Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (22 page)

“That’s what I need to meet with you about
,” Lawrence said coolly.

“
You are a sitting duck, man. I’m sorry, but that’s the honest truth.”

“Call him…call him,
now
!” Saint grabbed his cell phone and threw it toward Lawrence who caught it in midflight and immediately punched in numbers as if his own life depended upon it.

“Hello, yes, I’d like to speak to Krishna, please? Yes, this is an emergency…he is expecting my call…”
Lawrence nodded sympathetically in Saint’s direction.

“
Yes, I’ll hold…”

~***~

“So this is what you do when you’re stressed out? Get fucked up?” Jagger teased as the three made their way down the busy streets of Hollywood. Lawrence shook his head in disbelief as Saint’s eyes glowed. The warmth of the alcohol had helped. Krishna wasn’t available and hadn’t returned the call as of yet, and to make matters worse, Xenia had to go out of town for the night on business. An opportunity to interview Drake and Rihanna had surfaced, and she had to go. She still had the radio show and this would make her resume look all the brighter. He kept his selfish thoughts to himself, his desire to keep her captive for his own pleasure and to help fill the hole in his heart, but he was lost after he hung up from her. What would he do? He didn’t want to go to an empty house. She didn’t trust him overnight with the children anymore, not after the last incident, which consisted of him pulling a ‘Bill Cosby’. They had huge slices of chocolate cake for breakfast and even Isis was allowed to indulge. He almost got away with it until Dakarai let the cat out the bag, and evidence of an additional slice was discovered hidden under his bed for safekeeping. The boy presented it to his mother, trying to understand why it had become hard as a brick…

To make matters worse, he allowed their sons
to climb the side of the house one dreary evening, but this was no ordinary climb. Saint psychically lifted them up into the air during an impromptu rock climbing game, having their tiny fingers grasp at nothing. He’d checked to make sure the coast was clear, and baby Isis was brought in on the act, her gurgling and giggles blending right in with her brothers’ as Daddy gave them a ride of a lifetime. That dirty little secret was also uncovered, due to Hassani’s school report entitled, “I can climb with no hands.” A call from the teacher regarding their eldest son’s vivid imagination caused ruckus in the Aknaten household. Xenia told him that was the final straw and the last time she’d entrust him alone overnight with their children, adding that her husband needed a babysitter, versus the kids. Regardless, Saint needed his family tonight—but his two comrades would simply have to do. He wanted some peace, some pussy and some pinot noir, not necessarily in that order.

“Maaaan, f
uck this shit.” Saint hiccupped as his heart swelled.

Red lights glowed and blurred as cars drove past and the sky was aglow with stars and buildings
with twinkling glass windows, enticing the city crowd with promises of glitter and nights to remember.

“
Look at that!” Jagger pointed to a tattoo parlor, painted bright red and filled with muscle bound men and ladies with vibrantly colored hair. Pierced and enchanting, they moved about, their bodies full of flamboyant, elaborate ink designs. “Shit man.” Jagger looked down at his arm. “I wanted to get another one right here.” His index finger punched into his shoulder. “One that represents me.”

“So you’re getting a tattoo of what? A big asshole?” Saint snorted, the liquor loosening his tongue.

“Fuck you, Saint.” Jagger grinned as he opened the front door of the establishment. “Come on, guys. Lawrence is the only one that’s an ink virgin.” Saint and Jagger shot him a daring glare, one meant to seduce and shame him into falling into the inky dark side.

“You bastards can forget it!” Lawrence laughed. “Donna would kill me…
Besides, I’m not into that, but you two, go right ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

The three entered and
moved through the crowd. Saint took a seat and immediately pulled his V-neck dark blue shirt over his head as if he were in a doctor’s office. He was amped and ready to get the needle show started.

“Oh
, you’re getting some shit, too?” Jagger asked proudly as he removed his own shirt as well, exposing an unbelievable tapestry of beautiful Asian women with fans, heavily detailed smoking skulls, a realistic machine gun blasting bullets and dark tribal type lines.

Saint nodded. “Been thinking about it for a
while…wanna get Xenia and the kids on me.”

Jagger looked over Saint’s shoulder as he sat next to him,
slumped forward. He took a discriminatory gaze at the large angel tattoo on his back. “That’s dope, man. Whoever did that has serious skills.” Jagger swallowed and he knew what that was about…he saw the bullet hole in the angel’s wing.

“Damn bro, you are a soldier your damn self.
”

Saint gave him daps and leaned back, waiting until a man with a bald head and one long jet black braid walked up to them. A silver bar ran through the man’s nose, and a large black ink illustration of a woman praying
spanned the right side of his thick neck.

“So, what can I do for you two gentlemen?” The man shot a look at Lawrence who stood there with his arms folded, unwilling to make eye contact.

“I’m thinking of gettin’ my dog tags up here on my shoulder.” Jagger pointed to the clear area of skin. “And I want the letter ‘T’ done real pretty, like calligraphy, in between ’em.”

Saint grinned so wide
his face practically cracked in half. Brain swimming with the sweet nectar of spirits, he burst fourth like an open barn door, allowing all the runaway words to come tumbling out. “Whipped! Nose wide open! Pussy punched! Beautiful, man! Lady T gets a spot on your body. Charmin’ as fuck!”

“Oh shut up, man!” Jagger grimaced, underestimating Saint’s inability to be mature about the situation.

“Oh shit! I still can’t believe it.” Saint cackled, ribbing the unfortunate man to bits. “Gettin’ the broad’s name, at least the first letter, on you. She must be servin’ that up
right
! I’ve got good taste. I knew you two would hit it off.”

“Are you finished patting yourself on the back?” Jagger hissed.

“No, not really.” Saint’s tone was serious, right before he exploded into an oral firework storm of guffawing once again. “Gettin’ inked for your woman, huh? Ha! Jagger is a grown mothafuckin’ man. So proud of you!” He put the man in a friendly half nelson. Jagger squirmed out of his grip. “The love of a good woman will make you do some thangs, huh?!” Saint’s laughter grew louder as he rocked in his seat like a silly teenager, his fist balled up over his mouth while he heehawed back and forth. He
was
proud of him, but he couldn’t resist an opportunity to tease the poor son of a bitch. Jagger rolled his eyes and turned back to the tattoo artist.

“So, what do ya think?”

The man dropped low and looked at Jagger’s skin from various angles. “Yeah, bro. We can do that. Sounds good. Give me ten minutes to sketch somethin’ out.”

Jagger nodded.

“What about you?” The man stared at Saint.

Saint hesitated then drew serious. “I want my family
over my heart…my wife’s name and my children’s initials. I have three kids—two sons and a little girl.”

“Okay, yeah, we can do something really nice.” The man watched as Saint circled his bare flesh with his index finger, tapping the spot
where he wanted the art etched.

“
For my boys, I want angel wings, but just one wing for each one, ’til it comes together like a complete angel, so—”

“Wait, so you want an angel there, but a child’s name per wing, right?”
the artist clarified.

“No body, just the wings joined, so, the wings will represent my sons
and my daughter, a halo for her. I want her in the middle, like she is protected by her brothers. Then, above the halo, I want my wife’s name since she is the matriarch.”

“
I like that. It’s original. Cool, got it. I’ll sketch you something up as well.” The man nodded as he pulled out a pad of tracing paper and an ink pen.

Lawrence and Jagger shot him a look.
Actually, they’d been staring at him the entire time he went through his vivid description of the whole spiel. He’d been planning this all right. He’d thought it out long and hard, and what was supposed to be a surprise for Xenia around Christmas time was going to be done right here, right now. He felt compelled. If his family wasn’t with him tonight, he’d
make
them be with him, one way or another.

Two hours later, Jagger and Sa
int’s eyes were reduced to slits as slight smears of crimson blood lined various portions of their skin. Blood soaked cloths padded their flesh and dark ink sunk into it. Lawrence gripped his cell phone, no doubt trying to explain to his wife why he was still out and about for such an extended period of time.

“Yes, honey…” Lawrence sighed in annoyance. “We are at the tattoo parlor. Yes…well
, I’m not certain. Okay. It is called True Tattoo, over here on Cahuenga. Yes, in Hollywood. Of course not!”

It had come to Saint’s attention that Donna didn’t care for him much. Actually, he read her during a family dinner and it was more than evident from her sneers and rolling of eyes, he was not her favorite person. Saint wasn’t sure what that was about
. After all, he did give her husband a new job, one where they could finally have financial independence, so much so, that she didn’t even have to work if she didn’t want to and they could finally start on that family they so desperately wanted. He even toyed with the idea of confronting her, but didn’t want to cause a scene or make Lawrence uncomfortable. He had nothing against Donna. She was a bit domineering, but overall a decent person. She was strong, like Xenia, but she kept a fortress around her. Saint knew that, regardless, she’d sometimes mistaken her husband’s quiet disposition for weakness, and nothing could be further from the truth. Lawrence was the wrong person to piss off. Unlike Saint, Lawrence kept calm and cool and you just wouldn’t know what hit you if he unleashed his anger on you. He did his shit covertly, and if some injustice transpired, before you knew it, your ass was his. He never discussed these deeds; they simply happened and he accepted them as part of his life. The man had killed many times in the name of helping another and never lost a wink of sleep over it. Regardless, he was one of the most gentle and kind-hearted spirits Saint had ever known.

Saint reached lazily
toward Lawrence, motioned to him to hand him the phone. Lawrence shook his head vehemently. Saint grinned and looked away, understanding that the poor man didn’t want him to fan the fires with tipsy talk. More than likely something disrespectful would roll off his tongue, and then the shit would be officially stirred.

After a
while, Lawrence hung up. Standing there, he put his hands on his waist and glanced down at his watch.

“Saint, you aren’t even half done. I think I’m going to have to go home.”

“But you can’t!” Jagger protested. “You’re our designated driver tonight! Saint and I drank too much.”

“Well, can’t you catch a taxi?” Lawrence asked weakly, his eyes sad with worry.

“Oh come on, Lawrence! You’re a grown man! Do you really need permission to stay out?” Jagger added.

“You’re going to get him in trouble, Jagger
,” Saint warned, though he felt the same way.

“Traci doesn’t do th
is to me. I go where I please.” Jagger rolled his eyes smugly. The pain of the needle going in and out of his tanned skin seemed to do nothing to the man.

“She’s not your wife, yet
,” Lawrence snapped. “Trust me, girlfriends act different than spouses.”

Saint smiled up at him from the table
. “You got that right. Look man, if you have to go, that’s fine. Jagger and I will get home.”

“Hey, why don’t you get a tattoo, Lawrence? Surprise Donna with something! Get a flower and her name or something
,” Jagger offered, as if it were a novel idea that would be well received.

“Hell no! I told you she’d kill me. She doesn’t like tattoos, piercings, none of that. She likes a more conservative look.” His voice trailed
toward the end.

“But what do
you
like?” Saint asked, feeling the devil dancing within him, putting him into a mischievous mood. “Look at you, man.” He scanned Lawrence from head to toe. “You got long ass hair—that’s not traditional or conservative. You wear tribal vests sometimes; you aren’t cookie cutter, Lawrence. I’m not trying to start a fight, but why do you let this happen?”

Lawrence huffed
. “I love her, and I like a peaceful home, Saint.”

Saint paused, then rubbed his chin. “Do you want a tattoo, man?”

Lawrence just stared at him.

“
I’ll take that as a yes. Hey, Katrina,” he looked over his shoulder at the artist, a young woman with a bright red Mohawk and a pierced eyebrow, “I want this man to get a tattoo, my treat.” He pointed to Lawrence who stood with his jaw dropped, as if frozen in time.