Saved and SAINTified (37 page)

“
...Tomorrow.” He looked out the sliding doors at the water in their swimming pool, rippling from the blowing wind.

Xenia
sucked her bottom lip; her eyes lowered but not before he could see the storm brewing in them. Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned and walked closer to the patio. A ball hitting a wall interrupted the momentary silence. Hassani’s laughter and Dakarai’s heavy, uneven, quick footsteps finished the child-like melody. She placed her hands on the glass, leaned slightly forward and peered out, as if looking at something in particular. He knew she could feel it—his tension, his anger, his thirst to exact a beat down. After all, she was part of him, his true soulmate. And now, for the third time, she carried a piece of him inside of her that grew a bit stronger each and every day.

S
aint came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He closed his eyes and inhaled her perfume, shivering ever so slightly as he felt his daughter’s soul all around him. He trailed his fingertips across Xenia’s stomach, massaging lightly, the fabric of her lilac chiffon shirt bunched around the top of her jeans. They stood quiet, alone with their thoughts, but together with their hearts. Xenia reached down and covered his hands with her own, riding his grip and motions as he continued to caress her. He felt her small, soft fingers lightly scan the veins in his large hands—her touch sensual, feminine and lovely. Their fingers continued to slow dance together, her baby bump warmed under his repeated touch. He nuzzled his chin in the crook of her neck and exhaled into the soft skin below her ear.

I’ll be back, baby. I have to leave. I must protect you and Isis. I don’t want to go, but I must. I have to safeguard my family. That’s what a man does
—he takes care of his Queen and his seeds or dies trying. If not, he’s no man at all...

Three days later...

S
aint sent his final text message to Lawrence:
Thank you for watching over Xenia. Whatever you do, don’t let her know what you’re up to.

Lawrence
:
I won’t, and no problem. She is fine. She just left the studio and your sons are safe as well.

S
aint shut his phone. He tired of listening to the same instrumental version of ‘Highway to Heaven’.

This is some sort of sick joke
...

He drummed his long fingers along the armchair
and looked around at the various paintings of generic flowers and elegant mosques. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. When he opened them again, a slight breeze blew past, laced with a familiar scent.

Smells like
Mama’s perfume...

The small waiting area inside the mansion was ill-fit. Resembling a doctor’s office, magazines and all, S
aint thought he may have entered the twilight zone. After a few additional moments, a tall, attractive West African woman entered, smiling at him. Covered from head to toe in elaborate draped golden and sage silk, she announced in Arabic that he could come forward.

This cat is a trip.
Got one of his wives to bring me in like she’s a nurse and he is a doctor. I thought I was the King of thinking the world of my mothafuckin’ self, ego in check, but this takes the goddamn cake.

S
aint smirked, rose from the steel chair and made his way toward her. The woman opened the door, exposing an extensive hallway that seemed to have no end in sight. It was adorned with long, rectangular mirrors, and expansive floor to ceiling windows on each side. Saint looked outside as he followed behind her. The lush plant life caught his attention, but didn’t divert it enough to remove the nauseous feeling swelling inside his stomach. He hadn’t been this far away from home in a while, and there was no fear—just pure disgust. Two thin gold bangle bracelets clinked together on his wrist as he took each labored step. His black button down shirt partially open, he could feel trickles of sweat moving fastidiously down his pecs. He fisted his hand against his black pant leg and couldn’t wipe the budding scowl off of his face. Each step he took, the angrier he got. He could smell Nizsm’s energy—pungent, powerful and repulsive.

Soon, they approached another door
at the end of the hallway. The woman opened it, and they entered a large, banquet hall sized room housing an elaborate sitting area adorned with large twin black and white checkered marble fireplaces with silver framed mirrors above them. It reminded Saint of something right out of ‘Alice in Wonderland’—especially the smoky incense clouds and slightly slanted floor. The room was uncomfortably dark and fairly empty, minus four large black chairs and a silver table in the middle of them. An area rug, almost the width and length of the room, helped absorb some of the strange sounds Saint heard in his peripheral earshot. He was feeling pain. Not physical pain, but the emotional pain from others. Like a sponge, he soaked it in, deep to his core. His muscles contracted under his taut golden skin, coming alive to unseen spirits seeming to dash his way in a frenzied state of panic. Saint looked in all directions, hearing the whispers but seeing nothing. It was as if he’d entered, with a lonely loaf of bread, a room full of hungry children who had been waiting for weeks to eat.

“Welcome!”
Nizsm smiled widely, his teeth gleaming as he approached in a white linen shirt and pant suit. His matching white canvas soft-soled shoes made him appear to be walking on clouds, but Saint knew better.

“Have a seat.”
Nizsm kept the deceptive grin, then shot a look at his wife. They both watched her take her cue and disappear like a wisp of smoke, closing and locking the door behind her. 

He just finished fucking her to let off some steam.
Must be nice. I could be bustin’ my Queen out right now; instead, I’m here, dealing with premium bullshit.

S
aint considered the neatly arranged chairs, but remained standing. Nizsm reached him and offered his hand. He returned the handshake halfheartedly and sat down, crossing his ankles. To the right, a thin stream of light seeped through the room from a small window. Nizsm sat across from him, legs crossed, slightly leaned forward as if rearing to fight, and an undeniable smirk on his face.

“Now, before we get into the reason
why you’re here, I hope you had a good flight and were able to enjoy a bit of the Egyptian traditional events. I understand you’ve never been here before, at least not as an adult, and since this is part of your culture, it may benefit you to see some of the sites. There is a fair going on in downtown Cairo, if you’d like to attend. I can—”

“Just shut up,
Nizsm.” Saint dropped a menacing gaze upon the man. “I’m not here to socialize with you, have fun with you, shoot the shit with you or humor you –or even to argue, beg, plead or play games with you. I’m here because I understand that you want to go to war with me and I wanted to tell you to your face that I accept your challenge. End of story. There isn’t shit else to talk about.”

“Fine, we’ll get right down to business. I see that you’re quite angry.”
Nizsm leaned back in his seat and studied Saint up and down.

“Wow. You must be a damn genius.”

Nizsm shook his head. “Fighting shouldn’t be necessary if you’d try to understand where I’m coming from. I could smell your energy, Saint. You want to beat me to death with your bare hands.” He studied his nails. “An angry Angel Child can be noticed many miles away. Please try to understand. This isn’t a punishment to you. I’m giving you a gift.”

“I would have preferred a
retail gift card or something from Hallmark. Who the hell are you trying to mind fuck, Nizsm? I
invented
the mind fuck. Go jump on someone else’s skull and hump away. I don’t have time for this shit. You brought me all the way here to say
what
?! Say what you have to say, I’ll respond, and we’ll go from there.”

“Ali was right about you.”

“Who is that? Your walking ‘Saint the Farmer’s Almanac’ manual?” Saint snickered. “He is giving you predictions about my temperature? The weather of my attitude? So fucking idiotic. You’re too lazy to do your own reading, now? Oh wait—you can’t, because you’re blocked!”

“You talk too much.”

“And you listen too little. Don’t worry.” Saint smiled. “You won’t be able to speak or hear much longer anyway...”

Nizsm
swallowed. “Ali said that you were arrogant, silly at times, but dangerous. He said to not trust you. You have a loose tongue, Saint. That sort of insolence may be okay where
you
come from, but from where I come from, it is not. You walked in with a chip on your shoulder. You’re unreasonable. We are still family.”

“I give respect to people that earn it. I don’t just hand it out freely. You are asking me to kill my child and in the same breath talking about
respecting you. Are you fucking serious? Your ass is sittin’ over there like you’re King Tut or something, talking to me about respect, when the whole reason I’m here is because you want my unborn child dead—like I’m supposed to be understanding or cool with that.”

“You would be if you understood what was at stake.”

“The only thing at stake is your control. I don’t give a shit about
you
, or anyone else in support of what’s going on here.”

“If you understand your culture, your history
, and how we run things, you would be cool with it, as you say. I’m not trying to hurt you or your family.”

“Get tha fuck outta here.” S
aint waved him off with a grimace, his New York accent thick on the syllables.

“This is for the greater good.”

“No it’s not. You can’t push me around or manipulate me like you do the other Angel Children around here. That shit might work here in Egypt, but I assure you, it doesn’t outside of this,” Saint looked around and shook his head disapprovingly, “palace. Doesn’t make a damn bit of difference what you say.”

Nizsm
slapped the arm of his chair and laughed unpleasantly. “You’re quite the character.” He waved his finger at him. “I bet we could have been friends had it not been for this unfortunate situation.”

“I doubt it.”

“No, seriously. You and I really
could
have been great friends, like our fathers. Instead, your grandfather tucked his tail in between his legs and ran away from home.” Nizsm sighed. “Your father was psychically stronger than my father. I do think that bred some contempt ... and instead of using it to his advantage, your father pissed it away.” Nizsm’s face went more serious. “My father passed the leadership reigns to me, and yours would’ve done the same, because you and I are born leaders. You and I Saint.” He pointed at Saint then at himself. “We’re equals and have so much in common. You are a worthy opponent. I can feel your power, your energy. It’s divine ... it’s like looking in the mirror and kissing myself.” He cocked his head to the side. “There’s just one problem, you have no clue as to what you’re doing, and it’s almost comical.”

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh. It’s not how I dance, it’s that I did it and lasted until the end.” S
aint adjusted in his seat. “Back to the topic, my father and friend tried to speak to you, but you refused to listen to reason. You are completely blinded and unwilling to see the truth.”

Nizsm
laughed. “Oh, I see the truth. Your father destroyed the vastness of your opportunities. If you had been trained properly, from childhood, by the age of thirty-five you would have been as great as I. You had one advantage over me though. Your mother is one of us, weak, but nevertheless, she was one of us. My mother was more like, well,” he shrugged, “your wife... ” he goaded.

“Weak? Like your daughters?” S
aint smirked. “Hmmm, sounds like a personal problem. I don’t know anything about that. You’ve got ninety-nine problems, but my daughter ain’t one.”

Nizsm
shot him a mocking look. “I suppose so, Saint. I’m not certain as to why you were given the Princess of Life, versus me. I never left the foundation. You weren’t even born here and you’re a hybrid. I’m pure Egyptian, you’re half Asian. Seems rather unfair, but this is what we have before us, nevertheless.”

“
You and the word ‘fair’ should never come in contact. And for the record, you’re a hybrid as well, Nizsm. You’re not a pure-blood African man. That makes you a hybrid. Surely your science background affords you the ability to discern the truth and sway away from petty insults that were intended to uplift you in vain. You can’t build a nation on polluted thoughts and rotten soil. Due to the fact that I know you down to your molecular core and you know me as well, save the bullshit for another day. You can’t play a player, man.” Saint pressed his fingertips together. “Anyway, let’s wrap this shit up.” He looked down at his watch. “We’ve been having telepathic conversations since I first landed here. You keep shootin’ your energy at me, trying to find out what I can and can’t do and trying to figure out if you can take me or not. Well, come on, cowboy. If you’re scared, then say you’re scared.”

“That’s what I love about you, S
aint. You’re earthy, down to earth, as they say.  As soon as we started sending messages to each other back and forth, you brought your humor right away ... your threats, your disrespect. That’s funny. You have this urban American street vibe. That’s enchanting. It will also be your downfall with a man like me though. This isn’t the Wild Wild West. You’re an easy target. This will be simpler than I thought.”