A CHAPTER FROM MY NOVEL 'BEND OVER'

Abdulla and Nassir sat on the hard wooden bench trying to get comfortable.

"They are not coming," Nassir said to his older cousin.

"They'll be here. We'll wait. We'll tell them what we've decided. Then we can go back to Akron and forget this nasty business."

Nassir covered his eyes with his hands while Abdulla studied the young man, in front of them, with long flowing hair.

"We're going to Hell for sure." Nassir said refusing to look.

"It's only a sin if you join them in their heathen idolatry."

Abdulla was fascinated with the young man. He was almost completely naked. Only a small cloth covered his man parts. The rest of his body was exposed for any woman or child to see. It was an obvious abomination. God would deal with these unbelievers in his own way.

But despite himself something drew Abdulla to study the young man. He was healthy and virile with rippling stomach muscles, thin waist and strong manly chest. Abdulla was disturbed by his own interest.

"I though their God was a Jew!" Nassir said to his cousin. "This one looks like a Norwegian Olympic Swimmer."

The arms of the young Olympic Swimmer were stretched to their limit as he hung from the cross. There was a wound in his side, a crown of thorns digging into his forehead and drops of blood that the sculptor had chiseled on his handsome anguished face.

Abdul was fascinated and appalled by the gruesome life-sized spectacle hanging at the front of the Cathedral. Red, green and blue light from stained glass windows flooded the front of the church where a priest in a black cassock with frilly white shirtsleeves was giving communion to a group of elderly women.

Abdulla remembered reading somewhere that the heathens believe they are actually eating the flesh and drinking the blood of their God when they take bread and wine from the priest. His stomach heaved at the though of such depravity.

The cathedral was busy this time of day. It had become a favorite tour bus stop on the way to the gambling Casinos in Niagara Falls after one lucky worshipper had purchased a winning 20 million dollar lottery ticket after morning mass. In gratitude she'd bought the priest a new BMW 601e and paid for a complete renovation of the parish bingo hall. She had the priest's cell phone on speed dial and called him every morning to confess the details of all the sins her newfound wealth granted her.

The cousins had arrived early to scout out the meeting place. A trick Abdulla had learned from reading John Le Carré. They'd found all the exits, the secret alcoves, and the little red fire extinguishers. They'd wandered around looking at the heathen idols and frescos. Grisly scenes of bearded old men shot full of arrows and beautiful young women tied to stakes while flames licked at their clothing while God looked down from heaven and smiled.

They'd washed their hands and faces in the little fountain at the back of the hall and been startled when an elderly caretaker hustled over and chased them away, angrily muttering heathen curses at them in some devilish tongue.

The cousin didn't notice when two large men in black suits sat down at either end of their row.

"You must be Abdulla and Nassir." A voice in the pew behind them said. They turned to look at a middle-aged woman with bright red hair and extravagantly painted eyebrows.

"Yes that is us," Abdulla said.

"I'm Rosebud."

Abdulla was relieved. The cousins had decided they would refuse to risk their lives on whatever foolish scheme they'd been forced into. Now it was easy to say no. They could never take orders from a woman. Especially not when it was a vain old crone who painted her face like a harlot.
Bernie Slackbacker studied the cousins. Noted the anger in their faces. Their defiant glare.

"We have decided to go home," Abdulla told Slackbacker.

"You can go anywhere you want after we've finished here," Bernie told them.

"No!" Nassir said. "We are leaving today. We want no part of your foolish plans."

Bernie sighed. "Certainly. No one will prevent you from leaving. First though you should look at this." Slackbacker handed Abdulla an 8x12 envelope.

"You'll find my cell number inside if you decide to change your mind. My advice is, don’t wait too long."

Abdulla and Nassir sat for a long time after the painted harlot had left. Neither one wanted to open the envelope. When they did they saw a grainy black and white picture of Nassir's father, eyes wide with fright as he stared into the camera. The other picture was Abdulla's mother and young sisters holding tightly to each other, surrounded by bearded men carrying AK 47 rifles.When the cousins came out of the dark cathedral into the bright sunshine both men had tears on their cheeks. They were too distracted to notice the large SUV with tinted windows parked across the street. They walked to the lot where they'd left their car and drove back to their hotel. The black SUV stayed back a discrete distance as it followed them.

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