on. We were pushing people out the way like we were on fire! The cops swerved over, the doors closed, and they
barely
missed us. Two more seconds, they would have been on there, grabbing our asses! We made sure to keep looking straight ahead until the last second and even though I can’t read minds like this mothafucka right here,” he pointed to Saint, causing an uproar of laughter at the table, “we were in tune that damn day, no doubt!”

“I don’t think we’d
ever run that hard in our lives.” Saint shook his head. “We’d been chased before, for other shit, but they could never catch us on the streets. We knew all the dips and dives too well in our hood. People would cover for you, divert and start a ruckus. Anyway, we found out later though why they were on two jumpers so hot ’nd heavy. That pursuit was ridiculous, we just figured they were on some racist shit but come to find out, a tall, skinny Hispanic guy, that I guess kinda looked like me, and his black friend had just robbed a store and shot the owner. They more than likely thought it was us, because it happened like less than a block away from the train.”

“Damn.” Jagger took a sip of his beer. “You are
definitely
lucky you didn’t get shot.”

“Yes,
blessed
because if it hadn’t been for all of those people, I know they would have taken shots at us. We didn’t learn shit from it though,” Saint picked up his beer and looked down into the golden pool. “The following week we were doing the same shit. Makes you wonder about the teenage mind, how we didn’t really value our lives. That and the adrenaline rush became addictive.”

“
...Yes, it does, doesn’t it? You want some action?”
Jagger shot him a menacing look swirled with mischief as he spoke to Saint telepathically. The man’s lips curled upward in a fiendish grin. He looked like a savage cat that had cornered an injured mouse.

Saint tried to turn away, but Jagger kept right on. He knew he was too annoyed to put up much of a fight and besides, he was correct.

“Things been too quiet, huh?”
Jagger continued the silent conversation while Raphael and Lawrence spoke amongst themselves.
“You want to fuck some shit up, don’t you? Want to run in the wild and make some shit happen? All that pent up energy... Well, I just may have a cure for what ails you and this fucking watered down beer and you snapping at waitresses isn’t going to help...”

“What is your suggestion?” Saint
said in a low voice.

“What the hell is going on? Did I miss something?” Raphael asked.

“Yes, but you don’t want to know.” Lawrence shook his head and stared down into his lap.

Jagger reached in
side his black leather jacket and pulled out a wad of cash, slamming it on the table. “Come on boys, let’s ride out!” He shot from the table as if he were a mountain springing from the earth. His body cast a shadow about him, darkening the area as the others followed closely behind. They marched out toward the front door into the sweetly scented breeze of the night air. Trouble was uh comin’; the bad boys were in town...

~***~

Raphael stood to the side on the well-lit street and watched the three men whispering amongst themselves in the night. The palm trees softly swayed in tune to some imaginary beat while the trio undoubtedly was up to no damn good. He didn’t know what they were planning, and though a part of him wanted to give Saint some dap with a customary, “Peace Out,” as his outro, his curiosity wouldn’t allow it. Something told him, whatever was going on, he needed to see this shit for himself. The night was growing cold yet the afternoon had been sweltering. It felt like desert weather, but the three before him appeared unaware of anything unusual in the air...

A
nd then, he realized, it was them.

The
ir coming together and plotting had made the surrounding wind rustle up and do strange things. The wind sung a song, a warning of sorts. He suspected Saint’s energy was manipulating the current while Lawrence was keeping it from turning into an all-out windstorm. The birds were flying in all directions, leaving the comfort of the branches. Jagger simply stood there in the middle, with both men on either side. Raphael glared at him. He knew the big asshole had started the whole sordid mess.

Raphael
couldn’t peg Jagger, couldn’t figure out if he liked the man or not. He sensed a part of the man was blanketed in clandestine energy—dare he say, underhandedness. The man wanted to know
everything
about everyone, but shared little of himself. Raphael could tell he was cunning, never revealing his full plan. Lawrence on the other hand was someone you could trust. The man was like the good angel looming over one’s left shoulder. Jagger, while not exactly an imp, sure had some devilish qualities, similar to Saint, but he was swathed in secrecy. Saint was an open book but this man right here? Raphael just didn’t quite know...

He crossed his arms, wondering why they had him such a great distance away.

“Are you all done yet?” he hollered out, letting his discomfort come through loud and clear.

I’
m the damn guest and they have me pushed away, quarantined like criminal evidence.

Saint’s head shot up from the crowd and Raphael gasped...

Shit! Damn it!

The whites of his eyes glowed bright red.
Raphael gulped. That was his boy, but he didn’t look like himself anymore. It drew his blood cold. Within seconds, Jagger shot Raphael a glance too, that same sneaky grin across his face. The blueness of his eyes was replaced with a color he couldn’t quite describe; yet it bordered on silver with a touch of blue. Raphael’s heart pumped out of control. He fisted his jacket and turned to and fro, as if cops were on their way and he’d just robbed some poor little old lady for her Bingo winnings. Both men then looked away from him, continuing their whispering until finally, Saint broke away and walked up to Raphael, his eyes turning more and more to their normal shade with each step.

Oh Shit...I don’t think I like this.

Saint was smiling from ear to ear as he pointed to his car. “The guys are going to follow us.” And that was all he offered as Saint pushed the unlock button for his Lamborghini. Raphael snatched the passenger’s side door open and settled himself, huffing and puffing. Saint tore down the street like a tornado.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Raphael blurted. He’d had enough. He trusted Saint, but he could tell his
best friend was up to no good.

“Jagger wants to teach me a few m
ilitary moves. It’s just for fun,” Saint replied in a cool tone .

“Military moves?! Like what?”

“We’re going to fight.” Saint laughed huskily, seeming to enjoy every tortured second that passed.

“What the hell? Saint, why in the hell would you want to do that?” Raphael ran his hands up and down his pant legs. “So you all spent all that time
—”

“Man
.” Saint’s brows dipped as he turned a corner. He and Raphael both looked up in his rear view window and could see Lawrence and Jagger right behind them. “You don’t understand. Look, it’s like, once you get used to being this way, like us,” he pointed to his chest, “you build up a reserve of energy and you need to get it out. This explains why I liked to fight so much when we were younger. I rarely started some shit, but I damn sure finished it. I thought something was wrong with me, I suppose it wasn’t.”

“No, something
is
wrong with you,” Raphael yelled as he pointed out the rear window, “And that crazy marine nut friend of yours, too! We aren’t kids anymore, Saint. You were fighting at the bar a year or so ago, had me a part of the mess too, now this.”

Saint slowed at a red light. “Look, it’s going to be okay. Lawrence will be the referee. He will be able to
pull us apart if need be.”

“What is this?! Some sort of psychic show down?
An Angel-Child wrestling convention? I thought you two were friends now.”

“We are! That’
s why we can do this.” Saint looked quickly over at him then back at the road. “We can trust each other to not go too far. And besides, there is some shit he knows that I want to learn how to do. He’s been itching to get his hands on me though.” Saint smirked. “I’m going to fuck that big mothafucka up.” He cackled as he started up again. Raphael’s head jerked back as he sped down the road like a bullet.

“Jesus Christ, Saint!”

“What?” Saint looked at him and rolled his eyes playfully. “You want me to drop you off back at your hotel?”

“...No.”

“I didn’t think so!” Saint burst out laughing as he took a curb so fast, his wheels squealed.

“Where are we going anyway?”

“To the gym Lawrence works out in. He also does personal training for some of the guys, so he has a key.”

“I can’t believe Lawrence is condoning this! You
all
are crazy.”

“Come on, man. Relax.”
Saint patted him on the back, his touch condescending. He drove until they pulled into a desolate parking lot. The large, dark building loomed overhead. A florescent, glowing sapphire set of barbells on the side of the building and the words; “FIT AS A FIDDLE” beckoned the crew. In a matter of moments, a black Ford Tundra pulled up beside them, the windows blacked out as if on a stake out.

“
No worries.” Saint shot Raphael a glance before reaching for his door handle. “It’ll be fun.” Raphael didn’t like the sound of the man’s voice. He didn’t like the set up, he didn’t like the wind and he’d made up his mind—he didn’t like Jagger, either.

~***~

“You need to get your ass off ya damn neck!” Pam barked as she sat back, adjusting her seat in Xenia’s snow-white Escalade. Her silver bangle bracelets clacked against the leather as she struggled to bring the damned thing forward.

“Mama, don’t start with me right now! Now look, you said you needed a ride to Pauline’s house
to do her hair, so that is what I am doing, despite being dead tired. I really wish you’d let me buy you a new car.” Xenia gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter. The night had fallen, the week was long and tortuous, and she’d had a day from Hell.

“That car has been in the family for years! I have to keep her going. She still has life in her.”

“And someone is trying to ruin mine.” Xenia pouted.

I need to t
ell Saint what’s been happening as soon as I drop her off. I can’t believe this shit...

“
That’s it! I ain’t gettin’ out this damn car ’til you tell me what the hell is goin’ on!” Pam dug in her purse, aggressively pushing the worn leather folds to and fro as if they’d called her a bitch. “Here’s my damn lighter.” Huffing, she snatched a cigarette out the carton, popped it in the side of her mouth and lit it in one fell swoop.

“Mama! The kids are in the car. Y
ou know I don’t want anyone smoking in my car, especially around my babies.” Xenia turned the corner, eager to drop her mother off as soon as possible. Usually she could keep her cool, but today, her nerves were a wreck. Sinclair had seen to that.

Pam twisted her neck and looked at the sleeping children, all three of them
knocked out as if they’d been on the bad end of a swinging two-by-four.

She
let the window down, allowing cool air to eddy and churn while she lit up. Xenia sighed loudly. “Mama! Saint doesn’t smoke his cigars around the kids, and neither should you smoke your cigarettes. You just don’t respect me, not one tiny bit, do you?”

“Cool your damn jets.
” Pam rolled her almond shaped eyes. “I was finna ask you to let me out right here on the corner.” She pointed out the window toward a stop sign. “You done got my nerves all bad, all worked up. I need to get a lil’ relief. I’ll only be a minute.”

On a sigh, Xenia
pulled over to the curb. Her mother made a series of dramatic grunts as she got situated to leap off the seat. She pulled her bright red skirt to the side and, whispering expletives under her breath, slid off the cushion like a child from a bar stool and quietly closed the car door behind her. Xenia observed her mother walk a few feet away and stand by a bus stop in her sparkling, matching red heels as if she were waiting for a John and went by the name, ‘Dorothy’ from the ‘Wizard of Oz’.

After a few moments passed
, Xenia reached for her cell phone.

“I bet Saint’s butt isn’t
even home yet,” she mumbled under her breath.
I shouldn’t call him now though anyway; he may sense something is wrong and I’d rather tell him this face to face.
She looked at the time.
Well, it’s late. I better go ahead so at least he’ll know where I and the kids are.