The Dream Virgin: A Ventures Nest Thriller

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The Dream Virgin: A Ventures Nest Thriller Page 4

by Don Quine


  Marc let out a braying laugh that ended in a whinny and got a startled reaction from the winners.

  Except from Elfri who felt numb. She glanced at the guy. Told herself to forget for a second the scary likeness between him and Sky and just accept he was some kind of Ventures Nest somebody. But whoever he was, she had to be cool about what was crazy.

  Oliver placed his hand on the shoulder of a pensive staff member that sat next to him, a hawk-eyed geek.

  “Ventures Nest IT mastermind, my pleasure to introduce Alec Rega.”

  “I trawl for innovation, use our Bash and selected online contests to discover talent with bright ideas that make money and help humanity.”

  Alec tipped a hat with a Flying Spaghetti Monster logo on it.

  “I’m also a Dr. Who wonk and love exposing dogma based on bullshit.”

  Pointing to a gal with a chartreuse Mohawk and Pitt Moss gardening shorts sitting next to Alec, Oliver said, “Irene Elizabeth manages our environmental impact and protection program and created our Garden of Earthly Delights.”

  Irene waved. “I am currently caught up with fungi that act as bio-remediators to filter and break down toxic land from oil spills and agricultural run off. They’re basically crap killers.”

  Irene took in each of the Nestlings. Grinned.

  “I got outvoted suggesting we call you guys Seedlings instead of Nestlings.”

  Oliver looked at Hunter, said, “Or dream virgins,” and moved to the curly-bearded guy seated next to Irene Elizabeth.

  “Josh Steuben supervises the architectural designs of the Nest and our lakeside properties. A man of complex and compelling visions.”

  Josh looked up from his phablet, steepled his fingers and said, “Structurally speaking.”

  From the side of his mouth, Will said to Elfri, “I gotta pee.”

  He didn’t need to share that with Elfri, but did because up until a short time ago she was looking unsure, which was understandable. Now Elfri looked on the edge, so Will figured he’d try to get her attention, distract her from her from whatever was causing her skin to get thin, before she said or did something she’d regret.

  Elfri ignored Will as a buxom woman nearing sixty with a blonde beehive and a Molly’s Cafe apron strutted over to check out the breakfast table.

  “We doing alright here?” Molly lifted a basket with one biscuit in it. “More powder milks?”

  “We’re perfect, Molly,” Nicole said, and everyone echoed agreement.

  Oliver looked over at the picnic table people, raised his voice so they could hear him, “You could tell the city council they’re more than welcome to pull their chairs closer, say hi to our newcomers. They won’t bite.”

  He waved his hand invitingly at the group of affluent citizens who turned to the cool dude in the Hawaiian outfit who waved back to Oliver and dismissed the invite.

  Molly grabbed an empty OJ pitcher and walked back to the cafe as Akizu spread five fingers at Oliver and made a hand chop.

  Oliver nodded, turned to Nicole, whispered something, she nodded, and Oliver said to everyone, “Let’s take a five-minute break.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Elfri was ready to split at the break and head back to Texas, but she stayed in her seat the entire five minutes, which felt like hours, sipping coffee, trying to get a handle on who the hell the Sky guy was; she heard Nicole call him Oliver. Whoever he was he acted like he ran the show.

  “Now to our gifted winners.”

  Oliver pointed at the guy at the table with candy and cookies, slices of pie and cake, an ice cream cone, and other yummies tattooed on his arms.

  “Hailing from San Francisco, Bob Bonet, the Sweet Gourmet, and his handy helper, Sweet Teeth, with their YouTube cooking show, Sugar & Snails, and the winner of our Well Eaten contest.”

  Nicole led a round of welcoming applause.

  Hunter was taken with Bob who was cute, gay, and wore a chef’s apron.

  He gave a “thrilled to be here” wave to everyone and said, “Hi there, Yummies!” Bob pulled a hand puppet out of his apron that said, “How’s your tummies?”

  Bob had a rich baritone voice and Sweet Teeth’s was high and childlike. Bob was obviously an excellent ventriloquist. The funny-faced hand puppet had three front teeth and a chef’s hat on its head. Bob and Sweet Teeth continued playing to the table.

  “We create unique yummies for kids with sugar and spice and all things nice . . .”

  “. . . And snips, snails, and puppy dog tails.”

  Sweet Teeth made like it was taking some big bites as Didjano interjected with, “Of the nearly two thousand species of edible insects, beetles and wasps are the most popular due to their apple and pine nut flavors.”

  Sweet Teeth tapped Bob.

  “Hey, Bob. Think beetles and wasps on a snow cone will make the lick list?”

  Most everyone laughed except Elfri who still couldn’t look at Oliver for more than a glance when he said something.

  Oliver said, “Sounds irresistible, Sweet Teeth,” and turned to a gal who wore camo fatigues that hugged her thick thighs.

  “Seated next to Bob and Sweet Teeth is Amarosa Vanger, our Cutting Edge contest winner from Atlanta with her Funny Mirror that features celebrity parodies who become you.”

  Amarosa said, “You can get it on as Iggy Plop and sing I Wanna Be Your Cat, dribble and shoot like Joydone or eat your patients like Dr. Cannibal Lecher. The Funny Mirror lets you become popular spoofed idols, hokey heroes, and dumb villains of your reflected fancy. Each video spoof has a sixty-second storyline with synced sound and music.”

  Amarosa drew intrigued and questionable looks from the table while Oliver checked notes and spotted Akizu’s circling finger to speed things up.

  “Great. And moving right along, from Washington, D.C., we welcome Wayne Wong, winner of the Health Becomes You contest with his line of Mighty Tiny Vits.”

  In a jumpsuit adorned with hundreds of colorful vitamins, the young Asian stood and bowed.

  Wayne was at the very tallest, four feet.

  “My vitamins are a link to loving your life and spirit for the one and a half million Little People in America, a small but lucrative niche that I’m perfectly suited to exploit.”

  Smiles from the table as Wayne reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a dark amber bottle with bright labeling. He held it up.

  “My Mighty Tiny Vits are specially formulated to grow . . .” Wayne slowly stood on his toes, “. . . the bodies and minds of midgets.”

  Wayne sat down and wiggled the bottle. “I have small samples.”

  Elfri turned finally, let herself watch Oliver as he worked his way around the table, rubbed her cold hands, breathed deeply and told herself to stop projecting and pay attention to these weirdoes. She needed to focus.

  She felt nauseous.

  “From Venice Beach, CA, the West Coast winner of our Have a Fit contest, Manny Elwood with his Public Spectacle Workouts on Crackle.com.”

  Dressed in a glitzy tank top, shorts, and a smile, Manny slid on a workout vest with an assortment of exercise options, grabbed one of the handles on the vest and pulled the resistance tube to flex a killer bicep.

  “My mission in life is to pump up public workouts, make them popular, portable, and profitable using The Workout Vest. Patent pending.”

  Manny was a natural born salesman and demoed other handles and tools on the vest that worked different body parts as he said, “You got walkers and runners and bikers out on the streets. I’m saying it’s time to flaunt a communal fitness message that mobile workouts are time savers, great for meeting people, and attracting attention to any cause you want while working every single one of your 622 muscles!”

  The table gave Manny a hand and Will got up to pee again. Too much coffee. He headed toward the restroom, concerned that Elfri looked
pale.

  Oliver pointed to a gal with shades and a foxy grin whose rainbow locks matched her sunsuit.

  “From New York City we welcome Leah Lawson, winner of our After a Fashion contest and creator of FabTV’s hit show, Rags to Riches.

  Leah blew Oliver a coquette kiss, removed her glitzy sunglasses and asked, “Anybody here know who said, ‘Kissing—and I mean like, yummy, smacking kissing—is the most delicious, most beautiful and passionate thing that two people can do, bar none . . . better than sex, hands down? ’”

  After zero speculation from the group, Nicole said, “Drew Barrymore.”

  Leah said, “Bingo!” figuring Nicole being older would likely know, which is why she asked the question. The others at the table probably never heard of Drew or her great acting family, which Leah would bring up when she invited Nicole to have lunch.

  “A kiss requires the coordination of 112 muscles,” Didjano said, and Oliver pointed to her.

  “A walking search engine and winner of our Social Needia contest with her ManiaTV show, Face the Facts. From Boston, Didjano Jones.”

  Didjano stood and rapped out, “When opportunity knocks, lots think it’s a lucky chance to hit it big . . . bling rings and flings . . . cash, cars, and movie stars, but if you get what you need, need to plant a seed . . . cuz I’m here to declare it ain’t growin nowhere if you don’t fight, shed light, the planet’s in plight . . . I can hand you stats, deal out facts, but my real spiel’s a coronary deal . . .”

  Raising her fists, Didjano tapped her heart, twisted her hips, bobbed and weaved and tossed playful punches, egging on everyone at the table with hip-hop attitude.

  “Tap the ticker if you want pollution solutions . . . pick up the poop, the fungus among us . . . so here’s the scoop, called team work . . . the me and the you to keep the sky blue, with a clean Earth we get a new birth . . . so if you’re down with it, let’s give it up!”

  Except for Elfri, everyone responded to Didjano by joining her in a lively display of heart taps and playful sparing that gave them a break from the intros.

  The man in the Hawaiian shirt and shades rose from the nearby picnic table, followed on cue by the two Indians and the red-haired boy.

  When the heart taps subsided, Oliver turned to Elfri.

  “And finally, from the state of—”

  “Elfri Fleming.” Elfri stood up and told the group, “I’m a professional dreamer from the Southwest and draw comic books that teach kids the power of lucidity.”

  She turned to Oliver matter of factly.

  “Who are you?”

  Before Oliver could say anything, the man in the Hawaiian outfit walked over from where he was with the older group, stepped in front of Oliver and reached his hand out to Elfri.

  “Leon Bickford. Like to welcome you and your grandfather to Lake Meadows, Miss Fleming.”

  Unlike his laid back look, Leon’s welcome was assertive. Elfri shook hands while Leon took in her eyes and checked her wrist, disregarding her ice-cold hand.

  “Nice watch.”

  Looking up to Oliver, he said, “Might be nice if you were on time when you have special people to meet.” He looked back to Elfri. “He means well.”

  Leon signed Elfri a shaka, turned, and walked out of the alley with his trio. The Indian man and woman were chatting in Farsi; the redheaded boy turned and waved to Oliver.

  Oliver waved back to the boy and said to the table, “Excuse the interruption.” Then he turned to Elfri. “Sorry, about that. My—”

  “So what’s your role in this setup?”

  Elfri felt her stomach clench, couldn’t bite her tongue!

  Oliver nodded. “Forgive the late introduction.”

  Oliver turned to the other Nestlings.

  “Snapshot bio. I’m Oliver. No last name. I’m an orphan. Never knew my parents. They likely didn’t want me to.”

  Oliver walked over to Nicole.

  “But whoever they were, they left me a large fortune and set up a family of guardians to raise me with direction from a foundation that oversaw my upbringing.”

  “And helped me to build Ventures Nest.”

  Oliver kissed Nicole on the top of her head.

  “With lots of support and guidance from Nicole who’s been teaching me how to take care of the business of life since I was ten.”

  Oliver took a drink of water while the winners digested what he said, and then he walked back to Elfri.

  “To answer your question, Elfri, my role in this setup is to nurture innovations that create good outcomes. When I’m running with a full plate, I can come off pushy.”

  Oliver extended his hand.

  “My apologies.”

  Elfri paused, afraid that if she shook hands she’d throw her arms around him, see how real her Sky lookalike really was.

  Seeing Elfri’s hesitation, wanting to lighten the situation for her, Oliver withdrew his hand, touched it to his heart and began tossing playful rap taps at Elfri, bobbing and weaving.

  “Hell . . . see, El . . . fri, you got to tell . . . me, that—”

  Elfri punched Oliver in the stomach.

  Then spun around and snarled at Didjano.

  “This is a fucking bowling alley, go find a church to preach in!”

  Elfri turned to the shocked stares from the table of Nestlings.

  Which made her yell, “And take your choir with you!”

  With mocking heart-taps, Elfri flipped everyone off as she backed away to the entrance of the alley, tripping on her way, not noticing Will’s return from the men’s room.

  Nobody at the table said a word as Will arrived.

  Then Didjano said, “That freak-eyed bitch is on the edge of darkness.”

  Will made note of Didjano’s comment and her eyes that followed Elfri out of the alley. He turned to Oliver.

  “Misunderstanding?”

  Oliver started to say something, then nodded.

  “Maybe something she ate, been a long drive,” Will said. “Let me check it out.”

  Will took a few steps, stooped and said to Nicole, too loud for it to be meant only for her ear, “You probably heard this before, Miss Winslow, but you remind me of the actress in that Monster movie, not a Godzilla-type flick, but a down-and-dirty love story of two women living on the mean streets? One’s a killer.”

  Nicole smiled, aware and impressed that Will was using his charm to distract from his granddaughter’s angry outburst.

  “Could be wrong, but I believe she won an Academy Award for the role.”

  Will headed toward the exit.

  CHAPTER 7

  A week shy of her eleventh birthday on Patriot Day, Elfri self-published Dream Zoo comic book #1—Welcome To Dream Zoo—Cuddling Your Nightmare.

  Elfri had done sketches of her dreams since she woke up from a bad one about a centipede when she was six, but she never thought about making a comic book out of them until she was at a library a few years later and discovered a book called The Strange World of Your Dreams—Comics Meet Sigmund Freud and Salvador Dali, a collection of four comics.

  The artwork was wild, but what Elfri loved about them most was they weren’t dreams of magic castles, unicorns, and happy-ever-afters. These dreams were drawn from suppressed fears and memories. Monsters and grim endings.

  With help from Julia Whitney, a cashier at Sierra Sid’s Casino who was into astral projection and out-of-body experiences, and was also a Sparks, Nevada, public library volunteer who had access to the administration’s color printer, one hundred and twenty 8x10 sheets of 12-lb. stock paper got printed on both sides for free and allowed Elfri to prove beyond a $100 doubt that she could make money from her dreams.

  Elfri gave Julia a twenty to donate to the library’s “Turn the Pages” program after all forty 4x5 12-page comics were sold at the first DZ Slumbe
r Party, Saturday, 10–2 at the Sid’s Casino parking lot. Three bucks a copy, which included the unveiling of the newly painted murals of Slumber and Dreamland Express on the sides of the midnight blue bus, as well as an inside tour of the converted classroom.

  The bus took a considerable amount of time and get-going money that was advanced by Sid after Julia introduced him to Elfri.

  Sid took Elfri seriously, liked what she told him about his recurring dream of his ears turning into roulette wheels, and he liked swapping cowboy stories with Will; he liked how the two of them acted professionally.

  And Sid loved the chutzpah idea Elfri came up with.

  It took her a few sketches, right makeup, a thrift shop wig, hours on the costume, but less than a minute for Sid to buy into Elfri being, “I am Silvia the Psychic, great, great, great, granddaughter of the Great Svengali, gifted through generations with the amazing ability to peer into Fortune’s Future with my sky-blue eye, my soothsaying green orb focusing on Fortune’s favorites. Increase your odds with a free prognostication, compliments of Sid’s Casino.”

  Elfri gave Silvia an attention-getting Eastern European accent and the odds she imparted were couched in questions with the same conclusion. Elfri holding the patron’s hands in a weird grasp and telling them, “Please remember to take things easy for the first half-hour of play, yank the one-arm bandits, eat the free food, then move from the slots to cards or craps, easing your way into harmony with your favorite game or one that bids good will. Stay alert. Never doubt your instincts.”

  “And tuck away a No-Touch Twenty for every C-Note you win.”

  Elfri would release the patron’s hand with a blessing in Polish, leaving her hands open with a winning smile.

  Tips were good and she would often sell a $20 “Lady Luck Kissed You!” sketch to winners on their way out.

  Sid offered Will a job parking cars and working on his limos. Together, Elfri and Will made enough to pay Sid back for the bus loan less than a month after the parking lot opening. Will didn’t have to tap into his pension.

 

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