energy. Her eyes were puffy, and makeup was running down her face. The paparazzi photographer noticed three empty beer bottles in front of her co-star, and another that was being drunk.
“Go ahead and get your photo, you selfish b****!” Jazzy challenged with a defeated gaze and raised her head. “I don’t care what you do anymore. Go ahead and make ten grand off of my shame.”
“What’s going on?” Fassim asked as she sat down opposite her adversary, lowering her face to look into Jazzy’s eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Do you really care?” The comedian prompted in a threatening manner. “I have a hard time believing that.”
“Yes, I really care, but I’m unhappy that you injured my back,” the photographer answered with innocence and honesty.
“Sorry about that,” Jazzy said with a slight smile, attempting to hide her enjoyment. “You know how Stoney said that Mike is making us tell something terrible about our past on the show?” She inquired as her face melted back into a portrait of sadness.
“Yes, I think he’s done that to everyone,” Fassim confirmed with raised eyebrows, leaning closer to her co-star. “What is he asking you to do?”
“He wants me to tell everyone about when I was raped by a billionaire.” The distraught comedian erupted in a fit of tears, shaking from the emotional scars of her past.
Fassim got up from the table and walked around to sit next to Jazzy. When they were close enough together, she placed her right arm around the horrified woman and rocked her from side to side.
The insightful Muslim recognized this fit of agony and recollected her time helping other victims of abuse when she lived in Amman, Jordan. Fassim closed her eyes as Jazzy’s wails of hysteria took her back to the war-torn landscape of the Middle East.
At age seventeen, Fassim found herself counseling women brutalized by soldiers or their husbands. The teenager built up a sprawling hatred for men during the first six months of conflict between Jordan and Israel. She had formed a group of women called Sisters of Love, but it was shut down by bureaucrats before she could accomplish anything.
For several weeks, she anguished at the sight of repeated violence against females of all ages that often led to death. The spiritual woman prayed to Allah for strength one evening and felt inspired wandering into a market the next day. She came across a Chinese-made camera with a powerful analog lens that could zoom in close from over a hundred yards away. Although the device seemed useless, Fassim felt an urge to buy it, and found herself walking away from the store having spent half of the money she needed for food and rent.
After purchasing the camera, the teenager returned to the shelter where women were recovering from their attacks. Fassim felt as though the hand of the creator was pushing her forward when she began snapping pictures of the horrid scenes. It took her an hour to capture the faces of all the women, and she kept a journal containing the names and descriptions of their attackers.
Two days later, the youthful activist was walking through the market when a pair of American soldiers hollered for her to join them at an outdoor table where they were eating lunch. Fassim was cautious of the Americans, having heard stories of their bloodlust and desire to reign supreme over the world. But when she approached the table, the soldiers seemed friendly, and they asked her to take their photo. Although she felt mistrust, the teenager snapped a few pictures of a man called The Pale Horse and his friend Jose.
The Pale Horse was a muscular Native American man with short dark hair and deep brown eyes. He asked to see the photo on the preview screen and Fassim handed him the camera. His demeanor was content until he scrolled too far through the collection of images and saw the battered women. The soldier then became reverent and asked Fassim who had abused the victims.
As a devout Muslim, she was hesitant to trust the men, but they seemed upset and genuine. Fassim did her best to explain the attacks in broken English, and the men listened with horrified expressions. After taking the time to hear her story, The Pale Horse asked if she could get detailed pictures of the men who hurt the women at her shelter. The teenager felt afraid to believe her enemies, but there was something kind in their eyes. Fassim agreed to provide The Pale Horse with images and locations of the attackers, and he promised to end the suffering of her beloved sisters.
VIII. Alphabromeric
Litz awoke from a deep sleep following a satisfying evening of intimacy with her new lover. Despite having a severe headache from a hangover, she turned over to indulge in a good morning kiss. When the amorous brunette rolled from her right side to her left, she recognized that Jason had gone during the night. Her first instinct was to inhale with a forlorn expression and stare at the ceiling. The television star then began to justify his departure with a multitude of valid excuses.
“Good morning,” Jason called out to the preoccupied woman as he strutted out of the darkened bathroom and into the bedroom.
“Oh, dear God!” Litz shrieked in a tone of uncoordinated panic, flailing her arms in the bed like a morbidly obese woman. “Turn the light on if you’re going to use the bathroom – for hell’s sake.” She grabbed her forehead in contempt and closed her eyes, but a smile formed across her face. “I can’t believe they called the cops on us. How did you sort that out?”
“Sorry, I just had to pee,” he explained with embarrassment, sensing that this was too much detail for a new romance. “The cops recognized me from the news and decided to let me off with a ticket for reckless endangerment.”
“I’m glad that we didn’t go to jail. By the way, is peeing in the dark part of your astronaut training?” The audacious woman teased with a dismissive wave of her right hand. “Jason, we want to know if you can pee in the dark. First you’ll get a glow stick, and then you’ll have to build a fire.”
“Fire is no bueno in space; it uses up all of the oxygen,” he reported in a snarky fashion and climbed back under the covers with her.
“You know what; I’d prefer that your mouth be used for things other than talking,” she proposed with a naughty grin, keeping her eyes shut to deny that it was morning.
“I want to show you something,” Jason announced in a sober tone, waiting for his companion to act her age.
“I’ll bet you do!” Litz exclaimed with a warm expression as she opened her eyes and submitted to his morning person charm. “Why don’t you go play with the other morning people for a few hours, and let the rest of us adults sleep a little longer?”
“Get up, lazy bones,” he demanded with masculine affection and grabbed her wrists to pull her into a sitting position. “Come on, we can’t stay in here all day.”
“I hate you,” she blurted out with her eyes still halfway closed and a wavy mass of hair that was sticking up from the right side of her head. “Okay, okay, I’m up, and we’re going to do…something.” Litz forced her eyes open and turned her head from left to right, attempting to regain her bearings.
“You know, I’m surprised that Jennifer gave me your number,” Jason said as he got up from the bed and walked back into the bathroom. “Most women wouldn’t give out their friend’s sat’ phone numbers.”
“So where are we going today?” The boisterous plumber asked as she blew a tuft of hair out of her eyes. “What’s this thing that you want to show me? Do I get to see the alien craft now? Are you going to parade me around in front of the office executives?”
Litz got up from the bed and began to dress herself from a black suitcase near the wall. She stretched a gray tank top over her bare abdomen and pulled on a pair of black running shorts. Jason stepped out of the bathroom wearing a pair of black boxer shorts and seemed dismayed that he didn’t get to see her naked again. He was in good shape for his age with a tanned stomach, and abdominal muscles that showed partial definition.
The crafty woman looked up long enough to see that he had been combing his hair and chuckled at his formal nature.
“I want to give you a better tour today,” he admitted with a glowing grin of satisfaction. “There are a lot of things that you didn’t get to see.”
“Well, it had better be more than my wildest dreams,” she challenged with a smirk, “because you just interrupted some of my wildest dreams.”
“Why don’t you pretend that you’re dreaming now?” The astronaut proposed with a bold gaze of desire.
The agreeable brunette smiled as Jason began to savor her face and neck with selfish kisses. She was soon confident in the knowledge that whatever he had planned for their day; they were going to be late.
“So what did you want to talk about so early?” CKB prodded as he flipped a chair around near the rectangular table, and sat down with his arms hanging over its back side.
Jazzy and Fassim continued to loiter on the opposite side of the serving table that they had used the previous night. CKB blinked a few times and looked at the troubled women with irritation.
“Have you been in the bar all night?” He inquired with a judgmental stare. “Why would you want to stay at a hotel and not sleep?”
“Jazzy and I have been talking all night,” Fassim informed him with a demure attitude. “We need to get your advice about something.”
“Okay, that’s cool,” CKB stated with a yawn and