i
Every morning after his shower Ammar Shirazi-Kahn has a manicure, a shave, his thick kinky black hair is combed neatly; then he is helped to dress in a finely tailored suit.
Always before leaving he returns to his large French blue bedroom, kissing his wife’s cheeks, “Will you miss me today?” Ammar hopes she will.
In their king sized bed Bianca stretches out her body, her slightly slanted dark eyes sparkling, “Yes.” Her gaze shifts briefly to the windows of the balcony which overlook a lush tropical garden, “It’s raining today. I so wanted a cloudless day, just the right breeze.” tenderly stroking his cheeks.
Ammar closes his eyes, whispering several words.
Suddenly, the gray turns to sunshine, rays of light brighten the room.
“There.” Ammar kisses Bianca’s lips, “A cloudless deep blue sky for you.”
“When will you be home?” Bianca loves Ammar, she never asks questions. He never offers an explanation not in twelve years. He loves her passionately, giving her everything she desires. They have a mansion on their own private island, Mango Key; there are little shops, a park, a movie theater. Ammar has never betrayed her.
“By seven. I’ll let you know if business keeps me longer.” They are flying to Bora Bora for the weekend.
Outside several people genuflect, an old lady places a rose in Ammar’s lapel, blessing him. The Chauffer, Mr. Urshanabi, opens the limousine door, “Everything is set for your meeting today.”
“Thank you, Mr. Urshanabi.” Ammar says before getting inside.
The Five Founders want to form an alliance with Ammar. The great Mr. Zenon is dying. Soon, no one will stand in Ammar’s way for absolute power.
Asgard Towers is a fifty-five story glass edifice, an architectural marvel overlooking Tampa Bay. It took only six months to go up and for the past twenty-five years has been the headquarters of Shirazi-Kahn and Associates, a six trillion dollar conglomerate with dealings in Insurance, social media, oil, gas, retail, drugs, snack foods, soft drinks, the internet, banking, guns and computers.
Ammar’s office is on the top floor, a room with many windows, a balcony overlooking the Bay. Ammar’s desk is to the left of this.
Xenia Qin walks across the golden carpet, “The three Supplicants are here, Mr. Halabi, Senator Brown and Maeve of Brasil. Larry is here, too.”
Ammar nods his head in acceptance of the Supplicants.
Xenia smiles walking back across the room, opening the door, motioning with one hand for Mr. Halabi to enter.
A man named Mr. Oni follows him in; Mr. Oni and Xenia sit at the long table running parallel to the balcony.
Mr. Halabi bows his head, taking Ammar’s outstretched hand kissing it.
“Sit, Mr. Halabi.” Ammar puts the man at ease with a pleasant smile, “What can I do for you today?”
Sweat beads roll down Mr. Halabi’s temples, he rubs his hands together, “Three weeks ago our daughter, Yasmina, a beautiful girl, went to a party at a young man’s house. He got her drunk. He and several friends violated her. They filmed it all, putting the wicked thing on the Youtube and Facebook. She has been harassed to the point of trying to take her own life. This young man, Dillon VanKemp comes from a wealthy family. The police will do nothing.” Mr. Halabi covers his face weeping.
Mr. Oni pours water into a glass, handing it to Mr. Hilabi.
Ammar asks, “And what do you want from me?”
“I want justice.”
“Mr. Halabi, do you remember when we first met?”
Mr. Halabi nods his head, “Twelve years ago, you came to my restaurant, raved about the food.”
“My wife and your wife, Arya, were friends in school. Yet, you have never invited us to your home for dinner. In fact, you forbad your wife and my wife from being friends. Now, this country you fell inlove with has failed you. You find the rules only apply to the poor and weak, while the powerful and wealthy can get away with every crime. Now you come to me. Help me, Ammar you beg.”
“I have money.”
“I don’t need your money. I want respect, a reliable friend and associate. I prize loyalty above all else.” He motions towards Mr. Oni, “You will have your justice today by four o’clock for all to see. Your daughter’s humiliation will be avenged and disappear forever, only you and the vanKamps will remember. Their memories won’t be a comfort to them. However, there is a price for you.”
Mr. Halabi crawls on the floor towards Ammar in supplication, “Anything.” Tears of joy on his cheeks.
“At your restaurant, you will host a party at midnight for five of my associates, Mr. Oni, Mr. Dev, Mr. Segano, Miss Nott and Miss Ker. My chef, Miss Lamashtu, will be in charge of the meal preparations. It’s a celebratory dinner.”
“What kind of food?” Mr. Halabi asks as Mr. Oni helps him up.
“Roasted human with pineapples, mashed potatoes, asparagus, blood wine to drink, a mixed berry cheese cake for dessert. I have instructed them not to get too rowdy. Miss Lamashtu will make certain the place is spotlessly clean afterwards. Have your best wait staff there, the tips will be generous.”
The second Supplicant is Senator Brown, led in by Miss Nott.
Ammar smiles, “What can I do for you today, Senator?”
“As you know I am in a very tight re-election bid. My opponent Mark O’Brien is accusing me of all sorts of things.” Corruption, embezzlement, a bank account in Switzerland, “I may lose to him.”
“What is petty politics to me?” Every year Shirazi-Khan and Associates is given one billion dollars from the United States Treasury for research on the cooling practices of insects in Death Valley.
“Congressman O’Brien has been making noises, looking into things. People are rallying behind him.” Senator Brown points a finger, “He’s come upon a few things about you. Things that don’t make sense and he’s asking questions.”
“His brother, James, is the Archbishop.”
Senator Brown nods his head.
Ammar lets out a sigh, “I will help you.” motioning towards Miss Nott, “The O’Brien brothers run a money laundering and sex trafficking operation through their charity, United Catholic Services. The brothers took it over thirty years ago from old Cardinal Bonasera, turned it into a five billion dollar business.”
“Thank you.” Senator Brown reaches out for Ammar’s hand, kissing it.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had eyes inside the workings of the United States government. Miss Astarte served me there for many years,” fifty-six to be exact, 1945 to 2001, “Then she decided to retire to Martinique, a great loss for me, but associates move on. Miss Nott will be your new assistant. She will be given access to everything.”
Miss Nott grins.
“You will enjoy Miss Nott’s company. She is very intelligent, speaks several languages, and is a black belt in Jui-jitsu.”
Maeve is the last Supplicant. She walks in with Miss Ker as if she is doing Ammar a favor, not sitting or offering to kiss his hand; she stares Ammar down.
Ammar admires her bravery, “I only agreed to this for Larry. I owe him an eternal debt.”
“He told me.”
“You’re from the other realm, the lands beyond the sky and sea. What are you looking for here with me? You have wizards and witches of your own to barter with.”
Maeve shakes her head, “None as powerful as you are, and I need a loyal ally.” Her husband, Conchobar, raped her in the Great Hall after a party. Maeve divorced him for it, “My ex-husband rules Avalon, it’s mine, I want it back.” Conchobar has led an army against her for two years.
Ammar throws up his hands, “What is in it for me?”
Maeve sits on the black oak desk, leaning towards Ammar; her long red hair flowing over her shoulders, “Our two realms cannot exist together. Yes, there have been movements back and forth between our peoples but kept in check by the cosmic order, save for one time. So famous was my Avalon here that even today, people think it existed in this realm. That was done by a man even more powerful than you are.”
“Merlin.” Ammar speaks the name in hushed reverence.
“What if I told you Merlin lives.”
Ammar jumps up, his face registers shock, “How could that be?” he would have heard such a thing long ago.
Maeve beams, “I thought that might interest you.”
“Where?”
Maeve shakes her head, “There is a price for that information.”
“If you know Merlin, why not ask him?”
“He won’t return to our realm. Therefore, I cannot ask.”
Ammar places his hands on the desk leaning closer to Maeve, “I can easily get it out of you. The pain would be unbearable, you would beg me for death.”
“True, but I will be a loyal friend to you. You have enemies who even now hide in my realm plotting against you.” Maeve sees something in Ammar’s eyes, “You look frightened. You’ve heard those things too. Power is not guaranteed to last forever, not even yours.” She looks to Xenia and Miss Ker, “Loyalties change. How many great men and empires have you seen come and go? Even the once great United States is crumbling into the ash heap of history, corrupted and bankrupt.”
“I’ll help you.”
Maeve smirks, “I thought you might.”
Larry is the last invited in, given singular privilege of a meeting alone.
“What happened to your face?” Ammar sits beside Larry on the sofa; on the coffee table he conjures a platter of sandwiches, a golden pot of tea and cups, pouring the tea himself.
“I was hungry. I went to Café Feierabend in The Seminole Mall. The owner, a Mr. Otto Rosenkrantz, kicked me out. Then, when I was searching through the garbage bins for scraps, he sent two big guys out to beat me up, throw me into the street.” Taking a bite of roast beef sandwich, “I tell you people aren’t as nice as they used to be. There was a day a hungry man would have been fed, for rewards in heaven and such.”
“What do you have to tell me?”
“I was in Moab recently, overheard a conversation at a place called Rosalinda’s. Mr. Zenon is making deals.”
Larry shakes his head, taking a chicken salad sandwich off the gold platter, “Just rumors he started himself. He’s been in the United States meeting with The Five Founders. They want power, Mr. Zenon promised them together they could rule the world again, like in the old days, before you destroyed it all. You have a meeting with them this afternoon.”
Ammar feels the blood drain from his face.
“They plan on assassinating you there. You’re powerful, but six against one, especially since you have a weakness and they have a goal.” Larry gobbles up the sandwich, taking a turkey club sandwich, “You have until five o’clock to do something.” pointing the sandwich, “I believe in you, my Ammar.”
ii
The castle of Camelot sits on a hill overlooking the sea, The Great Hall is drafty and dark. Conchobar is dressed in medieval attire, surrounded with two dozen of his men; they look upon the three visitors with wonder.
“We rarely get visits from your realm.” Conchobar is unafraid, he has met these kind, they always want something.
Ammar sits across the table, Mr. Dev and Miss Ker stand behind him, “Maeve tells me Avalon belongs to her.”
“That great whore. Her father gave me this land for marrying her, worst mistake of my life. When she left me, she forfeited it. She should have kept her legs crossed. I’m not giving Avalon back.”
“That’s a problem.” Ammar raises his left hand, “You are in pain, cuts are being slit into your skin all over.” He sees Conchobar attempt to turn to his men, blood starts oozing from his neck, “They will be of no help to you.” With a wave of his hand those dozens of men evaporate into smoke, “Now, we can do this two ways: One you die and suddenly a Will surfaces, signed by you, giving the land of Avalon and Mag Mell, that little private island of yours to Maeve. However, that is the easy way. I would feel like a fool, like I wasn’t clever enough to beat you, a simpleton. So, you will willingly sign Avalon and Mag Mell over to Maeve. I see the question in your eyes, what do you get from this? You simply get to live a long healthy life free to do as you wish, perhaps sail the seven seas on adventures. Or, in my wrath at your stubbornness making me feel a fool, I will turn you into a howling, aware pile of sand drifting in and out with the tide. Forever in agony like a thousand knives digging eternally into every piece of you.” Shaking his head, “I’m not the man you want to test.” Waving his hand.
Papers appear before Conchobar; as he signs his name and kingdom away, the pain slowly releases from his body.
“I knew you were a man who could be reasoned with.” Ammar, Mr. Dev and Miss Ker leave The Great Hall, meeting Maeve in the outside chambers. Ammar announces, “It’s done, you are now Queen of Brasil, Avalon and Mags Mel.”
Maeve falls to her knees, kissing Ammar’s hands, “Thank you.” Gazing up at him.
“Merlin” Ammar warns her, “and don’t mistake my kindness for a weakness.”
Maeve stands up, “I’ll take you to him.”
Miss Nott and Mr. Segano appear inside the Archbishop’s residence, making way upstairs. Upon entering the master bedroom, they find the Archbishop lying in bed, groaning as his penis merges with a sheep. Surprisingly he does not mind the intrusion, saying in his ecstasy, “Care to join me?” pumping away; he has had fantasies of this nature, the two visitors are certainly good looking. Perhaps his young lover, Raoul, sent them as a gift for his birthday.
Mr. Segano and Miss Nott exchange disgusted looks. Miss Nott twirls her left hand, the Archbishop being enveloped by heavy chains from neck to groin, which only heightens his euphoric state. Miss Nott covers her eyes.
Mr. Segano touches Miss Nott’s arm, asking in great sympathy, “Do you want me to take it?”
Miss Nott shakes her head, “No, I can handle this.” Letting out a sigh, stiffening her spine, “I’m the demoness of the night afterall.” Giving her hand a sharp flick towards the window. The Archbishop disappears.
Ammar stands on the docks of Lake Powell in Arizona, “A houseboat. The greatest wizard in history lives on a houseboat.” There is something sacrilegious about it.
Maeve tells him, “He wants privacy, to be left alone.” Calling out, “Mr. Smith, it is I, Maeve of Brasil and I have brought a friend.”
A surprisingly young man pops his head up from below, “Maeve, I’ve just began brewing a fresh pot of coffee. You are welcome, any friend of yours as well.”
Maeve warns, “Let me do the talking or he may turn you into a cricket.” The two board the ship, stepping down in to the parlor.
Mr. Smith kisses Maeve’s hand, studying Ammar; his tone is menacing, “I know who you are, Ammar of Baghdad.”
Maeve lifts her hands, “Forgive me, I brought him as a friend. He recently did a favor for me.”
Mr. Smith offers them seats on a leather sofa, “What brings you here?” he pours them cups of coffee, handing them out to both like any good host.
Ammar takes his cup graciously, “The chance to meet you, pay my respects.”
“I never had the power you have in this world.” Clearly Mr. Smith sees someone to admire in Ammar.
Maeve speaks softly, “Ammar helped me get Avalon.”
“I am glad my beloved home is in good hands with you, Queen Maeve.”
Maeve’s voice is gentle, “I know you want nothing to do with magic or our world. I know you desire a simple, ordinary life here, to be forgotten about.”
“I have seen characters based on me in movies and on television. Who would have thought all those years ago I would still be known today.” Mr. Smith turns to Ammar, “You have troubles. I can read it in your heart. Right now, the old rulers plot against you. You’re wondering what to do about them? You are not strong enough to fight six. They will destroy you today. Then they will fight amongst themselves. Mr Zenon and his children will hunt the rest. The war will last for years, then Mr. Zenon will be victorious. The world will be desolate, as in the beginning times. History and memory will start again.”
Ammar asks, “Is that what you want?” knowing if it is, there is nothing he can do about it. No one can.
“No, I’m too old to start again.” Mr. Smith allows silence to fill the room for several minutes, “But as you know the future is not written as inevitable. It can be changed by a word, a deed, an action. You can change it.”
“How?”
“You’re a clever man. You are meeting with The Five Founders Mr. Orion, Mr. Enkai, Mr. Atem, Mr. Rod and Mr. Dagda. Who amongst them is the weakest? Who amongst them would Mr. Zenon kill first after he rid the world of you?”
“Mr. Rod.”
“Exactly, Mr. Rod then Mr. Enkai. The gods are hard to kill, but they can be neutralized.”
“The others could be a problem for me.”
“Mr Orion is a clever man who does not truly trust Mr. Zenon. Mr. Atem is very happy with his vineyards and lovers, that villa in Spain. He likes the idea of power, but hasn’t had it in so long, it’s just simply a dream he would give up when things get tough. As for Mr. Dagda, he just wants to be on the winning side, that’s where he gets his power. All are just pawns, greed and hope can cause the most intelligent man to deceive himself. They lost power long ago because they were weak, they still are. I will give you three rare gifts. Then I wish to be left in peace.”
Phone calls go out to television stations and newspapers that Archbishop James O’Brien has a big announcement. When one dozen reporters arrive at the Archbishop’s residence, he is not to be found in the house. A servant searches the grounds, discovering the Archbishop naked tied up with chains, hanging from a tree branch, a ball in his mouth; his penis sticking into the Pond Cypress tree, seaman everywhere. Photographs are snapped, while the reporters marvel at how the Archbishop happened to get himself into that position.
iii
Ammar asked Maeve to accompany him, Mr. Segano and Miss Ker on a visit to Mr. Rod.
Mr. Rod adjusts himself in his large leather chair, “I thought we were meeting at five.” As if trying to appear bigger.
Ammar stares at one of his assassins, “Change of plans. I hear Mr. Zenon has spoken with you.”
“I speak to many people.” Mr. Rod’s eyes move nervously from one to the other, not the brightest man, but he does sense Ammar knows; Mr. Rod feels in danger.
“Now I’m a reasonable man, living over two thousand years teaches one to read people, situations. Things are not always as they seem. Sometimes people make the wrong decisions for perfectly noble reasons.”
Mr. Rod blurts out, “I didn’t want to do it. We’ve always been friends. I’ve never given you any trouble.”
“And still you were going to assassinate me. What did you think you would get from it? Do you think Mr. Zenon would share anything with you? You would just be pathetic. Now, I have a dilemma, what am I going to do with you?” he holds out his hand. Mr. Dev places a box in it, “Do you know what this is, Mr. Rod?”
Mr. Rod shakes his head.
“It’s an ordinary box as you can see, but inside this is a gift from a great wizard. You will be turned into a statue, then thrown into the deepest part of the Atlantic Ocean, forever looking up, forever drowning, gasping for air. Forever contemplating the foolish choice you made one afternoon. I can assure you, it will be a miserable existence.”
“No.”
Ammar opens the box reciting these words, “Ad undas.” Meaning to the waves, or Hell.
Slowly Mr. Rod turns into a stone statue, the eyes move, whimpers can be heard.
Ammar orders Mr. Dev and Miss Ker, “Take him away. Be back in forty minutes.”
The two stand on either side of Mr. Rod; the three disappear.
Announcers break into the afternoon news to report the death of Archbishop James O’Brien. It is officially claimed he died peacefully in his sleep, though the real story trickles out over the internet; there are even photographs.
Mr. Enkai enjoys golfing at The Tampa Bay Country Club; he is at the ninth hole when a golf cart races towards him. Mr. Enkai is surprised by the visitor, “Ammar, I never expected to see you here.” Not at all concerned, “Our meeting is at five.” He has a caddy with him.
Ammar jumps out of the cart strolling towards him, “I never understood golf.”
“You don’t have enough patience.”
“Oh I have patience, just not for golf.” Ammar smiles, “Did I ever tell you the story of how I gathered such loyal house staff?”
“No.” Mr. Enkai sees no importance in such a boring the story, looking at his watch.
Ammar snaps his fingers, the caddy disappears, “Well, many years ago in the fifteenth century there was an evil tyrant who ruled this little community in Transylvania. It was long after Vlad the Impaler. Well, this tyrant oppressed the people, raised their taxes, put terrible laws and burdens on them no one could meet. When I happened by, the villagers told me of their suffering.” Placing a hand to his chest, “My heart was moved. So, one day as all the people gathered in the town square, the evil tyrant found himself tied to five horses: a rope around his throat; two ropes for each arm and two ropes for each leg; then I let the horses go wild and they pulled the tyrant apart. The people wept and cheered. They still celebrate that day even after almost five hundred years. My servants come from that town, tributes if you will.”
Mr. Enkai flashes a nervous smile.
Ammar holds out his hand; Miss Ker places a box into it, “Guess what I’m going to do to you now? Fiat experimentum in corpore vili.” Meaning let the experiment be performed on a worthless corpse.
Mr. Enkai screams as his body splits in half, then sliced to pieces. Mr. Segano and Miss Ker each carry a garbage bag, picking up the body parts, putting them into the bags.
Ammar orders them, “Dispense the parts in all four corners of the world.”
Maeve clasps her fingers together, “You look pensive.”
“One more box, who shall it be?” Ammar would so love it to be Mr. Zenon, “I wonder.” Covering his face, pacing back and forth in deep thought, “Would it be ethical?”
Maeve repeats, “Ethical?” what a strange word for him to use, “The entire 20th Century you profited off wars and revolutions.”
“You’re right.” Ammar nods his head, “I’ll do it. Who better than me?”
Congressman Mark O’Brien goes before cameras to give a teary speech about his brother’s untimely death; then, surrounded by his wife, children and staff, he announces the end to his campaign, giving his full support to the re-election of Senator Paul Brown.
At four o’clock Dillon vanKamp appears live on both Facebook and YouTube. He sits at a table, behind him is an open window. Dillon weeps bitterly, “Mom, Dad, I’m a complete failure.” He convulses into tears, “I don’t deserve to be your son, I don’t deserve to live. I’m a liar and a rapist. I hate myself.” He picks up a Colt Anaconda, placing it to his right temple, pulling the trigger, blowing his brains out.
iv
“How did you find me?” Mr. Zenon sits on the terrace of his home, Mount Olympus is in the background.
“Where else would you be but your eternal home.” Ammar has brought his five associates, each have their eyes on one of Mr. Zenon’s children: Ares, Apollo, Athena, Hercules and Perseus, “I’m here to pay my respects. I hear you are ill, what a great loss for the world.”
“What do you want really, Ammar?” when the answer does not come quickly he says, “I was ruling the world thousands of years before you were born. If I had known about you, I would have killed your parents in their cribs.”
Ammar must be careful, he is the weakest here, even with his associates and Merlin’s magic, “I wish to offer you a gift of my friendship.” Mr. Zenon’s children are powerful. Ammar turns to Mr. Oni, who hands him a box, “Here, this is for you.”
“What is it?”
“A gift from the great Merlin, his magic.”
Mr. Zenon insists, “Merlin is dead.” Not entertaining a thought otherwise.
“I thought so too, but I met him. He gave me this.”
“Why?”
“To get rid of my enemies. Mr. Rod and Mr. Enkai have been dealt with. This I give to you, do with it what you wish.”
Mr. Zenon shakes his head, not falling for it.
“You’re afraid, I can assure you, it’s an empty box, harmless.” His eyes shift towards the children, “Have one of them open it, so you can trust in my sincerity. I want your friendship, not your death.”
Mr. Zenon snaps his finger, moving his chin, motioning to Ares.
Ares takes the box, exchanging a nervous glance with his siblings before opening it, “It’s an empty box.” He passes it around to the rest. Athena hands it over to her father.
Mr. Zenon looks into the red velvet lined box, “Trickery.”
Ammar says, “Ad astra per aspera.” Meaning our aspirations take us to the stars.
Mr. Zenon shudders, “What happened?”
Ammar smiles, speaking calmly, “I just took all your power unto myself.” With a wave of his hand the five children fade away. Ammar sends them to the top of Mount Olympus where they will continue their existence as trees, pillars of dirt, “Now you, Mr. Zenon, I’m going to send you to live amongst the homeless in San Francisco, babbling like a lunatic, a life of destitution.” snapping his fingers, “Alea iacta est.” Mr. Zenon disappears.
At five o’clock Ammar arrives for the meeting, bringing in his associates, Maeve as well. He sits at the table with Mr. Orion, Mr. Atem and Mr. Dagda. The three waiting half an hour for something to happen.
Ammar finally speaks, “The others must be occupied elsewhere.” Pushing back his chair, “The three of you have until midnight to leave the United States. You had better find a place to hide from me. I’m coming for you with a vengeance.”
The three scramble out of the room as fast as their feet can move.
Ammar turns to Maeve, “Well, this is it.”
Maeve takes his hand kissing it, “Please bring your wife to Avalon, I will see there is a feast for your honor.”
“If you ever need my help.”
“I’ll send Larry to you.”
“Thank you for reminding me. I have one more thing to do today.”
v
The limousine waits outside the golden mansion. Ammar and Bianca walk arm in arm, “I promise it will be a smooth ride all the way to Bora Bora, we’ll be there within two hours.” It could be a shorter flight, but he does not want to be flashy.
Bianca kisses his lips, “You look tired, my love.”
“Just a long day.” Ammar came close to never seeing Bianca again, that hurts his heart.
“Well, just think of me now, forget work.”
Ammar kisses her hand, “I have to talk to Xenia, then I will be yours for the entire weekend.”
Bianca whispers something into Ammar’s ear before getting into the limousine.
Xenia holds a cell phone in one hand, a bag over one shoulder, “No traffic stops for you to the airport. I have champagne chilling and your favorite snacks. The house in Bora Bora will have flowers in every room, no rain for the weekend also gentle, fragrant breezes. The fire at Café Feierabend will start in one hour. It will consume the mall, then spread throughout the City of Seminole. Thanks to the brave men and woman of Seminole Fire Rescue the fire will be put out within three hours with no loss of life. Sadly, the usual accidents, heart attacks, burns. All will be taken care of by the paramedics. Half the city will burn to the ground and there will be millions of dollars in damage. The Fire Marshall will discover the fire was set by a Mr. Otto Rosenkrantz for insurance purposes. He will be arrested, tried and sentenced to twenty years in prison. All while he proclaims his complete innocence.” Flashing a smile, “One last thing, the waters here will turn red for one year. A sign to your enemies that you live, Ammar.”
“How very efficient you are, Xenia. You will find a bonus of one thousand dollars in your purse. Enjoy your date with Cassandra tonight.”
Xenia flutters her lovely eyes, “I will. Do you think Larry will like living in Avalon?”
“I hope so.” Ammar gets into the limousine.
Mr. Urshanabi closes the door; he and Xenia wave good-bye to each other, both smiling. Everything is right with the world again.
Bio
Catherine Cahill was born in East Hartford Connecticut. She retired from the State of Connecticut in 2017 after thirty-one years of service. Now she devotes her time to training in Mixed Martial Arts and writing stories.