Venom: Scenes of Chaos. Part 3.

"...preventative measures."

It is day eight of my sequestration. The home nurse comes to the house every morning around eight to draw blood and check vitals. She usually asks what I’ve been doing all day. There’s not much banter and I don’t feel like talking anyway. Nothing wrong with me today, just like there was nothing wrong the other seven days she came here. The only thing of concern is the amount of weight I’ve lost. She tells me I’ll gain it back, but that’s contingent on me drinking a lot of water and treating my kidney well. Suddenly, I remember why I’m at home. If it weren’t for the book of dreams I’m working on, I’d forget about my health entirely.

Suni has taken the first half of my manuscript to read at home while she does her studies. Last I checked, she was at chapter 18.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A jovial ocelot speeds down the highway with her jaguar friend in tow. “I feel like pancakes. You wanna stop somewhere? Or can I cook you some?”

Paraná looks out the passenger window, scratching his chin in serious-looking contemplation. “We can’t keep coming up dry,” he says.

“Coming up dry? What do you mean? All the good ones were taken before we got to the table.”

“That was because we hesitated before we got there.”

Tivoli closes her eyes momentarily. Hesitating is just a euphemism for stalling to the boys back at the office. It is one of the worst things to be accused of doing in such a competitive field. The ocelot has not been pulling her weight lately, and concedes as much with a slight nod. “I guess we did quite a bit of stalling, didn’t we? Transitioning is kinda hard.”

“I fell much better now, but I’ve taken only two jobs since I was stabbed. This cannot continue.”

Tivoli sighs. Her frustration threatens to kill her bubbly mood. “You’re still recuperating from your injuries. You took two marks that were close to home, as I expected you would do. You can’t make your grand comeback right now. You’re still having trouble walking. That you’re able to whack anybody in your state is rather amazing.” She looks at him with concern before returning her eyes to the road. “Maybe we should take a vacation.”

“A what?”

“Don’t you want one?”

“We’re both struggling trying to get marks, and you want to go on holiday? You want to get away from work we’re already not getting?”

“Babe, we’re failing more than we’re winning. You don’t have the strength and I don’t have…” She clears her throat and does not finish her sentence.

Quiet returns to the fast-moving cab. It is the way they both prefer it at the moment. The ocelot can return to driving and the jaguar can return to sulking. A couple of minutes of waiting pass before Paraná looks at her. “Don’t have what?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you not have?”

“Oh. Never mind all that. I was just spitballing. You don’t have to go on vacation if you don’t want to. I just thought you could use the break.”

“You mean you could use one.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for me, now that you mention it. Still, you should really think about leaving the city for a while, so you can totally recover. I know a couple of places where--”

“No thank you.” The jaguar returns his gaze to the window. “This is how I wish to recover, with my friends, doing the work I was meant to do.”

Tivoli slows down and takes a frustrated breath. “You’re only prolonging your misery.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Your friends gave you a couple of easy marks the last couple of weeks because they’re afraid for your safety.” Stopped at a red light, she turns to look at him, less jovial than before.  “They won’t tell you to your face, but they’re really--”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You think that Hoeness, and Greenleaves, and everybody else in there think I’m weak. Well, I can tell you right now, that’s not true.”

“I’m not saying that. You have to admit it though. You’re not as strong as you once were.”

“Not as good, you mean.”

“I didn’t say that either.” Tivoli looks at him with disdain. She is too busy staring that she needs the horn of the driver behind her to prod her into motion.

“You should talk,” he says. “You haven’t done one job since you officially became one of us, so you are not one to judge.”

“Hey, I’m not there yet, okay?”

“Well, you’ll let me know when you are, will you? Then you can freely judge me all you want.”

Paraná’s house is not far. Tivoli breathes a sigh of relief, then releases a squeal of joy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Winter’s at the door. She’s finally out of the hospital. Shiloh must have been discharged.”

Paraná closes his eyes and hangs his head. “Swell.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Why not?”

“Just make sure you’re nice to her. She’s had a rough couple of weeks.”

“So Shiloh’s sick. I don’t care.”

“He was stabbed, just like you. He was in the same hospital for as long as you were.  Maybe you could show some empathy. You don’t have to be extra nice to her if you don’t want to be, but you should at least be civil.” She gasps, like she normally does when she thinks of something she thinks is clever. “You know what? It would help her if you told her what her mate can expect once out of the hospital. That way, she wouldn’t worry so much.” Her smile gets bigger as she closes in on the driveway. “Then, maybe today, maybe you’ll stop blaming her for Shiloh taking away your marks in the past.”

Paraná opens her mouth to say something, but changes his mind as Tivoli parks the car. Winter is standing directly in front of them. She and the ocelot exchange smiles and in no time are hugging each other through the driver side window.

“Hey there, girl.”

“Hey there, wolfen. It’s been a while. How are you? Most importantly, how is he?”

“He’s in traction, but he’s home. Thanks for asking.”

“I’ll bet everyone’s been so nice to you these days.”

“Seems that way.”

Paraná cannot stand it and opens his door. He mumbles something in Portuguese as he leaves, drawing a crude stare from the ocelot. “Don’t mind him. He’s cranky.”

Winter scoffs. “You mean more than usual?”

“I don’t think he’s ever gonna forgive you for being Shiloh’s girlfriend.”

“For someone who doesn’t know me very well, he sure acts like he does.”

“I’m trying to make him mellow out, but…” Tivoli sighs and extinguishes the engine. “It gets harder every day.”

“I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“I have to live with him.”

“Do you?”

“Um...” Tivoli looks at her friend forlornly. She takes her time thinking about the question, repeatedly swinging the car keys around her index finger. Then she turns to look at her jaguar friend sulk into the house. “Yes?”

“Really?

“Well…I still think he’s coming around to our being more than just a platonic couple. Plus, I really like the place. Woman’s touch or not, it’s the first house I’ve ever lived in that I could say was mine, even though someone else pays the mortgage.”

Winter playfully rubs her friend’s head, laughing sweetly at her. “Sorry. I forgot about that. So you truly love him?”

“I’d say I love him about as much as you love yours. It would just be easier if he said yes.”

Tivoli gets out of the car and gives her friend a proper hug. They stay like that for some time, almost swaying as they feel each other’s warmth. The car door remains open, exposing the innards of the Jetta to any passersby.

Winter pulls herself away to look into the ocelot’s eyes. Tears are starting to form and the sight shocks her into rubbing her friend’s cheeks. “You come up empty again?”

Tivoli chuckles and rests her head on the wolf’s chest. “The bad part is that Paraná thinks he’s a failure for not hunting, even though he needs the break. The worst part is he thinks I’m a failure too. Even worse?” She straightens up and looks at her. “I’m not so sure he’s wrong.”

Winter frowns. “Well he is.”

“The more time passes without a hunt, the worse I feel, but I’m still determined to make do. I can’t convince Paraná to take a vacation, but I could use one to collect my thoughts.”

“Oh, I don’t like that. A lot of thoughts can creep into your head, including the thought of quitting.”

“Quitting. Maybe that’s the right thing for me.”

Winter places her hands on the ocelot’s shoulders. She looks like a mother consoling her offspring. At least that is the way it must look to a couple of passing joggers. Despite all her inherent strengths, Tivoli just looks weak in this light.

“Hey, what if I told you that I had a plan that could solve all your problems?” The wolf beams and shakes her friend as if trying to wake her from a sound sleep. “I thought of it the day I got the news that Shiloh was in the hospital. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Now that you’ve told me what you told me, I’m convinced it’s the thing to do. I kicked it around with Robert and I think he’ll agree with me.”

Tivoli’s brow raises with interest. “Well, what is it?”

“I’ll tell you inside. We can talk about it over breakfast and while I get my mail from you.”

The feline laughs as she closes the driver side door. “About that. I might have taken a peek at one of your letters.”

“You too, huh?”

“I couldn’t help it. It looked interesting and weird. It was torn and a bit crumpled, like it was put together at the last minute. It was from a coworker. I’ve forgotten her name, but she says she’s not paying you for your Harley…and it had a bunch of nasty insults and names thrown at you. I threw it away.”

As they walk into the house, the wolf heaves a deep sigh, as if a couple of weights have been lifted off her. “Good. What’s for breakfast?”

“Scrambled eggs and bruised egos. I’m afraid we’re out of bread, so they’ll be no toast.”

“Bruised egos will be just fine.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A human couple appears trough the dark hallway into the illuminated lobby of the Rapid Recovery office building. It looked like they just appeared out of thin air. The man holds several leaves of paper in his right hand, reading intently the one before his eyes. The woman holds his left hand with her right and smiles at him, happily and unknowingly. They slowly traipse through the middle of the room, happily ignorant of the gray wolf lurking behind them. Luckily for them, the wolf is St. Croix, so they should be all right.

“So, how did it go?” St. Croix puts his hands behind his back. “I take it you got what you wanted?”

The couple is first startled by the unexpected greeting, then more startled with the toothy smile. The man brusquely clears his throat and shakes the papers in front of the secretary. “Well, we got what we wanted, but I’m not happy with these interest rates. With the economy improving, I thought these would be lower.”

“3.9 percent is low.”

“In a pig’s eye. For a refi? This has to be against the law.”

St. Croix shrugs. “Well, you could always take it up with your congressman.”

“My congressman’s in Arizona. Forget it. Tell your boss, Vivian, that she does good work.” On that sarcastic note, the couple head out the door. The woman turns back to the wolf and waves, but overall, it looks like they had an unpleasant experience getting their loan.

Once they leave, St. Croix yawns loudly on his way back to the front desk. “Another satisfied customer,” he says to himself. The clock on the wall has just turned noon. Time for lunch. This is when St. Croix eats and relaxes in preparation for the second half of a long day. He pushes aside the laptop, making room for the tin-foil covered items he brings forth from his nearby satchel.

The lobby is empty and unnaturally quiet. With no noise to get in the way, the wolf turns on the television from the nearby remote control. Lunch is a couple of lunchmeat sandwiches and whatever is in his silver thermos. He whistles as he unwraps. He looks so expressively good-humored in his work, so unlike his brethren on the hitman corps. The difference is stark. As a matter of fact, he hardly looks like a killer these days.

The television was turned on in the middle of a news report. Another death in Governor Cartwright’s cabinet. “Sources say that he had just taken his seat when the bullet went through the window. The assailant passed by with such speed that he was barely noticeable. There were two shots fired. Besides the one that hit the secretary, another one missed the car and went through the window of the restaurant, hitting one of the patrons and causing panic inside. There were three other injuries as panicked diners tried to rush out the front door…”

The death does not get any emotion from the wolf, but the method and the collateral damage do. He rubs his chin while chewing his food, deep in thought as the news report continues. Suddenly, he gasps, almost choking on his lunch. “Hoeness,” he whispers. Meanwhile, there is somebody hovering by the front door that he does not notice.

“An avid golfer and chess player, Secretary Rose was a giant in social recreational activities, constantly tweeting his accomplishments, no matter how small they were. He is survived by his wife, two children, and a multitude of adoring fans in the labor force. There has been no statement yet from Governor Cartwright.”

St. Croix shakes his head, seemingly in disappointment, leaving his sandwich half-eaten to absorb the information. He whispers Hoeness’ name again before a knock on the door shakes him from his thoughts. He notices a figure behind the door, but cannot quite make out its form.  He curses and runs from behind the desk, tripping on his way there. After reaching to turn off the television, he swings open one of the glass panels and says, “You know, you could just push this open yourself.”

St. Croix, for the moment, has forgotten himself. Maybe it was the shocking news story or the stinging in his knees after tripping, but he surely should not greet a customer that way. He takes a look at the visitor and drops his arms down at his sides.

“Is this a bad time?”

The gray wolf backs away, sporting a face that looks like it has seen heaven. He closes his mouth, not even greeting the customer as the door closes behind her. She is a gray wolf also, just about his size, with sparkling studs dotting her ears and a ring on almost each of her fingers. She has a scar partially hidden by the neckline of her red, full-length dress. It looks like she has mistaken the office building for a ball room.

St. Croix keeps straining to talk. “Are you looking for someone?”

“I…need a loan?”

“You do?  I mean…sorry. I don’t mean to stare. Usually we don’t have many customers dress that formally.  Would you like to have a seat?”

The stranger looks around, looking beyond St. Croix. She scans the chairs and the desk, and sighs as if he failed to find what she was looking for. Then she sees something else that makes her smile. St. Croix notices it too, and turns to see what she is looking at.

Miranda is standing just outside of the dark hallway. “I heard noises,” she says. She was addressing St. Croix, but then sees the visitor. “Bess?”

The formally dressed wolf nods vigorously, suddenly springing to life. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Yeah, I was worried about you. If you want, we can--”

“Please, don’t cancel. I’ll pay double.”

St. Croix has no idea what is going on and is content enough to peer at the woman’s sleek backside to not ask questions. The entire conversation escapes him, so he does not say anything when Bess reveals that she is there for an appointment with the psychiatrist.

Miranda nods and beckons her forward. “It’s the first office on your left. Restrooms are on the right if you need to use them. Just get comfy. I’ll be there in a moment.”

As the patient gets swallowed up by the darkness, Miranda nervously waves at St. Croix. “I suppose you’ll want to know who she was.”

The gray wolf blinks a couple of times. “You’re seeing patients on the side?”

“Well, I did tell you I was leaving soon. I decided to get a head start on my new venture.”

“What you’re doing is real dangerous.”

“I know, but I don’t have an office yet. It’s not easy trying to find a place that doesn’t look like the recession bomb hit it.”

“Well, there are a couple of empty office spaces in the strip mall behind us. Maybe you could use--”

“No way! I couldn’t do it there. It’s too close to the action, so to speak. You know what I mean, right?”

“Of course. Still though, it wouldn’t be the same without your help to get us through our toughest moments.”

Miranda closes in on him. “Honey, I’ve helped you guys as much as I can. You all can handle the journey now. Even you. I remember you struggling with moving on after a kill. Now look at you. You’re comfortable with it and you’ve become a hell of a secretary. You guys can handle this.”

They embrace for a quick couple of seconds. “Besides,” she continues, “I’ll give you the location of my new digs, so if you guys still need group sessions, you’ll know where I’ll be.”

“Don’t let Ted catch you doing this in the meantime.”

“I’ll take full responsibility if that happens.”

They nod at each other with grace and understanding. Miranda leaves the lobby just as a real customer is making his way inside.

Opening the door to her office, the psychiatrist is surprised at her wolf patient. She had rifled through the doctor’s books and is reading one of them.  “Please have a seat, Bess.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve gotten you in trouble by arriving when I did. It’s an emergency.” She puts the book on the desk and moves around to the brown, leather couch by the door. “I’m not sure if even your advice can help me.”

“You told me plenty over the phone while we were planning this meeting, so you’ve given me much to think about. First off, how long have you been seeing him?”

“Eight months, but our sexual relationship began four months ago.”

“Remind me why you stayed.”

“I’ve fallen in love with him.”

“And remind me where you are supposed to be right now.”

Bess sighs and crosses her legs. “We have a cotillion in two weeks. I’m supposed to be rehearsing. All three wolf tribes in Oceanside will be there. A few months ago, the girls of the tribe gave themselves the task to look for clothes for the event. Some of us went south to San Diego. Half of us went north. Of that half, some of us went to Anaheim. My sisters and I came here. I’d never been to LA before, but I was enthralled by it. My sisters loved the food. I loved the fashion.”

“When did you first meet him?”

“In January. He was an employee of the emporium we eventually bought our dresses from. When we first went there, I saw a gown I liked and said, ‘That’s the dress I want.’ My sisters agreed. We would go back to that place three more times that month to show the organizers of the ball our choice. We eventually won out over all the other ball gowns. On the last day of the month, I went with a few others and ordered several of them. I knew we weren’t coming back to LA for a while, but I wanted to see more of the city, so I asked permission from my family. They said I could come back, as long as I had company and they were able to come with me.”

She interrupts the story to sigh and smile. “Those days at the emporium, while my sisters and their friends were making their decisions on what to buy and how many, I would talk to Chris. He liked the way I talked, as if he’d never seen a wolf talk before. I liked the way he dressed and that he had access to so many nice clothes, and handbags, and shoes, and hosiery, and--”

“Get back on track. What happened in May?”

“Well, before May, I had visited the emporium a couple of times to buy handbags and other accessories. My companions, who had turned to just chaperones at that point, kept asking why we don’t just go to stores closer to where we lived. They were getting bothersome, so I eventually asked my sisters to be my companions. They liked LA too and wanted to partake in its many splendors, to the consternation of my aunts and uncles.”

“Was this all a cover just to see Chris?”

“Well, yes, but they weren’t left out. We would all go to Pasadena, Elysian Park, West Hollywood, but eventually, I’d go back to see Chris. We’d been to that emporium several times at that point, but he was becoming a friend. He was always gracious, always welcoming. Before long, on his off days, he was giving us tours of LA’s hotspots, and eventually, tours of his neighborhood. I coaxed my sisters to bring some of the suitors along and they agreed. That bought me even more time with Chris.”

“Couldn’t one of those suitors have put the moves on you? That would have made seeing Chris more difficult, wouldn’t it?”

“I knew the risks, but I knew how to handle them. I wanted to see Chris and he wanted to see me. Eventually, while my sisters and their friends were attending an outdoor concert, Chris and I snuck away from the group so he could show me a secluded spot. We lay on the grass and he showed me the Big Dipper. I probably…maybe asked him to kiss me, and he did. Right on the goddammed cheek.”

They both chuckle softly. Miranda looks around the room, as if something bad suddenly happened or a sudden sound echoed somewhere. She eventually shakes off the feeling.

“Then came that fateful day in May. I’m not a baseball fan, but I asked if we could go watch the Dodgers the first weekend of the month. At this point, Chris and I were corresponding by email. He was going on vacation soon and wondered if I could see him once more before he was gone. My sisters and a couple of suitors are Dodger fans, so we decided to go that Saturday. In the third inning, I faked indigestion after eating a couple of hot dogs. I told everyone not to worry about me and enjoy the game.”

“You snuck out of the stadium?”

“And took a taxi to Chris’ apartment building, just five miles away. It was the happiest I’ve been that day. He was happy too, if his hands all over me are good communicators of opinion.”

“Did you get back in time?”

“Eight inning. My sisters were worried sick. Good to know, considering they had forgotten I was gone until about the sixth. Anyway, that was the day my fate was sealed. I was in love with a human. He felt much the same. I forced him to tell me the exact day and time he would return so I could be ready to meet him again. That gave me the chance to plan everything--when to sneak out, how much money to bring, excuses I needed to use in case I got caught, that sort of thing.”

Miranda nods the entire time. “When did he return from vacation?”

“He returned three days early, but when I got there, he was home and waiting for me. You’ve never seen a couple so happy to see one another.”

“He wasn’t uncomfortable with a physical relationship with you?”

“He had never been with a wolf before, but I showed him the ropes.”

“And you two are comfortable with each other when you’re not being physical?”

“Nope. No drama or anything. Whatever we don’t know about each other or each other’s species, we learn right away.”

“So…what’s the emergency?”

Bess stands and virtually floats across the room. The foot of her gown brushes on the plush carpeting. Her tail also glides along the floor. “Can I ask a serious question? If humans have…‘humanity,’ then what do wolves have? Because I feel I’m losing that.”

“Ah.” Miranda smiles and stands to face her back. “That’s a new one on me. Please elaborate.”

“I’ve counted the days I’ve slept with Chris. Ten. Friday was the tenth day. I was in bed with him when I called you. The more I’m with him, the farther away from my tribe I feel. The cotillion is in two weeks and…” She clasps her hands and turns to the psychiatrist in desperation. It is a look copied by millions of confused teenagers, human or otherwise. She sighs and looks at the floor.

“You don’t want to go, do you?”

The wolf shakes her head in morose response.

“Your potential husband might be among those suitors.”

“I don’t care.”

“Your parents would be disappointed.”

“They died when I was one year old, but you’re right. Everyone back home will be disappointed.”

“You’ve been working so hard for that get-together.It seems a shame to miss it.”

“I know. It’s really hard. I not fond of any of those guys, but…it’s not like a hate any of them. I love Chris, but I could never stay with him for long, not as long as I’m with my tribe. I don’t want to lose either of them, but I know they’re not compatible. If my family didn’t shelter us so much, I wouldn’t be discovering all these new things at 18.”

“That’s tough. You should go to the ball anyway.”

Bess stares with defiant eyes. “Is that your professional opinion as a psychiatrist?’

“That’s my friendly opinion as a former teenager who went to the senior prom with my ‘boyfriend’ as a ruse to spend the night with a handsome, young fox who had the hots for me.”

“Really? What did you get out of that?”

Miranda smirks. “A farewell BJ two weeks later.”

“Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

“That’s what you get when both sets of parents disapprove. Things get hasty.”

“Well, I don’t want that to happen to me. That’s my problem. I don’t want to lose my family, but they’ll disown me if they find out about us.”

“Isn’t the solution to your immediate problem just as simple as going to the ball and saying no to all advances?”

“Then what’s the point of me going?”

A knock on the door stops the banter. The startled wolf freezes in place while Miranda covers her mouth. They stand there in silence for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. Miranda looks like a stranger in her own office, until she is spurred to action by a second set of knocks.

“You gotta hide,” she whispers.

Bess shrugs. “Where?”

“Go sit on the couch. Whoever it is, I won’t let him in.”

The wolf obeys while Miranda rushes to the door. She opens it to see Vivian Cross in mid-knock. “Well hello there.”

The chief, dress in her usual pantsuit attire, retracts and smiles. “Hey there, I didn’t see you this morning.”

“I was late.”

“Slow day?”

“Just like yesterday.”

“Are you still having sessions with any of the men?”

“Not lately. My last one in fact was last Monday, with Paraná. He’s improving, but not quite there. Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I need to talk to some of the guys. The tenured ones. Something’s going on and I need help putting a stop to it.”

Miranda pauses, taking in what she just heard. It makes her think for a short while. “I told you last week I was leaving in mid-September, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, I know, but I would consider this a big favor. I was told of a development that seems like nothing now, but might turn into something later. If any of the big men, Hoeness, Rory, Pica, those guys, come to you for a session, there’s something I need you to tell them. Of course, since you are going to leave during our peak season, maybe it’s best if you just tell them to see me directly after their morning meeting is over.”

“Yeah, that idea might be better.”

“I’d really appreciate it.”

“So what’s going on that’s got you so concerned?

“I’m not sure, but I think a fight is brewing. I have to do the near impossible and convince everyone to like each other.”

“You can’t stop every fight.”

“I don’t know why, but I feel I need to stop this one.”

“An unenviable task.” Miranda smirks and pats the chief’s shoulder. “What a time to be without Shiloh, huh? He’d surely keep the peace.”

“I miss him every morning he’s not part of the meetings. Anyway, I got to go. By the way, Labor Day, the conference room. Be there.”

“Yeah, I know. Going away party. I’ll be there.”

“It’ll be expensive, so don’t let me down.”

The women laugh as the chief takes her leave. Miranda closes the door in front of her and the chief sneaks her way toward the lobby. She pokes her head through to see two waiting customers watching the television and St. Croix quietly eating his sandwich.

A minute later, she is making her way back in her office when she hears some chatter nearby. A quick look in the cafeteria reveals two red foxes talking to each other by the microwave oven. One of them grabs a full plate and heads beyond the chief’s eyesight. She fully enters to see Benny and Boris hanging around a treadmill, eating lunch and standing over a companion.

Without their knowledge, Mrs. Cross drifts toward them to get a closer look. There is another worker on the bench press, lifting at least 200 pounds well over his head. He lifts over and over again, making short work of his reps. He stops at 50 and replaces the barbell. The chief steps back a little bit when he lifts himself off his back.

Greenleaves’ tan mane frames his large face, widening Mrs. Cross’ eyes with surprise. He takes a couple of deep, tired breaths and looks toward the foxes. He seems surprised by their presence. “Hello. I didn’t hear you two come in.”

“Happy 40^th, big man,” Boris says.

“Yeah, make a wish and blow out your candles.” The foxes laugh while Benny pats the lion on the head.

“Fuck of, you two, but thanks just the same.”

“So what’d you wish for?”

“Peace and quiet…and a night alone with my special someone.”

“Really? I thought you’d wish for a night alone with your wife.”

“Well, she can watch.”

The boys laugh uproariously. The intoxicating flow of testosterone and good tidings permeates the air they breathe. They are on such a high that they atypically fail to notice the chief closing in on them. Their normally sharp senses are failing them at the moment. There might be scents in the room that are masking hers, or they may even be buzzed on alcohol.

“Seriously though, I thank you boys for rememberin’ that, even though it’s a day late. I’d remember it more if you got me a present.”

“Well, we can’t help you with the special someone, but you know Hoeness has got something planned. He always delivers when it comes to gifts.”

“Hoeness is a good lad, but his idea of fun’s been quite muted these days. Matter of fact, the lad himself’s been quite muted lately.”

The foxes look at each other and nod in agreement. Benny puts a bit of food in his mouth. “That’s what happens when you’ve lost the fight.”

Greenleaves crinkles his brow. “Whatever do you mean? What fight?”

“The fight your boss tells you to lose in order to keep some semblance of peace.”

 “I take it the competition is getting to him.”

Boris swallows his food with a pained expression. “Not competition. Just Pamila. Ted tells all of us to leave her alone, and everyone pretty much lets her do what she wants now. Every time she comes up to the table, negotiations shut down. She takes what she wants, then she leaves.”

“Damn. It’s been a couple of weeks since I took a mark. I haven’t been here in a while. I had no idea things were regressing like that.”

“It’s not all that bad. The number of marks is picking up, so there’s plenty for everybody. Still, Hoeness is really bitter. For him, every day Pamila’s with us is a loss. Now, he’s pretty much being told to lose by mandate. It’s frustrating. I feel for him.”

Benny chuckles. “Worst of all, she’s succeeding. Pica tells me she’s hunted a mark every day since she’s been reinstated.”

“That’s some sort of record, I’ll bet. I can’t say I’m not happy for her though. Most of us have hang-ups doing the job that she doesn’t have.  We don’t like traveling long distances and mostly avoid it if we can. We don’t always have a chip on our shoulders. None of us is making up for lost time like she is. In fact, life’s always pretty much easy for us, while her life’s always been a slog. I’m sure Hoeness will feel better if he tries to outdo her rather than just stand there and take it.” Greenleaves retrieves a white towel next to him and stands. “It’s shower time, gentlemen, and I have a season finale to coach in a couple of hours, so I’ll take my leave.”

Benny smiles and pats his back. “Again, happy birthday, son.”

Their laughter from the foxes’ verbal prodding fills the room, only to disappear when they set eyes on their boss. Vivian nods her hello and says, “May I speak to you in private?” She points to the lion and goads him forward. “Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

It has been a while since they have seen her. She had been out of the office for quite a spell. Both eyes and mouth agape, they hold their places, wondering what she is doing in their presence. The foxes wave at her and push the dumbfounded lion forward. Greenleaves is wearing a wifebeater and tight gym shorts. He also does not smell too good at the moment, so the situation is rather embarrassing for him.

“Don’t be shy,” the chief says. “You’ve looked worse.”

He turns back to his friends for a split second, unsure of what he is about to be asked for. The foxes only wave him goodbye. He sighs and drags himself by her side. “Let’s walk and talk.”

“All right.” She smiles at him like she is glad to see him and pats him on the shoulder. “I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

“Hmm. It’s not like you to forget that sort of thing. When it comes to remembering dates and times, you’re usually at the top of your game.”

“What can I say? I’ve been busy. By the way, that was a nice thing you said about Pamila. After all I’ve heard from Ted about the atmosphere in the meetings, I was thinking no one would ever say anything in her defense.”

“Well, to be fair, I’ve been out of the game lately, so to speak. To be even more fair, it’s not easy defending someone you don’t respect.”

“Well, I’d like you to find some respect, because what I have to ask of you is highly important.”

“Uh-oh.”

“That’s right.”

“I feel you’re about to ask me something impossible. And it has to do with our reckless female fox, eh?”

“If you’re up to it…” Mrs. Cross stops walking momentarily to think for a second, but then picks up the pace. “Forget it. You’re going to do it because it’s for the good of the outfit. I want you to get together with the Pamila and the rest of the girls. Either individually or together. I want you to actively give them support. Schmooze them. Make them feel good about themselves.”

They are about to head into the dark hallway when Greenleaevs stops himself and looks at the woman with incredulous eyes. “You want me to butter them up?”

“If you please.”

“You want me to use real butter? Because that will be just as effective as talking to them.” He continues his walk.

“I’m not asking for the moon here. I’m asking you, as I’ll ask some of the other guys, to make friends with them again, like you did when they first got here. Like I said, it’s for the good of the outfit.”

“Now what the hell brought this on?”

Vivian sighs with dread as she leads the way. “Something happened here on Saturday. Simon laid it all out for me. There was something wrong with Pamila’s vehicle, so he drove her to her last mark the night before, then drove her here Saturday morning. While they were here, as he was paying her, they saw a stray mark left behind in the conference room. Pamila decided to take it and they were about to leave when they saw Camille, who had come for said mark. Apparently, she left it behind. Simon took the mark from Pamila and gave it to Camille. Apparently, there was a bit of a standoff.”

Greenleaves looks disinterested, but nods the entire time. “Standoff? As in Mexican standoff?”

“They weren’t happy to see each other. Or one was unhappy with the other.”

“That’s unlike them. They’re like peas in a pod, those two. Then again, since the women are in general more competitive, I’m pretty sure it was bound to happen.”

“You know their personalities. You know they don’t back down from fights. If those two are fighting, it’s bad news.”

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“Get in the middle. You and the other guys sit with them and talk to them. Mellow them out. Make your meetings a calm environment. Go easy with the haggling. Have actual conversations with them.”

“So you are asking for the moon.” He passes her on his way to the locker room.

“I don’t understand why you won’t do something as simple as sit down and talk.”

“I speak English, French, and German. I don’t speak Woman. Besides, they’re naturally unreasonable and difficult to work with. When they’re docile, they’re relatable, but when they’re…” He stops talking at the suddenly angry face looking at him. “And now I’ve offended you.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I need to hear this. I need to hear what you think.” Vivian puts her hands on her hips in frustration. She is illuminated only by the fluorescent lights of the locker room, giving her a sad, azure, demonic aura. It unnerves Greenleaves a bit, but being a hitman, he has seen worse.

“Look, I wasn’t talking about you…or all women in general. Just those two. Especially the fox. I’m already in dutch with the wife. I don’t need any more woman problems.”

“Pamila can be unbearable, but if I can handle her, I’m sure you can.”

Greenleaves laughs. “Not to put you down too much, but she allows you to handle her. You make it possible for her to earn a salary. On the other hand, I bring nothing to the table. She would eat me alive.” He throws his towel on the nearby bench. “And I’m pretty sure she literally would.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time this company’s females fought?” She taps her left foot on the ground, waiting for an answer from the now dumbstruck lion. “You remember, don’t you?”

He strains and stutters. “I haven’t forgotten. Zesty and Pamila were like Roman gladiators. Camille and Mariana together made the meetings more tense than a tightrope. The men took sides and started to turn on each other. Still, I don’t know what you expect from me. If the ladies are going to fight, they’re going to fight. I don’t see what I can do about it.”

“A tense environment hurts everyone, and I believe it’s in your best interest to nip it in the bud. So…invite them to your place. Take them out to dinner. Do something of that nature. Make an effort.”

“Go out to dinner? With them? I don’t know if you’ve seen the girls eat, but I have. First of all, Mieri’s a vegan. I wouldn’t be caught dead in the restaurants she eats in. Pamila argues over the quality of the food, the beer, the quality of everything. There’s nothing she eats that she actually likes. Meanwhile, Camille, like all you Americans, drowns her food in condiments. There’s nothing she doesn’t eat that doesn’t have ketchup, mayonnaise, or barbecue sauce lodged in every pore. It’s an insult to the people who cooked that stuff. A gourmet meal turns into rubbish.”

“Snark notwithstanding, is there any real reason you won’t do what I’m asking you to do? I’m trying to get you to save the family unit that we’ve built up over these last three years. I’m afraid another fight would be disastrous. The executives have work. I have work. It’s non-stop from nine to five. We can’t do a thing. But you? Benny and Boris over there? When you’re not working, you stand around making jokes. If you have time to do that, you have time to make sure the unit stays together.” It sounds like she is berating him, even though nothing of the sort is happening. She realizes her voice is getting louder, so she pauses for a few seconds. “Shiloh would do it.”

“I’m not Shiloh. He’s too much of a feminist since he and his white wolf are now an item. He’s suited for the job. I’m not. I’m sorry, but I’m not equipped to pamper both the women and their hormones. They are unreasonable, shameless, capricious beings who don’t know what’s good for them, and that’s why they’re fighting each other.” He takes a good look at the chief’s face and turns away. “And now I’ve offended you again. You see? I can’t win.”

The lion removes his wifebeater and then threatens to remove his shorts. It gives him the perfect escape as Mrs. Cross turns away. He laughs with gusto as he makes his way to the showers. She, on the other hand, is quite down, and slowly limps her way back to her office.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The clock in Simon’s SUV glows 6:15. The dimming sun ahead of him manages to sneak into his eye line and he frustratingly pulls down the visor above him.  He is not so much frustrated by the sun as much as his companion. Pamila sits next to him, wiping parts of her weapon with a small cloth. She hums to herself as she glides the thoroughly stained cloth up and down the barrel. Her dander is not up, her ears are not erect, at least no more than usual, and the rest of her body is still, almost asleep. The fox is truly at peace. Meanwhile…

“You know this is a stakeout, right?”

She barely looks at him while she gently blows on the barrel of her gun. “What’s that?”

“I’m watching the door. You’re supposed to be watching with me.”

“I can see the door and do what I’m doing. Quit bellyaching.”

Simon looks like he has somewhere else to be. His fingers and toes fidget. His eyes constantly veer to the clock on the dashboard. As the hunter next to him puts her gun back together, he sighs in resignation. “So, how’s your contact?” he asks, struggling to stay calm.

Pamila affixes the barrel back in place. “These days, she’s considering retirement, but every time she talks of that, I talk her out of it.”

“When was your last hunt together?”

She pauses to think while opening a box of ammunition she has just retrieved from the glove box. “July 4^th. It was a hell of a party.”

“And you haven’t worked together since? How come?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Did something…bad happen?”

Pamila ignores him for the moment and looks through the gun sight. She squints and looks at the sun through the device. “Look, the job got done and the mark got sent to meet her maker. That’s all you need to know.”

“Telling me what you think I need to know doesn’t preclude you from telling me the truth.”

“You wanna hear the truth? Here it is.” Remaining calm, she points the gun at the executive. “If you’re a mark and I come after you, mission accomplished.” She lowers the weapon. “Again, that’s all you need to know.” She clears her throat and slumps in her seat. “Tonight’s mark is a dead man.”

Simon follows her lead and folds his arms angrily. “The mark’s a woman.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

They sit in silence long enough to watch the bright, orange sun lose itself on the horizon. While Simon shields his eyes, Pamila stares at the brilliant, red color. Her hands stay on her laps, tapping out a rhythm to a song in her head. She is uncharacteristically easygoing.

Simon squints at the last remnants of sunlight. “What species is your contact again?”

“She’s a lemur. Her name is Tamarind.”

“Forgive me. The last time I saw her was a couple of weeks after you introduced her to the executive body.”

“That’s funny. If I remember correctly, you guys were quite chummy with the boys’ contacts back then.”

“Well that’s because they were hopefuls who wanted to join the group. They were denied by Ted for various reasons, but when we told them that they could do surveillance and infiltrate a mark’s whereabouts, and still get paid, they were down for it.”

“I also remember you being quite giddy with Zesty’s contacts. Not to split hairs, but I was hoping, after all these years, that mine would get showered with as much recognition as those others.”

“Still? After all this time, you’re still jealous of what your ex-coworker brought to the table?”

“She probably slept with all those men to get them to work for her.”

“That’s enough.”

Pamila sighs impatiently, silently willing pain on the Borzoi. “I don’t get it. Why am I being punished for telling the truth? You saw it yourself, remember? She got knocked up. You fired her. ”

“For the record, I liked Zesty. She was a smart, sophisticated, stupendous personality. She was a top notch tracker and hunter, and she plays a hell of a game of chess. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss our conversations.”

“Yet I’m here and she’s not. You know why? Because I take preventative measures. I don’t just accept help from friends I’ve fucked over the years and I vet everyone I work with. Take Tamarind, for instance. After she got denied a job with us, I asked if she had any special skills. You know she’s got that long tail, right? I assumed she used to keep her balance, meaning that she’s got something to bring to our hunts that I couldn’t bring.”

Simon chuckles. “You know, you taking such preventative measures could have spared five people their lives at the Imbroglio.”

“Ugh. Would you just drop it? The point I’m trying to make is that Tamarind can climb real high and can keep her equilibrium, so she’s perfect for climbing fences and fire escapes. She can get me access to places that I can’t get to by myself, and that’s what makes her great. And what did Zesty have? A bunch of fawners and hangers-on.”

“They were all former police dogs. They have sharp noses and great hearing. They’re good assistants for any hunter who needs it.”

“They’re all the same breed of dog, making them redundant! It makes no sense to have three contacts who have the same attributes, and since Zesty’s a dog herself, it makes even less sense. They were just fuck toys. Nothing more. I’ll even bet the farm that one of those guys is the father.”

Simon cannot believe his ears and rubs his brow with worry. He is getting as impatient as his companion is. “Well, she’s gone now. It’s time to stop hating her. You can tell Camille to give Mariana a break too, while you’re at it.”

“Please. You humans and your forgiveness. It’s a wonder aliens haven’t taken over the planet.”

“It’s not a matter of forgiveness. Those girls are not here now, so you don’t have to fight them anymore. I’m not saying you should forgive anybody.”

“Well that’s good, because…”

Simon turns his head, awaiting an answer. The fox never stops in the middle of a sentence. She always has to have the last word, so the shock from Simon’s face is warranted. “Because what?”

“Door’s open.”

The fox points ahead and leans forward. Her eyes are used to dark areas like these, so she has very little trouble making out what is in front of her. Simon, on the other hand, fights the temptation to turn on the headlights.

The SUV is parked in an alleyway, in between two old, almost abandoned brick buildings. The building on the left is the smaller one, two stories high. It is most likely a place of business, probably a thrift store or an eatery. The building on the right is an old high rise. The open door is on the left, either a side door or a back door. Either way, it is now open. The hitmen are parked at least 50 yards away.

A grey wolf exits the opened door. The tight-looking blouse and miniskirt she has on leaves no doubt as to her gender. She pulls a cigarette from a box she holds and clamps it in her jaws.

“Maddie Reid. No worse drug mule exits in the world.” Pamila licks her lips and checks to see if her ammo is in place. “She's gotta be worth more than eight grand.”

“I always knew that building was a drug den.” Simon shakes his head as he reminisces. “Too bad I couldn’t stay a cop long enough to prove it.”

“Who needs cops when you have hired killers?”

The animosity between them temporarily squelched, they observe the wolf as she leans her head back on the now closed door. She casually enjoys her cigarette when she is suddenly startled away from the door. It opens to reveal another figure. The dark atmosphere is beginning to shield the action, but Pamila is confident enough that she nods and says, “There’s Tamarind.”

Another figure steps out from the door that the mark just came from. There is enough surrounding light to see the gray coloring on the lemur; her arms and legs are bare because she is wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Everything else about her is covered by the darkness. What is not covered, however, is the mark pinning the lemur up against the wall and leaning in for a deep kiss.

What the fox sees opens her mouth in astonishment. Her next two breaths strain to come out and her hands grip her green camo shorts. It is hard to tell what she is thinking right now. Simon, on the other hand, squints with disapproval. “That’s not good.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t know your contact swung that way.”

“She doesn’t. She’s just…really good at her job.”

“You sure you two shouldn’t have whacked her before it got to that point?”

“Hey, you think it’s so easy? You go do it.”

Simon sighs and leans back. The two are still kissing. “So what’s the plan?”

“Maddie’s home is up there somewhere.” Her right thumb motions to the building on their right. “We get her in there. Once they say good-bye and she retires to her place, Tamarind climbs up the escape behind us. She’s much faster and much quieter than I am, so it’ll be a cinch. Now, about a week ago, Maddie had a party in her place and Tamarind was invited. She stayed for an hour and then left the party by going out a window and sneaking down here. She’s left the window open and one of my guns up there. After she climbs up there and enters through the window, she offs the mark, then calls me on my cell. Then she lets me in and I choose whatever’s in there as proof of the job being done.”

“Wait, so you’re not even the one who’s gonna do it?”

“Will you relax?”

“Well, how long has Tamarind been undercover?”

“Three months, during which time, she’s helped me with other marks. She’s pulled double, even triple duty for me.” She looks on at the happenings in front of her. “Wait. What’s going on?’

The wolf is leading the lemur by the hand to the apartment building. A few seconds later, they are out of view.

“Damn.”

“Now what, genius?”

“Don’t poke fun. I think my contact’s in danger.”

“It looks like Maddie’s got an intimate evening planned. This is good, isn’t it? She’ll be in there primed to go down.”

“She’s also into BDSM. It’s something Tamarind’s not used to. If Maddie forces her to do something she's not comfortable with, her cover could be shot.”

“That’s stupid. You guys should have prepared for a moment like this.”

“We didn’t think it would get this far.” The panicky fox opens the door.

Simon chases her from the vehicle until they reach the fire escape. He looks around him while the fox looks up at the ladder above her.

"Shit. I gotta call her. Things are gonna get out of control."

"Whoa. Wait a minute. Relax. Give her a chance. She may get herself out of trouble."

"Not if she's tied up."

"Well, what are you going to do? Climb up the fire escape and sneak in? Do you even know which window is the right one?"

Pamila opens her mouth to answer, but she is stopped by a muted musical tone emanating from the SUV. Still in a bit of a panic, she enters the car to retrieve her new phone. She sees the name on it and heaves a sigh of relief. "Tamarind. Talk to me."

Simon slowly steps closer to the fox and tries to hear a few syllables, but Tamarind's voice, besides having a heavy accent, is whisper thin and breathy. He shakes his head in frustration, but the fox is simply delighted.

"Room 510. Got it. Hang in there, kid." She hangs up and whispers, "I shouldn't call her that. She's older than me."

Simon has his patented no nonsense stare on him. "What's the plan?"

"Maddie has something planed for the both of them. Tamarind's gonna be tied up. Literally. I gotta go in there and cap the bitch myself." She runs to the fire escape and tries to reach the ladder. "If everything's gone as planned, the back window to 510 should still be open so..." She strains and grunts, then yelps as she feels a pair of hands grapple her waist.

The executive boosts her up until the last rung of the iron ladder is at eye level. "You be careful," he says.

"Thanks. You get lost."