Chapter 25
A Professional Decision
What a weird day this was shaping up to be. As Eliza stood in front of the bank, she rotated the false lighter in her hand, contemplating her decision. To an extent, she felt overwhelmed; she hadn't even had much time to recover from that morning's craziness, but now she was about to talk business with Vox, a man she's fairly certain has been buttering her up all this time, and she was going to let Alastor listen in. If it turned out to be a good deal, she was going to force him to listen to her leave the hotel, and she felt a little guilty about that. Still, if he took it personally when it's just a professional decision, what else could she do? It's not as if they would be on good terms for a while, anyways; perhaps this was a good time to move on.
It's a foolish decision to try and make friends, anyways.
When she saw Vox's black limo round the corner, she flipped the switch on the radio, closed the false bottom and put it away in her pocket. For better or worse, this was happening, and she needed to remain calm. Deep breath in, deep breath out, in, out…
"Somehow I knew you'd be early," Vox called out from the open window. As he spoke, the driver got out of the car and opened the door for her. He was a tall man, but what surprised her is how incredibly deer-like he was. While Alastor had the small black antlers and deer-shaped ears (or ear shaped hair, still uncertain), this guy was all buck. Large antlers, a large muscular body covered in brown fur, the long snout… even hooved feet.
I simply adore venison…
This man would be dinner if he ever ran into the Radio Demon. Although with the strange glint in his eye as he glanced over Eliza's body, she considered being the one to introduce them.
"You said this was business," she answered, climbing into the car and taking a seat across from the TV Demon, who was swirling a glass of pale yellow liquid. While she chose not to react to the questionable grunt from the driver, Vox shot him a warning glare, after which the door was promptly closed. "It's important to start strong."
"Ah, but you have quite the advantage," he stated mischievously. Holding out a glass, he wasn't at all surprised when she refused the offer of alcohol. Of course she'd want to approach him completely sober for this. "Are you familiar with the phrase 'It's not what you know, it's who you know?'"
"Very, though I'm more worried that our friendship is a hindrance to business. I prefer all professional relationships to stay as such. That means that, if I work for you, we won't be doing this anymore. No more dinners or outings."
"I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves," Vox stated, taking control of the conversation. "We'll be discussing business at the club, so just enjoy the ride there. Relax, sweet-cheeks-"
"Eliza."
"Excuse me?" Vox's tone clipped slightly, reacting to the echoing voice she's never used with him before.
She cleared her throat and returned to her neutral state. "Sorry, I've become too accustomed to dealing with very forgetful patients. I prefer a lack of nick-names in a professional setting, please."
Vox took a sip of his drink. Tonight was shaping up to be potentially difficult after all. While in the past she might interject on occasion, this time she seemed to be taking control, and while he's found that amusing during their little dates, it may prove to be problematic for this deal. This is why people like her normally don't last long; controlling the conversation with an overlord is risky business.
Oh, Val is going to hate her.
At least Vox was very familiar with this type of person; the serious professional. Focused, no-nonsense and often very prideful in their work; specific rules and boundaries are key. If he shows that he can respect those boundaries, she'll be very agreeable to his terms as long as they are spelled out.
"Got it," he grinned. "Dealing with idiots brings out the worst in us, doesn't it?"
Despite the broad statement, his tone suggested that he meant someone specific. Perhaps he had to deal with some idiots before picking her up? "Yes, it certainly does." Deciding to take his advice and relax a little, especially since he didn't seem inclined to discuss business in the limo, the rest of the short trip was small-talk, though much to her relief he did not flirt with her anymore.
When they arrived, the driver came around once more and opened the door for them. This time, he didn't even look at her. More relief.
Then she looked at the location, and felt somewhat irritated. When she thought of a professional setting, this certainly wasn't it. Neon signs of scantily-clad women, actual scantily-clad people selling themselves to guests (one of whom whistled at her before backing away when she started going dark), and a lot of people starting to simper when Vox got out of the car. She was quietly grateful that Angel Dust wasn't here; seeing him act like that would make her angrier than she cared to admit.
Yet another reason she should probably be glad to move on from the hotel; caring for a client this much is simply wrong for a professional.
Someone got the door for them, and the beat of the music was loud enough to hurt her ears. When she gave Vox a questioning look, he merely smiled and said, "I told you my business partners have provocative tastes."
When he moved to sit close to the stage, she pulled back slightly. "If we're discussing business, perhaps it'd be better to sit somewhere where I can actually hear you?"
"Music's over the speakers," he informed her, pointing up. "It won't matter where we sit, so why not get close and personal with the entertainment?"
"And… you won't find that distracting?"
"Not at all," he grinned, inviting her to sit at a front table. Giving up, she took the offered seat and avoided looking at the stage, where two pole dancers were doing a move reminiscent of a waving flag, making out in the middle.
"So… where is the man who wants to meet me?"
"Probably taking care of something in the back," Vox shrugged. "Before he comes out to talk with you, I'll get things rolling. See, the offer is that you'll work for me, but the clients you'll be seeing will mostly work for him. He's not an easy man to work for; most of his employees feel rather… underappreciated, to put it mildly."
"I assume that, this being Hell, walking away is simply not possible?"
"Damn straight, baby."
Eliza turned sharply to see a man standing directly behind her. He was freakishly tall, taller even than Vox, with a large red robe and zebra-print fuzzy lining, four arms with black-gloved hands and pointed black heels. What looked like a large, fluffy white boa with little red hearts wrapped around his neck, and his head was purple with pink eyes covered with gold-rimmed pink heart glasses. On top of that head sat a tall red top-hat with a zebra sash to match his robes, and two antennae; one large and fluffy colored white and black, the other tiny, black and sickly. The sharp-toothed grin reminded her of Alastor slightly, though this man's expression lacked the playfulness and energy, making up for them with arrogance and venom.
"Name's Valentino," he said, taking a seat uncomfortably close to her. Scooting slightly to the side, Eliza never took her eyes off the invasive moth overlord. "Good ta finally meet ya, girl. I heard Voxy found a fun new girl to play 'round with, but he neva mentioned you're a looker."
When she looked at Vox again, this time more accusatory than before, he chuckled. "Don't bother; this is the most 'professional' he gets. Like I said, you'll be working for me, but seeing as you'll be working with his employees, I needed you to meet before anything became official. You understand, of course."
She felt like her restraint deserved an award as she maintained her facade despite her rising sense of annoyance. "Of course."
"See though, I need a lil' help with one o' my top workers," Valentino cut in, grabbing a drink off of a nearby server's tray. Vox shot him a look, but it went utterly ignored. "Angel Dust is stayin' at the hotel for free room and board, but has to follow the princess' rules. It's messin' with his performance, and it's costin' me."
"Consider this as helping us take down a rival company," Vox added, attempting to steer the focus into a better light. "You've been working at that hotel for a few months now, and her dreams of redemption are interfering with business."
"Isn't this something you should just take up with Angel?" she asked. "I fail to see how I can help you with this. I'm not going to tell him he needs to leave just because you ask me to."
"Nah girl, I get it," Valentino purred, "it ain't professional, yea? We ain't askin' ya to break code here. But tell me something, babe; is it professional to stay somewhere ya ain't safe when ya don't have to?"
Eliza blinked. "Excuse me?" she asked in a curt tone.
Vox could have murdered Valentino, but at the same time it had to be brought up eventually; apparently sooner rather than later. At least he's upping the damn charm or else that could have gone a lot worse. He sighed. "Look, the reason we wanted you to come out tonight is that we heard that a certain Radio Bastard attacked you this morning."
While she hid how pissed off this information made her, she didn't hide her jaw clenching. "And you know about that… how?"
"When we found out Angel Cakes was playin' good boy for the princess, we sent a guy to keep an eye on things," the moth explained with a grin. "He heard ya almost got eaten. Nothin' else, but frankly that got Voxy here worried 'bout ya."
This time Valentino caught Vox's warning look. Don't play the emotional card. Still, it was said, so he had to do something with it. "I was already thinking of hiring you, but Radio Fucker pushed it up the schedule. I hope you're not feeling too rushed, but not only would I feel bad going to hire you to find out you're dead, but this also presents an opportunity to-"
"Excuse me, sirs," came a rather pathetic-sounded simper, and the table turned to look at a very timid young man with blue-green fur, a horse-like snout and a mohawk. Taking a moment to whisper into Valentino's ear, and the overlord's charm evaporated in seconds to be replaced by a terrifying scowl and a grip tight enough to break his cigarette holder.
"'Scuse me for a few," he growled, getting up and turning his back on the table. "Gotta bitch who doesn't want to do her job. I'll be back when it's dealt with."
As the man walked away, Eliza felt like a weight lifted from her chest. The man was surprisingly intimidating, even on his best behavior. Vox chuckled. "See what I mean? He's the reason his employees need someone to talk to; he's a right bastard of a pimp. That's also why you'll be working for me; even I'm not enough of an ass to just hand you over to him."
She wanted to mention that she heard they're lovers, but instead decided to keep that subtracting point to herself. It wasn't best to show all your cards, after all, though with the way this interview was going she'd rather give bluffing at the hotel another go; at least it wasn't like treading a minefield. "You said something about an opportunity. What were you talking about?"
"Ah, yes. See, the princess' hotel is going to be bad for a lot of business, not just our own, but the fact that throughout the history of Hell no one has ever been redeemed is very telling. This is a pipe-dream, nothing more. Staying is going to not only mess with the order of things down here, but will mess with your professional image."
Tilting her head, she raised a curious eyebrow. "How so?"
"Look, I know in the living world charity work was great for the image, but we're in Hell; charity's a sinking ship. Add onto that the fact that you're working for a business no one respects, not even the princess' own fucking family, and you're begging to become a laughing stock right along with her. If you're looking to be employed, it'd be best to do that before the hotel goes under. Thing is, you can help us shut it down now rather than waiting possibly a few years for its inevitable failure."
"What makes you think it'll fail in a few years?"
"When the obvious happens: no one gets redeemed! Sponsors see it for the farce that it is and pull out, no more guests sign up for the hopeless dream of Heaven, and the hotel shuts its doors for good. Instead of waiting around, I would like you to make a televised statement against the hotel, using the Radio Fucker's actions to ruin it for good. Better to put it down now than make it suffer longer, right?"
As much as she hated to say it, she tended to agree from a business standpoint. Assuming it wasn't some freak occurrence that Alastor attacked her, it was telling of where he was headed with the place. Still, they had more of a relationship than Vox was aware of, and he had just found out she was spending time with his rival. No, it was not a normal situation, but possibly a clear indicator of the dangers the man's temper could bring.
Also, from a professional standpoint, he was correct; given their current location and the princess' reputation, she wouldn't have many prospects should the hotel fail. While it wasn't a proven fact that sinners could not be redeemed, a long history without such an occurrence could not simply be ignored. That's not even mentioning her lack of salary, which was another condemning factor towards the hotel.
"Alright, I'm listening; what are the details?"
The more she listened, the more she realized that this was a great deal. Not only did he make it clear that it wasn't a deal for her soul (which he knew would lose the deal instantly), but while it didn't offer room and board like the hotel, the salary more than made up for it. Seeing as the economy was in tatters, the promised number was anything but modest. She could afford her own house on it, for one, which down here was something for sure. Keeping her distance from her clients would be easy, and she could bury herself back into the safety and familiarity of professionalism once more.
Sure, she felt a little bad for Angel, who would probably never forgive her for this, but he was a client and nothing more; and that's how it should remain. If anything, she could continue to see him and help him through his work as best as she could. After all, how could he get away when he handed over his soul? Helping him deal with his afterlife was better than the false hope of getting out of it.
And as for Alastor…
Thinking about him made her feel hollow, but perhaps that was a good thing. Feelings got in the way of business, and this was an excellent business decision. What did it matter to her how his actions reflected on the hotel? He should have thought of that before trying to take a bite out of her. Before now, nothing about her time spent with Vox involved him in any way, so his reaction was utterly uncalled for.
It also showed that her position as his friend was probably more of a one-sided viewpoint than she wanted to admit.
When he was done sharing the details, she didn't look quite as eager as he expected, but he blamed that damn good Poker face of hers for that. Still, there was no way this deal could fail, and he felt very confident in his victory.
"Give me a moment to think, please," she requested sweetly. "It's an awfully big decision to make so quickly and I need a minute to process."
"Yea, sure thing," he agreed, snapping his finger at a nearby server, who jumped and hurried over with a bottle in hand. "Look, I know you're not much for drinking, but this is a rather big occasion. Perhaps a single glass wouldn't hurt?" The server poured two glasses and handed them to the TV Demon, who held one out to her with a wide grin. "To celebrate a wonderful future lacking in foolish rainbow dreams, and where Radio Fucker gets his microphone shoved up his ass."
When she took the offered glass, he clinked them together and drained his in one go, but she sat there and set the glass down, her eye twitching slightly. Something about his toast rubbed her wrong, and she wanted to make sure of something. "I know you two are rivals, but is there a particular reason neither of you call the other by their name? You always refer to him as 'Radio Fucker' or something similar, and he comes up with rather… elaborate names for you."
"Because I'm fairly certain that man won't fuck anything other than his damn radios!" he laughed. "Seriously, his obsession with them is going to make him obsolete very soon, and the dumbass can't even see it! Originally, I wanted to work with the guy; he had the energy, the charisma and could have been great for TV if he would just give up on his dying media, but the proud bastard refused to leave it behind. He called my work a 'cheap imitation of art', and walked away. Now, I run an empire that keeps up with the times, while he clings to irrelevance because he refuses to admit that it's a dying craft. The guy's nothing more than a has-been; the only reason people still remember him is because they're afraid to forget him. You've seen it; the guy's a lunatic! I give him a couple more decades before he cracks the rest of the way and goes on another killing spree."
"You know," Eliza interrupted, casually, "people are enjoying 'classic' practices again. As a man who follows trends, you can't deny the possibility that radio might come back."
The laugh that came out of the TV Demon sounded nothing short of spiteful, and she recoiled slightly. "Oh yea, sure; classics come back. But I'm in a position to control the market, and trust me when I say that when you come out and tell everyone what happened, even his fans are going to question him. This may not ruin him, but it's definitely gonna put a dent in his armor. Oh, I can't wait to see it!"
And there it was; what Vox really wanted. He didn't give a damn about the hotel, he wanted to strike at his rival. It made sense, really; he's an opportunist in the purest sense, a true businessman. He knew to strike while the iron was hot, and it didn't get any hotter than now. Take out the hotel, vilify his rival even further, and possibly ruin his reputation even amongst those who enjoy his violent actions and schemes. Even the cannibal women at Plaisirs Crus, who adored him, would be rather surprised and put off to hear that he attacked Eliza with such little provocation.
It only just dawned on her how much this could hurt him. She never told him about the loneliness she sensed in his song, how he reveled in the attention of those around him. If she publicized this and possibly drove a wedge between him and those who actually like him, it would do far more damage to him than he'd ever admit to.
She shouldn't care; she didn't want to care. He attacked her for something so minor as spending time with Vox, why should the repercussions bother her? Why should the idea of him being left behind matter to her at all? He made a fool out of her, so why should the thought of him being left alone be a bad thing? Sure, even after spending the rest of the day thinking about it his actions didn't add up, but being a psychiatrist doesn't mean she's psychic. Showing off her observations doesn't change the fact that everything she says is an educated guess at best; she just happens to be very accurate most of the time.
'Alright, you're thinking too much,' Id piped up at last. Eliza, despite listening to Vox continue rambling on, started tuning the man out for a bit, shifting her gaze to the stage but not really seeing the performance. 'Seriously, what's the game plan?'
'Absolutely nothing about this deal is bad for me,' Eliza thought. She couldn't help but start to feel like the room was melting away, fading into the monochrome room with her darker half sitting across from her, but this time Id had the clipboard. 'I'll be paid, in a position to maintain professional boundaries and allowed to continue my job in a more respectable capacity for my situation.'
'And yet you haven't closed the deal,' Id pestered, smirking at her. 'What are you waiting for, girl? The deal isn't gonna get better by waiting a few minutes.'
'I know, but I don't-'
'Yea, I get it. You don't wanna screw over your no-touch crush.' Id sighed. 'Look girl, he tried to kill you. I really don't know what you're expecting here.'
'But nothing he did made any sense!' Eliza, now in the mental role of Ego once again despite being awake, got up and started pacing. 'It was so weird. Yea, he was asking questions before attacking, but it was like he didn't want to touch me until he just… switched. Could have been my no-touch rule, or the fact that I was basically naked, or just the fact that he doesn't like to hurt women; I don't know! The point is, he went off the deep end in an instant, but then backed down immediately when I pushed him away. Something happened, damn it, and it wasn't normal.'
'And you know this… how? The guy has a reputation for being a chaotic bringer of pain and destruction, how do you know this isn't normal? Just because you've never set him off before doesn't mean you can't at any moment. You think people run away from him because it's funny?!'
'It's not like it's the only chance he's had to attack me, and it's not the first time he's been close to me. He came right up to me on day one, and before I set the no-touch rule he invaded my space the same as everyone else. So why not attack me then? He said I smelled good, but-'
Ego froze, and she and Id just stared at each other for a moment. Id smiled and wrote something down on the clipboard. 'And this is why talking about shit is a good thing; we learn new things this way.'
'You don't think… I…' Ego sat down, almost unwilling to process this possibility. 'Oh God, that would make this my fault!'
'Hey,' Id snapped, 'nothing about some smell forced the guy to go for a bite. He did that all on his own.'
'We think!' Ego cried, about ready to pull out her hair. 'What is up with my weird powers?! And if there was a smell, why didn't I smell it too?!'
'Probably for the same reason a smelly person doesn't realize they stink,' Id shrugged. 'Sometimes you just need someone else to break the news to you. Look, the point is that this is speculation, and frankly it sounds like you're trying to justify his actions. Let's be real here; that's an abuse victim response. Stop justifying the guy's abusive actions.'
'I'm not,' Ego growled.
'Saying that the guy trying to kill you is your fault isn't justification? Really?' Id leaned forward, holding Ego's gaze. 'Look, the way I see it, we have two options here. Option one; tell Alastor to go fuck his radios and take the deal with Vox, getting out of a potentially very bad situation and taking a really strong professional step forward, or take a really big risk to keep your friends and continue basically donating your time in the hopes that this is all some vast misunderstanding and it won't happen again.'
Ego took a deep breath, but it didn't help. Despite the pros to both, neither option felt completely right. If she went with Vox, it was the better professional decision, and would help her abandon these pesky emotions that were interfering with her work. She could focus on her career, ignoring all of her strange fascinations and weird thoughts in favor of the orderly lifestyle she favored in life. No more temptations at Plaisirs Crus, no more friendly lessons in writing or anything else, and no more using someone to scratch the need for more romantic attention. Just good, old-fashioned regulation and procedure.
If she turned down this deal, she would likely continue down a more emotional path, which proved rather hazardous in her youth. She would likely start becoming friends with her staff, care about her clients, maybe even continue being friends with Alastor if she was right about him. It was also likely she would continue donating her time, as the concept of being paid hasn't been addressed since her contract was signed. And despite all of those things feeling like negatives, she had really come to enjoy them.
'I… I don't know what to do,' she stated, her voice blank. She looked up at Id, who merely raised an eyebrow. 'I… What should I do?'
'That depends,' Id purred, leaning forward with a clever smirk. 'What do you want?'
Ego smirked back. 'I want to see who I'll be working for before I agree to anything.'
When she started to shift back to the real world, Vox was snapping a finger in front of her face. "Finally! You zoned out hard, there. I knew you looked tired, but damn."
"Sorry," she apologized, rubbing a hand down her face. "I haven't slept well for a few days, and then today was just exhausting."
"Fair enough," Vox laughed. "So, what's the final verdict? Ready to move forward with your afterlife?" He held out his hand, and a blue, crackling light emanated from it, producing a loud sound similar to TV static.
She hesitated, looking down at the hand with suspicion. "I tend to prefer a written contract."
This time, Vox didn't bother hiding his irritation as impatience started to take over. "I've spelled everything out for you. This was rather spur-of-the-moment, you know; doesn't really leave a lot of time for writing up a formal contract."
"Well, if it's too much trouble for you," she said, whipping out a pen with a smirk, "I can write it up right now."
Vox leveled her an annoyed look. "You must be joking."
"Not at all!" Eliza grinned. "I can write almost as fast as you can talk; give me the details again and I'll start immediately, if you've got paper."
"Are you mocking me?"
She blinked. "Not at all. I've never done an unwritten deal, and I'd prefer to avoid doing it now."
Now he was angry. "Alright, I need you to understand something; this is an excellent deal, one that most of the people down here would kill for, and I'm not asking for much. A simple statement that would kill the princess' business and shut down whatever plan my rival has for it is hardly a fair exchange for what I'm offering. I'm being generous, and being asked to repeat myself isn't going to fly."
Eliza's eye twitched, but she didn't interrupt. Oh, this worked better than expected. He was leaning closer, and his screen started to glitch as he seemed to grow taller. Nearby patrons were backing away, but she didn't budge.
"I don't know what kind of deal you signed with that deluded little girl running the joint, but this is better than anything even the royal family will offer you. I'm doing this because I like you, Eliza. I can wait for another mistake to be made, or for another opportunity to present itself to get my partner's whore back. This is simply the most immediate chance I have to shut down Radio Fucker's new powerbase, or source of entertainment, or whatever the fuck the guy gets off on helping Rainbow Princess. This offer will not be presented again-" he reached out and took the pen from her hand, crushing it easily before opening it again, revealing the same blue staticky glow from before, "-and I will not repeat it all to you again. Sell out the princess and her red-clad sugar daddy, and get a dream job that lets you do what you do best. It's a simple decision."
Well, what do you know. In one day she brought out the bad side of the two people she enjoyed spending time with. One tried to eat her out of nowhere, and the other threatened to abandon her if she didn't do what he wanted.
What an educational day.
"Simple," she whispered, thoughtfully. Nothing about this decision was simple. Stay at the hotel where her life was potentially in danger at all times and her career could go up in flames, or work for a man who's charismatic mask hides a manipulative control-freak who could drop her on her ass simply because she asked for a little extra security. 'Simple' is a laughable description of the situation.
"Yes; simple," he repeated, calming down and returning to normal, hand still outstretched. "Take the deal, Eliza. Get out of that hotel and take a job that everyone can respect you for. Trust me, you'll be kept very busy as a member of my empire."
What do you want?
She smiled at him. "I guess, when you put it like that… there's really only one answer." She reached out her hand.