Chapter 2: The Arab Solution

Grady led his mother, Jessica, Shirley to sit at the same table he and his new friends sat at the previous evening. The same waitress, from the previous evening, served them. "Gee, you went out and got yourself a new mommy."

Shirley blushed and tried to hide her face in her hands. Grady laughed and thought about how funny the whole situation was. Jessica frowned and Lorraine jumped up and kicked her chair away. "Girl, if we want any shit out of you, I'll squeeze your head like a damned pimple until it pops gray matter. I haven't had my morning coffee yet and I'm in real bad humor."

Grady did his best to keep a straight face. "You better just put the menus down on the table and back off," Grady told the startled waitress. "She is my mom and she is mean until she gets her morning coffee."

"Oh!" the waitress squeaked and half ran across the room to the coffee station.

"Now, where were we?" Lorraine asked.

"On the way over here, you had started to tell us about that lawyer with the Arab sounding name who is trying to steal your ranch." Shirley frowned at the thought of some greasy foreigner of a shyster lawyer who went around stealing things. Her Southern Baptist preacher daddy made certain that she knew how God hated foreigners and A-rab foreigners more than all of the others combined.

"He's a piker, compared to the Bush family." Lorraine looked as if she had tasted something nasty, her usual expression when she mentioned the Bush family members.

Jessica tried to defend the icons of Republican political theology. "Oh come now, look at all the good George Junior has done."

"Yeah, that oil spill up in Alaska, and the way he gutted the EPA so that we have acid rain that kills crops and trees. Let's talk about something nice."

Shirley took up the conversation, "Grady told us that you planned to start a guest ranch that will be..."

"He wants to start the best little whorehouse in Colorado, that's what he wants to do," Lorraine cut in. "The problem is that with the way times are right now, he might have the only idea that has a chance of success. Not many people have the money to buy us out. And what the banks are doing is nothing short of stealing any of the foreclosures that come up for auction. Pennies on the dollar," she added in a sorrowful voice.

The waitress came back to their table to take their orders. "Look guys, I'm sorry I let my mouth overload my good sense. I apologize."

Lorraine grinned and asked her, "You like the idea of a boy toy of your very own?"

Jessica grinned at the guilty look on the waitress's face. "Go for it. You go there once and you'll keep on goin' back. Last night was a revelation for us all."

"And the revelations just keep on coming," Grady told the waitress and laughed. Lorraine kicked him under the table.

For the rest of their meal, the waitress kept silent and served them. When they got up to leave, Jessica grabbed the check, Shirley left the tip and they made ready to leave.

"There's this young guy who is the relief cook. He keeps hitting on me and I'm going to take him up on it."

Lorraine kissed her on the lips and whispered, "Go for it."

Grady was shocked. "Mom, what's gotten into you?" he asked when they were out on the sidewalk.

"He was a nice young man that didn't want to take his Mormon underwear off before we made love."

"Mom! You talked a Mormon out of his temple garments? Oh god, don't you ever lecture me again about my love life."

Shirley giggled and asked why the young Mormon wanted to keep his underwear on. "My papa says they are the devil's spawn, the way they want to marry a dozen wives."

"Shirley, Mormons only marry one woman at a time, except for the fundamentalist offshoot sects."

"Well, Papa is a fundamentalist and he doesn't have but on wife, my mama." Shirley frowned.

Lorraine looked at Jessica and then back at Shirley. "I wonder if her father is from Kansas?"

"How did you know?" Shirley asked.

Lorraine patted Shirley's hand. "Some forms of logic are regional in nature. Your father sounds like he was from the western part of Kansas, a region well known for its own brand of logic."

"Maybe we could meet for lunch," Lorraine told the two from New York.

"Can we go with you?" Shirley asked. "We just met you and well..." Her voice trailed off. She stared at Grady and blushed.

Lorraine started to tell her no, when Grady cut in, "Hey that sounds like a great idea. Perhaps we could all spend the rest of the day sightseeing. You two are just what Mom and I need to loosen up after we get that rag head lawyer out of the way."

"Honey, cool it with the racial slurs. You know I don't appreciate such remarks, not even when they are meant to be humorous."

"Mom, does it look like I'm smiling?" Grady kept frowning as he turned back toward their destination and led the way.

The two new friends bolstered Lorraine's resolve to see this through to the end. Lawyers scared her, courts scared her and Arab lawyers scared her most of all. The whole concept of judges and legal proceedings smacked of some sort of black magic. Lorraine was afraid of that which she couldn't understand.

They walked up to the second floor of the old office building. There were four offices on each side of the second floor hallway. Only one office had a name printed on the door. "Ameer Ben Adhem" read the name painted on the frosted glass pane. Below it in smaller letters was the message, "Legal Councilor And Consultant At Large."

"Large what?" Shirley asked aloud.

"I have no idea," Lorraine told her. "The sign says he's legal."

Her fears returned, "Honey, we better just get a lawyer of our own and skip this meeting.

Jessica didn't give Grady time to answer. "No, I admit I'm just a bystander here, but I think Grady is correct. A 'councilor, ' spelled that way merely means he is a member of a council. A 'counselor," spelled with an ess is an attorney who practices in a courtroom. I'll bet the guy is as phony as that letter he sent you."

Grady grabbed the doorknob and turned it. An attractive looking woman of obvious Semitic descent sat at a small desk to the left of the door as they entered. "Yes, may I help you?" she asked in a soft voice.

"We're here to see your idiot boss about this pile of crap." Grady tossed the offending brown manila envelope on the woman's desk.

"Oh!" she exclaimed and called out in a loud voice, "You have guests, Mister Adhem."

"Great intercom you got there, lady," Grady told her. She blushed and didn't answer.

A short, fat, hook nosed man who weighed close to three hundred pounds came out from the inner office. "What?" he demanded in an angry voice. "Who are you people?"

"You sent my mother that letter I gave your secretary, Chubby. It's as phony as that wig on your fat head."

Jessica decided to weigh in and add to the confusion. "Little man, are you in this country legally?"

Shirley decided she wanted to be a part of whatever was going on. "Does your secretary have a green card? I'll call Immigration and ask."

"Oh my god!" Lorraine murmured under her breath.

"I am here legally, but he has all my papers, including my visa and passport." The secretary said. She looked afraid of something.

"I am here legally and you people are not. I want you to go right now!" Ameer Ben Adhem yelled.

"Call 911, Mom. Tell them we want the police here and an investigator from the Immigration people."

"Wait, what do you people want? Why are you here? I have done nothing wrong." All at once the man seemed frightened.

"You have this woman's papers," Shirley told him.

"I have the legal right to hold her papers while she is in my employ," the man answered.

"That's a load of bull," Lorraine told him. "The Texans that used our ranch as a feeder operation had Mexican nationals working for them and they always had their green cards and passports with them."

"How much are you paying her?" Jessica demanded.

"That is personal and confidential," Adhem told her in a strained voice.

Jessica looked at the secretary and asked, "How much?"

"He doesn't pay me because I haven't learned enough yet. He feeds me and my son and gives us a place to sleep. That is all."

"She is my niece, so I don't have to pay her," Adhem shouted.

They heard a loud siren outside the office windows, on the street below. "No!" Adhem shouted and ran toward the open window to look outside. He tripped over a chair and fell through the window to the sidewalk below. The siren faded into the distance as the ambulance kept going toward an accident site.

"Oops!" Grady exclaimed.

Jessica thought fast. "Honey, do you know where he has kept your papers? I don't think you have a job here any more." Jessica motioned for the woman to stand and get busy.

"They are locked in his desk," the woman answered.

"I'll get them," Grady told the women.

He pulled his heavy folding hunting knife out of the pouch on his belt and strode into the inner office. He started at the middle desk drawer and slid his blade along the top. The drawer opened, just like the desk at the high school principal's desk did. He found the documents on the first try.

"Bingo!" he yelled and handed the woman the packet.

She accepted them and told Jessica, "I have to get my son. What will happen to us? We have no place to live."

"Would you like to be a cow girl?" Lorraine asked her.

"Yes, yes, anything. What must I do?" She looked ready to cry.

Before Grady could answer her with his ideas, Lorraine said, "Tell us your name and the name of your son."

"My son is Kamal Shareef and I am Samma. We are related to the cadet side of the Azeez family. We have the royal blood lines, but are not of the ruling lineage." She told them this information with pride in her voice.

"Let's get out of here," Grady urged them. "We don't need to get caught up with whatever happens next. Somebody will be around to investigate eventually.

"Let's all regroup at that friendly little restaurant," Jessica told them.

Lorraine stopped and turned back. She grabbed the papers off of Samma's desk. "Wait, where are the files that little butterball had on us?"

"Here," Samma told her and held up a file folder. She gave them a nervous smile as they left.

They walked down the stairs and saw confusion. A crowd of fascinated onlookers had begun to gather around around the still form of Ameer Ben Adhem. They crowded closer and stared in horror at the still form.

"I wonder if he's dead?" Shirley asked as they left the building.

"Does it matter?" Jessica asked.

Shirley appeared uncertain and answered, "N-no, I guess not." She looked at Jessica, as if to verify she had given the correct answer. Jessica smiled and nodded yes.

"Well, let's beat feet and get away from here," Jessica told them and led the way back to the café.

The same waitress greeted them. She stared at Grady and exclaimed, "Oh my god, every time you come in here you have one more in your harem. What's your magic?"

Jessica grinned and held her hands up in front of her about a foot apart. "He can wiggle his ears too," she told the woman. The waitress decided she was outclassed in the smart remarks department and shut her mouth.

"It's too early for lunch," Grady said. "Let's just have coffee for right now."

"My son," Samma reminded them.

"Where is he?" Lorraine asked.

"We sleep in the basement over there," Samma answered and pointed back at the office building they had just left.

"You ladies help Samma get her things together and I'll go for the truck and park it in the alley behind the office building." Grady took off a half lope toward the parking lot where they left their old Ford Pickup.

The women walked back across the street, re-entered the old office building and proceeded toward the alley entrance. Samma led them down dim lit stairs into a musty, moldy basement. "I am ashamed to bring anyone into this dismal hole. I am thankful you have rescued us and I hope that filthy pig is dead!" This was the strongest emotion Samma had shown so far, other than fear.

Shirley shuddered. "Papa says this is how all you people live."

Samma gave Shirley a hard look. "Just as it is in your country, there are those in mine who live in squalor and there are those who don't."

"Shirley, from what I've heard this morning, you should never believe anything you hear your father say without ten witnesses to back him up." Lorraine patted Shirley on the arm.

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings," Shirley apologized to Samma and closed her mouth.

Samma didn't answer. Instead she opened an unmarked door and led her new friends into a gloomy room. An angry looking young man of indeterminate age looked hard at them. He pointed at Lorraine, Jessica and Shirley and said something in a loud voice.

"My son, Kamal," She introduced him in a proud yet subservient voice.

"Who are you women?" Kamal demanded in English. He stared back and forth between the three Americans.

"We shall go live with our new friend, Lorraine and her son, Grady." Samma answered. "I shall become a cow girl."

They heard a crash upstairs on the first floor. "Hey!" Grady's voice echoed into the basement. "Where is everyone? I had to kick the back door to open it. You guys closed it behind you. Let's go!"

"We're down here, Honey," Lorraine called back to him.

They heard Grady clump down the stairs. As soon as he saw them he asked, "Okay, what do I carry out first?"

"Nothing, that's what you carry out of here first," Kamal tried to stare Grady down and failed.

"You must be Camel," Grady told him.

"Kamal, my name is Kamal."

"Camel, Kamal, who cares?" Grady gave the smaller man a look of contempt.

Lorraine interrupted, "Samma, what would you like for Grady to carry out first?"

"There's only that one old steamer trunk and our clothing. I'll carry our few items of clothing, if Grady can move the trunk."

She turned to her son, "Kamal, would you please help this nice young man carry out trunk up the stairs."

"No!" he shouted.

"That's okay; I'd rather carry it by myself. Old Camel here might get hurt, if he tried to help. Grady Grabbed the two tote straps on the ends of the trunk and started to muscle it out of the room and up the stairs.

"Kuh-MAAL!" the young Arab shouted. "I demand you call me by my name."

"Boy," Grady said to the young man who was near his own age, "You can demand in one hand and shit in the other..."

"Grady! That's enough." Lorraine looked ready to do battle with her only child.

"Mom, I'm about to knock this little piss weasel on his Arab butt. I like Samma, but her dick weed son is another matter. He's a damned foreigner and he better learn to act like one around me.

Kamal jerked a gravity knife out of his pocket and let the blade snick into place. "I don't..." he started to say.

"You sure as hell don't," Grady told the young Arab and swung the big steamer trunk at him and let go."

Samma screamed and Lorraine smacked Grady in the back of the head with her open palm as hard as she could. "Ooh!" she exclaimed when her hand started to hurt.

"You Remember what happened the last time you sorely beat me, Mom. I'm going to call the Children's Protective Agency on you."

Lorraine blew on her sore palm and told him, "If a man answers the phone, he'll tell you to stay away from his wife. If a woman answers, she'll try to take you to bed, probably again." They looked at each other and laughed.

Shirley was confused, Jessica was fascinated and Samma became excited that a man had protected her. "Kamal whined, "I don't understand." He tried to move the trunk off of his belly.