Venom:  Beautiful Killers.  Part 51

“...you're in the right place."

Camille's living room has undergone a quite daring transformation.  There are new curtains hanging in front of the windows.  The light bulbs on the lamps are either red or are covered with red filters.  The lights on the ceiling have been dimmed to give the room a cozier mood.  The potted houseplants have been removed, adding more space to the room.  The living room has changed from a rustic, down-home look to a dark, almost dingy parlor.  It looks faintly like the billiards section of The Shark Pit, which is much darker than the serving area. 

A portable radio located in an out-of-the-way corner of the room provides the music.  Right now, a slower song has come on and a few of the partygoers are waltzing on the floor.  St. Croix is dancing with Beth, the white mouse.  Stefano has a blue cat, not Camille, in his arms.  Tom, Camille's significant other, is dancing with another gray wolf.  Sitting on the big sofa that had been moved from the center of the room are Baua, Rory, Ravi, and a white horse with dark spots on his face and neck.  The party host herself is not in the living room.  It seems she is nowhere to be found. 

Baua is breathing heavily; he may have just arrived in the house.  His shoes and socks are off his feet.  As he digs his toes into the plush carpeting, he dines on the shrimp cocktail that Rory has on his lap.  With a full mouth, he looks over to the horse and yells, “Yo, Sherm!  So how's Loiola doing?"

The horse slowly turns his head and looks beyond Ravi and Rory to see Baua on the other side of the couch.  “Oh, he's doing well.  His knee still bothers him, and he can't wait to get back to work, so he's a bit antsy."

“Yeah, I don't blame him.  Being out of commission for a year would be too tough for me to take.  It's a good thing he's got enough money to see him through all those medical bills."

“About that, he's kinda running out of money, so…if there's anything anyone can do to help, any amount of money we can pitch in, he'll be so grateful."

Everyone on the couch nods enthusiastically.  “Sure," Baua says.  “Anything for those in the profession."

Rory chuckles and gently elbows Ravi's shoulder.  “Some party, huh?"

The tiger responds with an emphatic nod.  “Yeah.  It's just terrific."

“I was only being sarcastic mate.  This party is a bore."

“Tell me about it," Baua says.  “This is terrible."

Ravi shakes his head.  “You just got here.  I think all this is very nice.  It's…social.  It's communal.  It's pleasant in its intimacy."

Sherm turns to the tiger and snorts.  “You're only saying that because you got to dance with the hostess."

Rory nods and empties the remaining champagne from his glass into his mouth.  “Yeah.  So what's she like on the dance floor?  Does she bump n' grind or is she disappointingly classy?"

“Just stop it," the tiger says.  He was loud enough to be heard by at least one of the dancers.  “She's not like that…and nothing untoward happened."

“You telling me neither of you—"

“I'm telling you that we were both professional.  Besides, even if we wanted to, she wasn't dressed for the occasion.  She's not wearing her typical nightclub-type clothes."

Sherm nods.  “It's true.  She's pretty much wearing a ball gown.  Everything here is as classy as the Governor's Mansion."

Baua looks at his watch and shifts in his seat.  “Where is she anyway?  I've been here twenty minutes and barely got a look at her."

“She's downstairs.  She seemed distant, like she was not paying attention to the music.  We were slow dancing together, then she said she had something to do.  After which, I took a seat here.  I've been here ever since."

Rory chuckles slightly, trying to remain discreet by covering his mouth.  “Like I said, this party is a dull affair.  Most of us already know each other, so we don't have much to talk about.  It's those girls over there on the dance floor…"  He points to the area in front of him; he is specifically pointing at the female wolf.  “They're the only ones who make this party even remotely interesting."

Baua nods and emits an up-to-no-good smirk.  “Yeah.  Shiloh's sister is absolutely amazing. I haven't been here long and I think I've already got the hots for her."

“But don't you still want to dance with Camille?"

“Sure, I do!  But look at Shiloh's sister!  Can you believe she's the little sister?"

“Oy!  Cut it out, mate.  Don't let 'em hear you talk about 'em."

Sherm points at the dancing crowd.  “The mouse over there's got some moves.  Once Stefano's done with her, I'm gonna take over."

They look on at the dancers, each aching to get back out there.  But the shortage of females would definitely make alone-time difficult.  Baua notices that Shiloh's sister is no longer dancing with the Manx; they are instead headed to the kitchen to get more food from the makeshift buffet.

Baua squints at the cat's chiseled frame.  “Who is that?  I've never seen him around before."

Sherm stands, seeing an opportunity.  “Oh, that guy's name is Tom.  He's one of the bouncers from Tiger Tails.  Apparently he and our hostess have a thing going on."

“You serious?"

“Is there a problem?"

“No, it's just that…I didn't know."

Rory laughs.  “Well, there go your fantasies then, huh?  You too, tiger."

Ravi nods.  “I don't mind.  I'm glad she's found herself someone.  It's someone from outside of work and he looks like he's got steady income.  It wouldn't have worked between us.  Work would just get in the way."

The horse gently walks up to the now unoccupied mouse and asks her to dance.  There is a much faster song playing on the radio now.  Beth hears it and says yes.  Meanwhile, looking less confident than earlier, Baua heads for the kitchen.  He is self-conscious about his bare feet; his nails are long and not exactly clean.  He practically runs to where the food is and shyly approaches the she-wolf.  They watch him as he nervously introduces himself.

“Well, hello there, handsome," the woman says.  “I've never flirted with two guys at once before.  Are all greyhounds as handsome as you are?"

Before Baua can react, St. Croix suddenly enters the kitchen.  Upon seeing them, the smile on his face evaporates.  “No!  You stop that!  Both of you stop!"

Tom and Baua back off while the woman looks at him angrily.  “What's wrong now?!"

“Don't talk to him, Anna.  He's a womanizer."

“What?"

“You heard what I said.  He's not someone you want to get to know."

“I'm not a womanizer," Baua yells.  “Just because I like the ladies doesn't mean I'm automatically bad for them."

“You are bad for them.  You just also happen to be a womanizer."

“I talk to dozens of women a night.  Nothing really happens between us.  It's just talk.  That's all."

The woman stomps on the ground, getting the attention of the guys.  “Hey, big brother, could you please not get in the way when someone wants to chat me up?"

“I have been out of the way," St. Croix says.  “But this is different.  You don't want these guys flirting with you."

“Why not?  They look like a decent bunch of guys.  Everyone seems well put together."

“I know these guys.  I work with these guys.  They want more than small talk."

Baua raises a hand in disbelief.  His is quite surprised at the quick judgment of his character and clears his throat loudly to silence it.  “If I may speak for myself, I just want to…hey!"

St. Croix drags the greyhound out of the kitchen.  As Tom and an embarrassed Anna look on, the wolf whispers, “I don't want my little sister eye-banged by you idiots."

“That's not happening.  Honest."

“Seriously, if you want to flirt with someone, do it to Camille.  At least she likes it."

Baua sighs and looks around.  The music has stopped and the partygoers are standing around, talking with one another.  “Say, where is she anyway?"

“I don't know.  She might still be downstairs. Someone better go tell her that her music's stopped."

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

Pamila.  Age 10.

A red station wagon is driving down a lonely, muddy road.  The rain is pelting down and the windshield wipers are working hard to blast the water away.  Despite what is probably a very diminished view of the road, the car is travelling at a rather high speed.  Against slippery conditions, the car turns the corners well and its tires hug the road.  It slows down when a steady hand is needed to negotiate deep puddles, but it continues on its journey at a fast pace.

A pair of red foxes is inside the car.  In the driver's seat is a stern-looking male tightly gripping the steering wheel.  His mouth is pouty, his brow is deeply furrowed, and his hands are trembling.  He is still focused on the road and keeps the car steady.  Sitting next to him is a young vixen; she is pretty much a small clone of the driver, only she is wearing a bright pink, floral dress and elbow-length gloves.  There is a birthday cone on top of her head, strapped to her chin.  Her socks are pink and her sneakers are white.  She looks like she has stepped out of a book of fairy tales.

The angry man runs his tongue across his teeth.  “Worst birthday party ever…and I've been to a couple of snoozers."

“You don't like any of my new friends."  The girl folds her arms angrily.

“Your new friends are…and I'm gonna say this as nice as I can…your friends are morons."  He hears the girl's pained gasp and clears his throat, instantly remorseful.  “Sorry.  Let me rephrase.  Their parents are morons."  He turns to the girl for a split second and laughs at her pouting.  “I mean…a piñata?  Indoors?  They are morons."

“It was fun," the girl says.  She smiles slightly for a second, then looks at her lap.  “Until the ceiling fell."

“Well, there you go.  I saw the entire thing.  I'll bet that's the last time they use that thing.  If you tie the piñata to the light fixture, you get what you get."

She looks at him again.  “They're not bad people."

“They're humans, Pamila.  That says it all."  He looks back at the road and speeds up, holding the wheel even tighter.  “I'm so convinced of their stupidity that I'm no longer going to invite any of them over the house again…for any reason."

“That's not fair!"

“I'll probably think twice before I invite those skinks to our house anytime soon."

“Are you going to do that to all of my friends?!"

“You needn't worry.  I'm sure mommy will overrule me.  But make no mistake, my girl.  As far as friends go, you can always do better than those kids at the party.  You'd definitely do better than to have humans as friends."

“Mommy sees that they're not all as bad as you say they are."

“Your mother wouldn't pass up an opportunity to attend any party, no matter who hosts it.  Trust me.  We don't need their kind."

Pamila sighs deeply and turns back to the road.  “I guess you don't care how I feel about them."

“You don't know what's good for you dear.  Now that you're about to start middle school, you are going to need the opinions of your mommy and daddy now more than ever.  You'll thank us later."

The young fox sighs again and tries to put on a smile.  “Speaking of middle school…."  Her smile widens.

A minute passes without a word said.  The man is keeping his ears open, but when nothing comes forth, he turns to look at her inquisitively.  “What?  What about middle school?"

“I wanna try out for cheerleading."

The man slows down.  “Oh dear."

“What's wrong now?"  Pamila watches him shake his head and is immediately discouraged.  “Why are you mad at that?"

“Now…what in the hell gave you that idea?  Cheerleading?  Really?"

“Mommy was a cheerleader.  You knew that, right?"

The man clicks his tongue in what looks like disgust.  “Silly me.  I've forgotten."

“And she's told me that if there are any activities that would help me get along with the other kids, and improve my social skills, cheerleading is the best one."

“Cheerleaders were more modest in your mother's time."

“They get to travel to other schools.  They get to go to other states."

“They used to wear sensible clothes; looser shirts and longer dresses.  Now they look no different than music video starlets."

“They get to meet everybody in the school.  They make friends real easy because they get real popular."

“They used to cheer…and actually make you care for the team and your school.  Now they just do pyramids and…other dangerous stunts."

“They are really thin, fit, and confident.  They inspire people to look and feel better about themselves."

“They shake more than their pom-poms."  The man grits and grinds his teeth.  “A lot more."

Pamila huffs.  “You know I can dance, right?"

“Yes…I know you can dance."

“So let me try out for—"

“You know what?"

“What?"

“Are you really, really sure that you want to do this?  You know my feelings about it.  I think it is wrong to do that to children your age.  If you're going to lose your innocence, I'd rather it be some other way."

“But if you don't start cheerleading when you're young, how do you get to do it when you get older?"

“You mean you want to do this through high school?"

“That would be nice."

“Well then…I think it's about time we had that birds-and-bees talk."

“Aww, daddy!"

“Hey!  We've been putting it off long enough.  You got your period at age nine.  That's too early an age for that to happen.  I've been told it's been happening in kids earlier and earlier, but I didn't think—"

“You're embarrassing me."

“In front of whom?"  He chuckles rudely when he sees Pamila fold her arms once again.  “You know something?  I think, despite all my misgivings, you could probably handle this cheerleading thing."

The girl keeps looking straight ahead at the road, but her eyes do take a couple of quick glances at her father.  “You really mean it?" she asks unsurely.

“Well, remember yesterday when I caught you having a tea party with your stuffed animals again?  A week after I said to stop doing that?"  He waits for a response from her and nods in response to her nodding.  “You remember why I told you that you needed to stop?"

"Because you wanted to see me grow out of it?"

“Not just grow out of it, but grow up and away from it.  You don't learn anything talking to stuffed bears.  You learn out there…on life's battlefield.  And while your mother thinks that tea party shit teaches you etiquette, it doesn't mean much in the face of real competition.  So…."  He has reached the main road.  A traffic light has appeared virtually out of nowhere and he stops in front of the glowing, red bulb.  He now has time to look at his daughter.

She looks back wistfully.  “So?"

“So…the answer is yes.  You can try out for—"

“Yes!  Yes!  Thank you!"

“Don't yell."

Pamila clears her throat.  “Thank you."

"On the condition that you really…really stop those tea parties.  They're not good for you.  I don't want you to talk like a maid.  I want you to talk like her boss.  Can you do that?"

“As long as I get to cheer."  Her face is cheerfully determined.  She clasps her hands together and gives the traffic light a mean, closed-mouth smile.

“The other condition is we have that birds-and-bees talk.  And no complaining from you.  I talk, you listen.  Got it?"

The girl sighs with dread, but immediately nods.  After all, she gets to cheer.  “Got it."

“Good.  I'll talk to your mother and attend the school's open house.  I'll need all the info I can get."  He shakes his head at the girl's newfound confidence.  “Remember, the mixed world is dangerous.  I'm starting to regret moving from our old house."

“Daddy, the old house was boring.  We lived in a boring neighborhood with only boring foxes for neighbors.  I never got to have any fun because you and mommy never let anything fun happen."

“Well, let me ask you this.  Did any of your old friends tie a piñata to the ceilings of their houses?"

“All right, daddy!  Enough with the piñata."

“Pamila, please listen to me.  Before we moved, we had stability and smarts.  All our neighbors were foxes, yes, but that meant that we had our own kind to look up to.  Everyone related with everyone else and we all looked out for each other.  Being homogenous…um…you know what that word means right?"

She sighs with boredom.  “Yes, daddy."

“Good.  Our neighborhood was homogenous for a reason.  All the parents believed in the same tenets of teaching, so you and all your friends were homeschooled.  On of us would teach a group of you guys.  It was convenient as hell…and it worked out.  You were part of a smart group of kids.  Now…we're living in the wider world, where humans rule.  And by rule, I mean tying papier-mâché donkeys to light fixtures and standing there helplessly as the roof falls on the kids' heads!"

The two foxes look at each other; Pamila's eyes are desperately wide.  She just wants the conversation to end. 

The man continues.  “You want a burger before we get home?"

“Sure."

“Okay.  I'm glad you're not too mad at me."

“I know you're worried.  But you don't have to be.  The party was great and Emily's ten now, just like me.  She's not bad.  Really…they're not bad."

The man's look stiffens and enters the parking lot of a fast food establishment.  The place specializes in fried fish. Pamila's eyes sparkle when she sees the flashing neon lights.  When the car is parked, she is more than ready to get out.  But as soon as she opens the door, the man's hand gently grabs her left shoulder, stopping her from leaving.

“Listen, Pam.  The kids aren't bad.  I have nothing against them.  But you must remember this.  Humans are the stupidest creatures alive.  They are not homogenous, they are never together, and they never learn from one another.  Every good thing they build, they eventually destroy.  I don't want them to destroy you.  Close the door."

The enthusiasm on the girl's face gives way to fear as she gently closes the door she just opened.

“I am hoping that everything I taught you, and our other neighbors taught you, stays with you even in the worst of moments.  A week from now, you'll begin junior high.  You'll be surrounded by kids dumber than you are, and you most likely won't be allowed to show your smarts.  I am hoping that while you're in there, you'll show your intelligence and conquer that place.  Make friends, but don't give in to peer pressure.  Teach them what I taught you and come out strong.  Go for cheerleading.  Do that!  But don't get too close to them.  Today's cheerleaders have really bad habits.  Remember, there's nothing a human can teach us that we truly need to consider.  They ruin everything they touch.  Try not to be touched.  If you are, then tell me...and I'll touch back.  You understand?"

“Mm-hmm.  Got it.  Can I go now?"

“Dammit, woman!  Did you hear anything I said?!"

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

Pamila's eyes open with a start.  As soon as the lids part, her pupils move back and forth very rapidly.  They look up at the ceiling and down on the carpeted floor, moving frantically the entire time.  Her mouth then opens.  She gasps for breath and laughs a little as soon as she fills her lungs.

She tightens her eyes closed and yawns with quite possibly the loudest voice she has.  Her clean, white teeth are exposed and her tongue is lolled out.  It is a liberating, satisfying, sleep-conquering yawn.  At the end of it, she smiles and smacks her tongue.  “Thirsty," she says as her eyes open.

She sees the white chairs immediately in front of her and a glass door several feet away.  “I'm in the lobby?" she asks.  Suddenly, a young man in a t-shirt and blue jeans runs into view.  He looks out the windows to the right of the door, prying open the venetian blinds.  Not seeing whatever he is looking for, he curses and turns back around.

“Hey there, shrimp," says the laughing fox.  “How's tricks?"

Out of breath, Tobias runs to her and crouches.  “You're finally awake."

“Yeah, I am, and…it feels great.  I just need to…."  She strains and winces.  “Why does…."

The boy stands and backs away.  “Why does what?"

“Why does my head hurt?"

“You're having a hangover."

She fidgets suspiciously. “What?  No!  I…I have my hangovers at home, not this place.  I drink at the bar and I…."  She yawns again.

“Your head might be feeling kind of fuzzy after everything you drank.  Your stomach should be pretty full too.  I…kind of force fed you some coffee to get you to sober up.  I've got some more brewing in the—“

“Tobias?"

“Yes?"

“Why can't my hands move?"  She looks at the boy, first with concern but then with anger.  She slowly notices that her hands are behind her back.  She tries to bring them around to look at them.  Her hands are pretty much stuck to her back.  She tries to stand, but is forced back down.  Now she realizes she is sitting on the floor.  “What's happening?!"

The boy sits down on one of the chairs, directly in front of the bemused fox.  “Well, you were being unruly after vomiting on Baua's shoes, and…um…."

Pamila desperately tries to get her hands in front of her.  She jerks repeatedly.  “I know that sound!  Those are handcuffs!  You handcuffed me to the….."  She tries to look behind her, but with her hands behind her back, her balance is compromised.  Her hands are cuffed to the leg of the front desk.  She flexes her fingers after a minute of trying to hulk her way out of the sitting position.  After giving up, she tries to spear Tobias with her eyes.  “Get me…out!"

A ringtone buzzes from the front left pocket of the boy's trousers.  “Excuse me.  That'll be St. Croix.  One second."  He runs out of the room while the fox continues to struggle. 

The one second of promised time quickly becomes two minutes.  Pamila grows more impatient and frustrated.  After several more quick jerks trying to get free, she shouts in pain and stops moving.  She flexes her hands again and hangs her head.  It is quiet again in the lobby.  Even Tobias has stopped talking.  Pamila's heavy breathing adds to the eerie atmosphere.  It seems to echo throughout the room. 

“Kid, you are getting real…real close to getting hurt."  She is looking straight ahead, right at the front door, but she speaks normally as if Tobias is in front of her.  “You've been walking a tightrope since we first met.  Now you're about to fall.  If you don't get me out of these cuffs, I'm gonna break this desk…with my head.  The beating you are about to receive will stun the world."  Her breath gains steam.  “And then?  The world will shrug and go back to work…because you're such a sad sack, you're not worth their time!"

Tobias reappears from the dark hallway and runs to the angry vulpine.  “Yeah, so here's the deal.  I've been calling St. Croix.  Five times in the last half hour.  When I finally got him, I told him everything that happened.  I was really hoping for him to pick you up and take you to your home…but he wants to stay at the party.  He says he's worried about his sister and doesn't want to leave her side.  So he can't come."

Pamila suddenly turns calm and nods with understanding.  “Yeah, he's real soft on his sister."

“Yeah, well, a lot of good that does me!  I'm supposed to be home by now.  It's past ten o'clock.  My mom had been calling every fifteen minutes…until ten. Since then, she's stopped calling.  I'm in so much trouble."  He boldly takes a seat right in front of her.  The chair is directly under her outstretched feet; she could kick him if she wanted.  “Do you remember what happened tonight?"

“Let me out."

“Is that a no?"

“Just…it's all a blur.  I may have…imbibed a little more than normal."

“You came in here over an hour ago.  You were drunk as a skunk.  I should have known since you were being all nice to me.  You came in and drank from the chief's liquor cabinet."

“What?  I did not!"

“The three empty bottles of gin in the trash bin outside say you did.  You also did that!"

The boy points to Pamila's left.  She turns her head to see a half empty bottle of Scotch on the desk. It is the drink that had her infatuated since she first saw it. “Hey, I know that bottle.  What's it doing out of the cabinet?"

“You threatened me with your knife…and I believed it.  You told me to open the cabinet.  Then you drank half of everything there."

She purses her lips and nods.  “And I'm handcuffed to this desk…because?"

“The aftermath.  After you got into the Scotch…you erupted like Mount Saint Helens!  You threw up on the carpet in the hall then you threw up in one of the men's room urinals.  Baua was here getting ready for the party and you threw up on him too!  For ten minutes after that, you couldn't stop!"

“That doesn't sound like me."

“Well it was."  He walks to the desk, grabs the Scotch, and sits back down.  “It was depressing to watch.  By the time you were done, I had to redo my cleaning job.  Everything's clean again, but I can't get the smell of Scotch out of the restroom."

“Wow.  That must be powerful stuff."  She clears her throat and sighs calmly.  “Baua was here, huh?  I hope he's having a good time."

“You know he's gonna tell Hoeness, right?"

“What do I care what he does with his butt buddy?"

“Hoeness wants you gone.  What you did tonight would just about do it.  And even if you don't get fired for coming here drunk, you're definitely gonna get it from Mrs. Cross when she sees what you've done to her liquor."

Pamila belches loudly; the guttural effect forces the aftertaste of her actions to touch her tongue.  She looks at the boy, and the bottle he holds, and nods with resignation.  “So…it did happen.  I guess you're right.  You all have me right where you want me."

“Don't lump me in with them."

“Why not?!  You've got me handcuffed to the desk, and—“

“And I'm still here!  I could have chosen to leave after cleaning up the mess you made.  I could have chosen to leave you here until St. Croix opens the office on Monday.  I could have called the chief instead of St. Croix.  That's what Hoeness or any of the others would have done if they were the janitors.  But I'm not them.  I'm staying here because…."  Tobias catches himself and closes his mouth tightly.

“Because?"

He lowers his voice.  “Because of the toast you made…to your dad.  You toasted him right before you chugged the bottle.  Even though you were drunk, you looked really sincere.  I felt bad for you."  He watches as she turns away and swallows painfully.  “Then after the first time you threw up, I wanted to help you."

Still flexing her hands, Pamila looks at the floor in deep thought.  Her eyes flutter with panic.  “I can't believe it," she whispers.  “I did all that?"  She turns to the boy, who nods quickly.  “So…what did I say?"

“You said that this Scotch was your dad's favorite.  After that, I don't remember."  He watches her further.  She suddenly turns angry and slams the back of her head against the desk.  “I'm sorry if I heard something I wasn't meant to.  And I'm sorry about your dad.  I didn't know.  He must have lived a hard life.  Pretty much just like your life, I'll bet.  So...when did he--"

“My dad's not dead!  You dimwit!"

“Oh.  He isn't?  Sorry.  It's just that…the way you were talking about him, I thought he was."

“He's just old.  Old and bitter."  She swallows and turns back to the boy.  “Old, because he's sixty-five, and bitter because…pretty much everything he's tried in his life, he's failed.  Every venture, no matter how trivial, had big risks.  Most of the shit he wanted to do didn't pan out.  Either the government wouldn't let him or he got fired from his latest job.  But I'm proud of him.  You know why?  Because he made me.  He bred me…then, to borrow a biblical phrase, made me in his image.  I'm one of the very few things he started that paid off.  Of course, it's not all good.  I drink pretty much because he drinks."

“That's really sad."

“Shit.  I don't know why I mentioned dad in front of you.  He hates humans you know."

“He does?"

“Yep.  Can't stand 'em."

“Maybe that's why he's had so many problems."

“Oh, suck it!"  She struggles with the cuffs again.  “Suck it and get me out of here!  My arms are falling asleep!"

Tobias stands and slowly moves forward.  “Okay.  I'm doing it."

“Where'd you get these things anyway?"

“The cuffs?  They're the chief's.  I saw them the first time I was cleaning.  I opened the desk to put things away and there they were.  I asked her if they were hers and she told me they belong to Max.  He gave them to her as a gift."  He puts the bottle of Scotch on the desk and digs his hands into his pockets.  “Hold on.  Let me find the keys."

“Not that I'm interested, but who's Max?"

“You don't know Max?  He's a friend to Mrs. Cross and Ted.  He's an ex-cop and the original owner of this building.  He bought it for Mrs. Cross when she was just starting out being a lender.  He's retired now and his birthday's in late December.  The chief was gonna celebrate with him…using the Scotch you drank.  I'm surprised you don't know who he is.  The chief tells all new employees that story."

Pamila watches on as Tobias pulls out the keys to the handcuffs.  She sighs in relief with the thought of freedom at long last. 

“There's something else I gotta tell you."

“Oh yeah?  What's that?"

“I got your car keys."

“Oh, okay.  Well uncuff me and give them to me."

“Yeah…I have them hostage.  You're not getting them back tonight.  Don't get mad, or I won't uncuff you."

“I'm already mad!  I've been mad the whole damn time!"

“You're also not ready to drive yet.  I don't know how you drove here to begin with, but you can't drive in your current state."

“Aw, fuck you!"

“Give it time; you'll get your wish soon.  Mom's gonna kill me for being late, since I'm still grounded.  Then on Monday, I'll be fired, either by the chief or by Uncle Crevecoeur.  So…yeah, I'll be fucked."

“You'll be even more so if you don't get me out of here!"

“And what's gonna happen on Monday when the chief sees her Scotch half gone?"  Tobias looks on, waiting for an answer.  His standing there makes the fox angrier, but he knows she is not going anywhere.  As long as she is detained, he hardly has to comply with any of her demands.  He sits down on the desk and looks down at her.  “You're not getting your keys tonight.  I'm gonna drive you home.  All you gotta do is navigate and I'll take you there.  Then I'll try to make it to my house before midnight…hopefully."

Pamila grits her teeth and growls in anguish.  One minute of grumbling later, she is no closer to being freed.  “Well, kid, I'll admit.  You got me over a barrel."

“I don't know what that means.  All I know is I want to help you.  After I gave you coffee, you fell asleep.  To keep you from doing even more damage, I tied you up here so I could clean all the vomit.  I figured that you'd kill me as soon as I untie you.  So while you were sleeping off the coffee, I took your keys from your pockets and I put them in a safe place."

“You call that help?"

“It's the best I could do under such circumstances.  I didn't tie you up because I wanted to.  I want to let you go, but I need you to guarantee my safety."  He sees her turn away.  Frustrated, he kneels down in front of her.  “Listen…and it really hurts to say this, but I'm literally the only friend you have right now.  Nobody else is dumping their Friday night to be here with you.  Nobody but me!  I listened to you vent, I wiped the puke off your clothes, and I tried my best to make you sober.  I'll bet not even Camille would do all that."

Pamila's dark pupils stare into the boy's wide eyes.  Her huffs of pain slow down and become regular breaths.  Eager for relief, she closes her mouth into a soft grin.  The unexpected gesture makes the boy stand.  “Pleeeease, Tobias.  Be a good, little Homo Sapiens and free me from my horrible bonds."  She raises her eyebrows.

“Nope.  Not buying it."

“Oooh, you little piece of shit!"

“But you're desperate, so I'll let you out.  You first gotta promise not to kill me.  Do what I say and you'll get your keys back.  Tomorrow."

She hangs her head and tightens her eyes closed.  The pain of her bonds is only increasing.  “Yeah, yeah.  I promise.  Damn.  For a pipsqueak, you drive a hard bargain."

He walks behind her and puts the small key into the cuffs.  “You gotta remember—you're hanging off a steep cliff with nothing but jagged rocks below you.  You're hanging there by your bare hands.  I'm on the top of the cliff, reaching out to you.  But you're stronger than me…so if we're not careful, we're both falling off the cliff.  You understand what I'm saying?"

Pamila rolls her eyes.  “Yeah, real deep."

“It's a metaphor, you see.  The cliff is Mrs. Cross and—“

“I know what the metaphor is!  Now let me out!"

The cuffs click and spring loose.  Pamila immediately bounces on her feet and stretches her arms.  She flexes her fingers and shrieks in pain.  “Damn!  That smarts."  She massages her left wrist with her right hand.  “It's been a while since I've been in cuffs."

“Really?  What happened?"

“It was an incident back when I was twenty-three.  I don't want to talk about it."  She shakes her arms to regain some feeling in them.  “What now, master?"

“Well, everything is clean, so my job's finally done.  I now drive you home.  Just tell me how to get there."

“If you don't mind, I'd prefer you to take me to Camille's house.  I gotta talk to her."

Tobias winces.  “Yeah…I don't think that's a good idea.  On second thought, I don't think I should take you to your apartment.  You'd only drink some more.  I'll take you to my place."

“Haven't I been punished enough?"

He runs to the front door and flips the light switch nearby.  “We'll go out the back.  I still gotta turn the coffeepot off."

“You know… I could beat you up, leave you on the side of the road, and just drive your car to Camille's house.  I could do all that."

“I guess so, but then you'd have no one to cover for you on Monday when the chief finds half her drinks gone.  Besides, I need you to tell my parents why I've been away so long.  Unless…"  He looks into her angry eyes.  “You want to stay at a coworker's place?  The only worker's home I know is Winter's.  I can take you there…if you want."

“Forget that!"

She follows him through the hallway, where she despondently watches him turn out the lights to the restrooms, the locker room, and Vivian Cross' office.  After locking the door, he leads her to the cafeteria, where he turns off the coffee pot.  “Look, I'm sorry about your dad.  He seems like a nice guy.  I'm also sorry about whatever happened between you and Camille."

“What makes you think anything happened?"

“You yelled something about Camille right before you started drinking the chief's gin.  You were pissed...like you two had a falling out.  Am I right?  You were badmouthing her and her party.  That's too bad 'cuz it must be one hell of a party.  I tried calling St. Croix five times before he finally picked up.  He must be having a good time.  And Baua was here dressing up for it.  I've never seen such fancy clothes.  Camille must be really rich to be holding a party like that.  Rich and respected."

“All right!  That's enough!"  Pamila passes the boy and pushes open the cafeteria door.

“Sorry.  You feel bad enough.  I'll shut up now."  He flips the light switch and follows the fox to his car near the trash bin.  “Hey, can I ask you something?"

She had just opened the passenger door.  “What?  What is it?"

“If I'm Homo Sapiens, then what are you?"

She shakes her head and enters the car, slamming the door crossly.  Looking up at the roof, she huffs, “Vulpes Vulpes."

Tobias starts the ignition and laughs.  “That's stupid.  Your two names are the same one."

“Yeah?  Well at least I'm not a Homo.  Now drive."

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

The black Manx calmly walks down the stairs and into a virtual bubble.  The loud music and hullaballoo from upstairs is drowned out almost immediately the deeper he goes into the basement.  He looks around and calls out Camille's name.  After waiting a few seconds for an answer, he walks further inside.

All that is left of the party now is the muffled, rhythmic bass from the speakers.  Tom calls out Camille's name again and moves away from the stairs.  He whistles at the extravagance of the room he is in.  The main room in the basement looks like a smaller version of the living room.  It has a couple of recliners and bean bag chairs facing a big screen television.  There is a pinball machine in one corner and a jukebox in the other.  He stands there, admiring the room for a couple of minutes, and even takes it upon himself to test out one of the recliners.

Suddenly, there comes the sound of a crash from a nearby room.  A cascade of something falls on the floor.  It is soon followed by a “Shit!" in response.  Tom stands and runs to the room from where he thinks the sound emerged.  There are two closed doors standing in his way.  He cautiously opens the one on his left.  The door creaks open but stops moving once it is slightly ajar.  Surprised, the cat tries to push with all his might.

“Don't come in!" Camille yells.  She is on the other side of the door; it sounds like she is struggling to move.  “I'll be right out!"

“Are you all right?!"

“I might have…broken a few important things."

“What are you doing in there anyway?  The party's upstairs."

“I'm looking for something."

Tom chuckles at the closed door, practically laughing at her.  “Get out here.  Let me see you."

The door opens slowly.  A slightly embarrassed bluish-gray cat, wearing a now rumpled, frilly, pink dress steps to the side.  She shrugs upon seeing him and turns away to laugh.  “Pinstripes are not you."

Tom whistles again, this time at her clothes.  She is wearing a pink, strapless, ballroom gown, glass slippers, and white, elbow length gloves.  Her upright ears are pierced with decoration as well.  The Manx stops laughing and backs away, allowing her to step away from the messed up room.

“Well?  What do you think?"

“What's that in your hand?"

Camille releases a slight cough as she lifts up a dingy-looking audiocassette tape.  “I've been looking for this.  That's why I was down here."

“For thirty whole minutes?"

“It's a really good tape…hey!  Be careful with that."

Tom has grabbed it from her grasp and is looking at it with scorn.  “This is disco music."

“I happen to like this music.  I was gonna go upstairs and play it."

“It wouldn't be in here if you really liked it…and I don't think playing it is such a good idea."

Camille clasps her hands in front of her and lets out a frustrated breath.  “Yeah…the party's kind of a downer, isn't it?"

“Well, the ratio of boys to girls is lopsided; your coworkers will only talk to each other, unless they're trying to pick up one of the two girls.  It seems they don't want to talk to me.  So…yes, it's a disaster."

She punches him in the shoulder and laughs, causing him to laugh.  This being the first time they have seen each other today, she reaches out to him, falling on him and allowing him to catch her.  They embrace tightly.  She is still laughing, but a little unhappiness is noticeable.  “I really screwed it all up, didn't I?"

“Well, the setting looks nice."  He gently strokes her left ear.  “Everything looks nice."

“All that bubbly—wasted.  You know how much all that champagne cost?"

“You had champagne?"

“In the fridge.  Two thousand a bottle."

“Ouch."  He places his hands on her shoulders and gently pushes her off him so he can get a good look.  “Don't sweat it.  You'll save them for other parties."

Camille nods away the temporary pain.  “I'm so glad you're here.  I was a liar.  I can't throw a party."

“I thought you had help."

“Well, I did.  Then I didn't.  Now?"  She shrugs again.

“What the hell happened?  It was you and Pamila, right?  You had been saying that to me forever.  You got me psyched up for one hell of a party."

“Pamila hates you."

“Well, yeah!  But I knew that already."

“But that's no reason to come after you the way she did.  That is unacceptable.  I choose my own boyfriends.  She does not."

Tom laughs and grabs her left wrist.  He gets a little resistance as he tries to lead her to the stairs.  “You said the B word.  I've never been anyone's boyfriend before.  This is completely new territory for me."

“Don't laugh.  I'm being quite serious.  I haven't been with someone in a long time."   She looks into his eyes and stops smiling.  “I don't want Pamila to be right about you, okay?  I mean...she gives me a whole lot of reasons why I should disqualify you from my social life.  Some of them are not totally unwarranted.  I just want to be sure that I'm not setting myself up for—“

“Hey!  Wait a moment!  What reasons?"

“Forget it."  She forces her hand free and starts for the stairs.

Tom stands by, watching her walk away.  A couple of seconds later, with a deadpan stare on his face, he runs to her and again grabs her shoulders, stopping her just short of the staircase.  “Look, Pamila's not totally wrong about me.  The bouncer thing is mostly what I do.  To be honest, most of what I do every day is getting prepared to go to work, including lifting weights at least three hours a day.  And yes, on occasion, I've been tempted by the women in the club.  I have had sex with one or two.  But you must understand…doing what I do for as long as I've done it, I don't get to meet Ms. Right unless she comes around often.  You understand?"

Camille nods unsurely.  “I think so."

“Right.  You and Pamila were coming around more often than any of the other regulars.  We got chummy with each other and that's led to this."  He glides his hands up from her shoulders to her cheeks.  “This is what you wanted right?"

“Yeah…but I wish I didn't have to fight Pam to get you."

“Forget about her then.  She's made her decision.  She thought I was beneath her and mentally threw me away long ago.  She thinks I'm no good for you.  But I've been changing for you the entire time we've been together.  You've seen this, haven't you?"

“It's been slow, but I've had a lot of fun the past four days.  So…."  She bristles and swallows at the touch of his fingers.  Her tail stiffens for a couple of seconds.  “Yeah, I've been satisfied."

“And you wanted to be with me tonight.  That's why you wore the dress, isn't it?"

She feels his face getting closer to hers and turns away.  “Do you like it?"

“May I kiss you?"

As if being pushed, Camille leans against the wall near the staircase.  Her hands clench with fearful hope.  She swallows and gives off a dismissive laugh.  “I guess…if you want to."

“You don't actually have to say yes.  Your clothes pretty much demand me to do it."  He plants his hands on the wall leans forward to kiss her forehead.  His touch is direct but light.  It is the kind of kiss he would give his mother.

Camille raises her eyebrows and laughs while feigning anger.  “That's all?"

“Nope."  He gently grabs her cheeks again, taking her completely by surprise, and starts to peck her face with kisses.  His mouth runs over her chin, cheeks, forehead, and eyelids.  She starts to get nervous as he continues wittingly missing her mouth.  When he finally reaches her lips, he gives an irritating chuckle.  “Hmm.  I don't think you're ready for it."

She answers forcefully, wrapping her arms around his waist and driving his belly onto hers.  She lifts herself on her toes and they touch noses.  Their eyes stare at one another for a few seconds before he leans in.  The first kiss lasts only a couple of seconds, but then Camille shows what she really wants.  She slides her arms up his back, dropping the cassette on the floor at his feet.

They kiss for a minute without release.  They breathe each other's scents, lick each other's tongues, and calm each other's nerves.  Camille sighs into Tom's mouth and tightens her grip on his shoulders.  After the uncertainty of the last few hours, everything now makes sense.  Maybe this moment was the reason to throw the party all along.

A loud crash upstairs startles the two and the kiss suddenly disappears; Camille's back slams the wall as they part.  They look at one other, each one panting laboriously.  She presses her left hand on her chest and laughs heavily.  Tom laughs in turn and closes in on her again.

"Tom, hold on a moment.  Let me catch my breath."

“Maybe we should go upstairs before you're missed.  You are the hostess after all."

“You know what?  Screw it.  Let's end this thing."  She giggles and laces her fingers around the back of his neck.  “Let's tell everyone to go home."

“Damn, woman.  You are a bad host."

“Stop it.  I don't need any more reminders that my party sucks without Pamila in it.  Right now, I have what I want, so I just want the bullshit to end now."

“Damn.  It's only been an hour."

“You can stay, idiot."  She holds his left hand with both of hers and playfully drags him up.  “The party may be a disaster, but the final result is gonna be glorious."

“Really?  But what are we gonna do in this house by ourselves?"

Camille turns and looks at him with a straight face.  She shakes her head and drops his hand.  As she runs up, he gasps and understands what was said.

“Wait a minute, honey!  I was only kidding!"

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

The sky is cloudy.  Every now and then, dim flashes of lightning make the clouds glow.  With the exception of a couple of nearby cars, the highway is empty. The atmosphere in the car is as dreary as the weather outside.  Tobias keeps his eyes on the road and dares not look at his passenger.  The red fox looks through the window at her right side, watching the street lights slowly pass by. 

She swallows and faces straight ahead.  “Does this shit recline?" she asks, and soon finds the control that eases the seat backwards.  “Worst Friday night ever."

“It's almost over," he answers nervously.

“What time is it?"

“10:45."

“Damn.  That late, huh?"

“It's the latest I've ever come home.  Mom's gonna kill me."

“So you keep saying.  Maybe your dad will calm her down."

“Dad will hold the weapons."  He turns left at an exit and minutes later, he is at familiar territory.  “We should be home in five minutes." 

“Just what the hell am I supposed to do in your house?"

“Sleep off the drinks, hopefully.  My parents will have no choice but to let you stay.  After you tell them that it's not my fault I came home late, you can sleep on the couch.  In the morning, I'll take you back to Rapid Recovery and you can get your keys back.  You parked your car across three spaces, including the chief's.  You need to get it out of there as soon as possible."

“We could just go back now."

“Not gonna happen."

“Fine."  She folds her arms and yawns.  “So, where exactly did you leave my car keys?"

Tobias hesitates for as long as he can, fearing the answer would make her more sour.  “I put them in Mrs. Cross' private restroom."

“Where exactly?  On the sink or on the toilet?"

“Um…inside the toilet tank.  It was the only place I could think of where you'd never find it, just in case you somehow got out of the cuffs and trashed the place trying to find them."  His hands choke the steering wheel.  “It'll be kinda wet, but I'm sure it—“

“It's a remote control, you fink!"

“It's not actually in the water!  I promise!  It'll still work when you get it back."

“Ugh.  Forget it, kid.  I guess I deserved that."  She sighs and closes her eyes.  “Matter of fact, I suppose today's just one of those rare days I went too far."

“Really?  I kinda figured days like today are the norm for you."

“Kid, I hate to burst your bubble, but I don't have a drinking problem."

“Today notwithstanding?"

“Just drive."  She coughs in anger and tries to rub her headache away.  “I am a smart, sophisticated, well-raised woman.  That's who I am.  I am not what you saw today, and I don't do…whatever it was you said I did tonight.  I don't take drinks I don't pay for and I respect the property of others."

“Will that be your apology to the chief on Monday?"

“Would you let me finish?!"  She raises her head and looks at the boy, who tries his best not to look back.  “Dammit!  Now I've forgotten what I was gonna say."

“Well, we're here, so don't worry about it.  I believe you.  I think you're all those things you say you are.  But you also still did major damage to us tonight.  You can start fixing it as soon as I park the car."

Pamila raises the seat and widens her eyes to fully see the Haggard residence.  The house looks intimidating in its dark place.  There does not seem to be any lighting anywhere.  Every window looks dark and foreboding.  It is the only house in the neighborhood that has its porch light off.

“Maybe they're asleep," Pamila says.

“Lucky for us.  I'll just sneak the car into the garage and…."  He idles along with the car, staring at the house, lit only by the headlights.  He takes a couple of deep breaths, uneager to leave the safety of the car.  The ignition suddenly switches off.

“What the hell, kid?  Are we going in or not?"

“Could you tell me about your dad?"

Taken by surprise, Pamila leans back in her seat.  “What you wanna know about him for?  He'd want nothing to do with you."

“I'm just curious.  Besides, it would give you something positive to talk about for a change.  Maybe it would ease your suffering.  I can see the look on your face.  When I mention him, you don't look so bitter."

Pamila closes her eyes and relaxes, further proving the human's point.  She is still rubbing her head, so the effects of the alcohol are still there, but she looks less likely to lash out right now.  “I don't think I should be telling you anything about him.  He wouldn't want me to."

Tobias restarts the car and pulls in quietly to the closed garage door.  “You made it a point to toast him in front of me, so you must have wanted me to know something."

“I don't remember that.  How much did you say I drank again?"  She pulls the rear view mirror toward her and looks at her tired face.  “Shit.  I look like I had a bender.  I never sink that low."

They exit the car and close the doors as quietly as they can.  Pamila follows the boy closely, looking around her with paranoid eyes.  Not totally sober, she stumbles as she walks.  She noisily shuffles her feet to keep her balance.  The boy nervously looks behind him, hoping there is nobody around to see them enter.  The noise of chirping crickets and other nocturnal creatures unnerve him as he unlocks the front door. 

Tobias whispers for his mother in the dark before turning the living room lights on.  The room is empty and none of the other surrounding lights are on.  The place is barren, as if the boy were the only one living here.

“They're all asleep.  There's the couch.  It's pretty comfortable.  I'm sure you'll want to…."  He turns quickly to see the fox disrobing in front of him and forcefully shuts his mouth.

“This house have a laundry room?"

“Um…yeah.  This way."  He leads the fox to the staircase on the farthest side of the living room.  He cautiously looks up the stairs to see if anybody is coming, then opens the nearby door that leads to the basement.  He tries to sneak as quietly as possible.  Pamila sighs bitterly at his slow pace, but they eventually get to the bottom of the basement stairs.

He turns the lights on, exposing a rather dingy room.  “The laundry room is over here," he says as he turns left.  He pulls a string above him with lights the room.  “Washing machine's on the left and the dryer's on the right.  They're both top loading and…."  He opens the washing machine to see some clothing scattered within.  “Oops.  Forgot about those bedsheets."

He opens the dryer and reaches into the washing machine to remove the contents.  After switching the clothes from one appliance to the other, he relaxes happily, temporarily oblivious to the goings-on earlier this evening.

“Okay, the washing machine's all yours.  I just needed to…."  Tobias is interrupted again by the sight of Pamila.  She has taken off her blue denim shirt, exposing her camo green brassiere.  The piece of cloth is wrapped around her so tightly that it pushes her bosom upwards.  Her breasts look bigger than they really are.  Tobias covers his mouth with his hands as she passes him by.  He keeps gawking as she throws the shirt in the washing machine.

“Um…mom s-says that you shouldn't wash denim in the machine.  Y-you gotta do it with your hands."

Pamila scoffs loudly.  “Well, I'm sorry, kid, but as you can tell, I'm gonna be in a bit of a hurry to get home tomorrow.  I am not gonna waste time here scrubbing clothes."

“Wow."

“What's the matter?"

“What kind of gun is that?"

She cannot see it, but he is pointing at the firearm holstered in her thick bra strap.  “It's a glock.  It's become my favorite weapon of late.  I have one my dad gave me.  It's got sentimental value, but this is the one I kill my marks with."

“It's on your back.  It looks like you can't reach it from where it is.  How can you possibly kill somebody if you needed to?"

Pamila responds quickly.  With her left arm, she reaches for the gun.  With a quick motion, she pulls it from its place and points it at the boy.  All this time, her back is to him.  Even though she cannot see him, the barrel is accurately pointed between his eyes.

Tobias backs away quickly, almost tripping on his own feet.  He stares intensely at the probably loaded gun, but it does not surprise him as much as the state of the fox's arm.  Her shoulder is rotated the wrong way and her elbow is bent backwards.  “Holy shit!  You're double-jointed!"

She shrugs and lowers the weapon, returning her arm back to normal.  “So is dad…and one of my granddads.  It comes in handy."  She places the glock on the dryer and stuffs her denim shirt in the washer.  As the kid looks on, she starts to take off her trousers.

He looks at the gun and shakes his head in amazement.  He opens his mouth to speak and sees the fox bending down, trying to pull her pants away from her still shoed feet.  “Wow," he whispers.

She angrily turns her head to him.  “Don't get any funny ideas, kid."

“No!  I didn't mean to—“  He stops himself by turning her back to her and giving her some privacy.  “You're amazing."

“Oh, stop it.  You act like you haven't seen a limb do that before."

“I haven't!"  He smiles and jams his hands in his pockets.  “I'll bet you make a lot of enemies with that kind of ability."

“I don't make enemies.  I'm a hitman.  Enemies make me."  She grunts heavily and successfully pulls her trousers away from her legs.  She tosses them into the machine.  “Where's the detergent?"

“On the shelf to your left.  Still though, I'll bet if Hoeness knew you could do that to him, he'd always think twice before messing with you.  You'd scare all your coworkers."

“I'm not gonna scare them by doing arm gymnastics.  I'm gonna scare them by beating them at their own game.  I'm gonna grab the juiciest marks, kill them, and get paid in record time.  And I am going to do it over and over again…until they can't stand it.  I want them to feel their egos being shit on.  I want their dicks to shrivel up back inside their shafts when their eyes see me."  She pulls a knob and watches the machine fill up with water.  “Well, except for Stefano.  That slimy toad doesn't have a shaft."  The fox closes the machine and strolls over to the boy, still looking away.  “Well?  Isn't His Royal Highness going to lead his faithful subject to the sleeping quarters?"

Tobias turns back to the nearly undressed fox.  She is now wearing the newly unarmed sports bra and the ubiquitous green camo shorts.  He gets a good look at her chiseled abs and swallows.  “You look taller without your clothes."

“Would you just go?"

He nods and leads her up the stairs.  This time they walk with a normal pace, ignoring the noise their footfalls are making.  “Seriously," he says, “you're impressive.  You should get your body insured."

She ignores that statement as she walks to the couch.  “I wish I didn't forget my knife."

“It's in the office, on the chief's desk."  He watches Pamila lie on the rather piece of furniture and sighs with frustration.  The cushions barely have any give and the static electricity raises strands of her fur.  The situation looks rather unforgiving.  He notices one other problem.  “That thing might be too small for you."

The fox's head is on one arm of the couch.  Her ankles are hanging off of the other arm.  “You think?  I'd be much more comfortable sleeping on the floor."

“Maybe you should sleep in my room."

“Very funny.  No way I'm sleeping in a race car bed."

“I promise you, I don't sleep in one of those.  I mean…not since I was twelve."

“You use the word 'promise' a lot.  I'll bet any girlfriends you get are in for a world of disappointment."

“You want a pillow?  Or a blanket?"

Pamila sneezes loudly.  “No and no.  Just leave me.  I'll be fine.  I've slept in worse conditions."

“Okay."  Nodding his head he slowly leaves the living room, but he does not go upstairs to where his bedroom is.  In the meantime, Pamila is left alone to rue another rotten day.  She angrily shifts her body in an attempt to get comfortable.  Her bushy tail is proving to be a burden.  Every time she settles on a position, it gets jammed and cannot move freely.  She grunts in disapproval and lies on her belly, leaving her tail to stick halfway up.  She shakes her head hopelessly before laying it on her arms.

Suddenly, Tobias returns to the living room, dragging a chair with him.  As the fox watches on, he drags it in front of her and places it next to the television.  He sits in front of her and places his hands on his knees. 

The tired and aching fox raises her head.  “Don't fucking watch me sleep.  What are you?  The warden?"

“I gotta prepare mom for the sight of a fox on her couch.  Sorry about this, but it's for her health."

Pamila heaves a long, drawn out sigh.  “Listen, I, uh…I need to call my dad in the morning.  My phone's in my purse in my car, so…can I use the one over there?"  She points to the device on the right of the television in front of her.

“It's not long distance, is it?"

“He's back in Brooklyn, so yes.  It will be."

“I don't know.  I'd love for you to call him, but you don't have to pay the phone bill at the end of the month."

“Geez, I never get any breaks.  Look…."  She puts her hands on her shorts and rubs them, as if searching for pockets.  Then she looks down to see that the camo shorts have no pockets.  “Where the hell are my pants?"

“They're in the washing machine.  You just put them there, remember?"

“Shit!"

“Quiet."

She covers her face in her hands and lays flat on the couch.  “Listen, kid, I brought over two hundred dollars with me.  It's getting liquefied in the washing machine right now, but whatever remains intact…is yours.  You can pay the bill with that.  Just let me speak to my dad in the morning."

“You miss him, huh?"

“I had a dream about him earlier, back in the lobby.  It was…more like a flashback, really.  I was ten years old."  The fox chuckles and clasps her hands behind her head.  “Matter of fact, while I was watching the dream, there was a caption that appeared saying I was ten years old.  It was like the beginning of a movie or something.  Anyway, I was ten…and after years of being homeschooled, my parents decided that I should actually go to school.  Mom thought I should socialize with people who were not me…who were not foxes."

“Your dad signed off on it?"

“Kicking and screaming.  But he relented because he knew he had to.  We moved away from our fox community and into a new neighborhood.  The block was teeming with life from all kinds of species.  Our immediate neighbors were humans and I made friends with one of them.  The day she turned ten, I was invited to a birthday party her grandparents were throwing at their house.  They were very rich, so I couldn't wait to go.  The dream I had was of the discussion dad had with me on the way back from the party.  He saw some dumb stuff and complained that I was gonna end up as dumb as 'all humans' if I went to school.  He gave me some advice…and I woke up tied to the front desk.  The dream ended there, but I have taken that advice to heart.  He told me to watch myself around the humans, and I think I did okay.  Heh.  I tried out for cheerleading.  Can you believe that?  I totally made it too."

Tobias yawns and smacks his lips.  She turns her head just in time to see him close his eyes.

“Nice."

“Sorry.  I'm a little out of it."

“Then what are you doing here?  Go sleep in your room.  I'll wake up early and be out of here before your parents know someone slept on your couch."

“Number one, you have to tell mom why I was late coming home tonight.  Two, I gotta drive you back to the office.  Remember, your car keys are at stake."

“Ugh.  Don't remind me.  I suppose you think you're quite clever blackmailing me like you are."

“I don't know what you're talking about.  I'm just trying to help the both of us."

“Hmm.  I suppose you'd like acknowledgement of your shitty help."

Tobias yawns and stands.  He passes the fox as he heads up the stairs.  “You don't have to worry about it.  Nobody ever thanks the janitor."

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

Winter is grooming herself in front of a mirror.  The fur on her head is mussed up and her eyelids look heavy.  She strokes her head with one hand, as if petting herself, trying to make her hair look more presentable.  The mirror is bigger than she is used to and it shows more than she is used to seeing.  Every detail of her fur is reflected brightly.  Every imperfection is laid bare, including tattered ears and a couple of cracked fingernails.

The wolf is still in St. John the Baptist, still doting on her wounded boyfriend.  She is currently in the bathroom, preparing for bed.  She has on a red, silk shirt, a clothing item perfect for sleep.  It reaches all the way to the top of her knees, meaning it probably is not hers.  It more likely belongs to Shiloh considering how far it stretches.  The pink pajama bottoms are undoubtedly hers.

She opens a flip phone that is lying on the sink in front of her and starts making a call.  As she does, she leans her back and the back of her head against the nearest wall.  She is clearly spent.  After dialing the number, she puts the phone back on the sink and goes back to the mirror.

The voice on the other end sounds tired as well.  “Hello?"

“Tivoli?  It's me.  You're on speaker, so don't talk so loud.  I got something to tell you."

“Wow.  What time is it?"

“Almost eleven.  Sorry.  Were you asleep?"

“I'm on the couch with Paraná.  He was snoozing and I guess I'm about to join him."

“Oh.  You guys patched things up?"

“Not really.  We had the let's-remain-friends talk about an hour ago.  It looks like it'll work out because…he's not mad at me anymore.  I guess it's a good thing, but overall it's been a disappointing turn of events."

“So, the boyfriend-girlfriend thing is out for now, huh?"

“Well, I'd still like to try and make it work.  All he has to do is say the word.  So why'd you call?"

Winter beams from ear to ear.  Her tail dances above the floor, swaying side to side.  Her entire body shows a tired happiness.  “Shiloh's awake."

“Wow!  He is?!"

“Shh.  Don't get excited.  It's just a couple of eye and head movements.  It happened just five minutes ago."

“But he's awake.  He did those movements five minutes ago.  He'll do them again."

“Yeah.  Isn't it great?"

“It's a relief.  So…congratulations?"

“Not really.  He's still got the collarbone thing.  When he really wakes up, he'll be in a lot of pain."

“Yeah, I don't envy him at all."  Tivoli clears her throat a couple of times, eliciting a chuckle from the wolf.  “So, Shiloh's gonna be okay.  How are you holding up?"

“Well, to tell you the truth, I'm kind of nervous.  My heart won't settle down.  I can feel it beating in my chest, my head, my tongue…."  She sighs and picks up the phone.  “When I saw him move for the first time a few minutes ago, I leapt out of my chair.  I called his name several times until I decided not to rush him.  I am literally aching with joy and hope.  I might scream when he wakes up again; I am that happy."

“Yeah, your voice sounds desperate.  Maybe you should leave the room for a while."

“I don't want to, but I'm in the bathroom. I'm trying to calm down, but this is as far from him as I want to be.  When he really comes to, I want my face to be the first thing he sees."

“That's sweet.  And how are you on supplies?  You have something to eat?  Something to drink?  Something to read?"

“I'm covered, thanks.  Also, thanks for getting some of my clothes for me.  Just keep the key with you, okay?  I'm not going home for a while, so I'll need you to take care of the mail and send any bills to me, okay?"

“Exactly how long are you gonna stay?"

“Until Shiloh's able to talk.  His voice on our answering machine isn't enough.  I know I'm gonna miss a lot of work.  Shiloh and I are having trouble balancing our budgets right now.  But it's worth it just to hear him say two words."

“Okay.  I gotta go, but I'm glad you're doing well.  I'll visit you at my earliest convenience."

The girls greet each other one last time before she hangs up.  At that moment, her ears scope a sound coming from the bed.  The wolf tightens her gaze at the lump under the covers.  As she slowly leaves the bathroom, she sees something that clearly threatens to make her heart leap out of her body.  The lump on the bed is slowly but surely moving.

She sprints to Shiloh's side, dropping the phone behind her and breathing heavily.  His head gently shifts from left to right.  His eyes are still closed so he must still be asleep.  The wolf looks at her mate carefully, leaning in to observe his eyeballs moving under his heavy eyelids.  It is the typical trait of REM sleep; it looks a tad scary, but is perfectly normal.

Winter cannot help but smile at his eyes, but a minute later, she turns serious.  “Time to wake up now," she says, reaching out her left hand.  She caresses his right cheek and strokes his whiskers.  “No more dreaming, please.  Look at me."

Her strokes are soft but nervous; her fingernails are now digging into his face fur.  She sits on the bed next to him and caresses both his cheeks with both hands.  After a minute of impatient but gentle rubbing, his eyelids open weakly.

“There he is."  Winter laughs a little seeing her mate's pupils.  “You've had a long journey."

Her face is the first thing he does see, as she predicted.  He really has no choice; his head is being held still and she is virtually on top of him.  He blinks a couple of times and once her face comes into focus, he raises his brow.

“Hi.  You look beat."

His arms are under the covers.  He tries to move them and his legs.  Winter responds by leaning into him and kissing his nose. 

“No, no.  Don't move, okay?  And don't try to talk.  You're not ready for that yet.  I want you to just look at me, okay?"  Shiloh opens his mouth to speak.  She counters by playfully pinching his cheeks.  “Sh.  Sh.  Sh.  It's all right.  Let me do all the talking, okay?  There's nothing you can say that can't wait."

Shiloh smiles back at her and tries to move his partially restrained arms again.  This is when he notices the white blanket on him.  Then he sees the foot of the bed.  Now he starts to get restless.

“Uh-uh.  None of that."  Still holding his face, she leans down to peck his muzzle once again.  “I know you're not used to taking orders from me, but please stop moving.  I need to tell you a few things."  She waits for him to calm himself, easy for him to do since her face is front and center.

“Okay.  I'm gonna let go of your face, and I want you to look up, okay?  Look at the ceiling.  Can you do that?"

Shiloh nods in acquiescence and she releases his face.

“You see those lights?  You're not at home.  Now look at me."  She stops smiling and raises her voice a little more.  “You are in the hospital.  You've been here before.  We don't need to dwell on what happened, not yet.  You probably don't remember right now.  I just wanted you to know where you were so you don't panic.  You also need to know that you've got a small tube in your nose and a white…thing taped to your right middle finger that is taking your pulse.  Do you understand?  Smile if you understand."

Shiloh's head is now free of her grasp, so he uses the opportunity to look around him.  Too weak to show shock, he simply moans and closes his eyes.

“Smile if you understand."

This is surely no time to smile.  He pretty much surmises that he is in some sort of trouble.  He inhales through his nose and gets a scent of the tube in his right nostril.  Irked by the implement, he starts breathing through his mouth.

“Don't be angry.  There's plenty of time for that later.  Right now, you need to relax.  There's nothing you can do but listen to me and to the doctor.  Speaking of which, I'm gonna go over to the nurse's station and tell them you're awake.  I've been talking to them.  They're a nice group of…."

Quickly, Shiloh rips his arms from under the covers.  He places his hands on her shoulders and vigorously shakes his head.  There is brutal panic on his face that tells her not to go.  He does not actually say no, but his closed mouth grunts his command.

“What's wrong?  You don't want the doctor?"  She caresses his head, calming him down.  “Okay.  I won't go anywhere.  We'll just wait for them to come in here.  They're really nice and they've been taking good care of you."

Shiloh's head sinks in the pillow and a satisfied breath comes out of his mouth.

“Smile if you understand," Winter says yet again.  Once he does, she leans into him again and kisses his mouth.  “Relax, okay?  It's not home, but you're in the right place.  We'll talk about what happened to you when you're ready, okay?" 

One more kiss on the forehead and she stands up.  “I'm gonna take a shower.  It'll be my third today, but I don't care." She coves him with the blanket and starts backing away.  “I love you, but you're also a very, very, very, stupid man.  But as I said, we'll talk about that later."