Saved and SAINTified (64 page)

Regardless, he continued to smile, refusing to allow the looming dread to ruin this day
—this special moment. It was Isis’ first birthday party after all. He wasn’t worried, though he felt something may be wrong with him because of his lack of concern.

I should be concerned
. This man has killed hundreds of people for far less serious offenses, but for whatever reason, I’m not worried at all...

He
headed down the hall to check one last time on Hassani and Dakarai. When he opened Hassani’s door, he saw his son sitting wide awake, staring out at the bright crescent moon.

“Hassani, why aren’t you asleep, lil’ man? It’s late
—two in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep, Daddy.”

Saint sat beside him on his bed, stroking the back of his son’s soft hair.

“Today was a strange day, wasn’t it?”
Saint smiled in the dimness of the room, only the car shaped nightlight illuminating them.

Hassani nodded.

“Daddy, she is tha baby, now?”

“All three of you are our children, you’re
all
our babies.” He grinned. “She is the youngest so yes, that makes her the smallest baby amongst you.” Saint continued to stroke his son’s hair, feeling his youthful trepidations and worries permeating the air.

“You told me that me
’nd Day-Day came from you and Mommy.”

Saint
nodded. “You did.”

“She did
, too?”

“Yes.”

Hassani’s face changed as he deliberated over that. Saint tried to keep his answers as concise as possible. He understood that Hassani often still took things quite literally.

“I’m the oldest
.” The now six-year-old poked his chest with his index finger. “I have to take care of Day-Day and Icee.”

“Eye-sis, her name is
Isis
, Hassani.”

“Eye-sis,” Hassani repeated. “I’m in charge.”

“No, but you are the oldest so you will get to do things before they do sometimes. You will be trusted with more responsibility. You can help look after them, but it is never your job. You’re just a child yourself. Your mother and I wouldn’t expect you to do all of that.”

“But I want to
...”

S
ilence stretched between them.

“I don’t like girls, but I like Isis and
Mama.”

Saint
laughed. “I like them too, Hassani, and I know you and Dakarai will be great big brothers to your new sister.” Saint kissed his son’s cheek and slowly stood. “Now, get some sleep.” Hassani leaned back in the bed, gripping his bright red toy Camaro as Saint pulled his sheets up around his small body. “Goodnight.” Saint approached the door to leave.

“Daddy,” Hassani called out.

“Yes, baby?” Saint shook his head. “I’m sorry, it’s hard to not call you that, sometimes.”

“That’s okay
.” Hassani coughed, seemingly happy to be called that again—at least just this one time. “I will protect Isis, Daddy. Don’t worry...”

Saint
smiled weakly. “Okay. Thank you, Buddy,” he said, and shut the door.

As he approached his bedroom again, he looked down the winding steps and
spotted Jagger’s broad back. The man sat on the sofa, his laptop open, typing away as a muted re-run football game played in the background on the television. Jagger never turned around, but the men spoke telepathically.

“Good night,
Saint. Try to get some sleep.”

“I wish you would, too.
The chaise in the den pulls out into a bed.”

“Not on your life. You know he will be on his way
... or send someone. Now that you’ve filled Lawrence and me in and I know the target, I can almost smell him.”

“I know
.”

“Lawrence and a couple of the Knights have been driving past, you know
, just to make sure nothing suspicious is going on around the house. One of the Knights is parked right outside your front door. They don’t know what’s going on, but people are worried.”

“I know
. Are you?”

“Nope.”

Saint laughed lightly and put his hands on his waist.
“And why not?”

“Because I will kick that motherfucker’s ass
... with your help, of course.”

They both burst out laughing.

“Jagger, thanks for staying tonight, man.”

“No problem, Boss.”

Saint stood there for a moment, thinking and feeling extremely blessed to have friends like Lawrence and Jagger, around—but he also had overwhelming guilt. Jagger needed a family, his
own
family. Saint was disappointed that Jagger and Traci had played phone tag all this time and nothing had materialized. He also suspected Jagger was wrestling with some fears that haunted him like a marathon of ‘The Twilight Zone’. Jagger was an emotionally wounded man who stood in his own way. Saint sighed in disappointment. He was certain that they’d hit it off, but it never got off the ground.

He
walked back to the master suite and opened the door. Though it was pitch black outside, the room shined as if a new dawn were casually flinging her sparkling jewels inside the window. Xenia sat up to nurse Isis. Saint leaned against the door frame and watched, trying to border the moment in his mind. His daughter wrapped her lips around Xenia’s erect left nipple, her eyes closed tight and one tiny hand grasping at air as she swallowed the essential milk. There appeared to be a soft glow around both of them, as if they were being embraced by a cloud.

“She’s hungry again
.” Xenia looked down at their baby, a loving smile on her exhausted face. “She nurses well.”

“That’s good.”
Saint entered and closed the door behind him. He walked over to the bed and slid under the sheets next to them. “Do you need anything?” he whispered as he reached over and gingerly rubbed the top of his daughter’s head, lightly feeling the soft spot.

Xenia
shook her head. For the next few minutes, Saint watched silently as Isis continued to nurse. When it was over, Xenia adjusted and placed the baby flat against her, coaxing a comfortable sleeping position. She ran her hands up and down the baby’s back, trying to encourage any air to escape. Saint was growing impatient but didn’t want to disturb the moment. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He reached out to Isis and delicately removed her from Xenia’s grasp.

“I want my baby
,” he uttered in a cavemanish tone as he cradled the tiny tot possessively.

With a frown, he
got up from the bed to ensure she wasn’t carted away by her possessive mother. He felt foolish for behaving this way, but he couldn’t stop. He knew how silly it looked, but his heart was bursting and he needed his baby. He and Xenia locked eyes. She sighed, then relinquished with a smile.

“I knew it,” she
teased as she turned over on her side, her back facing him, and brought the sheets up around her. “It’s starting already. Daddy’s little girl ... You are too funny, Saint.” Her voice, though jovial, showed more signs of exhaustion. She yawned and drifted quickly to sleep.

Saint
walked out onto the bedroom balcony. Just below, he could see a car parked in front of the house. The Knight inside nodded, Saint responded in kind. The evening was unseasonably warm, but he still kept Isis wrapped snugly against his chest. He took a seat in one of the dark green wrought iron chairs they’d had flown in from a Parisian furniture maker. Then he propped his legs up and crossed his ankles on the small matching breakfast table—the table at which he and Xenia had spent many precious moments talking, drinking hot beverages or iced-cold home-made lemonade, and stealing many sensuous kisses from one another.

Saint
leaned back in his seat, exhaled, and looked down at his baby. When he moved the soft fabric away from her face, Isis’ gaze connected with his. Though he was certain she couldn’t yet distinguish him clearly, there was no mistaking the instant bond.

He’d waited almost an entire day for this
, to just simply hold his newborn for more than five seconds and have a private moment with her. Her hazel eyes, slightly turned at the corners, were shaped like his. In that, he rejoiced. He unashamedly admitted that his ego was stroked each and every time he looked at his children and saw pieces of himself in them. But those lips—he took note of them once more—were definitely her mama’s.

“You know what?”
Saint whispered as he looked down at her, so completely madly in love it was sickeningly sweet. “You’ve caused quite a ruckus, young lady.” He delicately kissed her forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here. I know you’re going to have me wrapped around your tiny, little finger ... Actually, you already do.”

H
e looked at her thumb slowly peeking up from behind the fabric as she moved about. He gently grabbed it and grinned down at her. A faint smile appeared across her small face, causing him to grin even wider. He knew it was just a reflex, but he delighted in it all the same.

“I really enjoyed speaking to you those times while you were still inside of your mother
. You’re so beautiful, Isis.” He quickly wiped a wayward tear from his eye. “I won’t let anything happen to you, you hear me? You’re just an ordinary little girl to so many, and to others, you mean that they are released from a tyrant. But to me, you’re my everything. You, your mother, your brothers ... I’ll tear the world up for all of you.” His voice cracked. “Daddy will take care of everything, okay? Don’t you worry. I promise. I don’t break promises to my family. Promises are sacred. You have nothing to worry about, baby girl. Daddy’s here, and I won’t let
anybody
hurt you...”

****

Three weeks later...

“You cheated, man!” Raphael ran around the pool table and grabbed the shiny eight ball out of the pocket, his eyebrows furrowed and lips turned downward in a menacing scowl.

“Bullshit! Sore loser. Give me my damn money!” Saint cackled as he threw his hand out. The red and blue basement lights danced over their heads as the sounds of
Tech N9ne
’s, “
Einstein” bounced from the speakers.

“Maaaan!
Saint you got me fucked up ... cheatin’ ass ... trick ass shot!” Raphael grumbled but pulled his wallet out his back pocket, removed the fifty dollar bill, and begrudgingly placed it in Saint’s palm.

“I didn’t cheat. Yo
u aren’t used to someone beating you. You shoulda known, man!” Saint folded the cash in his hand then started to dance, shuffling his legs to the hard baseline of the song. Raphael crossed his arms and shook his head as Saint gloated and started to rap along with the song. “Who got this mothafuckin’ house on lock? Who? Einstein! Huh what!”

“Shut up, man!” Raphael
barked, grinning through his irritation.

“When I rip shit, like the plates shifted, angels come in many shades, either drunk or lifted
... The Einstein!” Saint continued to two step, now holding steady to his Bourbon that sloshed about in the glass as he shuffled his feet to the beat, looking smug.

When t
he song ended, Saint took a deep breath and plopped down in one of the black leather theater seats in front of his large movie screen. It was one of Saint’s favorite rooms in the entire house but it never warmed well. There was always a chill in the air so Xenia rarely joined him. Across from it was his adult gaming, and another basketball court, the light, wooden floors so shiny one could see one’s reflection.

A state of the art fully loaded wet bar, an imperial butcher-block foosball table, four bowling lanes and his custom-made pool table completed the vast area. In one closed off section was a private space he enjoyed
—his man cave, equipped with a small but well-crafted desk, comfortable chair, flat-screen wall mounted television and laptop he used from time to time.

Raphael paced the floor. The area smelled of hot, buttery popcorn.
Xenia had insisted that he couldn’t have a bowling alley and movie theater without a deluxe, carnival style popcorn machine. It had caused a stomach churning belly ache for Hassani and Dakarai. The dynamic duo had snuck down to the lower level one fateful afternoon and helped themselves to more than a handful of the calorific delight.

“
Saint, I need to talk to you.” Raphael sighed and took a seat next to his best friend. The two men stared at the floor.

“Say it, man.”
Saint urged when Raphael hesitated.

“Something has been going on with you, for months. You stopped returning my calls as much. You’ve been dodging me. I tried to get out here with the kids
; you all but ignored me. I got to see when you visited your dad, but even then, I had to initiate contact. The only  reason I’m here right now,” he said, his annoyance visibly rising, “is because I told you I needed to come out here to see you immediately and wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. Now look, we’ve always been close. I know I’ve been busy with my store, and you’re busy with your conferences, the birth of your baby girl—I get it.” He shrugged. “But we boys, man! You my cat. You’re holding out on me. After everything we’ve been through? This ain’t the way it’s ’sposed to be, man. What’s up?”