DESIRED PYROTECHNICS Chapter Seven--Violence of the Contemplatives

  

Artwork by Felicien Rops

     A small herd of rock-and-roll guys in leather jackets with either longish or spiky hair were splayed 

across the black couches in the otherwise blood red living room, all of who were engrossed in some sports 

game on the giant screen television. I knew I should have recognized some of them, but I'd been out of the 

loop for so long I had no idea who they were. I hardly recognized our host he'd changed so much from the 

last time I'd seen him and was covered in tattoos, along with heavy, silver jewelry, but the long, messy, 

dark brown hair which hung to his waist, and the dark, mischievous eyes were still the same. He'd aged 

well considering his rather notorious life-style,

    CJ got up when he saw Stephanie, giving her a hug. “Well, well, well... so glad you made it,” he said. 

He appraised me from head to toe. ”Now, who's your friend?”

    Stephanie made the introductions. I held out my hand.

    “No, no, no...” he pushed it away. “Give me a hug.”

    I did so, kissing him on both cheeks, Spanish style, for effect. 

    “That's more like it. Now what do you guys want to drink?” he asked. 

    “Red wine?” I answered.

    “We can do that.”

    “Can I smoke in here?” I asked

“No,” he replied. “But you can out on the porch. I'll come and join you.” 

    “You actually smoke?” I was incredulous.

    He nodded.

    “Oh, thank God!” I exclaimed. “You're the first person I've met here who still does. I was beginning to 

feel like a total social pariah.”

    “Anabelle's been in Spain for the last many years,” explained Stephanie. “But originally, she's from 

Detroit. She's one of the old crowd.”

    “Hey, did we ever meet before?” asked CJ. “Cause I don't remember you. And I think I would've 

remembered you,” he added, giving me a lingering look.

    I tried not to smile. “Briefly, but I was still in high school then – and that was a very long time ago.”

    “Uh huh.”

    “Which way is the pariah patio?” I asked, glancing around. 

    “That way.” He nodded at a large sliding door in the next room. 

    “Thanks.”

    Stephanie followed me outside. Picking up a pack of matches off the table, she lit a series of green 

lucky thirteen pillar candles sitting on the railing while I sat at the table, rolling a smoke. CJ appeared with 

an open bottle of wine and three glasses, setting them down.

    “So what brings you to Chicago?” he asked, taking the chair next me, and pouring me a glass.

    ”Cheers,” I said, taking a sip. “Well, I'm a photographer, and a kind of artist, so I'm working on a new 

series for an exhibition in Europe. I work a lot from history and mythology and mix a lot of other shit in as 

well.”

    “Should I know your work?”

    Shrugging, I said, “I don't know how to answer that. Depends if you're into that kind of thing or not.”

    “Oh. I'm into that kind of thing. Hey, what's your favorite historical period?” he asked.

    “Medieval,” I answered.

    He nodded. “Mine too.”

    “Really?” I was shocked. “What era?”

    “Twelfth and thirteenth century. I know it doesn't look like it but I would gladly have been a medieval 

history professor.”

    “No. I wouldn't have guessed that.” I tried to hide my surprise, but he caught the look.

    “It's true,” he smiled at me.

    I smiled back, and replied, “Then you might be interested in the new series I'm working on which will 

have a lot of ecstatic iconography of the saints from the medieval time period. Like I'm fascinated with 

Bernard of Clairvaux and how he claimed a statue of the Virgin Mary squirted breast milk in his eye, 

curing his eye affliction, although, some paintings show him receiving it in the mouth. It's known as the 

miraculous lactation of St. Bernard.”

    “He sure took the brunt for the second Crusade which was a total disaster,” remarked CJ.

    “Yeah,” I agreed. “But he managed to totally piss Pope Eugenius off, who in turn, used him as a kind of 

scapegoat.”

    Stephanie watched the exchange with growing amusement. “Anabelle's work is pretty controversial and 

generally fairly sexually explicit,” she chimed in.

    Drawing his head closer to mine, CJ stared at me intently. “I like you,” he said. Turning toward 

Stephanie, he asked, “where'd you find her?”

    “In one of the lower depths of hell,” I volunteered.

    Stephanie laughed. “We've been friends forever and a day. Like since we were teenagers. She's always 

been a freak.”

    “Thanks a lot,” I said.

    CJ reached over and squeezed my knee.

    Grabbing the glass, I gulped more wine to settle the butterflies in my stomach – more than aware of the 

growing electricity between CJ and myself. I had to admit he surprised me, and underneath all the tattoos, 

and the rock show exterior, he had a quick and bright mind – and he was charming as fuck. I was so 

doomed.

    The three of us didn't leave the porch for hours as we alternated between arguing obscure medieval 

theology and sharing stories for the bad old days in Detroit. Every once in a while one of the rock boys 

would wander out, watch the proceedings with a puzzled expression, before disappearing again.

    At some point I made my way inside, wandering into the living room. All the rock boys had gone. 

Sitting down on the nearest couch, I realized I was tipsy. CJ came in and practically sat in my lap. Before I 

could say anything, he kissed me and the world spun upside down.

    “You don't want me. I'm pretty broken right now,” I told him, breaking it off.

    “I do want you,” he said, moving a lock of my hair behind my ear. “And I don't care.” 

    Grinning, and feeling rather full of myself, I replied. “You know these paths lead astray, right?” Leaning 

forward, I kissed him, knowing some kind of deal had been sealed.

    As if on cue, Stephanie appeared in the room. ”Hey – it's getting late. I'm gonna go.” 

    “She stays?!” CJ pleaded, grabbing my hand.

    Stephanie glanced at me. By the smirk on her face she knew what my answer would be, but she had the 

good grace to ask anyway. “Are you coming with or staying?”

    “I'm staying,” I said.

    “OK – then.”

    Getting up, I hugged her, whispering in her ear, “I'm insane.” 

    “It's called fun. Enjoy it,” she whispered back.

    And enjoy it we did. It didn't take long before all of our clothes were off and we were rolling around in 

CJ's bed. Despite not knowing each well, we were extremely sexually compatible; finally passing out after 

we'd exhausted ourselves.

    

    Staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, I didn't know where I was – or who's arms I was sleeping in. Pieces of 

the night came back to me and I smiled to myself. Then, I turned to see CJ's handsome, sleeping face.

    Opening his eyes and gently kissing me, he said, “good morning, beautiful.”

    ”Please don't make it be morning yet,” I answered, nestling my head in the crook of his shoulder and 

scooting my body closer to his, noticing how seamlessly we fit together, but I was secretly pleased at the 

compliment and to have been tangled up with him in his sheets.

    “Woman,” he growled, wrapping his arms tighter around me. Before too long we were at it again. And 

for morning sex with an impending hangover, it was pretty damn good.

    Getting out of bed awhile later, I scrounged around the kitchen in search of caffeine.

    “Hey – where's the coffee maker?” I asked.

    “There isn't one,” answered CJ from the bedroom.

    I tried again. “How about instant?”

    “Nope. I don't drink coffee.”

    “What? You smoke and don't drink coffee? I thought that was a given. That's criminal,” I joked.

    Padding into the kitchen wearing black jeans and socks, he said, “I can make some tea – Earl Grey. Will 

that do you?”

    “I guess, but if I start spontaneously speaking in tongues, you'll know why.” 

    “You're a goof,” he stated.

    I was taken aback. “Why would you say that?”

    “I don't mean it in a bad way,” he explained. “I mean it in the best way possible. You're a goof. You're 

funny. I like goofs.”

    ”Thanks. I think...”

    Waiting at the dining room table while he made tea, I glanced at the artwork on the walls.

    He had good taste – really good taste. Eclectic and bizarre, but I could appreciate that.

    He set the steaming mug down in front of me, and he'd known to put milk in without my asking – smart 

man was ticking all the boxes.

    Sipping it, I felt the headache forming behind my eyeballs. Why had I not thought to bring aspirin? 

Because being there in the morning was the last thing I'd expected to happen.

    “Hey. Do you want to give Stephanie a call and let her know you're still alive?” asked CJ.

    “I don't have a cell phone,” I told him

    “What? In this day and age?”

    “I know. It's a long story.” The last thing I wanted was to have to explain.

    “Well you can use mine,” he offered

    “I...” Suddenly shy, I didn't finish the sentence.

    “Wait. Why don't you want to talk to her? Are you embarrassed that you're here?” he looked 

incredulous.

    “No,” I assured him. “That's not it at all. I'm just not used to being accountable to anyone. She knows 

I'm a big girl. I appreciate the offer, though.”

    “I'm gonna call her then.”

    Shaking my head, I reiterated, “Really, you don't have too.”

    He dialed the number, leaving a message. “Hi Steph – I have your friend and we're keeping her hostage. 

I'll call you later with the ransom details and how much we want for her.” Winking at me, he set the phone 

down, and said, “She's going to love that.” 

    “Indeed, she will,” I agreed. “I hate to disappoint you, but you won't make a dime. I'm not worth much 

on the open market.”

    “We'll see about that,” he countered.

    “So... I'm your hostage then?” I asked

    Gazing around the room, he said, “seems that way to me. You want some breakfast?” 

    “Yeah. That would be lovely.”

    His brows knit together. “You know, I can't place your accent. Sometimes you sound British. 

Sometimes Spanish. And sometimes like a Mid-western girl.” 

    “I'm a mutt,” I replied.

    “Explain.”

    “Well, the Mid-western part is easy – I'm born and bred in Detroit – it's like a curse. I lived in Spain for 

many years so that would explain the Spanish, even though I don't speak Spanish very well. As for the 

British part,” I sighed. “My ex-partner of many years was British so that might account for that.”

    Wandering into the kitchen, he cracked a few eggs. “Is the ex recent?” he called out. 

    ”Sort of.”

    “Is that why you left Spain?”

    “Partially.”

    “You're being kind of evasive. Are you sure it's over?” he asked.

    “Of that I'm certain,” I stated emphatically

    “All right. I'll leave it be. You can continue to be a mystery wrapped in an enigma.” 

    “I'm not mysterious at all,” I protested, even though I knew I was being vague, but Haiden was the last 

person I wanted to think about at that moment.

    “Uh huh,” he said, sliding a plate in front of me with half a cheese omelet on it and some fresh 

strawberries.

    I smiled as he sat down across from me. “And you can cook...thank you.” 

    Grabbing my hand, he intertwined our fingers. “My pleasure. Now dig in.”

    We spent the next couple of hours pouring through his book collection, listening to music and talking 

like we'd been friends forever instead of only a day. There was a level of banter between us, which 

reminded me of the guys I'd grown up with and yet, on other subjects more obscure, we got each others 

reference points. For a while I forgot all the problems in Spain. I forgot all the problems facing my 

immediate survival and simply enjoyed his company.

    He invited me to his band's practice and I went with – it would have been impossible to say no to him. 

Besides, I was curious to see him in action. I wasn't disappointed. In fact, watching him prowl around on 

stage, I felt intimidated. He was like a general commanding some sort of berserker army and it was easy to 

see how he'd gotten his reputation as ‘king motherfucker’, but he was self-effacing at the same time, 

which was a potent combination. Even though I was the only one in the audience, they played like it was a 

real live show. By the end, I was practically deaf, but it was well worth it.

    CJ drove me back to my new digs afterward in his black ‘68 Dodge Charger. Like Stephanie, he drove 

like a madman. Outside the house, he parked the car, leaving the engine running. Kissing me at the curb, 

he told me he'd be leaving on tour soon, but he'd see me again before that. My heart skipped a beat 

watching him drive off.

    Inside the gray stone I had yet to sleep in on the entry room table laid a cell phone. A bright orange 

piece of paper was wrapped around it that read 'Call me – Steph'. Grabbing it, I took off the paper, flipped 

on the lights in the living room, and settled myself on one of the leather couches. To my amusement, she'd 

already programmed her number in. I dialed and she picked up after the first ring.

    “I see you managed to escape your captors,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

    “Captor,” I corrected.

    “Sure took you long enough.”

    “I went to practice.”

    “Oh, cool!”

    “It was. Hey thanks for the phone. How'd you manage that?”

    “I got connections. Besides, you can't live in this day and age without a phone.”

    “That exactly what CJ said to me.”

    “Sooo...” she drew the word out.

    “Sooo... I had a lot of fun. I didn't see him coming at all. He really surprised me – and now I ache in 

places I didn't know I could ache,” I laughed. “Jesus fuck, listen to me – I sound positively giddy. What – 

am I sixteen again?”

    “No. But it's good to hear you laugh. It's been too long.” 

    “Agreed.”

    “Watching the two of you arguing last night about medieval history was hysterical. I had no idea what 

the hell you were talking about half the time, but I sure wish I'd had a camera.”

    “Yeah, that would have been hilarious.”

    “Especially when you picked up the glass of wine and asked if it was yours and he said, 'what does it 

matter we'll be swapping spit soon enough'. Oh my God, the look on your face was priceless.”

    “I know. He's pretty full of himself.”

    “Oh come on. Like you didn't know it was going to happen the minute you walked through the front 

door.” 

    “Honestly, I had no clue.”

    “How long did it take you?”

    “Awhile. I'm a little slow on the uptake.”

    “Well, it's good to see you get some of your mojo back. He's a great guy – always has been. But one 

little word of warning, his world is always a circus with a bit of a revolving door – people come and go all 

the time.”

    “I hear what you're saying and it doesn't matter. He's leaving on tour anyway and I have to focus on 

getting my shit together out here. But let it be stated for the record though that I really do like him – and 

he surprised me in the most unexpected ways. ”

    “Speaking of getting your shit sorted... Did you get the email I sent you of potential galleries?” she 

asked.

    “No,” I answered. “I haven't switched on the computer today. One second.” Getting up, I grabbed the 

laptop out of my carryon bag, setting it on the coffee table by the couch. Sitting back down, I switched it 

on. “That's really cool of you to get that together for me,” I said, waiting for the laptop to do its thing 

before logging onto to the mails. 

    At the top of the queue was an email from Lars and Lara in Dublin. Without thinking, I clicked on it. 

“Oh my fucking God – no!!!” I shouted as I read it. “No. No. No!!!!”

    “What's the matter?” Stephanie sounded confused. “I didn't think the list was that bad.” 

    “What? No. You are not going to believe this. I don't fucking believe this.” The room spun around me in 

a not-so-fun way. “They're sending Haiden out here.” 

    “Who's they?” She asked.

    “The people I was telling you about who we met with in Dublin. I don't believe this – I think I'm going 

to be sick. We already discussed this. We already agreed, and yet, somehow he managed to go behind my 

back and get them to send him a ticket here because he convinced them that it's imperative we work 

together on this project.”

    “Why am I not surprised?”

    “Why is fate so fucking cruel,” I bemoaned. “This can't be happening. What am I going to do? Besides 

go and bang my head against the fucking wall.”

    “Don't do that,” she advised. “You have options. You could tell them no and that you two are no longer 

together – and the deal is off.”

    “That's like basically committing professional suicide. Do you know have any idea how hard I've 

worked just to get to this point? I might never get an offer like this again.”

    “That's Haiden's voice I hear. He sure did a number on you in more ways than one.”

     “He may not be wrong, though. Lightning doesn't often strike twice. But yes, I will admit he's crushed 

my confidence.”

    “Well, if he does come out, Chicago is a big city. Don't let him know where you are staying and only 

meet with him in public places.”

    “Why did I not see this coming? This was the last thing I expected...” I was silent for a moment. “Do 

you ever feel like life is some kind of infernal chessboard and you're being shoved around by malignant 

forces?” I asked.

    “He's fucking with you,” she responded. “Do not let him derail you and throw you off balance. Keep 

focusing on your new work. If you have to engage with him, then box smart. Get what you need – and get 

the fuck out.”

    “Right now, my anxiety levels are through the roof. You know, it's weird – it's almost like he knew what 

a good day I had – like he knew what had happened with CJ – like it set his radar off or something. The 

fucking timing is uncanny.”

    “Maybe – maybe not. Try not to read too much into it,” she advised, “and focus on what can be done.”

    “Remember that psychic lady I told you about in Spain? She was totally right. She predicted this.”

    Stephanie sighed. “You're going to start obsessing now, aren't you?”

    “No. I'm going to contact her and ask her to please cut the karmic threads again.” 

    “Do what you have to do, but think about ways you can protect yourself in the meantime.”

    “Oh well, at least in one way the spell has been broken. I don't think I've howled at the moon like I did 

last night with CJ in a very long time. Damn – I'd all but forgotten what it could be like.”

    “That's my girl,” she laughed. “You should be howling at the moon every night – remember that. You 

deserve so much better than Haiden.”

    “You're right. Thank you for that – and for listening to me freak out.” 

    “Anytime, old friend – that's what I'm here for.”

    “Okay. I'm going to go throw up, get a glass of wine, and decide what the fuck to tell these people.”

    “Don't throw up. Go take a bath and relax. Do something nice for yourself and then get back on your 

feet.”

    “Will do. Thanks again. I mean it.”

    “No worries. And don't forget to water the plants.”

    “Will do that as well. I'll keep you posted to how this all plays out.” 

    “Okay. I'm here if you need me.”

    “Oh, don't worry. I'm certain you'll be getting a slew of hysterical messages from me.”

    “Looking forward to it. Ciao.”

    “Ciao.”

    Hanging up, I set the phone down staring at the walls in a daze. Digging my notebook out of my purse, 

I wrote a list of what needed to be done to organize my thoughts and calm myself down. Flipping the 

page, I saw CJ's name and contact information. It wasn't my handwriting so at some point he'd snuck that 

in there. Grinning to myself, I thought, he was going to be full of surprises, and obviously he knew all the 

right moves to make, probably, because he'd had lots of experience. On impulse, I sent him a quick thank 

you message on the email. Better to do something positive before dealing with all the negative, I reasoned.

   Closing the notebook, I powered down the laptop, deciding to take Stephanie's advice. Finding an open 

bottle of white wine in the refrigerator, I poured myself a healthy glass. Then I went and drew a steaming 

bath; adding some exotic sandalwood oil to the water

    My thoughts raced as I soaked – the silence seemed deafening and I wished I'd thought of music before 

I'd gotten in the tub. At least my arms were healing and looked only vaguely leprous. Either CJ hadn't 

noticed, or he'd had the good manners not to comment on them. I'd worn a coat most of the evening and 

his bedroom had been dark so most likely he hadn't noticed. The wine calmed my nerves some. I would 

deal with Haiden in the morning, I decided. If he'd already secured a flight out there was little I could do. I 

didn't have the will, nor the resources, to make another major move. At least, the project was still a go, 

which was the one bright spot in the situation. And CJ would provide a badly needed distraction and who 

knew where that might lead to... Setting the empty wine glass on the tiled floor, I sunk deeper into the 

water. The future remained as murky as ever. I would proceed with caution, and whether I liked it or not, 

the time was coming when I would have to confront Haiden.

    

    The situation was not clearer the next morning. Eyeballing my laptop like it was a poisonous viper, I 

took my time watering and spritzing the various exotic plants. Earlier, I'd taken a walk to clear my head, 

and to get a closer look at the neighborhood. The freezing air had been refreshing and I'd enjoyed gazing 

at the restored gray stone buildings. They were affluent, but not upscale enough to be pretentious; still 

retaining their original charm. A few blocks further, I noticed a couple of gay bars, a handful of upscale 

bistros, and a fire station. Sadly, there wasn't one greasy spoon café like the kind I'd grown up with in 

Detroit. Locating a grocery store, I bought more supplies; namely wine and coffee. I even got a small jar 

of emergency instant Nescafe in case I ended up at CJ's again in the morning.

    After the plants were done, I sketched some more ideas out, but it was a useless endeavor. I couldn't 

concentrate long enough to get what I wanted down on the page. Nothing I drew was good enough. None 

of it worked. I didn't have the energy to think about set-ups, or how to get a model. Anessa wouldn't work 

for the new series, and besides, she was currently somewhere on the East Coast. Stephanie would never do 

it. Even though I'd joked about using myself for a model, the idea wasn't half bad. There would be a 

backlash of trolls calling me vain, and whatnot, but it would be a kick in the teeth at Haiden after he'd 

stolen my name and image. It would be a way of regaining my personal power, but I didn't have the 

necessary equipment to test my theory, nor was I in the mood to even try.

    Giving up, I grabbed the newspaper that miraculously appeared on the doorstep. Scanning the contents, 

nothing caught my eye. I went upstairs to the master bedroom, selecting a science fiction book I'd never 

heard of from one of the shelves, before returning downstairs to settle myself back onto the couch to read. 

    But I didn't read, instead my eyes moved across the pages, retaining nothing of the story. Outside, the 

garbage trucks were clanging the cans as they made their way down the block. The sound set my nerves 

further on edge. Getting up, I paced around the front room, unsure what to do with myself – all of my 

avoidance tactics failing me. 

    Sitting back down, my finger hesitated over the power button on the computer. While I had been stuck 

at Mateo's house the laptop had been my lifeline to the outside world and I'd practically slept next to it. 

Now, I was petrified to turn the damn thing on. Taking a deep breath, I powered it up.

    There were the bunch of the expected messages from Haiden, but in the midst of those was an email 

from CJ that read, ‘Hey. I really enjoyed your company. Would like to find out more what you're about. 

Googled your name so now I at least know who you are. Get in touch. Would like to see you again before 

I leave on tour.’

    Scratching my head, I thought, he'd taken the time to Google my name? I smiled as the miniature 

butterflies in my stomach flew a lap – he scored a bonus point for that. I sent him a message back. ‘Hey! 

Thanks for being such an excellent host – had a blast with you! Name a time and place and I'll be there.’

    Answering right away, he wrote, ‘How about the day after tomorrow? I don't want to be presumptuous, 

but why don't you come and stay the night, and come with me to the airport the next morning.’

    It was a little presumptuous, but I couldn't fault him for his boldness, so I typed, ‘It's a deal.’ A few 

days in the city and I was making plans. The chances of that happening were almost fictional. Life was 

weird, but I liked it when life was weird. Feeling a bit better, I opened Haiden's first message. 

    ‘Things we will have to think about before getting back together. One, I want an apology and an 

explanation why you put your partner Anessa's name in front of my own on your thanks to at the last 

exhibit. Two, why were you so abusive that day on the ride back from the airport? The things that you said 

left me in a fuming rage in the passengers seat. It was a long and painful journey and one I should not like 

to go through again...’

    My mouth fell open like he'd slapped my face, as a scream built from deep inside. “That motherfucker!” 

I yelled. How could he rewrite history like that after what he'd done to me? It was insane. Clearly he'd 

dropped his basket. Don't respond, I told myself, take a deep breath. Exhaling, I opened his last message.

    ‘I will be arriving in three days time to O'Hare Airport in the morning. They've gotten me a place on the 

North Side where you said you were so we can meet up. As soon as I am settled in I'll let you know of my 

movements. Have been thinking of you – constantly – and cannot wait to see you.’ 

    Standing, I shook my hands against the sudden chill permeating my body as I paced about the living 

room. I hadn't told him where I was staying, had I? I wondered. I didn't remember doing that? How had he 

found out? How could he still be so insane? Fuck! 

    Picking up the phone, I called Stephanie.

    “Feeling better?” she asked.

    “No. The world has gone to hell in a hand basket,” I lamented.

    “Oh shit. What now?”

    “Haiden sent a list of demands in which everything that happened is my fault and he wants me to 

apologize before we can think about getting back together.”

    “What? Is he high?”

    “Probably – but what the fuck? Getting back together has never been on the table and I'll be damned if 

I'm going to apologize to him for beating the crap out of me.”

    “You're going to have your hands full.”

    “Oh, and the beauty of it all is I just told CJ I would see him again and go to the airport with him and 

guess when Haiden's arriving? The exact same morning.”

    “No way.” She started to laugh. “I'm sorry, I was imagining if the two of them met. CJ would probably 

eat him for breakfast and pick his teeth with Haiden's bones.”

    “One can only dream,” I commented. “Besides, I haven't said anything to CJ other than we broke up. 

He doesn't need to know all that horrible crap. Give him some time before he finds out the whole shit 

show.”

    “Well, my advice to you would be don't respond to the crazy stuff at all. Keep everything on a business 

level.”

    “That's exactly what I just told myself.”

    “Good. I'll stop by later. Aunt Sibyll bought you some bags of necessities; namely makeup and 

perfume. She wants to make sure your comfortable and I think she wants first dibs on the new work.”

    “How is she? When do I get to see her?” I asked.

    “She's fine,” answered Stephanie. “Maybe she'll come with tonight. She just got back from Florida 

picking up her new pet fox.”

    “Now I love her even more.”

    “I know, right?”

    ”Is it legal to have a fox in the city?” I asked.

    “Do you think she cares? She replied. “It's a domesticated fox from Russia so it has to be somewhat 

legal.”

    ”I hope I end up as awesome as her some day.”

    “She has high hopes for you.”

    “At least somebody believes in me.”

    “Whatever. We all believe in you so hang in there.” 

    “I'll try.”

    “I'll see you later on.”

    “Indeed, you will.”

    “Ciao.”

    “Ciao”

    Sybill's laugh filled the apartment as she entered the front room. With her oversized, slouchy bag, and 

perfectly mismatched jewelry, along with the long, flaming red hair and matching lipstick that seemed to 

be a family trademark, she worked a kind of bohemian chic look. Sybill possessed the same classic gray 

blue eyes as her niece and she was lithe as a young girl. The whole effect was unique, and there was no 

way to tell her age. Either time had been exceptionally kind, or she'd had a little work done.

    Stephanie followed her in, laden down with a couple of large shopping bags which she set down on the 

sofa next to her aunt.

    “Prezzies!” announced Sybill, handing me a bag full of high-end cosmetics, and another bag chocked 

full natural body and hair care. “A little bird told me you might need some of these as well,” she added, 

holding up a pair of lacy, black panties, letting them dangle over a bag of lingerie.

    “Oh my God. Thank you!” I said. “This is better than Christmas. You really didn't have to.”

    “No. I didn't have to – I wanted to. There's a difference, okay?” she replied, her tone leaving no room 

for an argument.

    I responded, with a grateful smile. I'd be stocked for the next year.

    Prowling around the room, Sybill checked out the various plants and knick-knacks. “This place isn't 

half bad,” she commented.

    “It's been great,” I said.

    Sybill sat herself on the leather sofa across from me. Folding her fingers, she asked, “so where's the new 

work? I want to see it.”

    “There's only a few detailed sketches and then it's all up here,” I said, tapping the side of my head. “I 

don't have all the equipment I need to shoot yet and I've only started to price it out. It'll take a little time.”

    “Oh?”

    “Tell her about the new series, Anabelle,” urged Stephanie. “I was trying to explain on the way over, but 

I don't think I did you any justice." 

    Well,” I said, gathering my thoughts. “It's called 'Desired Pyrotechnics'. I've been playing around with 

the concept for a while now. Of course, it keeps morphing, but I think it'll consist of four pieces based on 

the two Bernini sculptures 'The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa', and 'Blessed Ludovica Albertoni', and the 

painting 'The Ecstasy of Beata St. Catherine de Ricci', by Agnostino Masucci, and 'Mary Magdalene in 

Ecstasy' by Caravaggio'. I want to stage similar poses and expressions, but mix and layer the faces with a 

more modern day orgasmic look to show the parallels between mystical and erotic love; and the transition 

from wounding to self love, where suffering has its greatest value. Sort of like an exegesis of the soul.” I 

shrugged, but had to admit it sounded kind of impressive when said out loud.

    “Well, I'm sold. When do you start?” asked Sybill, her eyes glowing. 

    “Like I said,” I replied, “I'm lacking some of the necessary equipment,”

    “Details. Details.” She waved a hand. “The devil is in the details. What do you actually need?”

    “Some sort of timer for the camera and a remote viewer,” I answered She raised an eyebrow.

    I continued, “I was thinking of using myself as a model because it's not going to be so easy to find ones 

who are willing to portray iconography and orgasm on camera.”

    Clapping her hands together, Sybill said, “I love it. You have to do it. Let me see what I can come up 

with. One of my assistants is a tech guy. He'll know where to get all that stuff.”

    “That's amazing, but you really don't have to...”

    She brushed me off. “Didn't we just have this conversation? Besides, I have ulterior motives. A friend 

of mine is having a big opening and they're looking for one more artist after a last minute problem. 

Personally, I think they're a bit long in the tooth and boring, so you'd be perfect to shake them up a little, 

but you'd have to work fairly quickly. They'll need to see something in the next couple of days, and a 

proposal.”

    Scratching my head, I said, “I'll see what I can come up with... But that's not the way things usually 

work.”

    “It's unusual, I know,” she replied. “There's some sort of something going on behind the scenes. But 

isn't there always when money and egos are involved? Too many overly pretentious fish in too small a 

pond – they need new blood.”

    “You know what else you're going to need?” Stephanie bit her bottom lip as she grinned from ear to ear. 

“You're going to need a Hitachi.”

    Rolling my eyes, I said, “I burned my last one out ages ago. But, yes, it would make certain aspects of 

the shoot much, much easier.”

    “What's a Hitachi?” asked Sybill.

    Stephanie smirked. “Well, technically, it's a muscle massager, “ she explained, “but when used in the 

nether regions – it's a girl's best friend.”

    “Really? Where can you buy them?”

    “Usually sex shops will stock them,” she answered. “You have to ask at the counter. Or I guess you 

could order them online,”

    “I'll send one of my assistants out to pick one up tomorrow. I'll tell them it's for research. I'm sure they'll 

have a field day.” Sybill's phone rang.

    The 'Gimme Shelter' ring tone made me smile. I'd forgotten that in her day, Sybill had been Mick 

Jagger's signature for the Rolling Stones fan club.

    Glancing at the number, she said, ”Damn, I have to run. I'm already late for dinner and they're waiting 

for me.”

    “Who are they?” asked Stephanie.

    “None of your business, my dear” she answered, glancing at me. “She's always checking up on me.

    It was Stephanie's turn to roll her eyes.

    "Will you be around tomorrow?” asked Sybill, grabbing her purse.

    “Yeah. Until the late afternoon – then I'm going over to our friend CJ's.” I replied.

    “Really?” said Stephanie.

    “Yes, really. And if all goes well, I'll be breaking in some of this new lingerie,” I said, holding up the 

pair of black lace panties.

    Sybill smiled. “I love this woman. I'll send someone by early afternoon with all the things which you 

need.”

    “Okay. I'll keep an eye out. Thank you again.”

    Sybill gave a wave and was out into the night.

    The room seemed more tranquil after she'd left. I went through the various bags, checking out the loot. 

“She really didn't have to do this. I feel bad,” I said.

    “Why feel bad? Because someone's done something nice for you?” Stephanie shook her head. “She's 

enjoying her role as patroness, so your job is to enjoy being her protege, and make some kick ass new 

work. Capisce?” She held her fingers together like Don Vito Corleone in 'The Godfather' as she said it.

    “Capisce,” I answered. “I'm so used to there being strings attached to every single freaking thing that 

I'm naturally suspicious.”

    “Oh, there'll be strings attached,” she assured, “but they won't be the kind you choke yourself with. You 

have to hit this next project out of the park, but from what I heard earlier you're well on you way already.”

    “Thanks.”

    She leaned back on the couch. “So can we get to the more important business at hand? Like who are we 

going to order pizza from? And which set of lingerie looks the best for your date tomorrow night.”

    “It's not a date,” I protested. “We're just hanging out. It's totally casual.”

    She picked a sheer black number that had been my first choice too. “Well, it won't be so casual once he 

gets a look at you in this.”

    “Yeah. Something tells me it won't be on for all that long.”

    “So much for your whole 'I'm a reformed bad girl' shtick,” she teased.

    “It's true in some ways,” I replied. “But yeah, sex like that makes it easy to be a hypocrite.”

    Clapping her hands over her ears in mock horror, Stephanie said, “TMI!”

    “Please... I should give you all the gory details for calling me out on my own bullshit, but I'm too 

hungry. Must.... have... pizza...” I pretended to faint.

    “Ordering now.” She held up the phone.

    “Thin crust?” I asked.

    “Pfff... Dude, this is Chicago,” she answered. “There isn't any other choice.”

    Late afternoon the next day the equipment arrived like Sybill had said it would. Some nameless lackey 

rang the doorbell, but took off by the time I managed to open the door. To my shock, she was letting me 

borrow a sleek, shiny, high-end, MacBook Pro that I could coordinate with the cell phone to use as a 

monitor, and a timer. There were typed out, meticulous instructions on how to do so which I assumed were 

from the tech guy. She'd also sent me a couple of longhaired wigs; one red and one blonde. Tucked 

underneath them was brand new Hitachi. I laughed out loud when I saw the box, which basically screamed 

'alien sex toy' by its shape and bulk. Putting it in a place of honor next to the brand new Mac, I added the 

new wigs on either side – the shrine to 'Desired Pyrotechnics' was well on its way.

    On the ride over to CJ's place, the cab driver, who wasn't much older than myself, and I had a ball when 

we discovered we both loved CCR. We blasted some of their greatest hits while lip-synching the lyrics.

    When I arrived, CJ was cooking dinner and drinking wine. Taking a seat in the kitchen, I watched as he 

made red sauce from scratch; chopping up herbs and tomatoes. He wore a sleeveless black t-shirt and I 

stared at the tattoos covering his neck, arms and hands. He wasn't the first tattooed man I'd been with but 

he was certainly the most heavily inked one. He was such a strange blend of toughness and refinement, 

intelligence and street swagger. I couldn't put a finger on exactly what it was, but I was intrigued, and 

honestly, more than a little smitten. Attempting to sip my glass of wine slowly, I asked, “How long are you 

going to be on the road?”

    “About four weeks. What a pain in the ass. It's all security, planes – and more security,” he laughed. The 

heavy chain connected from his belt to the wallet in his back pocket, rattled.

    “There are worse things you could be doing,” I replied.

    “True, but it's still a pain in the ass until I'm on-stage. I've been doing this for a long time and the 

novelty of traveling wore off a long while ago. Are you going to stick around for a while?”

    “Yeah,” I answered. “I'm going to be working on a new series for an exhibition I found out about 

yesterday so I'm going to be sticking around.”

    “That's cool.” Stirring the sauce, he set the temperature on low.

    “It was completely unexpected, but I've been working on the concept for a while now.” 

    “What about the gallery in Europe you were talking about before?” he asked. 

    “That's still in the works as far as I know and...” I sighed, biting my lip before continuing. “My ex 

talked them into sending him out here to make sure it gets completed, which I am less than pleased about. 

There's a part of me that wants to say no to the whole enchilada, and yet it's such a good opportunity... I 

don't know what to do...”

    “You mean the Brit? Is he coming out here to stalk you or something? Seems kind of weird.”

    “I'd prefer to think it's for the project, but it is kind of weird.”

    CJ was quiet for a moment. “Hey, I just have to ask you this, but if we started going out or something, 

he's not one of those freaky types who's going to show up at my door, right?”

    “No.” I shook my head. “There's no way he'd ever do that. He'd never risk his reputation with such a 

thing. He's a bully and the thing about bullies is they only pick on those weaker than themselves. As far as 

I know Haiden's only ever beaten up women. At heart, he's really a coward.”

    CJ's expression hardened. “Did he hit you?”

    “Yes...” My voice wavered. Taking a deep breath, I raised my chin and continued, “He beat me up so 

badly I had to be taken to the hospital and then I pressed charges against him. That was the reason I left 

Spain.”

    “Jesus fuck!” he exclaimed. “Do you want me to have him killed? I know people who could do that. I'm 

being serious.”

    I paused, a little taken aback, choosing my words with care. “The thought's appreciated, but I can fight 

my own battles and have been doing so for a very long time.” Smiling at him, I added, “Besides, you have 

enough shit to worry about with the tour. I can deal with Haiden and I plan to have as little contact as 

possible with him.”

    “Okay. But let it be stated that I don't like it at all. Domestic violence doesn't happen in my world. I 

won't tolerate it.”

    “Duly noted...” I said. “So, I guess I'm a little less of a mystery now.” “No. You're still a wild card. Can 

I ask what happened?” he asked.

    Twirling a lock of hair around my index finger, I answered. “It's ugly, but here it is goes. My ex tried to 

force me to have sex with him in front of one of our friends and I said no. It's not that I'm against that kind 

of thing. I'm pretty open but I don't like being forced into things. I should have a say about who I choose 

to have sex with and where and when.”

    “Well, yeah,” he replied. “It's called consent and the concept's pretty basic.” 

    “One would think it would be a given, but not in this case.” 

    “So then you came here?” he asked.

    “Not exactly. I went into hiding and had no access to money so it took a while before I could sell a 

couple of pieces and scrape enough together to get back to the States. To tell you the truth, I had no idea 

where I was going to land.”

    “Sounds pretty rough,” he remarked.

    “It was like a living hell at points, but I was really lucky and had people who were there for me when I 

needed them the most. It's been a very strange journey, but maybe I'll be a wiser woman for it someday,” I 

smiled to take some of the sting out of the words.

    His demeanor softened and he held up a hand like a traffic cop. “Wait, wait, wait... Can we start this 

conversation over again?” Tilting his head, he eyed me with speculation. “So, you said you were pretty 

open to things. Like how open?”

    I laughed. “Are we really going to have this conversation now?”

    Shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to look innocent, he said, “what better time?” 

    “Okay,” I conceded. “Ask me anything. I'll lay my cards on the table.” 

    “Have you had sex with a woman?”

    “Yes.”

    “And men?”

    “Obviously you mean plural. The answer is yes.”

    “Interesting.” He stroked his goatee. “Have you ever joined the mile high club?” 

    “No. But given the chance I'd like to try.” 

    “It's a little cramped and can be awkward...”

    “Kind of like origami sex?”

    “Yes, exactly like that,” he laughed, turning the heat off on the stove. Walking over to where I was 

sitting, he straddled my lap, wrapping his arms around me. “I'm beginning to like your company more and 

more,” he murmured, nuzzling my neck. “And don't worry. We'll never do anything sexually that you don't 

consent to.” Popping a couple of buttons on my shirt revealed the sheer black lingerie underneath. “Nice. 

Definitely nice,” he said, running his hands over it.

    “Hey! What about dinner?” I protested, tracing my fingers across his cheek.

    “Fuck it,” he said, grabbing my hand, leading me towards the bedroom. “We'll heat it up later.”

    When CJ put on his mirrored aviator sunglasses in the morning on the way to the airport, it was like 

watching him put his last piece of armor into place. He was still cracking jokes, but his attention was 

focused on the job ahead and his attitude turned larger-than-life. Kissing me at the curb outside the 

terminal, he told me to wish him luck, which I did so, and then he was gone. I wanted to turn around and 

watch him go through the sliding doors, but I didn't. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I was tired of saying 

goodbye to people.

    Instead, I got back into the limo and started back for the city. Only then did I think about Haiden's 

imminent arrival in Chicago – he could've been in the car right next to me for all I knew. My heart sank as 

I slunk down into the backseat. I'd have to grow eyes in the back of my head, I thought, if only to ease the 

feeling of being watched from unseen corners.


    Sitting outside one of the neighborhood cafés the next evening, I cursed myself for having worn a slip 

dress. The weather was too cold for such vanity and the heavy, black coat wasn't cutting it. Haiden was 

late as usual. Lighting another cigarette to steady my nerves, I watched the oncoming traffic. I don't know 

how Haiden talked me into this, I inwardly lamented. Every time he makes a personal dig think about 

being in CJ's bed and then smile and ignore his ass.

    A mutual friend had gotten in touch, offering to act as a referee between Haiden and myself. I hadn't 

seen Steven in years and was surprised he happened to be in Chicago on business. I didn't even know what 

his business was. But he had always struck me as a stand up kind of guy, who now had a wife and family, 

so maybe he would be able to help negotiate the emotional mine fields that surrounded us.

    A new-looking, black Mercedes slowed as it neared. Through the passenger seat window I caught 

Haiden's arrogant profile. Spying me, he smiled. My stomach flip-flopped. The moment was surreal, but I 

kept a confidant smile plastered on my face.

    The car stopped and both of them jumped out.

    “I'm so happy to see you!” exclaimed Haiden, hugging me.

    “It's been a while,” I said, giving him the cheek when he tried to kiss me.

    “Oh my god, Anabelle!” Steve was a bear of a man who nearly lifted me off the ground he hugged me 

so hard. “What has it been? Seven years? Eight?”

    “It's been at least that,” I answered.

    “When did you get into town?” asked Steve.

    “A couple of weeks ago.”

    “Oh,” he looked confused. “I'd assumed you'd arrived with Haiden.”

    “She came out earlier to see her family.” Haiden lied smoothly, shooting me a look. 

    Ignoring my gut instinct to run like hell, I got into the car. “Where are we going for dinner?” I asked.

    “Oh. We already ate,” answered Steven. “I thought we would pick up some beer and head to Haiden's 

just like old times.”

    “Uh. Okay.”

    Haiden turned back toward me. “That's all right with you, isn't it?” he asked.

    “I suppose so,” I replied. But not really, I added to myself. It made me nervous that Haiden looked so 

smug, and self-assured, and that the chess game had already started. Two minutes into our meeting and 

already I was being forced to say yes to things I didn't want to. We stopped at a liquor store, picking up a 

couple of six packs, which Haiden paid for with a crisp C-note.

    “Anything else you want?” he asked me at the counter.

    “No. I'm fine,” I answered. There was no way in hell I would be stupid enough to take a dime from him.

    On the way to the car, when Steven was out of earshot, Haiden said, “you look really pretty. I've missed 

you.”

    I smiled, but didn't answer him.

    The loft Haiden was staying in was not as nice as I'd been led to believe. Even though it wasn't that far 

from my temporary digs, the neighborhood was much dodgier. The space had a bohemian charm, but it 

also screamed thrift store finds. Plus, it housed a couple of knock off Keene, sad-eyed children paintings. I 

hated those things. Kitsch had its place, but those painting were a personal pet peeve of mine.

    Grabbing a beer, I noticed a largish mirror with the small mound of cocaine on it setting on top of the 

refrigerator.

    Picking it up, Haiden did a quick line, and offered it to me.

    “No thanks,” I shook my head.

    “Really? Are you sure?” he asked.

    “Yes. I'm sure,” I answered.

    “Well if you change your mind, just help yourself.”

    Walking past him, I went back into the living space and sat down on the furthest chair in the corner. 

Steven took chair opposite me, which left Haiden the couch. Firing up a joint, Steven took a drag. “Do you 

still not smoke?” he asked.

    “Nope. It doesn't work for me,” I said.

    “Are you like straight-edge now?” remarked Steven. “Jesus, the last time I saw you were tripping balls 

on some mountainside talking to the clouds.”

    “Yeah. I remember that,” I laughed. “I still drink some but that's about it.”

    “Hey. If you’re interested I've got a whole sheet of acid. We should take some then it really would be 

like old times,” offered Haiden.

    “Where did you manage to get it from?” I asked

    “A mutual friend who is sympathetic to the cause,” he answered.

    “Paulo – I should have known. How is he?”

    “I don't know. He sent this in the mail.”

    “You took it on the plane? That's kind of nuts.” 

    “I hid it inside a book cover. They never look.” 

    Stifling a yawn, Steven got up to grab another beer.

    “Could you get me one, too?” I asked him. “How's married life treating you?” 

“Great,” he called from the kitchen. There was the noise of two bottle caps being opened. ”Who would 

ever guessed I'd end up a family man.”

    “Not I,” I answered as he came back in, handing me a cold one.

    ”There's something to be said for having stability in ones life. It changes everything.” 

    “I envy you and I'm happy for you at the same time,” I said, taking a long swig of beer. 

    “I can't wait to have a family,” announced Haiden.

    Nearly choking, I sputtered, “what? Since when?” Jesus fuck, I thought, you can't even be responsible 

for a pet, let alone a child.

    Eyes glittering, Haiden crossed his legs, looking down his nose at me. ”I've always wanted children, it's 

only I haven't found a woman yet who isn't hell bent on being a man.”

    Picturing CJ's body above mine in bed, I let the verbal dagger slide. “Well, I wish you luck with that,” I 

smiled.

    Steven stifled another yawn. “Will you excuse me a moment?” he asked. “I'm going to take a short walk 

outside to try and wake up.”

    “Do you want company?” I offered, reaching for my coat.

    “No,” he shook his head. ”I'll be right back. The flight is catching up to me.” Walking out the door, 

Steven looked a little unsteady on his pins for only a couple of beers.

    “Alone at last,” Haiden said, turning toward me.

    “Uh. Yeah. I guess so... Do you think he'll be all right out there? Should we keep an eye on him or 

something?”

    “I'll go and check on him.”

    Sipping my beer in silence, I did not like how the events were playing out one little bit.

     Coming back in, Haiden announced, “He's gone.”

     “What do you mean he's gone?” I asked, baffled.

    “As in he left. His car's gone,” he said.

    “But he was my ride back.”

    “You can stay here if you want,” offered Haiden. .

    “No,” I shook my head. “I'm not going to do that. No way. It's getting late any how” 

    “Don't go yet,” pleaded Haiden. “It's the first time I've seen you in ages and we still need to talk.”

    “Yeah, but Steven was supposed to our moderator and he didn't seem to really want to do that.”

    “He was in bad form and obviously tired. You can't blame him.”

    “I'm not blaming anyone. I'm only telling you what I was led to believe.”

    “You're always so suspicious. Let me make you a coffee and then we'll talk. We're adults, we can handle 

that.”

    “Fine,” I conceded. “One coffee and then I'm going to hit the road..” 

    “It's a deal.” Haiden went into the kitchen.

    I put my coat on. The place wasn't cold, but I felt like I needed protection. Toying with the sleeves 

while waiting, I thought, this is exactly what I didn't want to have happen. I didn't want to be trapped 

alone with him on his territory and be at his mercy. This was fucking crazy of me to be here. Had I been 

set up? Had this all been planned by Haiden and Steven. I hadn't thought Steven was that kind of guy, but 

Haiden could have lied and talked him into pulling a runner. Something wasn't right at all about the 

situation.

    He returned, handing me a steaming mug.

    I blew on it before taking a sip. The coffee was really sweet. “You put sugar in it,” I complained.

    “Did I? I must have forgotten. Do you want a new one?” he asked.

    “No,” I sighed. “Don't bother. It's fine.”

    Returning to the kitchen, Haiden grabbed the coke mirror, placing it on the coffee table between us. He 

did another line, and said, “So I hear you have a new patron and a new project.”

    “Not exactly. Who told you that?” I asked.

    Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, “It's just something I heard.” 

    “Fucking grapevine,” I muttered.

    “Speaking of the grapevine... I also heard from quite a few people that your new show is plagiarizing 

my old work.”

    “What!” I exclaimed, narrowing my eyes. “Who the fuck said that? We don't even work in the same 

medium.”

    “Don't get angry,” he retorted. “I'm only telling you the rumors floating around,”

    “I specifically want to know who said that so I can contact them and ask them what their fucking 

problem is,” I demanded. “How dare they! That's fucking bullshit.” I took a couple large sips of coffee to 

hide my growing anger.

    He watched me like a cobra eyeing its prey. “Are you using Anessa for the new series?” 

    “I never said there's going to be a new series,” I answered.

    “Anabelle, stop playing games. I know how you are.” He shook with anger. “And I also know that you 

and that bitch Anessa, are working together again.”

    “Anessa's on the East Coast,” I said, defensively. “We aren't working together. And even if we were if 

wouldn't be any of your fucking business.”

    “Ripping me off is my business,” he stated.

    “No one is ripping you off. That's insane.”

    “So you're calling me insane?” he asked, rising from the sofa.

    “No,” I bit my tongue. “We don't have to do this. We're not five-year-olds.” 

    “So now you're saying I'm a five-year-old?” He started toward me.

    I panicked, having been in that position too many times before. Seeing Haiden's looming face above 

me, distorted with rage and his clenched fists, I grabbed my bag and ran out the door into the stairwell. 

    His voice echoed after me. “You lying, ungrateful bitch!”

    Hitting the pavement, I turned right and kept going. Further down the block, I glanced over my shoulder 

to see if he was coming after me, but he wasn't. He stood by the doorway of the loft so I took off again. 

After a few minutes, I spied a bus station and ran inside, grabbing a metal seat. Once I'd caught my breath, 

I dialed Stephanie.

    “Hello?” she answered. By the tone of her voice it was obvious she'd been asleep.

    “I'm so sorry to wake you,” I apologized.

    “Anabelle?”

    “I need your help. Please, can you come and get me?” I asked, sniffling. “Please? I don't know where 

am.”

    “Of course, I'm coming right now. Is there an address, or a restaurant, or a store near you?” she asked.

    “There's a sushi restaurant. It has a pink neon sign,” I answered.

    “Is there dancing sushi on it?”

    “I think so. I'm at the bus stop in front of it.”

    “Stay put. I know exactly where you are. I'll be there in five.”

    “Thank you.”

    She hung up.

    Clutching the phone, I rocked back and forth as tears streamed down my face. Cars cruised slowly by as 

desperate-looking characters checked me out. Please don't stop, I prayed. Please don't talk to me. Please 

go away! The lights on the street seemed overly bright, casting strange shadows across the pavement 

making them undulate.

    Spying Stephanie's truck down the block, I went to wave her down. Tripping over the curb, I fell into 

the street, scraping the skin off of both of my knees; the phone still clutched in my hand.

    Stopping the car, Stephanie got out. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Damn, I just saw you totally face 

plant, I haven't seen you do that in ages.” Opening the passenger's door, she helped me inside. ”What the 

fuck happened to you?”

    “Haiden trapped me,” I replied.

    “Wait! What?”

    “I don't know,” my voice wavered. “All I know is he got me alone and then turned all crazy, screaming 

at me, and then I got scared and made a run for it.” I realized my hands were shaking.

    Stephanie was outraged. “Should we go to the police?” she asked. “That's insane. Especially after 

everything he's done to you.”

    “No. Technically, he hasn't done anything wrong this time. I just want to go back to the house.”

    “Are you sure?

    “Yeah, I'm sure,” I said. “He'll lie like he always does. He believes he's above the law and he always 

manages to weasel his way out. It's so fucked.” Looking at my bloody knees, I teared up again. “I'm so 

sorry to have woken you up. I could have taken a cab only I was so panicked I didn't think about it until 

right now.”

    “That's okay. It's no big deal and it's better that you're safe. He doesn't know where you’re staying 

right?”

    “No. I had them meet me in front of a restaurant around the block, the one with the striped awning. He 

doesn't know I have a phone, either.”

    “Good. Lets keep it that way, shall we?” Pulling into the parking lot of a 7-11, she parked and went 

inside. I noticed she was wearing pajamas under her coat that had the queen of hearts all over them.

    The neon sign of the 7-11 was so garish it was pulsating. Closing my eyes, panicked, dancing fireflies 

greeted me in the darkness. Not now. This is not the time, I told them, but they persisted. Breathing 

deeply, I willed myself to calm down.

    Returning with a paper bag in tow, Stephanie opened the bag, which held a couple of forty-ouncers of 

cheap beer. “Emergency supplies,” she said.

    “You know me too well.” I smiled through the tears as I shook my head. “I can't believe that just 

happened. He hasn't changed at all. How did I deal with that shit for so long?”

    “I don't know,” she answered. “He's all kinds of wrong,”

    “He was insinuating that people have been saying I'm plagiarizing his work. How could he not expect 

me to be upset by such at thing?”

    “You know it's a lie. He's just trying to get you all defensive.”

    “Well it sure as fuck worked. I mean, I'm used to him telling me my work is shit, but not other people.”

    “Do you have any proof people are actually saying this?”

    “No. It's just his word as far as I know – and that's not worth much.”

    “Then don't waste any more brain space on something which is obviously not true,” she suggested, 

swerving into a parking spot in front of the gray stone. Getting out of the car, she said, “You know there's 

a deck on the roof, right?”

    “Nope. Was not aware of that fact,” I replied.

    “Don't you snoop? You're supposed to know these things. C'mon. Let's go up. It'll be like the old days – 

except we won't watch the sunrise. I have new clients coming in about a new restaurant campaign in the 

morning.”

    “I'm so sorry.”

    “I wasn't looking for an apology. Now scoot,” she instructed, nodding towards the front door.

    Up on the rooftop, the night was crisp, as we lay bundled on a couple of lounge chairs, drinking our 

beers. Thanks to the light pollution of the city the stars were muted. The residential street was silent 

except for Stephanie and mine's whispered exchanges, and the dull roar of LSD far in the distance. She let 

me rant until I wore myself out. Although my nerves were still on edge, I felt calmer knowing I'd dodged a 

bullet, and that I had somewhere safe to go, and people to help me. Even if I'd been stupid enough to meet 

up with Haiden, at least I'd gotten away at the first sign of trouble before he hurt me. At least I had learned 

that much.

    We talked until the first birds began to chirp in anticipation of the coming dawn. Then, we scurried off 

the roof like mice, saying our good nights.

    I didn't wake until nearly noon the next day. After fortifying myself with a strong cup of coffee, I 

clicked onto the message I knew was waiting for me from Haiden.

    'Clearly I no longer exist in your world and I cannot go on trying to force myself back into your life 

when all you have done is reject me and deny me. All I feel from you at present is a kind of cold, reptilian 

hatred. I no longer recognize the human being I once loved. I don't know what has happened to you but 

fear that like you have fallen under a malign influence from where sadly, I do not have the power to wrest 

you.' 

    Fuck you, I thought. Do your worst. I'm done.

    Ignoring the computer, I moved the furniture in the living room until I had a free space in the center of 

the room where the sun dappled in. Grabbing some fresh, white sheets from a closet, I clipped and draped 

them, until I had the effect I wanted. Then, I took a couple of test shots. Setting up a light with a large 

diffuser that Sybill had dropped off, I read through the instructions one more time, before testing the 

phone. The WiFi synced with the camera app – and it worked! I could use the phone as a remote monitor 

for the camera, and use it to shoot with a timer. The technology allowed me to do exactly what I needed to 

do.

    Ditching my clothes, I got down to work. Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, night had fallen. 

Getting redressed, I brewed up a fresh pot of coffee, and moved the furniture back into place while 

downloading all the pics. The new laptop was faster than my old one. After tweaking the RAW files here 

or there, within minutes, I realized I had the exact images I needed. Having never used myself as a model 

before it was strange to view my naked body with an objective eye. But there was something different 

about me, something happier which glowed, and I didn't look so haunted. The wigs Sybill had lent me 

worked well and I couldn't tell the hair was fake. Although, with my olive complexion, I did look kind of 

washed up as a blonde, but it gave the images an unearthly, gamine look which would serve the series 

well.

    Pleased for the first time in days, I loaded a couple of the photos onto my battered laptop, starting to 

build the images by blocking out the larger shapes. Next, I imported some of the found iconography I'd 

saved and some textures I shot the day before. Having discovered the iTunes account, John Carpenter's 

Greatest Hits blasted over the speakers. The first image was slow going. Incorporating the lasso tool, I 

tried some random effects as I second-guessed myself. Still, it was progress. Even if I hadn't gotten to any 

of the actual detailing or painting, I knew where it was heading, and with that done, there was a chance I'd 

have a couple of images ready for the show. In the morning, I'd pick up the photos of the files I'd sent to a 

local print shop Sybill recommended and see where I was at.

    The hour had grown late so I shut down the program and checked the email. There were three messages 

from Haiden, which I left unopened, but there was one from Lars that worried me. He was flying into 

Chicago in the morning and stated it was of the utmost importance we meet with him as soon as he got 

into town. A knot formed in my stomach as I wondered about the urgency. What had Haiden been up to 

while I'd been working? I had every right to be suspicious. A little voice inside of me said, walk away – 

leave it be. But I didn't listen. I couldn't do that. So, I sent a message saying I'd be free and could meet at 

his convenience, cc'ing it to Haiden as well. He'd know I was dodging his messages, but I thought I'd let 

him stew a while longer. Deciding to call it a night, I turned the computer off, knowing I would have to be 

up with the birds and be on my game tomorrow. Sighing heavily, I switched off the lights, and headed 

upstairs to bed.