DESIRED PYROTECHNICS Chapter Ten--Empyrean

Artwork by Jean Delville

  

    I awoke to pounding at the door. Opening it a crack, I spied Stephanie standing on the porch looking 

anxious. Breathing a sigh of relief, I let her in.

    “Hey. You weren't answering your phone. I even tried to email you. Jesus, Anabelle,” she exclaimed, 

eyeing me up and down. “Are you still wearingthe same clothes from the concert?” 

    “Yeah. Long story,” I replied, rubbing my eyes and stifling a yawn. “Sorry. I must have forgotten to turn 

my phone on.” Glancing over to the far side of the room, I noticed it was still on the charger.

    Removing her coat, she sat on the couch. Folding her hands in front of her, she announced, “we have a 

problem.”

    That woke me up. “What kind of problem?” I asked.

    “A porno problem,” she answered. “Haiden's been busy.” “What? But how...?” My heart sank.

    “He's been uploading pictures again,” she said. “Anonymously, of course, but it has to be him.”

    “Fucking great,” I replied. “I saw him yesterday. He was waiting for me at the café and he chased me. 

He's stalking me.”

    “He did not!” she gasped.

    “Yes, he did. I had it out with him on the street and had to jump into a cab to escape. Then, I came back 

here and worked through the night.”

    “Well, he must have gotten straight onto the computer.”

    “Do I want to know?” I asked.

    “Probably not,” she shook her head. “But you should know. There are new pictures up involving what 

looks like you, but you never see your face. You're hooded with multiple partners. But like before, the 

pictures leading in and out of the gallery are definitely you.”

    “That never happened. I've never even owned a hood. Oh, that fucking bastard!” I responded, my voice 

rising in outrage.

    “There's something else. He sent them to the organizers of the new exhibit. They aren't happy. Sybill's 

trying to run interference but...” she tapered off.
  

      “What can I do?” I asked.

    “I don't know,” she shrugged.

    “Me neither. I don't know how to fight this.” Throwing my hands into the air, I stared at her. “I'm at my 

wit's end with all of it. I simply do not know what to do.”

    “You could put a statement out saying the pictures are not you,” she proposed. “And that you have a 

ongoing revenge porn case against Haiden, but I don't know if it will help in time for the opening”

    “Did Sybill suggest anything?”

    “Not really,” she answered. “She was too busy calling them disingenuous cretins.”

    I began to laugh. “You know, the funny thing is I'm so tired of all this that I don't really care anymore.”
   

     “Well, that's another route you could go. You could tell them you don't really give a fuck what they 

think and to deal with it.”

    “That's going to go down like a ton of bricks.”

    “True. But it could work in your favor.”

    Furrowing my brow, I replied, “I don't see how.”

    “You could be over the top about it and accuse them of being hypocritical.” 

    “Like that's so me.”

    “If you want this show it might have to become you. The more I think about it, the more I think it's the 

best chance you've got. Haiden won't expect you to do something that bold. He's counting on the fact 

you'll get embarrassed and back down.” Clapping her hands together, she said, “let's do this!”

    “Not without coffee,” I said, shaking my head.

    “Well, go make some,” she retorted, starting toward the kitchen.

    Rising, I followed her. “All right, I'm willing to give it a try. I don't have anything left to lose at this 

point.” Putting the kettle on to boil, I asked, “Hey, could you run me by the photo lab first? I want to pick 

up the prints of the work I just finished. I asked them to put a rush on them.”

    “Why don't I pick them up now while you get caffeinated and then we'll formulate a plan,” she offered, 

handing me the bag of French Roast from the counter.

    “You're an angel,” I hugged her.

    She pulled away. “I'm only saying this as your friend, but maybe you should think about taking a 

shower. You have fuckhead in the back.”

    Running a hand over the matted snarls. I joked, “it's part of my new look.” 

    “Sort of works. Be right back.” Grabbing her coat, she was out the door.

   

 Waiting for the coffee to brew, I contemplated whether I could go through with it or not. Running didn't 

solve anything. I'd run to America and things had only gotten worse. Your wings or your song? I 

wondered. Only I didn't have any wings left. They'd been burned to little, nubby stumps. This time I 

guessed I was going to choose my song, and in doing so, I was going to yell as loudly and defiantly as I 

possibly could. If nothing else, it would be cathartic.

    Stephanie returned before I'd gotten out of theshower. In my absence, she'd opened up the curtains and 

the phototube, spreading the pictures across the dining room table. “They're stunning,” she said when I 

entered the room, her eyes glowing. “Transcendental.”

    “Not the confessions of a porn queen everyone will be expecting,” I replied. Taking a closer look, I had 

to admit the lab had done a really good job on such short notice.

    “Listen, I had a brain wave. Why don't you send these along with a copy of the letter from the lawyer 

that was sent to Haiden?” she suggested.

    “Because he'd have grounds to sue me,” I answered.

    “Possibly, but he's in no position to do so. Besides, aren't there still charges hanging over his head in 

Spain? What happened with that?”

    “He ignored them,” I snorted in derision. “The police did nothing. I contacted the consulate and it was 

the same song and dance. No one wants to deal with the situation.”

    Tilting her head, she said, “but he doesn't know that.”

     “No,” I agreed. “But what you're talking about it dirty pool.” 

    “Um, it's not like he's been playing by the rules.”

    “Point taken,” I sighed. “Dammit, I spent the last five minutes under freezing cold water psyching 

myself up for a showdown. So what do I do now? Do I scream? Or do I slither?” 

    “Only you could put it so eloquently,” she grinned. “I'd start with slither and save screaming as a last 

option.”

    “You know what I fucking hate more than anything?” I said. “ It's that Haiden is still managing to make 

me do things I don't want to have to do.”

    “So, think of him as a teacher. He's teaching you to stand up for yourself.”

    “But defending myself against things I haven't done, and standing up for myself because of his 

atrocious actions, are two different beasts.”

    “Are they?” she queried. “They both involve you having to kick some ass – and its high time you did 

so.”

    Sighing loudly, I replied, “you can step off your shakily built soap box now. I hear what you're saying.”

    Doing a double take, Stephanie ran to one of the big bay windows, peering outside. “Um, I hate to tell 

you this...” she said. “But Haiden's across the street. And it looks like he's checking addresses.

    Slinking back toward the kitchen, I muttered, “perfect timing as ever. Maybe he's visiting someone else 

in the neighborhood?”

    “No,” she whispered. “He's crossing the street and heading right here.”

    “How did he find out where I'm staying?” I whispered back. “Like maybe three people know.”

    “Did you leave an address for the photo lab?” she asked.

    Slapping my forehead, I answered her. “Fuck. Yes. That was stupid. I gave it to them in case I needed 

anything sent.”

    “Umm. He's coming to the door.”

    “What!”

    Eyes wide, we both held our breath, waiting for him to knock. But, the knock never came. Instead, we 

heard something slide under the door.
    

    “He's leaving,” she announced.

    “Great,” I muttered. “So I'm not safe here as well.” 

    “You should think about packing.”

    “Where am I going to go? Back to my dad's house? Like that's going to work.” 

    “Aren't you the least bit curious what he left?” she asked.

    “Yes. No. I don't know,” I grumbled, walking over to pick up a white envelope with my name on it.

    I opened the letter. Inside was a message in Haiden's scrawling handwriting on a torn piece of paper 

which said, 'Little, little, little. Small, small, small. Rinse and repeat a thousand times. Why are you trying 

to hide from me? I still desire you, so what is the problem?'My hand shook as I read it aloud. 

    “Okay. That is fucking nuts,” stated Stephanie. “He's insane – like cloud-cuckoo-land insane.”

    “My head is spinning and I'm too tired for this. Still desires me? Where is the disconnect?” I asked, 

stuffing the message back into the envelope and dropping it on the floor.

    “Send the mail. Pack your stuff. Then, we're going to Sybill's. I'm sure she'll let you stay there for a 

while.”

    “What about the plants?”

    “Don't worry, I'll take care of them.”

    Composing the mail, I pleaded my innocence while detailing the facts, and that I'd already gone the 

police. The one thing I didn't do was say was that I was horrified, even if I was. Sybill was right – they 

were being a little sanctimonious which I didn't appreciate in the slightest. Pushing send, I went upstairs 

and got the rest of my stuff together. 

    Sybill was expecting us. I realized Stephanie must have phoned her while I'd packed my things. A bottle 

of Cabernet sat breathing on the dining room table. Pouring three glasses, Sybill said, “So I hear we have a 

battle on our hands. Your ex is turning out to be quite the destructive psychopath.”

    “Indeed he is,” I muttered darkly, taking the seat next her. “At this point I'm starting to suspect that only 

death would please him – both creatively and figuratively.”

    Clinking my glass, and Stephanie's, she declared. “Well, that's not going to happen – not on my watch.”

    I smiled gratefully at her.

    She continued. “Listen, I've already spoken with the lawyer. There isn't much he can do because Haiden 

is not responding to any of his messages. I don't think sending them by courier would help matters, either. 

The lawyer said there is a company out there you can pay to get the pictures down, but it's not cheap.”

    “Are you fucking kidding me?” I was outraged. “I'd haveto pay for what Haiden's done. What a 

racket!”

    Tapping my glass with hers again, she said, “good – that's exactly what I told the lawyer, but then I 

realized I should probably run it by you first.”

    “Fuck those vultures!” Putting my head in my hands, I fought back the tears. “I'm so done with him and 

with all of this,” I muttered. “So fucking done.”

    Sybill's cell phone rang. She disappeared into one of the bedrooms to answer the call while Stephanie 

and I sipped wine in mutual fuming silence.

    When she returned a few minutes later, she was scowling. “Those hypocritical jerks are taking you out 

of the show. I'm really sorry,” she said. “I tried everything I could think of, but they're too nervous of the 

potentiality for bad press.”

    Somewhere deep inside I'd already known what their decision would be, but it still hurt like hell. 

Numbness settled over me that negated the tears and I finished the glass of wine in a couple of gulps.

    Picking up the bottle, Sybill poured me another glass and said, “We're not done yet.” 

    “No,” I replied. “I'm done. Totally done. I don'thave any fight left in me. I cannot pick myself off the 

floor again only to be kicked in the teeth one more time. There is no way to win in this situation, nor is 

there any resolution.”

    “Can I at least see the new work?” asked Sybill.

    “Be my guest,” I answered, nodding toward the phototube setting by the doorway with the rest of my 

things. “How ironic,” I added, “that only a few hours ago I was so excited that I'd done some of my best 

work to date, and now, no one will ever see it.”

    Fetching it, Sybill placed the images one-by-one onto the table. Whistling under her breath, she said, 

“These are amazing. You have nothing to worry about. Those idiots are going to be so sorry when some 

other gallery snatches these up.”

    “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied, shaking my head, “but no matter where I go Haiden will 

get there before me. I'll never escape him. I might as well give up on my career and become a porn star 

just to spite him, but he'd find a way to destroy that, too.”

    The silence grew long. I contemplated pouring a third glass of wine, but knew that wouldn't help the 

situation either.

    “Would you guys excuse me?” I asked. “I'm going to go on the roof to have a smoke and talk to the 

fox.”

    “Of course. Would you mind if I took some pics of the new work?” asked Sybill. “I want those jerks to 

see what they are missing.”

    “Go right ahead,” I answered, grabbing my coat from the couch and putting it on. “I can email the 

originals to you if that would be easier. I just need to downsize the files.”

    “Yes, please do. That's a much better idea.”

    “Do you want any company?” offered Stephanie

    “No. I need a minute to myself.”

    “Okay.”

    Even though the wind had picked up I managed to roll a cigarette. The fox was bunkered down 

somewhere in its pen, refusing to come out. Endless rows of rooftops spread far as the eye could see, and 

the skyscrapers of downtown lingered like phantoms in the distance, as the sun tried to burn through the 

frosty sky. Never had I felt so empty – through the horrors of the previous months – through the pain and 

anxiety of dislocation there had at least been fear – but the wasteland was real – and I was living in it. 

Everyone had said going back to America would be a fresh start for me for a better life, but it wasn't going 

to happen – no matter how hard I worked, or what I tried to do. The cards were stacked against me, and 

they were going to stay that way. The whole escape had been futile and had transformed into some cosmic 

joke, which only served to grind me further into the dust. I had truly come up with aces and eights – and it 

was time to fold my hand.

    Stubbing out my cigarette, I faced the freezing wind. Closing my eyes, I let it batter me. I'd never given 

up before. I'd never faced defeat on this personal of a level and yet, there it was, staring me in the face 

with its vast, drooling jaws.

    By the time I went downstairs, Stephanie had left for an appointment. After putting my things into the 

spare bedroom, I parked myself in front of the television to watch whatever mindless movie I could find. 

One movie turned into two, and then into three. 

    Twilight had settled when Sybill came in, seating herself on the edge of the couch. “Did you send the 

pics?” she asked.

    “No, sorry – I totally forgot,” I replied. “I'll go turn on the laptop. One minute.” Getting up, I grimaced. 

Pins and needles assaulted my feet after being horizontal for so long. Pushing pause on the remote, I 

limped toward the guest bedroom.

    Downsizing the images took a couple of minutes. While waiting, I opened the emails. I ignored a new 

message from the gallery. There were no mails from Haiden, which I would have ignored, as well. In fact, 

I was tempted to block him again – only permanently this time. There was a message from Katia marked 

urgent that I did open. Scanning the contents, it stated that Haiden had missed his court date and the 

policia had contacted her asking if she knew of his whereabouts. She wondered what should she do? I 

didn't know what to tell her. On impulse, after sending the pics to Sybill, I forwarded her the email from 

Katia. Switching off the laptop, I exited the room, and called out, “sent them!”

    “Thanks,” answered Sybill, stuffing her phone into her oversized purse. “I'll check them when I get 

back. I've got a dinner date.”

    “Have fun,” I told her.

    “Oh, I will,” she said with a knowing smile before she was out the door.

    Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, I laid back down on the couch to resume my foray into mindless 

entertainment. The lack of sleep and the dizzying emotional highs and lows of the day caught up with me 

and I couldn't keep my eyes open. While drifting in and out of consciousness, the television kept watch 

over me. Waking sometime in the early hours of the morning, I lumbered into the guest room, and fell 

back asleep again.

    I woke to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Padding into the kitchen in my bare feet, I noticed the 

first snows had arrived as flurries battered themselves against the over-sized windows. Winter in Chicago 

was a much more ferocious beast than winter in Spain and I wasn't prepared for it. Glancing at the digital 

clock above the stove, I noticed, to my horror, it was almost ten in the morning. I'd slept like the dead for 

hours. Rummaging through the various cabinets, I found a mug, and poured myself a cup from the full 

French press sitting on the counter.

    Sybill descended the roof access stairs bundled up like a bohemian Sherpa. Eyeing my coat hanging 

from the banister, I realized smoking in the blizzard was going to be a royal pain in the ass.

    She removed her scarf and shook the snow from her hair. “You look like you're feeling better this 

morning.”

“Yeah, thanks. Yesterday was a little overwhelming,” I admitted. “And with the lack of sleep, I kind of 

dropped my basket,”

    Fixing herself a fresh cup, she asked, “so what are your thoughts today?”

    “I haven't had enough caffeine and tobacco to formulate any yet,” I muttered. “But I suspect they'll be 

the same as yesterday.”

    “I sent one of your images to those jerks at the exhibition to show them what they were missing and to 

tell them once again what a group of spineless hypocrites they are – and that your work is too good for 

them.”

    Grinning, I said, “thanks for that. I should hire you as my PR person.”

    “You might want to start thinking about representation,” she recommended. ”I'm kind of shocked you 

don't have it already,”

    “We tried,” I shrugged, “but there was never a good fit with anyone. After a while, we gave up on it, 

always having better luck on our own.”

    “But there is no 'we' anymore,” she corrected. “There is only 'you' – and 'you' have to make some 

decisions about 'your' career.”

    Tracing my finger along the edge of the coffee mug, I replied to her. “What career? I wasn't aware I still 

had one left.”

    “Listen,” she said, “I've been busy this morning. First, I appointed myself as your temporary 

representation, but think of it more as an advisor.”

    “Okay. So what does that mean?” I asked.

    “Well,” she answered, “first up, I made a call to a friend of mine who has a big gallery in New York.”

    I perked up. “New York? Really?”

    “Yes really,” she smiled, “and then I sent her your new work. She loves it. She loves the whole concept, 

and wants to book you into a group show in three months time.”

    My jaw hit the table. I was stunned. “That's unbelievable. Normally, it's at least six months – if ever. 

But wait – what if Haiden finds out and the whole thing blows up in my face again? I don't think I could 

handle it.”

    Her smile widened. “Here's the beauty of the situation, and maybe it has something to do with karma, 

and maybe not, but my friend with the gallery got her start in the porn business many, many years ago. 

Then, she married a lawyer who made a big name for him self. They're two smart, tough cookies, and a 

few risque pictures aren't going to send them running for the hills. I explained what Haiden did and she's 

totally on your side. Like one hundred percent on your side – you have nothing to worry about. This time 

you will be protected.” 

    “Can you pinch me?” I asked. “Is it fucking Christmas? I really don't believe this. I don't know how to 

thank you.”

    Holding a finger in the air, she said, “I also did one other little thing.”

    “What?”

    “I had the lawyer, who feels really bad by the way that he wasn't able to help more, phone the police in 

Beceite and explain that Haiden is here in Chicago, and that he's been giving you a hard time. Seems they 

are none too happy he missed his court date.”

    My eyes widened. “Jesus fuck! Do you actually think they'll do something?” I asked. 

    “Yep,” she answered. “I suspect his silence really pissed them off.” 

    “Did they say what they are going to do?”

    “No – we'll leave that up to them. He returns soon, right?” she asked. “Do you know the date?”

    “Not off of the top of my head,” I answered. “But I can dig it out of the mails.”

    “As soon as you do, let me know because the police told the lawyer they would like that info as well.” 

    My smile wavered. Then, I burst into tears.

    Sybill looked concerned. “Did I miss something?” she asked. “I thought you'd be happy.” 

    “I am,” I cried. There was no explaining the relief I felt knowing there might be consequences for the 

criminal things Haiden had done to me. “I'm finally free of him – really and truly free of him. I didn't think 

I was going to make it through...” I paused, at a loss for words.
    

    Sybill ran her hand through my hair to show she understood. “Karma is a bitch who howls long into the 

night,” she said. “And she can take her own sweet time, but generally, she gets the job done.”

    “Indeed,” I agreed, grinning through my tears. “I'm glad to have her back on my team.” “Now, I think a 

little celebration is in order.” She held up a bottle of Cremant. “Oh, hell yes...”

The End 

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