Saint And Sinners (74 page)

His queen was a bit tipsy and Traci looked simply high on life as the two continued
bumping their hips together as if dancing at some old disco club, strobe lights and
all. At last, Traci broke free, made her way to the other side of the room to grab
a bottle of juice. Saint watched his wife, clad in a short, slinky red dress that
shimmered under the lights, as she moseyed around the pool tables, all of them pushed
to the side to afford room for dancing. Lost in her own little world, she snapped
her fingers to the beat, her beautiful, curly blown-out afro was her crowning glory.

Damn, she looks so good in that dress. I want to slide that shit up to her stomach,
snatch her panties off and fuck the shit out of her. I can’t wait to get her back
home tonight…

“Hey Saint!” Jagger interrupted his nasty thoughts. The man swished a bottle of champagne
around. “I don’t feel any different,” he joked.

“Nothing special happens on the night you turn thirty-five. It’s just gradual.” Saint
grinned at him. “I’m looking forward to finding out what else you acquire, though.
It should be pretty damn interesting. Where’s Lawrence?” Saint looked around the place,
unable to track down his wayward friend.

“In the john. Donna is throwing the trash away in the back. She insisted on cleaning
up the cake plates and everything. Anyway, thank you, Xenia, everybody, for throwing
me this great party.” The man looked sentimental, like a child that had won a surprise
award out of the blue.

“Awww man, you know we had to do it big! Thirty-five is a big deal for us. Don’t spend
all that money I gave you in one place.”

“All that money?! Are you joking? It was a ten-dollar bill stuffed in a card, bastard!
You cheap son of a bitch!” Jagger huffed, a smirk on his face.

“You need to look deeper
inside
the card, man… The ten dollars was a joke. Cut open the Hallmark when you get home.”

“Really?” Jagger’s brow shot up in suspicion.

“Yes,
really
!” Saint laughed. “Glad I said something. I thought you would pick up on it. You woulda
thrown my hard-earned cash in the damn trashcan!”

“I’m too excited to think straight. Good lookin’ out.” He lifted a beer bottle to
his lips and took a generous swig.

“Man, I wish I would have recorded Xenia, Donna and Traci being pulled underground.”
Saint cackled, his eyes turning to slits as he relived the whole ordeal. “I warned
them. I told them we could take them through the back door, to let us go down and
then we’d let them in the ‘proper’ way.” He put his fingers in quotes. “But oh no,
they wanted to find out for themselves!”

Jagger looked at him for a long while, straight-faced, then burst out laughing.

“I thought Traci was gonna need a change of pants after that. I was holding onto her
and she screamed the whole friggin’ time. I’m surprised she didn’t burst my eardrum
open. … I was kinda scared for the baby, too,” Jagger said grimly.

“Nah, man, I knew everything would be okay. What was really funny though—Xenia sounding
like her mother the whole damn way down, man. It was like Mama Pam in stereo, ‘Oh
My God! Lord Jesus on the main line!’” Saint imitated, making his voice high like
a woman’s, and barely able to finish his rendition without falling out in chuckles.
“Man, she dug her nails in me so hard, I’m gonna need five skin graft surgeries where
she was holding me. She was like some alley cat, her fur sticking straight up in the
back. Damn near choked me to death, too.”

“Donna was the only one looking halfway normal,” Jagger chided. “But she always looks
pissed, like she’s constipated all the time, so what’s the difference?!” Both men
turned peppermint stripe red as they continued to laugh at their spouses’ expense
until the S.O.S. Band serenaded the last lyrics for, ‘Don’t Stop.’

“Man.” Saint caught his breath between giggles. “I am
never
taking her down that way again.”

“Traci isn’t coming either, but Donna may come again… Maybe her bowels are cleared
now, and she’ll smile a bit more.”

Saint tried to not laugh, but his lower lip began to quiver and the laughter burst
through like a rodeo bull set free from the gate.

“Okay, okay.” He put up his hand. “She’s gotten a little better. You have to admit
it. We’ll have to cut her a little slack.”

“You haven’t had to deal with her as long as I have, but trust me, I’m trying.” Jagger
grinned, a gesture followed by a stifled yawn.

“Awww man, you can’t hang! You’re getting old!” Saint teased, then pretended to jab
him in the chest with a left hook.

Jagger laughed lightly. “I am… This was great though, man. I can’t believe it.”

“Glad you liked it. Well.” Saint looked around and slid his phone out his pocket,
checking the time. “It looks like you’re off the hook anyway. People are starting
to clear out. I guess we better get ready to go, too.”

Jagger grabbed Saint suddenly, bringing him into a warm embrace. “Thanks, man!”

“Yeah, yeah, get off me.” Saint laughed as he wiggled free. “Where’s my wife at?”
He looked around.

“I think I saw her and Traci go into the bathroom.”

“Okay, well…” Saint stopped speaking when he looked towards the restrooms. As if in
timed choreography, the women tumbled out, laughing and acting silly with their arms
linked around one another’s. “Speaking of the little darlings now, here they are.”
He waved Xenia and Traci over. The two women joined them as Saint reached into his
pocket and retrieved his car keys.

“Alright man, I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay? Bright and early.”

“Slave driver,” Jagger teased. “Yeah, Boss, I’ll be there.”

“I need to go to the car dealership tomorrow afternoon at lunch. Maybe I’ll bring
you along.”

“Another car?!”

“Yeah. I lost one, but thankfully didn’t lose my baby in the process.”

Jagger’s expression turn solemn when the man suddenly realized what Saint was referring
to.

“So yeah, I want another one.” A white wisp of smoke circled out the corner of Saint’s
mouth. “You down?”

“Of course…”

Lawrence and Donna joined the group as they all said their spirited farewells.

Saint pulled the two men to the side for one final word before disappearing out the
place.

“I don’t know if you all felt it or not, but we had some uninvited guests outside
for Jagger’s birthday party… They couldn’t get in.” Saint gritted his teeth as he
watched Jagger’s peepers turn mint green. “Some of our new friends here disappeared
for a while to keep watch.

“I figured something was up.” Lawrence’s brows bunched. “It’s like the wind brought
a stench I couldn’t get out of my nose… I could smell them.”

“Well, they were nothing we couldn’t have taken out all by ourselves, but just stay
on the lookout, okay? You must always watch your back when walking the streets until
we get this situation under control.”

“Of course.” Lawrence nodded. “I always am and if I discover anything, I will alert
you immediately.”

“Same here,” Jagger added.

Saint patted both of their backs, turned and took Xenia possessively by the hand.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get to the crib, thank the babysitter, kick her out and make
it do what it do. You are comin’ out that dress ASAP.”

*

“Did you have
fun at your party, honey?” Traci yawned as she ran her hand over her over-sized champagne
yellow T-shirt and slid under the thick, white cotton sheets. “Mmmmm…” She sighed
and moaned. A grin caught the corner of her mouth.

“You know I did. It was the best. Thanks. You did a good job planning that with the
rest of ’em.” He hung his shirt over the side of a chair, then joined her in their
cozy bed.

“Good. I did, too. So, how does it feel to be thirty-five?” she asked on a second
yawn while re-plumping her pillow.

“The same as thirty-four,” he said. Leaning in close, he cupped her shoulder and kissed
her nose. “Where’s my birthday gift?” He slicked his arm around her waist, ushering
her closer to him.

“I gave it to you,” she said, smiling. “You didn’t like the new suit, tie and video
games?”

“…I think you know what I’m talking about.” He grinned into her ear, then traced it
with the tip of his tongue, causing her to coo and wiggle about. He gingerly ran his
hand over her breasts, feeling the light cotton of her shirt impeding his progress.
“Mmmm.” Turning her on her back, he mounted her, slowly running his lips up and down
the side her neck. He relished the delicate touch of her fingers on his hair, then
working their magic along the length of his back. She returned the sweet indulgence
of a kiss along the side of his face, then welcomed him with the tantalizing embrace
of her thighs around his waist.

“Mmmm hmmmm,” he moaned, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger. He continued
to kiss and suck on her neck. “Now
this
is what I call a ‘happy birthday.’” Suddenly, his eyes heated up. There was no warning,
no typical build-up; it simply happened, tore his irises apart.

What the hell is going on?!

He immediately shut them, not wishing to frighten his sweetheart. To make matters
worse, a peculiar tingling sensation began from the bottom of his feet and worked
ever so slowly upward to his knees.

What…the… fuck!

Noticing he’d stopped cold, Traci tugged at his shoulders.

“What’s wrong, Jagger?”

He refused to open his eyes. “Oh, uh…nothing. Let me use the restroom, baby. I’ll
be right back.”

He jumped up as fast as he could, almost tripping over the sheets, becoming a tangled
mess as he literally hotfooted it to the john.

Goddamn it!

Slamming the door behind him, he looked down at his bare feet and legs, ran his hands
up and down his hamstring as he inspected his skin… But there was nothing unusual
going on, at least not to the naked eye. As he continued his observations, the sensitivity
slowly subsided. It was one of the oddest feelings he’d ever encountered. He looked
in the mirror, catching his unusual reflection, paying particular attention to his
eyes. The damn things had gone bright yellow, the irises shaped like a cobra, jet-black
and glossy like freshly laid tar.

“…I don’t believe this…” He grinned, then burst out laughing, slapping his bare chest.

“Saint said nothing changes on the thirty-fifth birthday? Well surprise-surprise,
Mr. Know-It-All! Happy Birthday to
me
!” He cackled before turning out the light and returning back to his Queen to ravish
her in the way he so deeply desired…

*

“H
assani, I’m not,”
Saint stated dismissively as he pressed the heel of his foot into the plush, sable
black rug and pulled a white sock onto the other.

“…And don’t ask about his parents, please, Daddy!”

“Hassani, I can’t promise that.” Saint slid the other sock up his leg, ensuring it
was lined up just so.