Desert Heat

For many in New York, the pouring rain that overtook the city would have been nothing short of a disaster, but for Prince Aziz Hassan, it was a blessing. While many viewed the pouring rain as a hindrance to their day, for him, it was a blessing. Prince Aziz smiled as he looked at the busy streets from his twenty-fifth-floor penthouse. Although it was raining, the roads were busy as everyone ran for cover or simply to the nearest cab. Aziz took one sip from his glass of brandy, and that warmed him up—not that he needed any warming up because the new and improved heating system warmed his penthouse perfectly. He moved away from his window, and just as he landed on his Italian leather couch, his doorbell rang. Aziz hated this, but he knew that it must have been important. For the past three days, he had been in his penthouse, avoiding yet another drama from yet another gossip columnist, and Aziz made it clear that he did not want any visitors unless the sky had fallen. Well, the sky must have fallen then. "Come in!" He called out; there was a click of the door, and when Aziz turned around, it was none other than Fahd, his bodyguard, walking in. Aziz turned to face the older man, looking bored and uninterested in Fahd's presence. "Greetings, my prince," Fahd greeted Aziz, who then rose from his couch and faced Fahd dead in the eyes. Fahd quickly looked at his feet, knowing just what he had done wrong. "I thought I told you not to call me prince; that part of my life has been forgotten, and I hate being reminded of it," Aziz reminded his bodyguard, who quietly nodded his head. "I'm so sorry, boss," Fahd apologized, and Aziz smiled at the man. He hated being called a prince, and he had made it known to Fahd many times, but it seems that the older man was still bound by his vow to respect and protect the prince with his life. "You are forgiven," Aziz told the older man, who then looked up to face him. Aziz had seen the look on the older man's face, and even he had to admit that Fahd looked shaken, and Fahd was not a man who got scared easily. The man before him had fought more tribal wars than Aziz could count, and he was among the bravest warriors that their kingdom had ever produced. "What is it that is so important that you had to disturb me? Make it quick; I do not have the whole day," Aziz said, asserting his order. Fahd bowed his head and stepped back before he spoke, and all these formalities bored Aziz so much that he simply let out a deep breath. "I am sorry, boss, but I am afraid I have bad news for you. I was just informed that your father, King Abdul Imran Hassan, has passed away." The news hit Aziz so hard that he slowly sat back on his couch. For just a second, Aziz's mind left his surroundings as millions of thoughts swirled in his mind. He slowly turned to face the concerned Fahd, who still looked shocked. Aziz did not mind that Fahd was concerned about his father's passing; after all, the two men had fought side by side and won countless wars together. Aziz deposited his glass of brandy on his glass table, folded his hands in a praying posture, and pressed his hands to his mouth. Aziz did not know what to feel other than relief that finally the old man was dead; his deeds must have certainly caught up with him. "Why are you informing me of this?" Aziz asked Fahd. To Prince Aziz, his father's death was nothing more than a nuisance. Fahd was not in the least shaken by Aziz's behavior at all; he knew that both father and son had had their differences, and until the king's death, the two had never resolved their differences. "Your mother—your stepmother, Queen Aida—has asked me to inform you of this; she has asked me to tell you that if not for your father, then do this for her sake," Fahd informed Aziz, who quickly shut his eyes. Ever since his mother died at the age of ten, his stepmother, Aida, had taken him under her wing when the king's other wives refused to treat him as one of their own. Denying his stepmother this wish would be a slap in her face, and Aziz knew that he could not do that to her. Irritated that his stepmother had put him in a difficult situation, Aziz picked up his glass and threw it against the wall, splattering brandy all over it. "When do we have to leave?" Aziz asked Fahd. "Whenever you like, either way, his body would have been buried long before we got there," Fahd answered. Aziz did not have to be told of the cultural practices; he remembered them quite clearly when his mother passed away. Aziz let out yet another frustrated breath. He turned to face Fahd, and the man still looked shaken. "I guess my brother will be performing the burial, right?" Aziz asked, not expecting an answer from the older man, but a nod from Fahd was enough for him to confirm that Aziz was right. Now that Aziz looked out his window, he hated that a day that had turned out perfect for him had slowly gone downhill from there. "Get my house help to organize my luggage and book me a ticket; we are leaving tomorrow and not a day later," Aziz ordered, leaving the living area before Fahd could utter another word. "Dolly!" Fahd called out to the lovely young housekeeper, who appeared before he could call again. "Yes, sir, how may I help you?" She asked, always so friendly and with a smile on her face. "I would like you to pack Sir Ryan's bags; he will be going on a trip," Fahd informed the young woman, preferring to call Aziz by his alias. "Sure, Mr. Fahd, how long would he be gone for?" she asked with a soft and gentle voice. Fahd turned to her, and he smiled. "Just pack enough; I feel that this will be a long trip." He informed Dolly, and he walked away. Lily raced to her boss's office, her heart beating against her chest. Mr. Wilson had called her into his office, and she hoped that it had nothing to do with firing her. For the past five years, Lily has been working at Bridge Fort News Company. She had desperately tried to climb the ladder, and it seemed as though that would not be possible. As Lily walked down the hallway to Mr. Wilson's office, all eyes were on her. Walking to Mr. Wilson's office meant one of two things: you were about to be promoted or fired, and from the looks of things, it was the latter. Lily now stood in front of Mr. Wilson's door. She let out her breath, and finally, this was it. She raised her hand, balled her hand into a fist, and knocked on the door. "Come in!" She heard Mr. Wilson called from within his office, and she froze on the spot. For someone as confident as she was, Mr. Wilson still managed to scare her. Lily unlocked the door to her boss's office. When she walked in, her boss sat in his big leather chair, and he had his eyes pressed onto the laptop screen. Lily quickly put on a brave smile and walked toward Mr. Wilson's table. "Good morning, Mr. Wilson, I must say that you look very good this morning, sir." Lily complimented her boss, hoping that this would soften the mood and hopefully help her keep her job. Mr. Wilson, on the other hand, did not seem one bit interested in what Lily had to say; he simply looked up from his laptop and gestured for her to sit down, and Lily complied. Please do not fire me. Please do not fire me. Lily mentally hoped that this was not the end of her career. Her heart stopped when her boss shut his laptop and looked right at her. "Mrs. Robinson—" "It's Ms. Robinson, sir; I am not married, sir." She corrected her boss, who seemed uninterested in what she had to say. Lily shut her eyes for a few seconds and wished that she had not uttered a word. "So, Ms. Robinson, I have been informed that you covered a few important events, and from the looks of things, you have done quite well." Mr. Wilson complimented her, and this pleased Lily. "Well, thank you, sir." She thanked Mr. Wilson, who surely looked uninterested in having an employee that he never cared about in his office. "You are welcome. Anyway, let us talk about more important things," Mr. Wilson looked even more serious than he did before Lily walked in. She swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping that her boss's earlier compliment was not to soften her up for her dismissal. "Lily, do you have a husband, kids, or any dependents?" He asked her, and her heart sank to her stomach. That is it. I am fired for good. Lily told herself this mentally as she prepared herself for her dismissal. "No, sir, I do not have children, a husband, or anyone that depends on me, but I do live with my mother," Lily replied, hoping that this would soften Mr. Wilson's heart. "Good, then you would have no problem packing your bags," Mr. Wilson informed her, and that threw Lily back a bit. "I am sorry, sir, but why would I need to pack my bags?" She questioned him, and Mr. Wilson smiled back at her. Lily raised a questionable eyebrow at her employer. Never in her five years of working for him had Lily seen him smile. "Because I am going to give you the big break that you so desperately crave, pack your bags; tomorrow you are leaving for your next big project," Mr. Wilson informed Lily, and she smiled because she could not contain her excitement, but it then hit her that she had no idea where she was headed to. "I am so sorry, sir, but where would I be going?" she asked with a soft voice so as not to offend Mr. Wilson. He smiled at her, something that scared Lily because this often meant that her boss was thinking about something that she might not like. "Your next assignment is in the Middle East, in a remote Arabian kingdom," Mr. Wilson informed Lily, and even she could not hide her excitement. For the first time, she was doing a field assignment in a place other than New York City. "Thank you, sir; I appreciate this opportunity." Lily thanked Mr. Wilson. Her boss then took an A3 brown envelope and handed it to her, and Lily received it. Lily examined the envelope, but she still could not make out what it was. "There is all the information that you will need. See, the king has just died and one of his sons will be taking over; now I am entrusting this job to you, and do not mess this up." Mr. Wilson sounded that warning to Lily, and she took it to heart. "Yes, sir, I will not mess this up for you," she promised her boss. "Good, Inside that envelope are all the locations that you and the team will be filming at, and you will also find the permits that allow you to film in certain areas. You must understand that this country is in the Middle East, and they have a strict way of living, and all their rules must be obeyed at all times," Mr. Smith warned Lily. "Yes, sir, I understand", she told her boss. Mr. Smith stood up from his chair and walked over to his window, which overlooked the streets of New York. He put his hands into his pocket in a boss-like manner. "It's good to know that you understand. Get ready; you will be leaving tomorrow morning," Mr. Smith informed her, and this undoubtedly left Lily stunned. "Tomorrow?" She asked her boss, and he turned to face her. "Do you have a problem with that, or should I assign someone else to do the job?" Mr. Smith asked Lily. She knew that she could not say no; this was her last chance to make it in the journalistic world. "No sir. I will be ready for the trip tomorrow, then," Lily informed her boss. With one last smile from her boss, Lily was ushered out of his office. During her drive home, she wondered how she would break the news to her mother. "Mother, you have always said that I am not adventurous enough, so here I go," Lily whispered to herself as she navigated the busy roads of New York City.