Saved and SAINTified (28 page)

“Oh Saint, don’t be that way! Educate me, bruh!” Jas and his friends laughed louder, stirring the embers of a pending fight.

Saint sighed. He cocked his head to the side, his lips pursed. He made a casual scan of the establishment then returned his gaze to Jas.

“You are what? A twenty-eight year old mothafucka, professing to be so educated and love black women so much, yet you probably can’t even name five black female historical figures and tell me
exactly
what they did, and how they contributed to our society. You’re in my mothafuckin’ face though, screaming at me about disrespecting
your
people and your women. Educated black man, my ass.
This
is an educated black man,” he said, pointing to Raphael.

“Keep talking that shit, you don’t know me.”

“And you don’t know
me
! You are judging me based on snippets of what you think I said, or you were told I said—and even if I did say whatever the fuck you’re accusing me of, it’s my fucking prerogative to think the way I fucking want to. You can’t run around trying to intimidate everyone that makes you mad. Grow the hell up. It’s a free damn country.”

“Maybe for you it is, white man!”

“I’m not white, but you already know that since you called me a mutt.” Saint rolled his eyes. “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you’d had gotten enough oxygen at birth?”

“Nice insults. It still won’t help you and you may as well be white, man. You’ve got the white man privilege and are helping them gain more control. You need to shut the fuck up and go back to whatever it was that you were doing before you got so-called famous. Stop getting on the radio,” Jas counted off his fingers, “stop writing dumb ass books, stop these fuckin’ conferences full of white men lusting after black women. You’re fuckin’ sad.”

“Okay, real talk, Jas. You’re not the ruler of my thoughts and controller of my mind. So you stand around being mad all fucking day at this pretend white supreme being, giving him even more power by announcing him as your King. That’s right, when you obsess over someone, you say they are in charge of you. Your hatred makes you obsessed. The ruler of your obsessions is demonstrated by your silly ass actions and jealousy when you could be focusing on how to improve and better yourself. Successful people mirror the good in others and use their time wisely, Jas.”

“Oh, so now you’re pontificating?  When there are less brothas locked up, less white supremacy and less pitfalls stacked against us, as black people, then you can come holla at me, man! You are getting rich off of pimping ideas and sex to horny ass white boys. You’re a shit starter and—”

“And you’re a fuckin’ epidemic. I was one of the first people to say at my conferences that our penal system is racist. This is basic math. When a small group of people, statistically speaking, make up the majority of the prison population, the laws are skewed, no ifs ands or buts about it. However, some of y’all—”

Jas burst out laughing, “Some of y’all?! This is yo’ boy, Raphael?” He shot Raphael an angry, judgmental look. “You people, wow!”

“Stay focused and stop trying to start a problem where it doesn’t exist. Yes, you heard me right. Some of these arrests are not being done to innocent bystanders.  Why is it that people like you rarely discuss black on black crime, which is the bulk of how black men are being killed, black people in general? But the racially driven crimes, you are all over that as if your life depended upon it. You killing each other IS your life! Wake the hell up and stop lying to yourself! Some of these brothas aren’t being locked up because their ass was skipping down the street with a basket of sunshine and mothafuckin’ flowers. These people that I’m talking about, Jas, aren’t figments of my imagination. They are my friends, too!”

Jas paused and listened.

“There are some guys that are getting fucked over, racially profiled and all that other bullshit but what about the real issues, Jas? Many are walking around here selling death to your own people for a dollah ... but you wanna come holla at cha boy because I said I wanted to date your women, love your women, desire your women and
fuck
your women,” Saint sounded out the eff bomb, enjoying how it echoed and rolled off his tongue as he made his point, “and marry them, too. And when I say
your
, I’m not talking about ownership—I’m talking about the cultural identity because contrary to how guys like you act, you don’t own black women!”

“Fuck our women?!” Ramón repeated.

“That’s right, I did say that shit. I said I wanted to fuck
your
women,” Saint repeated, now itching for a physical confrontation to release some steam. “And I fucked so many women, you’d never be able to catch up with me, even if you suddenly became Don Juan and Casanova combined, even if you fucked a woman a day for the rest of your natural born life!”

Yeah, how you like that?!

“Saint!” Raphael called out. He looked over at his friend, who now was beyond concerned.

Saint ignored him. “No, fuck that, Raphael. He wanted to talk, so we’re talking! I’m tired of this shit. You can only push me so far.”

“Yeah, let the man talk, Raph.” Jas grinned antagonistically. “Tell us about your life, Saint. School us.” Jas ran his finger along his chin.

“Like you give a shit ... Fine. I also married a black woman. Now isn’t that a novel idea! Made her my wife and had some babies with her, but I take care of mine.” He smirked. “Not one of you mothafuckas standing in my face married any of the women you gave seed to.” Saint looked at all of their left hands—not one wedding band in the bunch, yet he knew all of them had children. “Not one of you even considered that shit, because hell, it’s a mothafuckin’ candy store out here, right?” Saint laughed and looked mockingly around the bar. “Why settle down? So many women to bone, so little time. I always knew I would eventually get married, regardless of my playboy days.”

“You don’t know my story. I’m a good father. Marriage is a piece of paper. I take care of my seeds! All day every day!”

“And you think you deserve a medal for that? That’s what you’re supposed to do!”

“I am and maybe I could give them even more, if I had the same privileges you have, for being everything but a black man. Must be nice to stand around being judgmental when you don’t have it like we do.”

“No one told you to make those kids. And don’t blame me and take the easy way out. Once again, it’s all the white man’s fault, right?” Saint smirked. “You were forced to fuck without a rubber, at gunpoint. Own up to your shit.”

“I’m going to love fucking you up later...”

Saint rolled his eyes. “A good role model to your children that you created and not just use their mother as a cum bucket, right? She is no longer a person with a soul, just something for you to shoot your jizz in ... Whatever, man. I know how this shit works. I used to do the same shit but because I’m not black, all of a sudden, you find fault with it. Fuck you, Jas.”

Jas lunged at Saint. Ramón pulled him back. “Man, don’t! We’ll get him later. They got cops right outside here.” He pointed to a bouncer and police officer by the front door. “And that bartender keeps looking at us funny. I think y’all need to keep your voices down.”

“You won’t be getting shit later.”

“Saint, stop it man! Jas, cool it! I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but this shit is over, now everyone cool out, damn!”

Jas smiled, the anger emitting off of him like smoke on a summer grill.

“You don’t respect black women, that’s a damn joke. You just use them and they are dumb enough to fall for it. You don’t even probably really want them; this is like some game to you. Your wife is a damn sellout—not because she dated outside of her race, but because she could actually hitch her wagon to a soulless person like you. She couldn’t handle the black man, obviously. She had to go get someone weak.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “That’s why she switched teams, another black woman with a big ass mouth complaining about how she can’t get a man or men ain’t shit.”

“Nah, Jas.” Saint reached behind him, picked up his drink, swallowed what remained and slammed the glass back on the counter. “She is self-assured, confident and not needy—and there are too many men that couldn’t handle that. It’s hard out here for women. Too many of them get a bunch of lip service and dick. It gets so damn old. She wasn’t going to keep waiting around and why should she? I married her ass, and I’m not apologizing for
shit
! I married her because
real
men commit. You see this ring?” Saint held up his left hand. “This is not a ball and chain, like you’ve been corrupted into believing. This is the armor of a strong man, a faithful man, a mothafuckin’ husband,” Saint antagonized.

“You got married! So the hell what? You’ve fallen under the white man’s system and think that is somehow newsworthy.”

“You’re so damn stupid.” Saint shook his head. “This conversation is not fulfilling in the least. I tried, I really did. You’re hopeless. If ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest mothafuckin’ person alive, man.”

Jas started to lunge at him, his fist flying in the air.

“Hey!” Vanessa called out from behind the counter. “There won’t be any fighting in here. Chill.”

“Saint! I’m not going to be able to keep holding him back, now shut the fuck up! I think you’ve drank too much. Just shut your mouth and keep it closed.”

“We’ll be good, Vanessa.” Saint turned and winked at her, knowing he was lying. “Jas, instead of harassing me tonight why don’t you go help the women struggling to take care of your children, huh? You affectionately call them bitches, right?”

“You have—”

Saint cut him off at the pass. “Were they bitches when you were fucking them and knocking them up? And you want to talk to me about respecting black women, man.
Fuck
you and yo’ boys! Last warning: get the fuck away from me.”

Yup. S
aint was angry now. All remnants of the calm exterior had melted about five minutes prior and he no longer cared.

Preparing to fight, Jas unzipped his jacket and exposed his clothing. Saint surmised he was a black nationalist based on his attire and artifacts.

Just my shitty luck. I’m arguing with a Malcolm X wannabe. This isn’t going to end well.

“So now you’re disrobing? Is that supposed to scare me?”

“You feel safe cause of ya boy, here. I’m going to fuck you up, Saint. Just keep on talking. I’m enjoying this, man.” Jas grinned and stroked his chin.

“Look in the mirror and address your own shit before steppin’ to me!”

“I’ll step to you if I want to! You are not above being brought down a notch or two!”

The music grew louder, causing the two men’s voice to elevate.

“You came over here, dressed in your Bob Marley garb, with your South African necklace on and your cheap, Egyptian knock-off rings. The real ones are much nicer, I can hook you up but anyway—don’t you get in my face about some shit that you can’t even understand and swallow, let alone digest. You’re wasting time on me. Get your mind right. Hey, Vanessa.” Saint looked over his shoulder coolly, starting to feel the alcohol marinating his brain. His buzz was strong. “Can I get another one of these, please?” He held his empty glass up and watched her nod in his direction.

The man looked over at Raphael and shook his head in disbelief, “How can you sit here and have drinks with this man, Raphael? Are you really this lame’s friend? Please tell me you aren’t friends with this misguided, confused boy.”

“Never that.” Saint smiled and slicked his tongue over his bottom lip. “A boy I am not. One hundred percent man, all the way. Full grown. Keep having these grandiose daydreams about fucking me up tonight, too. That’s all they are, are daydreams. Guys like you crack me the fuck up. You think because I’m not black, I can’t defend myself.” Saint thrust his finger in Jas’ face. “You wanna rumble with me? I’ll oblige. I was born ready.”

“I’ve had enough of this shit. No one is fighting anyone and Jas, for the record, Saint is like my brother. His skin color doesn’t have anything to do with this; he’s a good man so whatever beef you’ve conjured in your head, kill it. He isn’t anti-black man and I, too, felt like you about this at one point in time but I’ve known this man my whole damned life! Ain’t a bad bone in his body! You aren’t conscious man, you’re asleep, doing the same shit you accuse our oppressors of doing. So with that said, I’d appreciate it if you’d—”

“Man! You got—”

“I’d appreciate if you’d step off! Damn! The man just got back in town. Just go relax somewhere. I’m getting too old for this shit!”

Jas looked Raphael up and down for a moment, snatched his jacket out of Ramón’s hands and walked away, the other two following. There were a few moments of silence before Saint and Raphael sat back down in their seats.

“Saint, Jesus Christ.” Raphael grinned as he finished off his drink. “Bringing drama. Anyway, I swear it’s like you wanted to fight.”

“I did.” Saint continued to stare down into his empty glass.

“What the fuck for? I thought you came here to deal with your dad, provide some comfort, you know, work some shit out? Why in the hell would you want to get into an altercation?”

“Because I’m sick of those type of bitch-made men, Raphael. On a better day, I would’ve just let him talk, like I typically do to that type, but nah,” Saint shook his head, “not today. I’m not in the mood for any bullshit tonight. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I knew when he looked at me; he was going to start some shit. I knew as soon as he recognized who I was, he was going to put on a dog and pony show. Give these mothafuckas an inch, they take a whole goddamn mile.”