Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father Read Free Page B

moment.
    “Xenia....Xenia...Xenia...it will be a pleasure to see you again , baby. Damn, I’ve missed you. I wish we were reconnecting under better circumstances. But, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do…”
     
    ~***~

CHAPTER ONE
     
    Saint tipped his tinted glass ever so slightly; the ice chunks chimed together making a frosty melody that echoed through the auditorium as he stood close to the wooden podium. The stage was aglow in shades of purple. Hazy smoke rose, setting the mood for his discussion on Chakras, dead relationships and religion. The incense in the air calmed his nerves as the instrumental of “Cutie Pie” by One Way played in the background.
    “And that’s the problem, men, w ith digging back in the trash, in the dirt, so to speak. It’s a trap! Caught in a web, a net of craziness…” Just then, one song ended, and a new one began. Morris Day’s ditty blared, “Fishnet Black Pantyhose.” Saint stood in brief confusion, then his facial muscles relaxed and a light, airy laugh escaped from his smirking lips, causing others in the audience to follow suit.
    “That’s funny .” He waved his finger in the general direction of the music speakers. “I love that song, too…but let me not get off track.” The music died down to a whisper, waving the delightful 1980’s tune like a delicate, almost undetectable fragrance while he continued to pour forth his words.
    “ We’ve all been guilty of it. You get lonely, you know? Or, her sex was so fucking amazing that when she calls you, you ask if you can hit or she might even say the shit first. It doesn’t matter who brings it up , it takes you down a notch or two, makes you a bit lesser than you were before.” He took a sip of the water and moved away from the podium, commanding attention as his long legs slowly spanned the stage with steady pacing.
    “ Our relationships are similar to life and death.” He paused, stared at the glossy floorboards and looked out into the audience filled with Rainbeau men, silently anticipating his next words imbued with life-changing information. “When we begin a new relationship, that is the conception. We have put ourselves inside of another’s life. Intercourse means communication. Thus, we have intercourse with them, before we have actual sexual intercourse. We are investing time and energy. Each thrust is a word spoken, a truth given, and in some cases, a lie told. Vulnerability acknowledged. Once we commit, that is our ejaculation—we have cum, full circle, so to speak. Now, we must nurture that relationship,” He held up his hand. “So that it gives birth to something positive, we start something but don’t finish rendering it stillborn, or it never develops at all. Those are the three options,” he said, holding up three fingers.
    “We can abort a relationship with lies, being an untrue form of ourselves, running from true commitment or other devious acts that will essentially annihilate the connection. Or, we can chase it—a relationship that is already on life support soon after we’ve invested. The thing is brain dead, but we are still giving it mouth to mouth resuscitation because we want that woman to want us back.” He looked out into the sea of men, many of them nodding their heads in agreement as his words struck a chord, and hit home.
    “Some hold on after years of investment. It is easier to stay with the known, the tried and true, though we may be miserable. Starting over for so many is frightening, so we make a choice—wallowing in misery or being afraid. We choose based on which we find to be a more livable circumstance. We feel it is unnatural to be alone, and though most of us have a mate that is designed for us, this being alone is essential for our own personal development at periods of time during our life.” He shook his head. “We were born into the world alone, brethren. We didn’t have a girlfriend, a mate, a partner. It was just us, and our mother pushing us