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Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 46.

_ "This whole relationship is 'kidding.'"_

(Pamila lives about twenty miles from downtown Los Angeles. It takes her a long time to go many places, even to work. She has to deal with construction work, traffic jams, wayward pedestrians, and other minor headaches. She has to endure all of this to get to a work environment she hates run by people she mostly hates. It is not easy going through what she has to go through. Today, she is headed somewhere else.]

Pamila exits the highway and ends up on a one-lane road with no dividing lines. She slows down to navigate beside cars that are leaving their driveways and garages. The weather is damp and gloomy; the heavy rain from the night before has just about ended. The atmosphere pretty much matches the fox's mood. She looks glum as she deliberately plods the car along the busy street. Fiddling with the radio, she bypasses a few morning shows and a couple of news stations. A couple of minutes later, she gives up and turns it off.

The next five minutes are silent and contemplative. Considering that she has served her sentence and could be officially reinstated today, she should be happy and eager to work. But her face tells another story. While things have been going her way of late, she certainly looks sad about something. The car continues its slow, meandering pace down the street until it reaches a stop in front of a red brick townhouse. She exits the car and looks at the structure, specifically looking at the windows on the top, just below the roof. It seems to be her destination.

The fox stands there, holding the door open, for over five minutes. A few people leaving their houses and entering their cars get good looks at her. A couple of them stare as if they have never seen a fox before. It could be that a presence like hers is rare in their neighborhood; all the gawkers are humans. There are a few whispers among them, and it looks like Pamila has heard them because she eventually returns to the car and slams the door shut.

She puts her head on the steering wheel and pants anxiously. She grabs it with one hand and bangs on it with the other. The keys had been left in the ignition switch the entire time; they swing invitingly next to her, wanting to be handled. The fox looks at them and releases the steering wheel. She looks like she wants to leave and puts her hand on the keys. Then a loud knocking makes her jump.

Staring inside through the passenger window is Silas. The white hare crouches and enthusiastically raps on the car to keep her attention. He is dressed in a red robe that is loosely tied, barely preventing him from baring all. His right hand knocks and waves at her. His mouth broadly shows a set of white teeth. His ears stick up straight. His face makes the fox sigh deeply. This is not a visit she is looking forward to, but she once again gets out of the car.

The fox takes her time removing the keys from the ignition. Once she closes the door, her boyfriend is right in front of her. "Hi there," he says. He does not wait for her to answer before sliding his hands around her waist. "Nice skirt."

Pamila is wearing all black once again. Her blouse, pleated skirt, and leggings are black. Her sandals are a deep shade of red. Her look is by no means drab; her blouse shows enough cleavage to entice Silas and her expensive-looking necklace shimmers in the morning light. She looks at her footwear bashfully before looking up. Her eyes are level with his mouth. His smile is nice and friendly but it is clearly irritating her. She keeps her arms at her sides and nods her greeting.

"Aw, come on. What is that? Does that look foretell trouble?" He laughs and embraces her, though her arms are still at her sides.

"Silas, we need to talk."

"Oh, really? Is that why you tried to leave just now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I got your message last night wanting to see me, and here I am. So--"

"Right! Sorry. I forgot all about that. How stupid of me. Come inside." He releases her and grabs her right hand. He virtually drags her up the stairs and to the door. "A talk this important shouldn't be done outside in the rain. Have you had breakfast? Would you like a full course meal? Or just some coffee?"

The fox keeps silent as she is led through the door and up the stairs. Silas is smiling the whole way while Pamila is simply breathing hard, pretty much emotionless. She looks like she was expecting this treatment and allows herself to follow.

Once he leads her to his living room door, he stops and turns to her. "Look, I'm really glad you're here. If it looks like I'm overly excited, it's because I am. We separated last time under weird circumstances. I had to leave you behind because we would have been caught. I'm glad that you escaped too. I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know it's weird that telling you I'm sorry is something to look forward to, but there it is."

Pamila raises her eyebrows, but is not given much time to let the message sink in. Silas opens the door and drags her into his living room. She looks around the already lit room and quietly gasps at the décor. It looks like his home is also a front for a side business. There are posters of Silas in multiple poses, showing off his muscle tone, plastered on all the walls. He is either in bicycle shorts or spandex boxer briefs, but his chest, arms, and legs are all exposed. In each pose, his ears are hanging low and framing his face. He has a smile with every pose. At Pamila's feet is a box filled with more posters, rolled up and rubber banded.

The fox looks around, trying not to chuckle. "Well, this is new."

"Nice, isn't it?"

"Your ears make you look like you're wearing a shroud."

Silas laughs and puts his left arm around her. "I had these things done in my friend's studio. He's also a bodybuilder. He's thinking of doing bodybuilding full time and I said I wanted to join. So, in a few months, my bouncer days will be a thing of the past. A bodybuilding job, combined with my love of taking photos, will give me the ammo I need to start a business. I plan to do a workout and muscle-building photo book with my friends. We may even make a video too. It should give me...I mean us, both of us, a steady income."

Pamila scrutinizes the poster in front of her. "What's 'Zing?'" She points to the logo at the lower right hand corner.

"That's what we decided to call our company. I suggested the name."

"Is there really much of a desire for furry bodybuilders? Wouldn't all that fur get in the way of all those muscles?"

"My photo shoot proves otherwise, as you can see. Tom back at Tiger Tails also has visible musculature. There are no such services for non-humans, so we feel this will work. We're already stronger than most humans anyway, so why not show the muscles that make us so? It's gonna make money. I can feel it."

The fox sighs and her eyes slowly sink from the poster on the wall to the floor. Her head hangs as well. "I can't think that way. That's stupid. You can't feel your way to financial...." She stops talking and grunts; Silas is nibbling on her right ear. She squints in annoyance. "Stop that."

"Like I said earlier, your face portends something bad on the horizon. What's bothering you, honey?"

She raises his head to look at him. She tries to speak but gets a mouthful of him instead. He holds her tightly, foiling her efforts of breaking away from the kiss. He is really strong; the posters do not lie. The fox fights for a few seconds, but rightly gives in.

"I'm sorry," Silas says.

"You said that already."

"What's bothering you? Is it my new job?"

"You barely have any money from the old one. Now you're starting a new one from scratch? Can you afford to do that and keep working at Tiger Tails?"

"But I don't intend to keep working there."

"Then you'll have less money than before."

"Not true. You work, right? You've got a job? You...um...you keep busy, don't you?"

The mention of the word 'job' freezes the fox for a second. She turns away from the hare and fixes her eyes back on the poster in front of her. Normally at this point, she would stammer and search her mind for an answer, but not this time. She keeps her mouth closed and just tries not to look at him. He licks and kisses her right cheek, waiting for an answer.

"We've been together only two months in the last year. After you told me you got a job, I lost contact with you for six months straight. So you gonna tell me why?"

Pamila grunts as her boyfriend moves behind her and smothers her with his tree-trunk arms. Her breaths are frustrated and impatient. "Come on...let go."

"This literally shouldn't be a mystery to me. I acknowledge that the bodybuilding stuff will take a while to develop, but as long as you can provide for us while I end my current job--"

"I can't see you anymore."

Silas keeps holding on; his arms remain tight around her body. The rest of him, on the other hand, starts to give out, little by little. His knees bend a bit; his breath escapes him; his belly deflates, reducing the pressure on the fox; his eyes half-close. He looks at the back of her head in disbelief. "You kidding me?"

Pamila closes her eyes and taps her left foot on the ground. "This whole relationship is 'kidding.'"

"Wait...." The hare takes a couple of haughty breaths and gives off a chuckle. He places his hands on her shoulders and shows a warm smile that she cannot see. "It's because of that Friday, wasn't it? I fucked you in the ass once and now you're mad at me."

"Ugh...you're such a child! Let go of me!"

"Well, I couldn't help it. You were all dressed up in that...excellently slutty outfit, and I just--"

"Stop! Don't be that guy. Do not tell me I was asking for it 'cuz of my clothes. I just wore them because they were easy to take off. That's all."

"Sorry. I'm sorry." He laughs and slowly puts his hands down. "You gotta admit though, you did look saucy. I thought sex was what you were going for. But still, I may have gone too far that day. That's no reason to break it off, is it?"

"I'm going to the kitchen. I'm gonna sit down and...you should sit for this too."

"Come on, girl. You're not gonna leave me. You've got no reason to. I've forgiven you for the six months I didn't hear from you. You've come back and you're just as enticing and as beautiful as ever."

She swallows. "Flattery won't help." She walks through the living room and opens the sliding doors that lead to the fancy dining room. Silas follows her quickly; his face now matches the dire-looking situation. He watches her pull up a chair. "It's not the sex. It's something else."

"It is a big something?"

"Enough to reiterate. I cannot see you anymore."

Silas looks more serious now. He closes his mouth and slowly selects the chair directly across from the fox. He was so jovial earlier that he is now struggling to catch up to her. "I'm confused. I mean...I figured if it was really over, you would have told me once during our six-month break."

"I'm sorry about that, okay? I know that now. You didn't deserve to be dismissed like that. I was just too busy with work and, most days, I couldn't get to a phone. Many times, I couldn't risk calling you or getting calls from you."

"Why not? What is your job?"

Pamila clears her throat. "I--"

"And don't give me that hitman junk you laid on me back at the club. You're not fooling anyone with that crock of shit. You're too timid to kill anyone."

"That's because I'm good at my job. I hide my true nature inside when I need to. I create a false sense of security in people when I need to. If I need to get close to someone, I turn on the charm. I act all mousy. If there's someone in the way of my mark, I sweet-talk that person into letting me through. It's all part of the job."

"That's--"

"That doesn't mean I'm timid. Whenever we went out, I didn't have to be angry all the time, but I'm not timid. You just saw me being nice."

"You've been nothing but nice to me. Our time together has been nothing short of awesome. Any snags we had in our relationship were solved by distance. After a couple of days apart, we'd get back to normal. How has that changed now? What's different?"

"What's different is the job got complicated. I needed to be away from you for as long as I was. I've not realized how much trouble the work is. And this year has been a lot of trouble for me. It's mostly paid off, but--"

"You're still not telling me what I need to know!" Silas is now showing the impatience the fox exhibited earlier. "What kept you away from me then and why are you breaking up with me now?"

Pamila sighs and stands. She gets up so quickly that she almost knocks her chair over. "I can't wait to see the look on your face in the next few seconds."

He holds out his hands. "No! Wait! Please don't leave. I'm sorry I yelled."

"I'm not going yet...and I'm sorry this has to happen." The fox hikes up her pleated skirt until her knees are visible. Making sure Silas is paying attention, she hikes it up further, exposing the black thigh holster attached to her right leg. She slowly removes the firearm inside and gently places it on the dining table. "You're too good a guy to lie to for so long. And I say this knowing how much of a bitch the truth is." With that, she retakes her seat. She folds her arms and lolls her head back; she looks at the ceiling to avoid looking at his reaction. "The brassiere I'm wearing has a special compartment; I can hide that thing there too."

The hare leans forward to look at the gun. His eyes stretch open at the sight of the cold-looking barrel and the engraved handle. It is all black and all business. It looks completely out of place in this fancily decorated dining room. Silas' mouthy breaths are all that can be heard in the room. He reaches for it with his right index finger, moves it a little, and shakes his head. "That's a Glock!"

Pamila draws in a long breath through her nose. "Yes it is. It's loaded and ready for use."

He touches it again before retracting his hand. "So...how long have you had it?"

"It was given to me for my twenty-fourth birthday by...an ex-friend. But that's irrelevant. The point is I own one."

"And to think, I only gave you a necklace." Silas' voice starts to trail. "Is it for protection, or...."

The fox sighs and moves from her seat. She takes the closest chair to him and sits close enough for her to look into his eyes. "All right, look...and don't interrupt me. The Glock's not all I own. I also own another nine millimeter that I bought myself. I own two S-and-W forty calibers. Those are my dad's; he gave them to me before I left home. That's four guns plus three magazines for each." She pauses to reach back and pick the firearm off the table. "I've also got cleaning kits, several boxes of ammo, a tazer given to me by one of my bosses, a can of mace, a pair of brass knux, a pair of nunchuks, a sweet pair of shoes with knives attached, um...." She gets a good look at her boyfriend's face and nods at his reaction. "You see the point I'm trying to make?"

The jovial hare from a few minutes ago is now gone. In his place is someone who looks like he has just suffered a gunshot wound. "You're killing me," he says. "I seriously can't believe what I'm hearing."

"Hear this. I don't own all that shit for protection. I'm a hitman. Those are my tools. Well...the nunchuks are not part of the job. I just own them 'cuz they look cool."

"This is serious! You're a hitman!"

Pamila scoffs. "That's why I like you so much, Silas. You catch on real quick."

"I've been to your apartment numerous times. I didn't see any of that shit in there."

"I keep most of it in the locker room of my workplace. In fact, I've got two lockers for them."

"So...how long have you been one? Have you been killing people while we've been seeing each other? Exactly how ignorant have I been?"

"Come on. Don't talk that way."

"Just answer me, please." Silas voice rises slightly. He is slightly angry.

She raises her eyebrows at the tone, but stays mostly stoic as usual. She sits herself upright as if getting ready to tell a story. "I've been doing this since late 2011. I was introduced to the group by...the ex-friend I mentioned earlier. Camille joined almost two months later. We did a few--"

"Camille's doing this?!"

"Yeah, why don't you broadcast it some more? I'm sure the neighbors didn't hear you." Pamila sighs and clears her throat. "Anyway, the business is owned by a bunch of ex-cops who know L.A. well and they give us our jobs. Our base is an office building downtown, and before you ask, the answer is no. I'm not telling you exactly where it is. The building doubles as our base and we meet there every morning to collect our marks. In the evenings, we collect our pay."

"How many people are in your group?"

"I don't know for sure. We lost two earlier in the summer, and I think we've gained one. I'd say more than twenty, but less than thirty. That doesn't count our bosses, of course."

"And how much do you make?"

"That depends on the hit. Lately, I've been on a roll, but my last hit didn't go exactly as planned, even though I got the guy. I was docked pay and suspended...and by that, I mean hidden from view. I go back today, in about..." She looks at her small, gold watch on her left wrist, then looks back at him. "...forty-five minutes. You all right? You look pale. That's quite a feat."

Silas nods. "I'm...fine." He is looking away from her little by little.

"Okay. To answer your question my last five hits have given me about thirty thousand dollars total. My latest hit...blew up on me, so to speak. I was supposed to get ten thousand from that, but the bosses are stupid tight-asses, so they stiffed me. I haven't worked since. But I begin anew today."

"Hold on a second." The hare bows his head and runs his hands through his short, white hair. "I'm remembering something." He shakes his head vigorously and closes his eyes. Pamila starts to speak again but he shushes her quickly. "Just hold on a minute!" He is breathing hard and fast as he tries to cope with the information. "I just...thought of something. Something you said back at Tiger Tails. I laughed it off at the time, but...."

"The Imbroglio."

"So you were serious?! You...." He points and gurgles. The back of his throat gets a hold of him and he chokes on his built-up saliva.

"Take it easy, okay? You don't want to yell at me when you're not ready. Before you ask, yes. That was me."

Silas stands up, coughing noisily for the next minute. He paces back and forth, keeping his back to the fox. As he clears his throat, Pamila replaces her gun into her thigh holster and again looks at the watch. It seems that if she wants to catch the meeting at Rapid Recovery, she should leave soon. She sighs and looks back at her unnerved boyfriend. "You all right? You need some water?"

"You blew up the restaurant!"

Pamila is coolly immediate with her answer. "Didn't mean to. Where the bomb went was beyond my control. I gave the package to Camille to deliver. What happened later was supposed to happen in a private residence."

Now Silas is mad. "You killed five people!"

"Hey, cool it. I'm not responsible for their deaths, just the death of the guy I was going for in the first place."

"You killed five innocent people!"

"Hey!" She plants her palms on the table. "I already told you! I didn't kill them! The bomb did! Besides, you don't even know their names, so they really mean nothing to you! Don't be angry for those people! They're just collateral damage!"

"You're wrong! I do know one of them! One of the victims was the Governor's aide! That...that Morris guy! His name is Morris!"

"Cam Morris! He's the only one of the victims who counts. Somebody wanted him dead. The hit was originally going to go to someone else--this gray wolf. But he was a no-show, so I took it. It took weeks of planning, searching, and a whole lot of trial and error, but I finally reached the son of a bitch. Camille and I were at the restaurant celebrating our soon-to-be success when the package pretty much fell into our laps. How were we supposed to know Mr. Morris would be eating one table over? And how were we supposed to know that his bubble-headed secretary would give the package to him in person?" Pamila takes a couple of breaths and looks on at Silas with concern. "I wasn't the one who fucked up, but it doesn't matter. He's dead, as planned. The other people? Innocent, yes, but not my problem."

Silas stands there with his hands on his hips, looking at her like a disappointed parent. "I don't believe this. No wonder you were so elusive. To think, all those calls and e-mails I sent; I thought you were on vacation or something. Why would anyone want him dead?"

"We're not allowed to ask, and I wouldn't want to know anyway. Maybe Governor Cartwright's enemies want to send him a message and are using hitmen to deliver it. There's just no way of knowing."

"I'm voting for Cartwright in the election. Am I in danger?" Silas shakes his head and lets his arms droop.

"If there's a hit out on you, then I wouldn't know. My advice is not to worry. Cartwright's not safe, but I think you are."

"What? Cartwright's not safe? How do you know?" Silas is less angry now. His eyes are wide as saucers; his breathing is more labored; if he could sweat, his shirt would be soaked. He looks a bit more fearful of his girlfriend.

"Hello? Haven't you been watching the news lately? You remember who else in the Governor's employ has died recently, don't you? Someone's clearly trying to get to him. "

Silas scratches his chin and retakes the seat he just left. "Um...I remember news of that girl dying. Pamela Daltrey, I think. And just a day ago, Mr. Reed was found dead in the...." He stops talking and looks at the fox. He stares at her like a stranger would. His brain is working hard, putting together the information. He looks down and stutters. The words have trouble coming out and his hands are starting to shake.

"Not to sound like a broken record, but...are you okay?"

"You're killing the Governor's guys! You're gonna kill the whole damn Cabinet!"

Pamila watches on as her soon-to-be ex-partner struggle with what he is learning about her. He is not taking it well. She has had to watch him squirm uncomfortably and yell in disbelief; she is feeling a bit uncomfortable herself. "Well, I'm not killing them. I killed just the one guy. My co-workers, or at least one gray wolf I know, is doing in the rest."

Silas is now covering his face; the tough exterior is now frayed with emotional toil. "My girlfriend is not only a seasoned killer, but a treacherous heartbreaker."

The fox stands and reaches him. She puts both hands on his cheeks and lifts his head up. A week ago, Shiloh was looking at her with the same angry face her boyfriend has now. She gently kisses his forehead and surprises him by sitting on his lap. "I'm gonna cut you in."

"What does that mean?" his disappointed voice asks.

"I came here for one reason. I told you who I really am and what I do. I came with the intention of either asking you to join me, thereby getting you to meet my coworkers and bosses...or breaking up with you. I realized long ago that I can't be your girl and still do this job without you joining me. I was gonna ask you to do that and quit Tiger Tails." She lovingly rubs his shoulders, trying to ease his stress. "Then I saw your posters. You're trying to start a business...and that means you doing what I do is not gonna happen. We're not allowed to moonlight; it's just too risky. You'd have to quit, but knowing you...it's just best we go our separate ways."

"I see."

"Frankly, I'm surprised we let it go this long. I tried to make it work, but I didn't know how. The six- month hiatus was just an omen."

Still upset, but now calm, he pulls her hands off his shoulder and holds them. "So what now?"

"Silas, I'll give you so much money, all the money in the world if possible, if you don't tell anyone what I've told you just now. In return, I'll hit you up."

"You'll what?"

"Don't pout. Just listen. I think it's wonderful that you want to start a business. I've always wanted to sell something I made myself. Normally, I'd be extremely jealous, but you don't have the money to flourish. You don't make enough on a bouncer's salary. You don't have the prospects to keep our relationship afloat. But I have a job that pays me plenty. Even if I think I'm getting the short end of the stick, it's still a lot of money. I still like you very much, so I want to cut you in. All I ask for in return is your silence." She gently strokes his face, winning his attention and keeping him from flying off the handle.

"Aww...this is heavy. What are you gonna have me do?"

"Nothing!" Pamila laughs and leans into him, putting her arms around him and kissing his nose. "You don't have to do anything for me. Just live your life. Keep working at the club. Keep trying to make it big. As long as you forget about us being a couple, and as long as you keep your mouth shut, the money will keep on coming. Luckily for you, I kick ass at my job. I don't just kick it, I kill it." She laughs even louder.

Silas nods, still unsure. "What about Camille? You know she's sweet on Tom. What about her?"

"Camille doesn't know I'm here, so she won't get the idea to tell him what I've told you. Besides, Tom's too much of a boy scout. He'd spill the beans to clean his conscience. Camille will keep the secret. Anyway, they're not actually together. She wouldn't ever go out with him. She's high class. Unlike me, she's got too much self-respect to date a bouncer." She laughs again and kisses his unwilling lips. "Look, I gotta go. I'm running late." She happily leaves his lap.

Silas watches her walk through the sliding doors that separate the dining room from the parlor. He stands and opens his mouth, looking to say something. Nothing but a breath comes out. He runs after her and closes the door behind him. She is just about to touch the doorknob.

"Wait, please."

"What is it?"

"Stay with me."

She scoffs as he approaches her, like she cannot believe what she is seeing. His face has the urgency of a man who has done something wrong and is looking for redemption. He grabs her hands and draws himself closer, forcing her eyes to look into his. She immediately closes hers. "Honey, I gotta go to work."

"No you don't. You can't go anywhere now."

"You're gonna make me miss the meeting."

"You can't just tell me you're a killer who works with other killers and leave me with that information. You can't just say you're tipping the scales of the upcoming election and just walk away. You're gonna be late? So what? What about us?"

"Well we can still visit each other, but 'us' can't exist. I told you the deal. We can't be together anymore, but I'll send you--"

"I don't accept that. I won't accept that!" He is yelling at her even though he is right in front of her. He places his hands on her shoulders and gently steps on her toes. "I still love you...and I know you love me too. Even if you don't show it enough, even if it's dwindled a bit, you still love me. I'm sure you love me enough to give us a better ending than this."

For someone who gets angry easily, Pamila is showing an exceptional amount of patience. "If you knew what I went through to do my job, you wouldn't be saying all that."

"Then tell me what happens. Help me understand. We've been a couple for two years. Why should we suddenly kill it like this?"

"I just can't juggle it, okay? It's impossible. My co-workers dare not have relationships because they're all business all the time. The best they can have are short summer flings. Anyway, I plan to get a mark today and resume my duties. If you could just let me go--"

Silas strikes the door on his right palm and holds it there, making an emphatic statement. She is not going anywhere. "You know, I could just call the police right now and tell them everything. You and your group would be busted. I'd be a national hero. I'm mad enough that I'll do it if you don't stay...and I don't want to do that."

Pamila plants a hand on the hare's nose and pushes him away from her. "Shut up. You won't do anything. You drink to excess, you sleep with hookers, you take barbiturates, and you drive drunk. You're morals are looser than a child molester's. I could easily turn you in myself."

He leans in angrily. "Well at least I haven't killed anyone." His voice is now ominously low. It is so low that it surprises them both, and the fox probably knows he would expose her. He covers his mouth with painful angst. His breathing shakes and his eyelids quiver. He shakes his head and clears his throat. "Sorry."

Pamila turns to the door. She wants to leave, and is angry enough to do so, but only looks at the door. Her frustration seems to be boiling over. "Well, now we've just threatened each other with jail time. This only further proves a relationship between us can no longer work. Besides, what would we gain if I stayed here any longer?"

"At least tell me how much you're willing to give me for my silence." He shows his teeth, but even he knows the smile is not sincere.

The fox sighs with resignation and nods. She approaches and holds him, just like a dedicated lover would. "You know what? You're right. I shouldn't leave without us discussing our future plans in depth. We should work out a good price that works for the both of us. I'm willing to part with twenty percent of my profits after each hit. I just need--"

"Could we sit down first? Let's talk like a consensual couple."

"Shit. I left my purse in the car. It's got my phone in it."

"You need to make a call?" Silas laughs and opens the door. "Use my phone and I'll get your purse."

"Well, since you insist on keeping me from work, I gotta make amends to someone. Camille is expecting me and--"

"This is more important. My time with you is the best I've ever had with anyone. If we're not staying together, I wanna know why. I wanna know everything. I'll be back with your purse."

The door closes in Pamila's face. She stands there for a minute with her hands on her hips. She mumbles some misgivings under breath before running to the couch. There is a cordless phone attached to a charger on the end table nearby. She picks it up and dials the number, blowing a frustrated breath.

"Hey Camille, it's me." She chuckles a little bit at hearing her voice, but her frustrated mood returns. "Listen, I can't make it to the office today." She kicks off her shoes and lies across the couch. "Yeah, the victory lap is off. I'll have to come back on Tuesday...."

Camille's voice combines with the phone static, making her lamentations hard to hear. But Pamila understands what is being said. "Don't worry about it. Just go. Take your mark and meet me later. Wanna go to The Shark Pit when it opens? I need a drink real bad, but I can't do it right now."

After another pause, she stands and heads for the kitchen. "I'm at Silas' house. I'm breaking it off. Stop laughing. We all knew this was coming. I wanted to say it's over and then head to the meeting, but he's got separation anxiety or something, so I gotta stay and tell him it's gonna be all right and yada, yada, yada. I feel I'm gonna be here for a while, but I'll break away as soon as I can."

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The Shark Pit opens with its usual fanfare. Customers waiting in line, huge cheers for the neon OPEN signs coming on, and high fives between the patrons and the guests--these are the usual, normal sights that one comes to expect when the establishment opens. More than thirty customers lined up for their drinks. First in line was Stefano, the hellbender, followed by Baua and Rory in their usual standing roles. The three are now sitting next to one another at the bar.

There is a surprise customer who was standing in line. He is now ordering a glass of red ale. It is Inverness, the Scottish terrier. He looks dapper in his monotone three-piece suit. He also looks nervous, constantly looking around as he drinks his beer. When a fresh batch of people enters, he decides to leave the bar. He basically hides himself from them by choosing one of the farthest tables in front of him. He sits alone with his head lowered and his body still. It is as if he is scared of something.

A few minutes later, a strikingly radiant white wolf enters the room. Winter smiles as she goes through the door, greeting people as she saunters to the bar. She has a white tennis outfit on; her stature makes the skirt much smaller than it really is. Almost every eye turns to see her; even her coworkers, obstinate in their acceptance of her, do not hide their stares. Rory whistles.

Winter's usual seat is unoccupied. She takes it instantly and waves to the bar owners in the kitchen in front of her. Casey waves back and approaches her with a bit of a smile. "Good morning. You're quite a view."

"Same to you," the wolf answers. She clears her throat and heaves a deep sigh. She looks uncomfortable with all the watchers around her.

"You headed off somewhere?"

"Griffith Park. I'm meeting Tivoli later. Funny thing is, she hates tennis, but wants to do something other than jog today."

"I believe she is trying to lose weight. It's a battle she's been fighting for the better part of a year. So, what would you like and which egg would you like with it?"

"Straight to business. I like that. I'll have gin for starters. And get me a couple of robin eggs."

The bloodhound nods and heads for his work area. Winter turns to the right and notices some of her gawkers. Rory and Baua smile and wave back. "Good morning," the dingo says. "You changed quickly."

"Maybe I should have worn this at the office, huh? You guys probably wouldn't have ignored me then."

"You weren't ignored, girly. You were outright dismissed."

Baua nods. "Yeah, it's become a kind of a reflex. Every time you show up to grab a mark, the life in the room shuts down."

"No offense, girl. It's not you. It's your boyfriend."

"Yeah, he's...not good for business." The greyhound laughs and takes a sip of his drink.

Winter huffs and turns away from them. "Well, I keep asking Shiloh about this, but he keeps saying it's nothing. He chalks it all up to jealousy, but I think he's hiding something. So I'll just ask you. What's the deal? Why do you all hate him so much? Even St. Croix's a bit coy when I ask him about it." She gets bumped by somebody taking a seat to her left. She looks at the person for a second, then turns back to Rory and Baua. "Well?"

The dingo clears his throat and looks at his greyhound companion. They nod at each other before he turns back to her. "I thought somebody would've told you already. Your boyfriend, for some godforsaken reason, gets special treatment from the executives. Unlike the rest of us, he takes from us without waiting or trading. It's become somewhat of a nightmare because the marks he takes are so lucrative, it takes a lot of hunting for us to make as much money as he does."

Baua places his shot glass on the bar and looks at the wolf with a biting stare. "This has been true well before Rory's time with us. I was there since almost the very beginning. About six months after we were formed, Ted started giving Shiloh exclusive marks. We didn't think much of it at the time; in fact, we thought it was okay. After all, his reputation is well known and we thought he deserved all the kudos he got. That all changed in 2012." He clears his throat and calls on Casey to get him another drink.

Winter gets her gin and eggs from Bruno, who greets her with a wave. "Thank you," she says. As she cracks one egg, she takes a breath and quietly psyches herself for the upcoming information. Whatever it is, it most likely means her boyfriend is going to get badmouthed. She turns to the greyhound and asks, "What happened in 2012?"

"The recession hit us. It started years earlier, but it was something that we thought wouldn't affect us. After all, our setup is simple. We kill, we get money. There's never any shortage of people to kill. But in 2012, California hit a budget deficit and people started losing jobs left and right. That meant a reluctance to spend...and that hurts, no matter what industry you work in. If you don't have the money to spend, you use hitmen a lot less. By March of that year, we hit our own recession. The number of marks fizzled. Some days, we didn't even bother with the meetings. There were so few marks that many of us didn't get any for weeks. I'm sure you can see the problem."

"Yeah, tough for California, but what does that have to do with Shiloh?"

"You're boyfriend keeps taking our marks," says the girl on Winter's left. "He did it all throughout 2012 despite the recession and he's still doing it today. He takes them before the meetings, which is why we tend to get mad. He gets preferential treatment."

As if they didn't notice her before, the three turn to see Camille, the blue-gray cat, sipping on a martini. She is wearing a white, floral sun dress and large sun hat--the same clothes she was wearing the last time Shiloh did what everyone is complaining about. She raises her brow at the wolf and says, "In time, you'll get that kind of treatment. You should get used to people hating you. Shiloh certainly is."

Rory and Baua look on intently, probably anticipating something nasty happening. Winter is confused and put off by Camille's comments, so much so that she doesn't notice that one of her eggs has fallen on the floor. "Excuse me, do I know you?" she asks.

The cat licks some salt from the rim of her glass and leaves her seat. "I sincerely hope not." She leaves the bar for another table, hiding a stuck-up, devious smile.

Winter watches the back of her hat disappear into the crowd before turning back to her gin-and-egg concoction. "Well, I guess there's no use in defending myself, is there?" She turns to the men next to her. They go on finishing their drinks, acting like she was no longer there. They share a quiet joke that eludes the wolf's ears. She frowns at them and clears her throat to get her attention.

Rory closes his eyes and reaches for the pockets in his trousers. "Sorry, girly. Forgot you were there."

"Look, all you bozos have to do is talk to me, okay? Just talk to me. You'll find that I'm quite harmless and I treat my friends very well. We could be friends too. I'm sure you have a lot of interesting anecdotes from your life that helped shape you. I have those too. We could share war stories; we'd have lots to talk about. You don't have to ignore me whenever I first enter the office."

The men continue drinking in happy silence, looking at the wolf like she was speaking a foreign language. They had said their piece and answered her question; they need not bother anymore. Winter just shakes her head and faces forward.

Right at that moment, Bruno steps in front of her. The bulldog is not usually jovial, but today he looks rather disagreeable. He sniffs smugly at the wolf and says, "You smell different."

"Oh, really?" Winter lowers her head slightly, hiding an embarrassed blush. "It must be the shampoo."

"You smell like cop."

"Huh?"

"Just wanted to voice my displeasure. I saw you last night. I was walking home from a convenience store when I walked past the new police bar down the street. I saw you in there with a whole bunch of uniformed human beings. I just wanted to ask--"

"They didn't all have uniforms on. Also, the uniformed ones weren't drinking. It was a nice place with a friendly atmosphere. I enjoyed myself."

"You thinking of switching, huh? We not good enough for you anymore?"

"Oh, stop it. It's not as good as your place is, but it is nice in its own way."

"Don't forget, we let you bring in outside food. It's a luxury we don't give anyone else."

Winter laughs and finishes her drink. "Well, I'm glad you think enough about me to be concerned, but please believe me. I'm not switching bars."

"I'm not worried about your loyalty. I'm worried about last night's company. I saw you getting friendly with those guys. That Black guy you had your arm around in particular. The bartender also. You were more than a little friendly with them."

The conversation is slowly turning sour. Winter notices it quickly and blows an upward breath, jostling a bit of fur on her head. "For your information, the bartender is my boss and the Black guy is a good friend. His name is Robert Crevecoeur and I've known him for--"

"I don't give a shit what his name is. The last thing I need to see are my customers getting chummy with the enemy. Don't forget, they're not done with us and anyone who goes to that bar could be pried for information. That info could be used against both of us and anyone in here. Just remember that."

"And what? Don't go there again? You don't know me very well. I like drinking more than I like you. I'll go there if I want to."

Wiping a beer mug, Casey joins his partner and pretty much tags himself in. "He's not saying don't go. He's just saying be careful."

"I know what I heard." She points at the bulldog. "And you will never disrespect Robert in front of me again...that is, if you want me to remain a loyal customer."

"What I said comes from experience. I don't need to know him to know what he is." Bruno boldly points at the wolf's nose. "He's a damn pig and bad news for this establishment."

Winter blows at the finger in front of her. "He's an ex-officer, an ex-detective, and a better judge of character than you'll ever be." She shakes her empty glass at Casey, getting him to refill it, before turning back to Bruno. "Maybe you should really get to know him, to put your hunch to the test."

"You're such an idealist." The bulldog is about to walk into the kitchen.

"Maybe I should bring him here." Winter smiles as she receives her drink from Casey. "It would do you two some good to get to know an executive at our workplace."

"Please don't," Casey says. "You'll only complicate things. I know you like bringing your friends together to drink here, but I really wouldn't bring any cops here. Not when being human in here is bad enough, you know?"

"I don't believe you would refuse a human if he came here, especially not when I'm with them. Now where's my other egg?" She moves her head back and forth, scanning every inch of the bar.

"It's on the floor," Rory says as he lays his money on the table. He and Baua are about to leave, having served their usual purpose. As they stand, the dingo calls out to the bartenders. "I'll be back later this evening to do my usual lookout job, okay? I'll see you later."

Casey waves at him. "Actually, we've decided we don't need you to do that for us anymore."

"You sure?"

"It's been over two weeks since that second raid. The cops aren't coming here anymore. You can just take indefinite time off." He takes a peek at Winter. "That is, of course, if someone doesn't bring one here herself."

She looks around her angrily. She is angry both at the broken egg under her and the consternation her favorite barkeeps are showing her. Her mind is occupied with what she has just been told and she mulls over it for a few minutes. "That's not Shiloh at all," she tells herself. One swig of her drink and she is able to shrug off any uncertainty.

As she looks around the half-filled room, she gasps at the sight just off to her left. Pamila is here; she is standing in front of Camille who has switched to another table. The fox must have passed her only a couple of minutes ago because she looks out of breath. Winter covers her mouth with her left hand, as if there is any danger of the fox hearing her, and watches as the two friends sit together. The bar is quieter than usual, so she can hear or at least make out what they are saying. She smirks at some of their remarks.

Pamila smiles from ear to ear as Camille laughs at a joke made at Silas' expense. "Well, at least you did manage to lose him," the cat says.

"Yeah, it took a while." The exhausted fox places her purse on the table. "My negotiating skills used to kick ass. It shouldn't have taken me three hours to say goodbye. I hate long goodbyes."

"You look like you ran all the way here."

"Well, when you're planning a party, time is of the essence." She laughs some more and removes a folded piece of scrap paper from her purse. "I made a list. It's a comprehensive collection of DJs we know who are also affordable. It's also a list of independent artists we can rent for the day."

"Wait a minute." Camille stops smiling and wrinkles her nose. Her whiskers wave against the stale air as she suddenly looks at her friend with suspicion. She opens her mouth to speak and scoffs at her friend.

"What? What's wrong."

Camille leans back in her chair and folds her arms. "I smell something."

"You're in a bar. Maybe it's you."

"No, I detect a distinct smell. You've got pheromones on you."

"That's not true. I showered before I got down here."

"Yeah, at his place! You had sex with him again."

Pamila lifts her head to stick her nose in the air, pretending to look down on her friend. "Sometimes, small sacrifices have to be made. Besides, he wouldn't let me leave until I...'said goodbye.'"

"I swear, your dignity has been taking a beating as of late."

"Yeah, well just wait until I go back to hunting marks. Then I'll be the one fucking people over. I gotta go to the head. Could you order me my usual?"

"Don't drink too much. We've got furniture to rearrange. I need your help to make up for my small living room."

"Don't worry about it. Your party will rule." She leaves the folded piece of paper with the feline and takes her purse with her to the restroom.

Camille watches her leave. "Sure, as long as you don't start boning anyone there." She chuckles and finishes her drink, tilting her head in the air. She sighs satisfactorily and slams the glass on the table. Her smile disappears as soon as she sees the white wolf sitting across from her.

"How you doing?" Winter asks. She is holding the empty glass that once held her gin.

"Can't complain. The sun is shining; the birds are singing...the competition is much more manageable since Shiloh's been away. Have I mentioned your boyfriend's a bastard?"

"Well, you said so yourself. It's a competition."

"But it should be fair. That's the point I'm trying to make. There's a difference between friendly competition, the kind that comes with bargaining and haggling and doing it the right way, and your boyfriend's version. Nobody likes your boyfriend's version. It costs us money. It worsens our abilities. He just takes a mark and nobody can stop him. It makes the rest of us look powerless."

"Come on! I've been to a few of those meetings. Most of the time, Shiloh's not with me. I've seen you guys just sit there and watch the executives show you the marks. Then you get to the table and you take nothing. You guys don't go out of your way to take marks most days, especially if it means leaving L.A. You all are afraid to travel to get hits, so the marks don't get taken."

Camille rolls her eyes at her adversary. "That's because we never go beyond our scope. Good hunters never do that."

Winter chuckles. "Lazy hunters you mean."

"Oh yeah? What happened to your Chino Hills mark? You got him right?" She waits for an answer she knows is not coming, and revels at the wolf's defensive stare. "Oh yeah, that's right. You let him get away! St. Croix told me that an executive gave your mark to Ravi and Gonal. You couldn't do it because you went beyond your scope. You took an elusive mark on your first damn day. He escaped, and you got it taken from you. Welcome to our world. Enjoy the stay."

Winter blows a breath and turns away from the cat. "Idiot."

"Don't worry. Simon chose the right men to do the job. Couldn't have happened to a couple of nicer guys. The tigers will get Ambrose."

Winter growls. "Not if I get to him first."

"Mmm, that's not wise. Going after a mark that's not yours anymore? What would Shiloh think?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't bring him up." The wolf stands and angrily pushes the chair out of her way. She heads for the restroom, walking slowly, as if stalking someone.

"Where is the old gasbag anyway? He hasn't been around in a couple of weeks."

Winter stops, but keeps her back to Camille. "He's out doing something the rest of you are too lazy to do." With that, she leaves the cat behind her. She passes a couple of cigar smoking patrons and enters the ladies' room. The rotten conversation earlier has her steamed, but the atmosphere inside the restroom can help cool her down. The air is less stale and smelly; it is clean and cool. She takes a couple of satisfying deep breaths.

"Sure thing, Beth. Anything you say. Camille and I will pick you up later this afternoon."

Winter's ears attract her to the familiar sound of another adversary. Pamila is in one of the six stalls, most likely unaware that someone else is inside. There are no other discernible sounds; the two of them are alone. Winter clenches her teeth and backs herself up to the door. Her back presses against it, but she moves no further. From where she stands, the stalls are just out of sight, but she can still hear Pamila talking.

"How many more days before the cast comes off? It's been on you long enough, don't you think?" The red fox flushes the toilet and leaves one of the middle stalls. Her purse hangs precariously on her left shoulder. "That's too long, but I've never been in a cast, so what do I know?" She presses the Smartphone in between her cheek and right shoulder as she washes her hands in the nearest sink.

As Pamila talks and cleans her hands all at once, Winter is able to sneak up behind her. The wolf creeps up to her back without the fox noticing; there is just too much noise being made that is keeping the prey busy. The noise allows her quick steps to go unnoticed. She holds her breath for extra protection. When she is just inches behind, she stops and just watches. This is when the phone conversation ends.

Pamila pushes a button on her phone and puts it back in her purse. She looks in the mirror while wringing her hands and sees the unwelcome sight behind her. Before she can react, the wolf's hands grab the back of her head and push it hard against the mirror. The left side of her head is compressed under the weight. The force puts a crack at the bottom of the mirror.

Pamila is under a lot of duress. Not only has her head pummeled the glass, but the sink is digging into her belly. Winter pushes her head even more, causing even more pain. She is robotically calm, not even making a sound, as she pushes the fox's head in. Pamila starts to wail in agony as she struggles to break free.

Before the shouting gets too loud, Winter again grabs the fox's head and slams it into the mirror a second time. Her forehead crunches the mirror, causing more cracks and more pain. She pushes herself off and turns to face the wolf, only to take a right cross that knocks her down. She hits her head on the floor and the purse falls on her chest.

Winter backs off to take a look at her fallen, concussed rival, squirming on the ground. She takes a few seconds to calm herself and observe her momentary victory. She notices the purse and picks it up. There is money inside, not very well hidden. It looks like a hefty amount. She takes the bills out and drops the purse next to Pamila's head. Counting loudly, she nods at her haul. Five hundred dollars in twenties. "Nice," she says, "but I'm no thief." She tosses the money on the fox's chest and backs away. "You still owe me five grand for the repairs on the Harley. I'll be back for it when you've recovered."

With that, Winter saunters out of the restroom and walks through the bar. She passes Camille, daydreaming and waiting for her friend. She chuckles and turns around to face the cat. "Your friend needs help," she says.

"What do you mean?" Camille looks at the wolf confusedly, but then notices that she is flexing her right hand. There is a small streak of blood on her fingers. It only takes the feline seconds to piece together what has happened. Without words, she runs toward the restroom and out of the wolf's view.

"Another day, another lesson learned." Winter turns to the hardworking bartenders. "See you tomorrow."