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Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 9.

"I can suddenly see the need for a 'psych room.'"

The clock on the wall above the refrigerator says 9:15. Tivoli has spent the last couple of minutes looking through the cafeteria icebox. Finding nothing of interest, she opens the freezer, smiling as the cold air hits her face. After looking around for a few seconds, she closes the door and heads over to the tables. As she sits down, she turns to notice a familiar face.

Winter waves at her from behind the back door. (The glass door is stained with hand and paw prints. It has clearly seen better days.) She enters before the ocelot can wave back to her. Tivoli is positively giddy and bounces in her chair.

"Good news, I imagine."

"Don't imagine!" She surprises the wolf by grabbing her hands. "I had never been so nervous in my entire life, not even after I stepped on the dead body." Tivoli relaxes. "Again, I'm sorry I tried to blackmail you, but it's led me to this."

"It's not official yet." Winter sits next to her. "Vivian still has to say yes."

"She might as well. She liked me almost right away. She calmed me down and showed me around. I'm still trying to get all the rules straight, but I think this system fits me."

"So what did she ask you?"

"What did she ask? Well...." Tivoli holds her breath as she tries to remember. Meanwhile, Winter stands to unzip her jacket. She straightens her cotton shirt and adjusts her cumbersome belt buckle. By the time she sits down again, there is still no answer. Tivoli shrugs and frowns. "I don't think she really asked anything."

"She just showed you around? That's not like her. She usually scrutinizes the hell out of people."

"She felt sorry for me. When I saw her for the first time, I...said something I shouldn't have. Then I answered her first question with a question. Pretty soon, I was asking the questions. Anyway, I got scared, she felt sorry for me, and she told me a story."

"She did what?"

"I was so nervous that she let me ask whatever I wanted to. That led her to pretty much tell me her life story. I guess she tried to get me to identify with her."

Winter smiles. "She opened up? What did she say?" She waits eagerly for an answer, then becomes worried as she watches her friend hang her head. "What's wrong?"

"Winter, what do you think of Mrs. Cross?"

"I don't think anything of her. I mean...Shiloh has told me that he likes her, that they've become friends. They watch each other's backs, especially when some of our co-workers make fun of her. I've respected that and have tried to keep a respectable distance away from her anytime I can."

"How come?"

They look at each other anxiously. It looks like something drastically important is about to be said. "I don't want to talk about it. Let's just say that I've had...bad experiences with human females in the past. Bad experiences with humans in general. I didn't want to work for one when I started, but I wasn't going to run away from easy money. Also, Shiloh liked the work, and I wanted to join him. So I talk to Mrs. Cross only when I have to, but I plan to keep away from her most of the time. That means following the rules and not getting myself in trouble."

"I can tell you're going to do well. So what's your status? Since you just joined you must already have a mark all lined up."

"I don't know."

"Is something wrong?"

Winter sighs. "I've picked a mark that I'm not sure I want to go after anymore."

"Well, you could trade someone for another mark right now, can't you?"

"It's too late. There are people in the lobby. I can't make any trades until tomorrow. Besides, I kind of dared myself to hunt the first person I picked. I might have been a little overconfident there."

Tivoli nods as if she understands. "That's how I felt too. I was so happy to be here that I thought I'd ace the interview. I thought I'd answer every question coolly, with a bit of swagger. Then I saw she was human. Who would have thought that all those furballs I saw at the parking lot would be led by her? And then, after she told me that she's killed someone, I thought I was dead." She laughs loudly. "I didn't think she would be so nice--"

"She killed someone?!"

She first frowns at Winter for interrupting her, yelling a question at her. Then she suddenly covers her mouth in horror when she realizes her mistake. "Oh shit. I shouldn't have told you that."

"Who?!"

"Huh?"

"Who did she kill?"

The ocelot feels the pressure as Winter scoots closer to her. She is now pretty much in her face. Tivoli hangs her head again. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I'm pretty sure she didn't mean for this to get out. She was only trying to make me less frightened; it was meant for my ears only."

"Who'd she kill?"

"Her husband." She turns to Winter with a relieved look on her face. "She told me she killed her first husband. He was abusive and she felt she had no choice. She told me how, and she told me how it led to her owning this place."

Winter scoffs. "She must really like you to confide in you like that."

"Yeah, well, she's really nice, but I'm not sure I want to work for her. She tried to get me to understand how killing feels, but I'm not sure if--"

"Stop that. You can't have second thoughts when doing this job. You won't be able to do anything if you keep thinking about it."

"You have a mark you're not sure about. Aren't you having second thoughts too?" The two look at each other suspiciously, one not knowing what to think of the other. Tivoli tries to put a brave front, but she is as hesitant as her friend is. Out of the blue, she chuckles. "I can suddenly see the need for a 'psych room.'"

Winter perks her ears up, then looks up. The sound of footsteps forces her to stand. Tivoli looks around before slowly getting off her chair. Vivian Cross comes into view. "There you are," she says proudly. "I was afraid you went home already."

"Oh, no ma'am." Tivoli nervously shuffles towards her. "But I didn't think you needed anything else from me."

"Well, I need your name and address. Ted likes you and pretty much wants me to okay your inclusion. So, I just need your name, address, phone number or numbers. I forgot to mention that there will sometimes be someone deployed to your house to give you your money. Those are for the times you can't come here to get your pay. It's usually as a courtesy for injured workers, but it could be for any reason. Just tell us to come over, and someone will bring your money to you in a couple of days."

The ocelot starts to follow her. "That's a good idea. I've always liked the idea of checks delivered right to me."

Winter clears her throat and says, "No checks. They won't give you a check. There's no paper trail."

Vivian smiles and points at the white wolf. "You're learning." She chuckles as she watches the wolf shy away. "I think you two will do well."

Tivoli puts her hands behind her back. "Just out of curiosity, how many people would I be working with?"

"You would be number thirty. In fact, you and Winter are replacing a couple of other females. Anyway, I got other places to go, so let's make the interview official, shall we?"

Winter watches her boss and her friend leave her sight. Once they disappear, her worried countenance returns. (I have never seen her this worried before. The upcoming hunt must really be bothering her.) She covers her face with her hands for about a minute, whispering something to herself. Then, she stands up and leaves the cafeteria through the back door. Now in the backyard parking lot, she sits in front of the door and looks at the sky. There are five co-workers mulling around the lot, each looking at their marks with interest. Hoeness is directly across from her, leaning against his car and looking at her inquisitively. Winter does not notice; she is too busy fretting. "Matthew Ambrose," she says to herself.

Meanwhile, Tivoli had given her new boss her address and telephone number. She now sits down across from Vivian with her hands clasped on the desk in front of her. Her new boss had written the information on a piece of paper. She removes a manila folder from one of her drawers. "Your particulars are now in our files. It's now official."

"Thank you."

"Congratulations. Of course, I feel I need to remind you not to come in too eager to do a job."

"Yeah, I know. I have to take a couple of days to think about it."

"That was my idea. When I first told Ted I wanted that condition, he looked at me like I was crazy. But it is a good idea."

"Ted urged me to take those extra days. He also told me to get to know some of the workers."

"That's pretty much a given. You'll be running into them a lot, and sometimes, they'll have marks you want. It's an important step in creating a smooth work environment. But you'll be surprised at how many new workers are intimidated by that step."

Tivoli nods. "Count me in with them. I saw those guys as I came in here with Winter. They don't look like talkative types."

Vivian scoffs. "You must have walked in while they were choosing marks. They don't like to be interrupted."

"They're a little intimidating."

The chief stands. "How would you like an early upper hand?"

"Really? What do I have to do?"

"I knew you'd be interested. Give me a moment." She walks to the left, to the corner farthest from the desk, and bends down to open a cabinet. As Tivoli nervously watches, Vivian stands and approaches her, holding four uncovered video cassettes in her arms. She drops them in front of the confused ocelot. "We used to tape our interviews. That was back when we had fewer people and more time to interview them. Ted thought it was important for some reason, but we haven't taped an interview since the beginning of the year. Anyway, I picked four tapes to give you. There are about four or five interviews in each one."

Tivoli laughs. "VHS?"

Vivian responds with laughter. "I didn't know how to use a disc."

"Don't worry. I can still watch these."

"Excellent. All but a couple of the guys on those tapes still work here, and they leave their phone numbers. If you wanted to give any of them a call, you could."

The ocelot picks up a cassette. "Wouldn't they be angry if I told them how I got their numbers?"

"So what? What can they do about it? If that's how you want to get to know them, it's just fine. In fact, if anyone gives you grief about it, you can just tell them I said so."

Tivoli stands and grabs the other tapes. "Thank you so much. I guess...I'll be back on Monday."

"You're welcome. It's almost 9:30, and I got an executive to visit. You remember which door to take?"

"The back door. I remember. Thanks so much for your time...."

She spends the next minute thanking her future boss as she awkwardly backs her way out of her office. They leave together, but go different ways. Vivian goes through the hallway and through the lobby. Tapes in hand, Tivoli carefully maneuvers her way through the cafeteria and to the back doors. She backs into one, opening it carefully. She is smiling from ear to ear, soaking in all the good news she has received today. Soon, she is outside, staring at the closing door. After a deep, satisfied breath, she nods and turns, only to bump into Hoeness. She drops her tapes while he drops the papers that hold his two marks.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

The frustrated German Shepherd grunts his displeasure and shakes his head. "It's all right." He bends down to help gather the VHS tapes.

The ocelot gathers two tapes and Hoeness' papers. Her hands and her breath are shaking. She looks behind her as if planning an escape.

"I saw you come in with the white wolf. Are you scoping the place too?"

"What's that?" Her trembling grip almost drops the tapes. "Scoping?"

"New arrivals look the place over for a couple of days before they decide whether or not to join us." He looks at her suspiciously. "Or are you a future loan officer?"

"No, I'm...." Clearly intimidated, she stands upright, trying to look tough. Her body is rigid and balanced, even though her mind is not. "I'm one of you! I mean, I'm going to be."

"I've got yours and you got mine."

"What?" She looks at her arms. "Oh yeah. Your marks." She chuckles as she trades his papers for the two cassettes he is holding. "Thanks. Hey, do you mind?"

"What is it?"

"Um...look, don't take this the wrong way. I know you guys are super secretive and not used to change, but I really want to introduce myself, okay? I mean, I've been told I have to and I--"

"So, just do it." Hoeness folds his arms, holding his marks in his right hand. He raises his eyebrows, patiently waiting for the interloper to gather herself.

"My name's Tivoli." She smiles, apparently feeling better. "I'm an ocelot."

"Yeah, I know what those are." He sighs. "My name is Hoeness."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Tiv...what? How do you say it?"

"T-I-V-O-L-I. Like the city." She giggles. "Tivoli, New York."

"Never heard of it." He is about to turn away when a gray dog brushes by him. The dog waves good-bye. Hoeness smiles and nods. "I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the extra mark."

The ocelot watches as the dog walks to his car. She is looking at his tail. "He's cute."

"He's a purebred. He's way out of your league."

"What's his name?"

"What am I? A dating service?" He looks at her; she is still checking out the tail. He shakes his head. "That's Baua. He's my good friend and my best provider."

She looks at Hoeness and giggles again. "What's his name?"

"Baua. That's his...." He frowns. "What's so damn funny?"

"I'm sorry. I thought you said 'Bow-wow.'" She turns her head, trying to hide a loud laugh. "That would have been a stupid name. I thought you were--"

"The name's Italian, lady. It's as decent a name as yours is." He turns away disgustedly. "Idiot."

Tivoli stops smiling, now conscious of her offensive behavior. Dropping one of the tapes, she chases down the German Shepherd. "I'm sorry." She stops as he turns to her. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to insult you. I give you my word, I really wasn't. I'm gonna try real hard to respect you guys." Her breathing becomes heavy. She is clearly embarrassed and at a loss for words. She wants to be liked so badly. As he turns away again, she stutters. "Hoeness! That's German, right?"

He turns back, less angry. "Mm-hmm."

"You don't speak with an accent."

"An American accent is an accent. Look, don't worry about it. Baua's a nice guy. Go talk to him. Just remember that he's very sensitive about his name, so don't go to him with that 'bow-wow' stuff. You dropped something, by the way." This time, he turns away for good.

Newly confident, she runs to pick up the tape she dropped. Once they are safely cradled in her arms, she nods good-bye to Hoeness' as he drives away, and she heads over to the gray dog. He has opened the trunk of his car and was about to put something in it when he hears her coming. "Hi there," she says.

"Mmm?"

"Hi." She tries to hold out her left hand and almost drops the cassettes. "I'm introducing myself to everyone. Sorry if I'm bothering you."

The dog turns to face her. He has a cigarette in his mouth and a camera lens in his hands. He looks at her angrily at first, but then chuckles and points at her face. "That's cute," he says.

She chuckles in turn. "What is?"

"Your whiskers need a trim."

She laughs. "I need them you know."

"My name is Baua. I'm from Florence."

"Tivoli."

He stubs out his cigarette and looks around the lot. "Hey, everyone's left." There are only two cars in the backyard, his and Tivoli's. "Since you're here, could you give me a hand? I just bought new camera equipment and I need to test it on someone."

She nods excitedly. "Sure!"

"Just put your stuff in here and I'll tell you where to stand."

She eagerly places the VHS tapes in the open trunk of Baua's car. It was packed with photography equipment, including old and new cameras and lenses of many sizes. She runs over to the dog, who is standing in front of the back door.

"Could you stand in front of the window? In front of the shrubs."

She eagerly follows orders. While he moves a few feet away, she stands to the left of the door. "Is there any kind of pose you want me to make?"

"You can pose if you like, just hold still when you do it."

Still giggling, she puts her left hand on her hip, leans forward, and waves with her right hand. She stays like that for half a minute. In the meantime, Baua squats and puts the camera lens to his face. After a few seconds of rotating and adjusting, he stands. "Okay, I'm finished."

She stands up straight. "You didn't take a picture."

"No, I was just testing the new lens I bought. Why, do you want me to take a picture?"

"That would be nice. I'd like to have one of me next to my new workplace."

The dog looks confused. "So you're a member now?"

"I'm thinking about it, but it's very likely."

Baua shrugs. He does not look happy with her decision. "Hmm. Okay, let me get my camera." He walks back to his car.

Tivoli follows. "Is this your hobby?"

"No, it's work."

"You take pictures? I thought you killed people."

"Hey, don't say that so loud. I take pictures of marks. I'm what we call a provider." He puts the new lens away, then reaches in the trunk and hunts for a camera. "The executives find a client who wants someone killed. Usually, that client gives the executive a picture. Then the executive blows it up for us to see at the morning meeting. But sometimes, for some reason, that client cannot provide a current picture. Most of the time, it is because the mark has changed his appearance. That's where the provider comes in. He hunts for the mark, takes his picture, and gets confirmation that this is the person the client wants dead. Then the picture is shown in the morning meeting, and the rest is history. You were with Hoeness a moment ago. I just provided him with a mark I recently photographed." He smiles and takes out a camera. "Let me find a lens."

"You could just use a digital camera."

"I know, but I find this easier. I live near Hollywood and many marks go there for...the same reasons anyone goes there. I can just pretend to be a paparazzo and take their picture in public. I can do that without hiding, and nobody is the wiser."

Tivoli turns around to look at the building while Baua readies his camera. "So you don't hunt the marks?"

"I still do on occasion. But this is what my talents were meant for. You ready?"

She nods and takes her place in front of the shrubs at the left side of the back door. She turns to face Baua, then slips and falls into the bush. Out of concern, the dog quickly jogs to her. She lies on her back for a few seconds before the dog reaches out and offers a hand. Laughing, and clearly unhurt, she allows herself to be pulled on her feet.

"Are you okay?"

Tivoli sneezes and sniffs. "Nothing broken."

"That happens to us all the time. It's been an unseasonably wet summer. Ready for the picture?"

"Sure." She smiles and watches the provider back away a few feet. "Hey, what breed are you?"

"What's that?"

"Is that too forward?"

Baua scoffs and holds the camera to his face. "It's rather rude. Nobody likes to be asked that, unless they are in grade school. Besides, anybody can tell I'm a Greyhound."

"Sorry. I've only ever lived near cats, and all the dogs I know personally are Labs and Goldens. My life's been pretty sheltered."

"Smile."

She zips her jacket and poses with her hands on her hips. The smile is the biggest she has shown so far today. She truly is happy to be where she is.

The picture taken, he steps forward, adjusting his camera. "I'll have the film developed by Monday. Would you like multiple copies?"

"Just one, thanks. Can I ask you one more question?"

"Of course." Baua laughs, starting to enjoy the company.

Tivoli points up. "What's that thing?" Above her is a wooden sign, hanging underneath a black, metal bar. It is hanging next to the door.

Baua shakes his head. "That's our insignia. It's really stupid."

The red sign has a word on it, carved intricately into the wood. The bold, black letters of the word spell VENOM. Wrapped around the right side of the O is a green snake with its tongue sticking out. The sign swings back and forth in the wind. Tivoli touches it cautiously.

The Greyhound continues. "About a year ago, when there were about fifteen of us in the group, most of us were demanding some...extras to make our jobs easier. We were asking for a place to shower, a place to store our things, a place to work out, that sort of stuff. That led the executives to add rooms to this building. That meant hiring construction workers, which eventually led to a cut in our pay. We were angry that we were getting less money, but we had no one to blame but ourselves. So we did." He laughs, causing her to laugh too. "We pretty much fought each other every day until the locker rooms were completed."

"So what's the sign for?"

"Solidarity. The locker rooms and showers were built in three months. By then, we were fed up with fighting. We slowly agreed to take the pay cut, which lasted until the construction workers were paid. In the meantime, we each realized that even though we worked in the same building, we were not together. We were not together in spirit. A few of us decided on a visible sign that said we worked here too."

"Won't the customers see it?"

"No one has so far. Ironically, none of the guys could settle on a name for our group. "Venom" was the idea of a dog named Zesty, the first female member hired by the executives. Considering what we do, I think it fits, don't you? Anyway, let's go. We've been here too long."

They stroll to his car. Tivoli grabs the VHS tapes and they say their good-byes. She is now wealthy with information, and is so eager to get started that she jogs to her car. She enters, seeing Winter laying across the back seats, reading a book. "I was wondering where you were."

"Did you get everything you wanted?"

"I think so."

"And are you coming back?"

Tivoli nods as she starts the ignition. "My future is bright...."

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

[It is now four in the morning. I have been asleep for about five hours, my longest stretch since the surgery. I am in tremendous pain, from both the massive headache and from the stitches on my right side. I push the red button next to me, calling a nurse to give me some medicine. It takes her a while to arrive. Meanwhile, I try to take in what my latest dream told me, but I just cannot concentrate. Minutes later, the nurse arrives. She has some morphine for me....]

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

"I just love these Z-stem glasses. They really match my personality-refined, yet crazy." With that, Camille chooses five of them and puts them in her shopping cart. With her floral, white dress and a thin gold necklace, she looks like a socialite visiting this small, suburban grocery store. The items in her cart make her look like she is preparing for a big event. Included inside are bottles of champagne, jars of olives, drinking straws, a bag of ice, and several different alcoholic mixes, mostly for margaritas. It is an expensive haul, but one that the feline can afford quite easily. As she picks more items for purchase, her smile invites other shoppers to smile back, drawing hellos and good mornings everywhere she goes. The straggler behind her is not quite so cheerful.

Pamila is toe-dragging herself down the aisle a couple of feet behind her friend. She has her hands behind her back and her head in the air, looking about as bored as one can be while shopping. Or maybe she is just being her usual angry self.

"I think I can get away with a couple of wine spritzers, or wine coolers. I easily have a hundred dollars' worth of stuff here, but I should buy a couple of more drinks in case there are more guests than I originally planned for. What do you think?"

Pamila is looking down at the boxes of Merlot on display near her feet. She is not listening to Camille.

"I'm talking to you, Pam. What do you think?"

"About what?"

Camille heaves a frustrated sigh. "Come on! I need help if I'm to get this party off the ground!"

"Well, I'm not going to be attending that party, so why do you need help from me, huh? Why should I care?"

Pamila's ire draws a couple of onlookers, embarrassing Camille. The cat leaves her cart and quickly walks to her friend. "Because I'm throwing the party? Because it's my first ever and I need it to be absolutely perfect? Because I'm sparing no expense? Because I finally get to look impressive to all our friends and neighbors? What reason do you need for you to take interest?"

"I'm going to be stuck in Simon's house for the foreseeable future. I won't be going to any parties any time soon."

They are now eye to eye, looking at each other sadly. "You're right. I may have been a little hasty planning for a get-together at this time. But I've been thinking about it for a while now. After what happened to Beth, I decided to do it. We need to be closer to our friends than we already are. But you're right. You wouldn't be involved at this time, so I'll just scrap it for now."

"I'm sorry." Pamila walks over to the cart and takes over, pushing it through the aisle. "I wouldn't be so pissed if my situation were different."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I couldn't host a party without you in it."

Pamila stops and turns. "You mean it?"

Camille shrugs in response. "I've been to enough parties without you in them, but I could never host one without you there. You're the life of the party in every party we've been to."

"So what about all this junk in the cart?"

Camille picks up a couple of the Z-stem glasses. "I'll just put some of these back. But the party's still gonna happen. I'll just take home a few bottles of wine and...yeah. I'll keep the olives too. Maybe I'll plan it for early next month." She perks her head up and sniffs the air, then she looks at Pamila and chuckles. "By the way, your partner has left you."

"What?" She turns to look behind her. "Aw, shit!" She runs through the aisle and turns left. "Damien!"

The cat laughs as puts the glasses away. She also decides to dispose of the mixes and some other bottles of liquor. "Good-bye for now, Tom Collins."

Meanwhile, Pamila has caught up to a young, auburn-haired boy. The young man looks about four years old, maybe three. His dingy, white shirt is layered by dull, blue overalls. His hair is disheveled and gritty. His shoes are muddy and untied. He is not being cared for very well. The fox goes to him as he is standing in front of a display of balls. The plastic, round balls all differ in size and color. He points to the display and looks at Pamila, jumping up and down manically.

"Oh, you want a ball?" she asks in feigned exuberance. The fox reaches in and picks one. It is slightly bigger than her hand. "Go get it." She rolls the ball to an unoccupied corner display and jeers as she watches the boy chase after it.

Camille rolls the cart up to her. "So how long is indefinitely?"

"What?"

"You said you have to look after Damien indefinitely. How long is that?"

"As soon as Simon comes back from his trip with the wife. I tell you what--it's a good thing I'm indebted to him, because if Damien were anyone else's son, I'd throw him in the nearest garbage dump. He's driving me crazy."

"Well, you know if you let him loose, he'll drive you even more crazy."

"I couldn't help it! He was tugging at me. It took me a couple of minutes and a few empty, soothing words to pry him loose." She lifts her red skirt a little bit to inspect her left leg. "He just put a hole in my new leggings!"

Camille shakes her head. "He is clingy." She rubs her right thigh. "At least he didn't try to feel you up."

"These were expensive!"

A huge crash tears through the air. The girls turn their heads to the right. Camille chuckles. "So was that beer."

"Damien!"

"Please don't lose it in here. Remember, you're supposed to be hiding."

Pamila nods and quickly runs into the aisle that Damien is about to destroy. She picks the child up by his armpits and hauls him out the alcohol section. Once they reach Camille, she puts him down. Without delay, Damien hooks himself around the fox's right leg.

Camille laughs. "Don't worry. I'll pay for the beer. Just keep him there, on your leg, so he won't run off."

"I can't walk like this."

Camille bends down, gently releases the toddler's grip on Pamila, and holds his left hand. "Turn around." She waits for the fox to turn her back to her, then picks the kid up. "Okay, kid. Grab on." Damien hooks his arms and legs around Pamila.

"A piggyback ride. This is embarrassing."

"Yeah, but he'll be safe, and you'll be sane. Let's go to the check-out."

Damien grabs on tightly, pressing his hands against the fox's chest. With his broad smile and rosy cheeks, he gets a few friendly looks from a few shoppers, making Pamila uncomfortable. She marches behind Camille the entire time, silently wishing for relief. "Sorry about your party."

"Don't mention it."

"Do me a favor, okay? Just let me drive you home and I'll go back to Simon's apartment, okay?"

"You changed your mind? You don't want me to come over?"

"I don't want you to see me lose it."

"I could really help you take care of him. Trust me. It won't be a problem."

The fox looks down. "Please, just humor me."

Camille shrugs, then nods, patting her defeated friend's shoulder. "Sure."