His features were dark as though the sun followed him. He carried a pistol at the side of his chest. She never met him before but remembered how this man demanded information. She had the urge to yell, to spit, to fight once more for her child, but the dizziness, the stinging of her lip, and the sharp pain of her wrists prevented her.“More water,” she mumbled.Vasilla brought her another glass.“How do you feel?” he asked.“Not so great.”“I’m sorry it had to happen this way. Perhaps it was a bad mistake.”“I’m calling the police.”“Go ahead. The worse they could do is send me back to Mecca. Sure my superior would get involved, and the police would have to retrieve this Imam from the clutches of the likes of you.”“Really? You underestimate the integrity of our police force.”“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Calling the police would only make it worse. Your baby would return to Mecca.”“Diplomacy at its best.”“I guess you can say that, although I’m not sure what you mean.”“Enough chit-chat.. . think about this shit." "OK, no more horny stuff, but I do need to talk to you about some other stuff," I finally said as I got off the bed to finish my own fixing of my pants. "You thirsty?" I asked when I finished. "Yeah, let’s grab something, then head over to the fort," Joey replied. "OK, but I really need to tell you some stuff without anyone around." We grabbed some soda, and headed out to the group of trees in the nearby woods that we called our fort. We hardly spoke a word while we walked side by side to the fort. When we got within site of it, I was glad to see no one else was there. I followed him up into one of the trees that held the platform we and five others had built last year. We sat up there swinging our legs back and forth hanging over the edge of the platform drinking our sodas, not saying a word. I peeked into his thoughts and was surprised to find he was horny again, but the guilt had returned a bit and was troubling him. I chugged the rest of my root beer and.
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