Free In The Cut by Arlene Brathwaite Page B

that’s exactly what they looked like. Everyone had picked a spot in the salon to stand or sit and they preformed for the cameras and the crowd.
    Marion allowed one reporter to interview him as Olivia cut his hair. He spoke of his humble beginnings as a salesman in a shabby fabric store in Paris. He then went to Baby’s station where she prepped him for a manicure and pedicure. Baby worked on his hands as Lynise worked on his feet. Olivia stood by and watched, to see if Lynise knew what she was doing. Olivia nodded her head in approval.
    Saint sat at the reception desk with Miki naming the hottest clubs in Japan. While he went back and forth with her, he kept his eyes roving on everything, and everyone. All the while, Jon-Jon kept his eyes on him. Saint knew he was clocking him, but he didn’t let on.
    Saint caught movement at the front door. A burly cop walked in. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t carrying.
    Jon-Jon saw the police officer the same time Saint did. A big smile grew on his face. He gorilla-walked to the cop, and gave him a pound and a hug. He whispered something to the cop, while pointing over his shoulder in Saint’s direction. The cop locked eyes with Saint and nodded slowly. The beast in the cop uniform softened when Olivia ran over and hugged him. That must be brother number two, Saint thought. Olivia looked his way and winked. He adjusted his glasses and gave her a little wave. One of the flaming red heads walked over to Olivia and whispered something to her. Olivia followed her to Baby’s workstation. Marion Claude said something to Olivia which made her look in Saint’s direction. She nodded and then walked toward him.
    Saint bristled.
    “Marion Claude said he would like to talk to you in private. I told him that you two can use my office.”
    “Did he say what he wanted to talk about?”
    “No. You can wait in my office. Baby’s just about finished with him. I’ll send him in.”
    “Okay.”
     
    Ten minutes later, Marion Claude walked in. “Mr. Andrews,” he said, extending his hand. Saint shook it. “I am honored to be breathing the same air as you.” Marion sat on the sofa and looked him up and down. “When I got a call from Josephine, telling me that the man sitting at my table, selling me a dress was her infamous Saint, I nearly shitted my pants.”
    Saint didn’t show any emotion to the apparent sign of respect.
    “But she assured me that you weren’t there on business.”
    “What else did she tell you?”
    “She told me to behave myself.”
    “Are you?”
    “I have to, now that I know the eyes of the Saint are on me.”
    What? Saint screamed in his head. Josephine what the fuck did you tell this man?
    “You no doubt know that I am a very wealthy man. Anything in the world that I want, I can have. ANYTHING,” Marion Claude stressed.
    “I don’t see how that’s any of my business, but I’m sure you’re about to connect the dots for me.”
    “Name your price. From one to infinity, and I swear on my mother’s grave, may God rest her soul, I won’t argue with you. It will be in your account with just one phone call from me.”
    “I don’t need money.”
    “What about power?”
    “I almost made you shit your pants. I think I have enough power.”
    Marion smiled. “You’re that loyal to Josephine?”
    “No, I just don’t like you.”
    Marion busted out laughing. “I can have you and everyone in this salon killed with a snap of a finger.”
    “And I can kill you with the pull of a finger,” Saint said, aiming an imaginary gun at him and pulling the trigger.
    “And how will you make it out of here alive?”
    “I’ll walk out the front door.”
    “Impossible!”
    “Doing the impossible is what makes me the best at what I do.”
    Marion regarded him curiously, and then busted out laughing again. “I am just messing with you.”
    “I think it’s time for you and your people to go. You’ve kept your end of the deal by stopping by.”
    “Yes, I