Academy Murders: Video Chat

Tabloids looked like licorice. The colors were sweet and nauseating and totally natural for such shimmering examples of hardcore journalism. Kim’s face was plastered on the candy coated covers.

Once she had the chance to look at them in the little gift shop in the hotel, she grinned. People looked at her with contempt, curiosity, and glee.

She returned their stares with a healthy bit of acquiescence and egoism. She said, “thank you” and cupped the faces of cherubic children. She nodded in respect for the civil people who expressed disfavor with her. She shunned the volatile with a simple raised outward palm.

Carefully, she plumbed the paper magazines and wondered how many other “famous” “criminals” had been splashed on these pages. With just a few taps of her smartphone, she bought two newspapers and five tabloids all with the content of the case hidden in the pages. Her eyes twinkled with intensity as she bought a cup of coffee, too.

Between sips, she scoured through each page and prepared herself to not spit out her coffee laughing. The “facts'' were embarrassing. Some didn’t even try. In one rag, they claimed she was born and raised in Maryland.

The amusement soon wore off as she read further about the aspects of the current case. They bypassed the fact she was acquitted of murder. They bypassed the fact she was investigating her own case. They wanted to focus on the idea of what she wore to each trial appearance. They wanted to know if she had a romantic relationship.

In the time she took looking at the physical papers, given that her phone was so primitive, she delved further and further into the waves of ink and paper. By taking her time with seeing what the “journalists” had to say about her, she never pretended to take on the ideals of those who spread so much rancor in ill information. While it was somewhat laughable, her mouth turned to a pencil when she looked at clips from Yawquisha’s Web show. She gritted her teeth. It was like she would wear down the enamel with her tight mouth.

They didn’t show her face, just the clips of Kim working the QR Code Murder cases. It was refreshing to see how Yawquisha’s reach would only increase with exposure to her video clips. The instance left a sweet taste in her mouth that balanced with the coffee. She had a notion to call Yawquisha.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’ve noticed your videos have been made into stills for newspapers and tabloids.”

“And Internet sites.”

“I wouldn't know. It’s still just an email for me.”

“I can fix that.”

“How.”

“I’ll send you a code through email. Once you open it, you’ll have the Web.”

Kim shook her head in befuddlement.

“Okay. Yeah.”

Kim combed through the email. Like a lightning bolt, the code to enable the Internet came through. Apps blossomed like rosemary. In an instant she used a messaging service. She tapped out a message. “I appreciate it.”

“No doubt,” Yawquisha replied. “Now, we must find a way for you to be able to use the Internet and still remain within the bounds of the law.”

“They’re pretty lenient, to be honest. I think they’re like companies who allow hackers to change software. They’re not going to penalize me for a flip phone that has apps like a smartphone.”

Yawquisha sent a laughing face emoji.

“What’s so funny?”

“You want to video chat?”

Yawquisha switched to video mode. On Kim’s phone, a tiny screen showed her friend’s face.

“Wow, up close and personal,” Kim cracked.

“Yes, look at all my equipment. This is a quick flex.”

A laugh escaped from deep in Kim’s stomach.