DESIRED PYROTECHNICS Chapter Eight--Fraud and the Fixed Stars

 

Artwork by Jean Delville

  

     My black motorcycle boots scuffed against the pavement as I rushed up the street. After tossing and 

turning most of the night, I hadn't woken up early as planned. Instead, I'd hauled ass to shower and apply 

war paint to make the noon appointment Lars had set. At least he'd chosen a nearby café, which was a 

small blessing. Catching my reflection in a storefront window, I smiled. In my heavy, black coat, and the 

black, hand-me-down dress from Stephanie that fit me to a tee, paired with black tights which hid my 

scraped knees, I looked kind of old school tough. But, I didn't feel tough. No amount of fashion or war 

paint would dislodge the knot of anxiety firmly embedded within my stomach.

    Lars was all smiles and full of Dutch charm when he arrived with Haiden in tow. He kissed me on both 

cheeks, while Haiden glowered. Without giving Haiden a second glance, I suggested we grab at table in 

the café as it was lunchtime and would soon be full. Haiden opted to stay outside to smoke, telling us to 

order him a coffee.

    “You are looking so well, Anabelle. You are practically glowing,” remarked Lars, taking a seat at the 

table we'd been escorted to. “The States must agree with you, though, I'm very sorry to hear about your 

father. Haiden told me all about his illness on the way over here.”

    Uncertain what lies Haiden had told him, I proceeded with caution. “Thanks,” I said, “but my Dad is 

going to be just fine. It's not as bad as they thought and he's going to be around a very long time.”

    “Oh. Well that's good news. Haiden made it seem like it was dire.” “Nope. It was only a scare. Nothing 

more than that.” “And the glow?” he asked.

    “Finally caught up on my beauty sleep,” I answered. “It's a rarity,”

    He laughed, all spiky dark hair and glowing white teeth. “I know that feeling very well.” “How was 

your trip over?” I asked.

    “Uneventful,” he replied. “It's all business stuff and intensely boring.”

    Haiden slunk into the restaurant. His long, blond hair was matted, and he looked a little strung out in his 

well-worn leather cabretta, but heads still turned to get a better look at him. His presence was oppressive, 

and yet the darkness, which surrounded him shone with a glamor that other people reacted to. “I only have 

time for a coffee,” he mumbled, taking the open seat.

    “That's fine with me,” I answered. 

    After ordering, Lars folded his hands, resting them on the white linen tablecloth. ”So let's get down to 

business then,” he said. Clearing his throat, he continued, “Haiden informed us of your decision to come 

back to the States to resume your career in the porn industry.”

    “Wait. What?” I was baffled.

    “He sent us the links on the internet. I had a long talk with my wife and, although we aren't judging 

your lifestyle choice, we both feel it’s not the right image for the gallery.” Staring at me, he said, 

“Anabelle, we are going to have to ask you to sign off on the project.”

    “What links? What career in porn?” I turned to Haiden. “What is he talking about?” 

    Haiden smiled, his eyes glittering. “The ones you put up on the Internet,” he answered. “You've always 

been provocative, Anabelle, but who knew you would take it so far.” Trying not to register shock, I said, 

    “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

    “It's not a big deal, Anabelle,” replied Lars, making light of the situation, “and I'm certain a woman like 

you will do really well. You're already a talented artist is your own right and who knows? This move 

might make you infamous.”

    “I tried to warn you this might happen,” said Haiden with utmost concern. “But you wouldn't listen to 

me.”

    Then, it dawned on me what he could have done. He'd done such a thing before. Fuck!

    “What did you do?” I asked him.

    “Me?” His eyes widened. “Nothing other than try to understand and protect you.” 

    My eyes narrowed. “We both know that's bullshit.”

    “There's no need to use such language,” he admonished. “We're all adults here.” 

    Lars watched the exchange between the two of us with growing confusion. 

    “You fucking set me up, didn't you? That's why you came here!”

    “No. I came here to work with you and didn't find out what you had been up to until after I arrived,” 

answered Haiden, as if talking a very small child. “It's my career as well. What was I supposed to do?” he 

asked, exchanging a benevolent look with Lars.

    The coffees arrived. Lars opened his brief case, pulling out a contract, and explained, “We need you to 

sign this. Of course we'll compensate you for whatever time you've already put into the project.”

    Haiden snorted. “We've barely even talked about it.”

    Staring at the paper like it was going to bite me, I grabbed a pen from my bag, scribbling my signature.

    “Is the amount okay with you?” asked Lars.

    “It's fine,” I replied, not knowing the actual amount.

    “Send me your banking details and we'll transfer it in,” he instructed.

    Watching Haiden pour cream and sugar in his coffee like nothing was wrong, I couldn't stand it. I could 

not stand the sight of him one moment longer.

    Grabbing my bag and coat, I got up from the table. I faced Haiden. “I can't believe you fucking did this. 

You really are a monster.” Glancing at Lars, I added, “you have no idea, but you are in bed with the devil.” 

Then, I stormed out the door.

    Walking back to the gray stone building the tears ran down my face. I didn't bother wiping them away. 

Haiden had sideswiped me again and in the worst possible way. I'd worked hard for that opportunity, and 

like everything else I'd worked hard for – now it was dust. It was one thing to beat me up in our private 

lives but to be hell bent on destroying my professional career as well? What did he hope to gain from it? 

Other than the pleasure of humiliating me one more time.

    Inside the flat I switched on the computer and Googled my name with the word 'porn'. On the third 

page a site came up and there was a gallery with my name on it. The pictures leading into the gallery were 

of myself, and were slightly risque ones Haiden had taken on of me on vacation which we had supposedly 

done 'for fun', but the really hardcore ones in the middle weren't me at all, but were of someone who 

vaguely resembled me. There were two other similar sites carrying the same collection of images, which 

listed me as 'celebrity artist' and 'porn star'. Collapsing into the couch, I sobbed for real. How could he 

have done this? I wondered. What had I ever done to him to deserve such a thing? It felt like I was trapped 

in a vast ditch full of broken bones that I couldn't crawl out of. What I couldn't stand was the unfairness of 

the situation and how everything always managed to play in his favor. How could such a monster of a 

human being come up smelling like roses every single time? How did he manage to bypass karma and 

make the rest of us pay for his sins? How did he get away with it? What the hell was I going to do now?

    My phone rang. I knew it was Stephanie.

    Answering it, I sniffled, “hey.”

    “Hey. How'd it go?” she asked

    “Horrible,” I said. “You aren't going to fucking believe this latest turn of events.” 

    “Oh no, what now?”

    “Remember when I told you that Haiden stole my identity and pretended to be me online a while 

back?” I asked.

    “Yeah,” she answered, “on a porno chat room or something like that.”

    “Well, he's taken it a step further and somehow has managed to get whole galleries of my naked self up 

on some porn sites. The really hardcore pictures aren't even me, but they look like they could be me.”

    “Oh my fucking God, he didn't! How did you find out?”

    “He sent them to Lars and his wife and they asked me to step away from the project because they think 

my new lifestyle choice of porn star wouldn't be so good for their gallery.”

    “Whoa,” she said. “That sucks. I am so sorry,”

    “This fucking takes the cake,” I moaned. “I don't know what I'm going to do.”

    Stephanie was silent a moment. Then, she asked, “isn't it illegal to post pictures without someone's 

permission? Like isn't it called 'revenge porn' and there's laws against it?”

    “When does Haiden ever do anything legal,” I replied. “He really believes he's above the law and he 

gets away with it.”

    “You should go to the police and file charges against him.”

    “I could have killed him at the café. I could kill him now. I can't believe he did this. I can't believe he 

set me up like this. And I'm hurt. It's such a betrayal of trust.”

    “He's fucking sick because normal people don't do this kind of thing. They don't even think about it.”

    “I guess I could go to the police, but it didn't do me much good in Spain. Obviously, they didn't do any 

of the things they said they were going to do. Plus, it's going to be so embarrassing.”

    “Yeah,” she agreed. “But at least it will be on record. Let me give Sybill a call and see what she thinks 

you should do.”

    “Great. She'll probably drop me as well.”

    “No. She's not like that. Give me a couple of minutes.” She hung up.

    Going back to the laptop, I clicked on another link further down the page, which said 'fountain of life'. 

The same naked gallery led up to pictures of some woman peeing, her vagina looked nothing like mine, 

and then pictures of me led out of it. Fucking great, I thought. Just fucking great...

    Stephanie rang back. “Okay. I'll give you the good news first,” she said. “Sybill is outraged and has 

agreed that we will go to the police tomorrow.”

    “And the bad news?” I asked, holding my breath.

    “She set up an interview for you with some journalist friend of hers at The Reader to talk about 'Desired 

Pyrotechnics' and sexuality in art in general,” she answered. “He should be calling you in about an hour,”

    “Fuck” Thanks for the heads up,” I panicked. “I'm a little out of sorts here. It hasn't exactly been a 

banner day and I'm going to feel like a hypocrite. What if he's seen the links and wants to talk about 

them?”

    “Then, it's your chance to say that it wasn't you and someone did this to you with malicious intent. You 

don't have to name Haiden.”

    “I don't know if I can do this.”

    “Chin up. Chin up,” she said in a fake British accent. “Come on now, be a swan.” 

    “Yeah, like that's so easy in the in the midst of total fucking chaos,” I replied darkly. “I'm tired of 

pulling my shit together. I want things to go right for a while. I feel like I'm fighting a freaking hydra.”

    “It's been quite a ride, but we'll get him. Don't worry. Somehow, some way, you have to believe it's all 

going the way it's supposed to.”

    “I gave up on that hope a while ago. I wish a path would open and be clear without Haiden's taint all 

over it – if it was – I'd take it. But it feels like I'm always the one being asked to leave, or else saying 

goodbye. I need something substantial and real. I need a reason for why this has happened the way it has – 

and I need it to stop.”

    “It will stop. Remember what I said about no contact. Well, now you don't have any reason not to listen 

to me.”

    “True, my life was getting a little better until Haiden showed up.” 

    “Speaking of better things, have you heard from CJ?” she asked.

    “No. Of course not,” I answered. “Like everything else he's disappeared like the wind.” 

    “I did warn you.” 

    “I know. I know. I didn't expect him to disappear so soon that's all.” 

    “He's busy. He'll be back around.”

    “I don't know. I don't know what to think about him or about anything. People's words and their actions 

don't match, and I've been so knocked around I don't know what to believe any more. Plus, I don't think he 

was looking to hook up with a potential porn star.”

    She was silent again.

    “You know I'm venting, right?” I continued. “Feel free to chime in with a 'shut the fuck up' any time 

you wish.”

    She laughed. “I totally forgot about that song we wrote ages ago.”

    “I've been practicing a thrash metal version. I'm getting pretty good after picking up a trick or two 

watching CJ. Want to hear it?” I asked

    “Nope,” she replied. “I'll take your word on that.”

    “Crushed again.”

    “You'll live. Now go and pull your shit together and a gentle reminder from Sybill they want to see the 

first image and a whole synopsis of the project in two days. Then you have little more than a week to 

complete it.”

    “But that means I'd have to shoot again today – no pressure or anything. I'm not really in the mood and 

now I'm rethinking the whole 'Desired Pyrotechnics' business. It might not be such a smart move given the 

current porn fiasco I'm facing.”

    “Don't back down and don't let him make you feel small for one moment. I know you. You got this. Let 

the vroom vroom take your mind off of things for a while.” She mimicked the sound of the Hitachi.

    “I suspect the vroom vroom is partially how I got in this mess. Jesus, why did I ever let him take photos 

of me?”

    “Because you're adventurous, and he's an asshole – so take your own damn photos and take your power 

back – artistically speaking, of course.”

    “Yeah. You're right, but it's going to be weird.”

    “So? You should video it. I'm sure there's people out there willing to pay good money to see such a 

thing.”

    “I don't doubt it, but how can you joke about such a thing at a time like this?” I asked.

    “Just being practical, my friend,” she answered.

    “Whatever,” I sighed. “All right, I'm going to gather my thoughts so I can sound somewhat coherent to 

the journalist.”

    “Okay. I've got to run anyhow.”

    “Ciao.”

    “Ciao.”

    Despite my phone and porn phobia issues, the interview went off without any major hitches. In fact, I 

was pleased with some of my answers, which had been bold, yet funny. The interviewer had done his 

homework and genuinely seemed to be a fan. There was nothing mentioned about the lurid galleries, so 

either he was being polite, or he didn't know about them. Now the show would be announced whether 

anyone liked it or not. There was no turning back. Haiden would know I'd been lying to him – but did he 

deserve the truth from me? Why should I feel guilty for one second after the years of lies he'd told me? 

After his latest stunt, it seemed like small beer in comparison. Why would he even care? He had the big 

show all to himself now. He had exactly what he wanted. The only thing he didn't have anymore was me. 

Although, I realized, by exploiting me on the Internet he had some sick fantasy version of myself, which 

was downright creepy.

    Retrieving the sheets from the closet, I clipped and arranged them as before. It didn't matter because the 

photos would be close-ups of my face, but I was being perfectionistic, and stalling for time. At least, I'd 

been smart enough to leave tape marks where I'd put the lighting before. Once it was all set up, I touched 

up my makeup, wiping away the black stained tear trails, and powdering down for a more sculptural look.

    Opening the Hitachi box, I pulled the 'magic wand' out of the plastic. It was bigger and clunkier than I 

remembered. Snorting, I noticed Sybill's nameless minion had purchased the pink-and-white version, 

instead of the traditional blue-and-white I remembered. Plugging it in, I checked to make certain it 

worked, testing both speeds, trying not to recall the long, summer nights when 'wand' had been part of my 

then long-term boyfriend and mine's sexual repertoire amongst other things. When he first bought one for 

me, I'd been reticent, but after he used it on me, I'd become a convert.

    The camera and tripod were set, and the only problem left was how to shoot the next series of pictures. 

There was no way I could orgasm and push a button at the same time. I could set a timer, but that would 

be tricky. I could shoot it as time lapse, but risked missing the moment. Finally, I decided on the timer and 

shooting a series of fifty photos at a semi-rapid speed. If I fucked it up on the first try, I could always do it 

again, I reasoned. That was the beauty of the Hitachi.

    Putting on the blonde wig, I smoothed it down, styling it as best as possible. Laying myself into 

position, I set the timer on the phone. Taking a deep breath, I flipped the switch of the Hitachi on and let it 

work its magic. It didn't take long, although I had to remind myself not to laugh, and to face the camera, 

and not writhe around too much when I climaxed. With the first session done, I switched wigs, starting the 

process over again.

    After four series of shots, I was done. My legs had cramps in them and I felt a little raw down below. 

Putting the wigs away, I broke down the backdrop and lights while the pictures uploaded to the computer.

    Braving myself for the next test, which would be to look at the photos, I poured myself a healthy glass 

of red wine, and settled onto the couch. They could not be any worse than the porn shots, I reasoned, and 

at least these would be of my face, and not someone else’s crotch.

    Glancing through the pictures, the photographer in me was pleased with a few of the images that were 

quite beautiful, seeing how they would work, but the woman in me was horrified with some of the faces I 

made which looked like I was in pain, or worse yet, possessed. It was disconcerting to see oneself in such 

a private moment, and realizing what my various lovers had seen was a mortifying revelation. Quickly, I 

trashed the photos that made me cringe. Then I got down to work, layering and blending them 

painstakingly, until they seemed seamless and otherworldly. Then, I began to detail and paint.

    Rubbing my shoulders, I realized I'd been hunched over the laptop for hours. I missed my old desk and 

workspace, like I missed the light in Spain. Chicago had a tendency to be continuously gray. Taking one 

last look, I sent off the image to the lab to be printed. The technicians were going to have a field day with 

those. I checked my messages – none from Haiden. He'd done his worst and was probably out celebrating. 

There was a message from the journalist at The Reader which said they'd pushed the article up and would 

be running it in two days, not the week after as originally planned. My heart beat faster. I'd hoped Haiden 

would be back in Spain by the time it came out. It annoyed me I felt so paranoid about it, but I had good 

reason to feel paranoid. There was a message from Sybill wanting to go to the police station around 

lunchtime tomorrow. After answering her, I realized I was too drained to write the synopsis, so I decided 

on another glass of wine, a long hot bath, and an early night.

    

    My shoulders scraped against bare rock while being led through a passageway blindfolded. Stopping, 

the blindfold was taken off by unseen hands. When my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit chamber, I noticed a 

large, triangular body of black water outlined by round, white stones. Suspended on the dark clay wall in 

front of it was a life size version of the black Madonna of Montserrat, La Moreneta, and she glowed as if 

lit from within. In the water below, her image was perfectly reflected. I dropped to my knees before her, 

and as I did so, a high-pitched, whining sound, which I felt vibrating in my teeth and bones, erupted from 

the whirling globe in her hand. I covered my ears and closed my eyes against the pulsating light the globe 

emitted. Suddenly, I was no longer kneeling before her, but was suspended on the wall in her place. Her 

reflection was still the same on the water below me. When I tried to see my own reflection, I fell. Only, I 

never hit the water. Instead, I tumbled through the darkness until I awoke screaming.

    Even though the bedroom was cool, I was covered in sweat. Fumbling with the lamp on the nightstand, 

I switched it on. The clock sitting next it said a quarter after three. I shook my head. The dream had been 

so vivid and had felt so real. There was an odor in the air, which had been in the dream as well – it was a 

curious combination of salt water and tree sap. Did people usually smell things in dreams? I wondered. I 

wasn't sure, but I didn't think it was a common occurrence and to have it linger in the room, as if escaping 

with me through the darkness, was unnerving.

    Throwing off the duvet, I padded downstairs. Grabbing my coat and boots, I bundled up and headed to 

the roof to smoke. The skies were cloudy and the air smelled like snow. The smoke from my cigarette 

lingered the night was so still. The dream had spooked me and I hugged myself tighter as I wished I had 

someone to converse with at that moment. Someone who would reassure me everything was going to be 

all right. But there only silence and I couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. I had little control of 

things as it were, and had done my best to remain calm while the errant winds had taken me wherever they 

wanted, but with the latest turn of events, I was at my wits end. My name and talent were something 

important to me, and Haiden was trying to take those from me as well. Why did he feel the need to do so? 

I thought of Maria, the psychic back in Spain and what she had said about ownership. Obviously, he felt 

he owned me and could do whatever he pleased with me. The thought made my stomach turn. At least 

Haiden didn't know where I was staying so I didn't have to worry about him showing up, but he'd figure 

out new ways to damage me. I still wasn't safe and the thought made me panic further.

    Stubbing out the cigarette, I went back inside, took the last of the anxiety pills, and went back to bed.

    Stephanie arrived around noon. She laid on the horn until I poked my head out the front door, pointing 

to my half-drunk cup of coffee. Rolling her eyes, she made a circular motion with her hand – the universal 

sign for 'hurry the fuck up'.

    Once inside the truck, I shook off the effects of the sleeping pill while Stephanie darted through traffic 

on the way to the photo lab. Gazing out the window, I spotted a familiar figure sauntering down the 

pavement. “Oh my God. It's Haiden,” I said.

    “Where?” she asked.

    “There.” I pointed him out.

    Taking a closer look, she asked, “why is he smiling? He shouldn't be smiling. We could fix that right 

now.”

    “He does look uncharacteristically chipper,” I agreed. “He should be pleased with himself after the 

porno hat trick he managed to pull off.”

    “All it would take is one slip of the steering wheel and we could easily ruin his day.” I laughed.

    She continued, “I've only ever seen pictures of him. He does have a certain presence about him, doesn't 

he?”

    “I think that would be called 'entitled smugness',” I suggested. 

    “Indeed it would,” she agreed. “You sure know how to pick them.” 

    Haiden halted in front of a storefront window as we stopped at the light.

    “I know – satanically handsome, overly self-confident, insanely creative... Come and let me sacrifice 

myself on your altar of doom,” I deadpanned.

    “Yeah. Something like that,” she said. “Although, I wouldn't say that to the cops.” 

    The light turned green and we left Haiden in the distance.

    “I can see what attracted you to him,” remarked Stephanie, “but he’s crazy. Real fucking crazy – and I 

hate the fact he's in this city and so close by. It's not right.”

    I sighed. “He can't be gone soon enough. Then, hopefully, he'll become a distant and ugly memory.”

    “Do you think he's going to leave that easily?” she asked.

    “He will if I get a restraining order against him, or get the cops to make a report,” I answered. “Besides, 

there's nothing left. We have no further projects between the two of us. It's more than obvious we're not 

getting back together. What else is there? It can't get any worse, can it?”

    “Hopefully not, but I don't trust him.”

    “I don't trust him either, and believe you me, no one is going to be happier than myself when he's finally 

gone. If he got hit by a bus tomorrow, I'm not certain I'd shed a tear.”

    Stephanie pulled into a spot in front of the photo lab. 

    “Wait here,” I told her. “This is going to be embarrassing.”

    “Maybe the guy at the counter will be cute. Maybe you'll make a new friend,” she offered.

    “What if it's a girl?” I asked.

    “Well, maybe she'll be cute.”

    “Jesus, you're worse than me. I'm certain whoever it is they'll be politely horrified. Back in a minute.”

    I ducked inside. There was a large tube waiting for me on the front desk with my name on it. The young 

bearded hipster guy looked as bored as usual and didn't give me a second glance. I thanked him and left. 

Stephanie was flipping through the radio stations when I got back in the car.

    “Well that was anti-climactic,” I said.

    “You must be losing your touch,” she replied.

    “Along with my mind,” I added.

    “No. You lost that a long time ago.”

    “True. Where are we going for lunch?” I asked.

    “Sybill's place,” she answered. “So you can show her the new work. Then we'll go to the cop shop.”

    “But the new work's not ready yet,” I protested.

    “Doesn't matter. She knows that. She wants to see it any way.” 

    “Fine. I'll be a good little protege and play ball.” 

    “That's the spirit.”

    Sybill lived above a trendy restaurant and gallery in Wicker Park. She owned the building and had 

rehabbed the top floor to her personal tastes. Most of the walls had been knocked out and the large living 

room space was supported by roman looking columns. The windows along one side were floor-to-ceiling, 

allowing for lots of natural light. The decor was ultra feminine, but had a dark, fairytale-like aspect to it, 

which I appreciated. Sybill had a streak of the romantic in her, or else she had traveled widely. Probably 

both by the looks of the antiques artfully placed about the space. Spying my artwork sitting in the corner 

of a Moroccan decorated alcove, I smiled. White, gauzy fabric was draped from the sides of the image that 

added to its moody atmosphere, as did the ornate, old-fashioned frame she'd found for it.

    Appearing from one of the bedrooms, Sybill looked ready for business with her wild, red hair and 

severely tailored man's pinstriped suit dressed with numerous rows of pearls. Ushering us towards a table 

laden with tea sandwiches, she asked, “How's my favorite bad girl?”

    “Feeling a little sorry for herself,” I answered.

    “We saw Haiden on our way over here,” explained Stephanie, grabbing a couple of tiny triangles of 

bread stuffed with salmon and cream cheese. “I offered to ruin his day, but Anabelle didn't take me up on 

it. It would have been so easy.”

    “Let's not talk about him right now, shall we,” said Sybill. “I'm more interested in seeing what you've 

come up with so far,”

    “Sorry,” I apologized. “I've been a little sideswiped by the last couple of days and am feeling a little off-

kilter. Thank you for the new presents, they made working a whole lot easier.”

    “You are more than welcome. Now can I see what's hiding in that tube?” she asked. 

    Laying it across the table, I explained. “It's still a work in progress, and after everything that happened 

yesterday, I'm having second thoughts about doing the show at all.” 

    Holding up her perfectly manicured hand, Sybill asked, “Are you afraid of a little controversy, my dear? 

You don't strike me as that kind of woman. Let me explain something to you—controversy is a two-sided 

coin, which can work against – or work for you. If you run, it will haunt you for the rest of your life, but if 

you embrace it, you can make it your friend. By being such an asshole, Haiden might have done you a 

huge favor.”

    “That remains to be seen,” I muttered, “because it sure as hell doesn't feel that way right now.” Opening 

the tube I took out the first image, spreading it on the table.

    “Holy whore of Saint Theresa!” exclaimed Sybill. “This should hang in the Vatican – it would give the 

Pope wet dreams.”

    Stephanie and I both laughed at her frank assessment.

    “It's really beautiful, Anabelle,” seconded Stephanie. “But wow, you are going to strike fear into the 

sexually repressed, patriarchal, bible bashers.”

    “Like Bernini did? That was kind of the point. Although now, I'm wondering if I'm not going to get 

burned at the stake.”

    “No. Don't think that for a moment,” said Sybill. ”It's perfect. Absolutely, heritically perfect.”

    “Well, I'm glad you're pleased,” I replied.

    “Bravo. You really went there and this is going to turn the exhibition on its head. They won't know what 

hit them.”

    “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I asked.

    “Oh, it's good,” answered Stephanie. “You should think about getting sponsorship from the Hitachi 

corporation,”

    “Um, no,” I chuckled. “I think that'll be our little secret.” 

    “Ha! I still think it's a good idea,” she added.

    We glanced over the other prints in which I'd tweaked the color temperature, deciding which one 

worked the best. Casting a critical eye, I spotted the imperfections, mentally writing a checklist of what to 

fix later on. Putting them back in the tube, we ate a quick lunch.

    Afterward, we went onto the rooftop to visit Sybill's new pet fox she'd named Renard. A large section 

had been converted into an extended pen/playground for him. Sybill unlocked the gate and we scooted 

into the enclosure. Spying us, he bounded up from underneath a large pile of straw, rubbing against 

Sybill's leg as she fished a treat out of her pocket. Picking him up, she handed him to me. One look into 

his golden eyes and it was love at first sight as he lay in my arms. Stroking his thick fur, I noticed the 

black rhinestone collar around his neck. Personally, I would have given him a leather studded one, but he 

did look dapper in the fake jewelry. He began to fidget so I set him down. Sybill tossed a handful of treats 

and he disappeared back under the straw. Saying our goodbyes, we left him to it and headed back 

downstairs.

    Walking through the heavy, utilitarian-looking doors to the waiting area in the police station I felt 

disassociated. It was like I was going through the motions, but I wasn't really there. Up at the desk, I 

glanced at the sheet of porno site links I'd put together, but was unsure of what crime to list it under so I 

wrote 'police report'. I grabbed the seat Stephanie and Sybill had procured for me at the back and waited 

for my name to be called. Biting my lip, I watched the desk sergeants as they listened to various 

complaints, but on the inside I was fuming. It was the second time I'd sat in a police station to report 

something criminal Haiden had done to me – and I feared it was another waste of time.

    A blond, blue-eyed, twenty-something, all American officer called my name. At the counter I tried to 

quietly explain what the problem was by pointing to the word porn sites on the sheet I had brought with. 

He took the list and read it over. Realizing my discomfort, he ushered me into a private room. I asked him 

if I could bring my friends, but he said it would be better if we were one on one.

    “So I'm going to assume this is an ex that did this to you?” he asked, motioning to a battered chair by a 

sorry-looking table.

    “Yes,” I answered, taking the seat. “I also have outstanding battery and domestic violence charges 

against him in Spain – and now he's followed me here to Chicago. Most of the pictures used were taken on 

vacation and I never gave him permission to post them.”

    “Lovely,” he stated, continuing to stand above me with his arms folded. “Well, this is a fairly new crime 

and to be honest, we don't know exactly how to deal with it yet. I need to ask you a few questions.”

    I nodded.

    “What do you do for a living?”

    “I'm an artist,” I answered. “Actually, ironically enough, a photographer, but mainly I work with 

digitally manipulated images.”

    “Have you ever modeled before?”

    “Only for my own work, which was shot by me.”

    “Have you appeared nude in any of your work?”

    “Yes. But that doesn't change what my ex has done. He had no right,” I replied, narrowing my eyes.

    “It makes it tricky if there are existing nude images of yourself,” he explained.

    “That doesn't change the fact he's stolen my name and image and I got fired yesterday from a really 

large project because of it.”

    “That's unfortunate,” he said. “What we will need you to do is to print up the photos online and bring 

them in.”

    “What?” I was incredulous. “I have to print them up and show them to you? Can't I just show you the 

links online? Can't we contact the servers and ask they take them off? Do I need to get a lawyer?”

    “If you bring the pictures in then we can file a report. You should look into getting a lawyer in the 

meantime. And you probably already know this, but be very careful about who you pose nude for in the 

future.” With that, he turned and went out the door.

    I was stunned. He had shamed me. The fucker had shamed me and I was the goddamned victim. I could 

cut him a little slack for not knowing how to handle a new cyber crime, but his attitude sucked! Nothing 

like being judged by Captain America and I knew it was only a taste of what was to come. After the new 

exhibit, I'd become a pariah.

    Grabbing my useless sheet of paper, I stormed back into the lobby.

    “Let's go,” I said, nodding toward the doors.

    The tears started in as soon as we piled into the front seat of the truck. “I'm sorry,” I apologized. “This 

is like living a nightmare – and one I can't wake up from.”

    “So what did the cop say?” asked Stephanie, putting the key in the ignition.

    “Officer Malibu Ken told me I should be more careful about who I pose naked for in the future,” I 

replied.

    “He did not!” she stared at me, open mouthed.

    “Oh yes, he did.”

    “That's bullshit,” she said, pulling out of the lot.

    “I fucking know. It was going fine and he was fairly sympathetic until he heard I'd posed naked for my 

own work. Then, his attitude totally changed,” I answered, grabbing a tissue out of the glove compartment 

to wipe my tears

    “Ugh. It's so hypocritical. So did they file the report?” she asked.

    “No,” I sniffled. “He said I have to print each of the pictures online and bring them in – like fucking 

party favors. He also suggested I get a lawyer.”

    “I've got a lawyer,” offered Sybill. “I'll get him on it right away.” Digging out her cell phone she left the 

lawyer a message to phone me in about an hour. Hanging up, she said, “well that should take care of that.”

    “Thank you,” I said, “but I don't know if I have the money right now to hire a lawyer.” 

    “Don't worry.” She smiled. “It's only a consult and some advice. He owes me a favor anyway.” 

    “Did you tell the cop about the other charges and that Haiden followed you out here?” asked Stephanie.

    “I did and all he said was my ex is a 'bad guy' – like that's a newsflash.” Rolling my eyes, I continued, 

“the whole thing sucks. Every time I go to the police, I end up feeling more victimized which I can't stand, 

and then they do nothing. It's like some sort of bad fucking joke.”

    Sybill grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Don't let this stop you,” she advised. “Don't let it rattle 

your confidence. You have to be fearless right now. Haiden wants you to feel small. That's what he's 

hoping for because he's afraid of you and he knows the system is set up in such a way to make you feel 

small. Don't fall for it. Don't let him win.”

    “He'll never win because he's a miserable creature at heart, but he does have the luck of the devil,” I 

replied, gazing out at the pedestrians getting on with their normal lives as they walked down the block.

    “Don't worry,” she said, letting go of my hand. “It'll run out. He'll implode, and you don't want to be 

anywhere near him when it does.”

    “Every time I think things are going on an even keel, the rug gets pulled out from under me again, and 

I'm feeling seasick from the excitement of it all,” I lamented, shaking my head.

    “Seasick,” snorted Stephanie, “it's more like whiplash.”

     “Exactly.”

    “Just remember the Rex Mundi factor,” said Sybill, pulling out a pair of designer sunglasses, and 

putting them on. 

    “The jealous king of the world? What does he have to do with this?” I ventured, not quite getting what 

she meant.

    “Yes. That's him,” she confirmed. “I've found the more important the thing you are trying to do is, the 

more resistance you encounter. So think of Haiden as your own personal Rex Mundi. He's the jealous 

enemy trying to stop you.”

    “Well, that's a rather obscurely Gnostic way to look at things,” I pondered.

    “Beats feeling like 'poor me'.”

    I sighed, “That's what I'm afraid of. I don't want to feel sorry for myself. I don't want to be that kind of 

person.”

    “You aren't that kind of person, but it's easy to be that kind of person when you get blindsided by life. 

Adversity can be strength. So battle up, my dear,” advised Sybill. 

    “That which does not kill us makes us stranger,” offered Stephanie, parking up next to the gray stone.

    “Great, I was already strange.” Getting out of the truck I added, “thanks again for going with me.”

    “No problem. Now get to work and keep an ear out for the lawyer.”

    “Will do.” Watching them drive off, I waved one last time, and went into the house.

    With his soft voice and good manners, the lawyer was as pleasant as a hazy afternoon. I rather enjoyed 

being called 'ma'am' the way he said it. First, he listened to my story. Then, he went to check a couple of 

facts before calling back. He informed me that while Haiden had broken the law, because the law stated it 

was criminal to post naked pictures of someone without their consent, the porn sites were difficult and 

would only respond to take down requests if you could prove you were the copyright owner. Being the 

copyright owner meant you were the one who snapped the photo. Haiden must have known that in 

advance. We spent a few minutes drafting a letter, which the lawyer would email Haiden. The letter didn't 

say Haiden was the one behind the revenge porn, although we both knew he was, but it did urge him to do 

the right thing which would be to sign over the copyright so we could get the pictures taken down. The 

lawyer seemed confident that Haiden would respond, but I was less so, suspecting he would slip around 

like a squirming toad, denying all knowledge of the situation.

    

    Setting the cell phone on the coffee table, I noticed the pencil clutched in my hand was covered in teeth 

marks. My nails had not fared well through the ordeal either and looked ragged and stubby. Whatever, I 

thought, that was the least of my worries. Taking a few deep breaths, I gathered my thoughts. I needed to 

get the synopsis done and it wouldn't be something I could do off the cuff. I'd have to put some real effort 

into it and my concentration was seriously lacking. Lying down on the couch, I stared at the ceiling as my 

thoughts ran laps around each other. Finally, I sat back up. If I couldn't gather my thoughts, then I'd beat 

them into submission.

    Kicking off my boots, I grabbed the laptop and switched it on. The lawyer had cc'd me on the email to 

Haiden. He'd be steaming right about now. There was also an unexpected message from CJ letting me 

know he was coming into town for a show tomorrow and asking if would I like to go with Stephanie to see 

him play. I hadn't realized they'd be doing any dates in Chicago. In his polite, yet forward way, he told me 

he'd be in for a night, and gone the next morning, and was that okay with me? Smiling at the screen, I 

mused, yes, it was presumptuous of him, but how could I say no? At least it would be something to look 

forward to. So I sent him a brief message telling him I would love to go to the show. There was no need to 

mention the other shit happening. I was relieved he hadn't Googled my name again and found the porn 

sites, although it might not be a big deal in his world. Still, there'd be a lot of explaining to do which 

would suck. How did one explain why they'd stayed so long with someone who was fundamentally evil? I 

felt like an idiot for having put up with some of the shit I'd put up with from Haiden and hadn't been 

kidding when I'd told Stephanie it felt like being put under a spell, because there was a sense of unrealness 

to it. The same sense pertained to the online porn, as well – like I could not accept Haiden would do those 

things, even when the proof was right in front of my eyes. I only wanted it to be gone. I wanted a clean 

slate. I'd never asked for his abusive behavior but I had learned to accept it, and that's where the whole 

enchilada became a mess in my head. Rubbing my eyes, I sighed. My thoughts were doing the Haiden 

song and dance again. It was time to get to work and not let him darken my day any longer. Mentally 

banishing him, I dragged the laptop closer and began to type. With a little peace and quiet, the synopsis 

came together.