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“Later, Fargo,” he growled, shooting a glare at Gaia. He stormed out of the cafeteria. Joe and the other ape followed him. Ed didn't even want to ask.
Gaia had probably kicked Carl's ass on three separate occasions.

“How's it going, Ed?” she asked, grinning proudly.

He stared down at his soup-soaked lunch, suddenly in a very sour mood. “What do you
want?”
he muttered.

Gaia's grin faded. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Look, I just want to eat lunch, all right?” he
spat, glancing up at her. “So what is it? What's so important?”

She blinked, then shrugged. “I just wanted to tell you that I was thinking about moving away. That's all.”

At that moment Ed literally felt like somebody had plunged a machete through his chest. He stopped breathing. His face went slack. She was . . .

“It's a long story . . . but the short of it is that I found out I have this uncle, and he was supposed to take me out of town for a couple of months. But I changed my mind. I'm going to stay right here.”

There was no point in trying to follow what Gaia was saying. None at all. Ed experienced about a dozen emotions in the space of three seconds, and he had no idea what he was feeling. But he was sure that Gaia was staying. At least, he thought he was.

“So ...you're not going anywhere?” he asked.

“Right,” she said. “And you know, even though you
are
a rude little weasel, you had a lot to do with why I'm staying.” She flashed him another blank smile, then quickly exited the cafeteria.

Ed stared at her retreating form. He felt like he'd just been in a car crash or run the marathon. He was drained.
But pleased. Very pleased.
It was almost as good as the time she told him she loved him after they had fallen down the stairs in the subway. Not “that way,” obviously. But then, nothing was ever one particular “way” with them at all. Whatever way
Gaia chose to express her feelings was good enough for him. It always was.

ONE THING HEATHER HAD TO SAY
about Gaia Moore: She gave whole new meaning to the term
casual attire.
If Heather walked around in baggy jeans and a gray sweatshirt, no would know she existed. But there was Gaia, strutting out the door while Ed looked at her as if she were Marilyn Monroe reincarnated.

Arm Candy

Heather thought of the first time she had seen Sam talking to Gaia. He had looked like one of the Seven Dwarfs meeting Snow White for the first time. Dopey, if she remembered correctly. Not so coincidentally, that was about the time that Sam and Heather's relationship started on its collision course.
Ka-boom.
Over.

Then again, Ed wasn't Sam. Ed loved her. He
really
loved her. And unlike Sam, Ed
knew
Heather.
She wasn't just a piece of arm candy who looked good on his arm at frat parties.
Not that Sam had ever thought of her that way ...but still. She and Ed were soul mates. Besides, Sam had
never bothered to use his money to take care of Heather and her family. No. Ed was different that way.

On the other hand, it wouldn't hurt to remind Ed that he was no longer Gaia's sole property. Or that he had better things to do than stare at Gaia's butt. Right. She strolled toward the table where Ed was sitting, aware that plenty of guys were watching.

“Hey, Ed.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Oh! Hey!” He jumped a little, then laughed awkwardly. “I was just thinking about you!”

Heather cocked her eyebrow. “While looking at Gaia?” she asked.

Ed's face flushed. “No ...no, she was—”

“Don't worry about it, Ed,” she soothed. She patted him on the head. Point made. Ed was Heather's again. And he wasn't likely to forget it.

 

From:
(undisclosed sender)

To:
[email protected]

Re:
Apologies

Time:
5:25 P.M.

My dearest Gaia
,

I am very sorry I haven't contacted you in the past few days. Business has consumed me, and I haven't had any time to spare. But I am still very sincere about our plans abroad. I know this is short notice, but can you meet me for dinner tonight? Compagno's, eight-thirty. I expect to see you there.

All my love
,

         Oliver

 

GAIA

I
bought condoms once before. It was last fall, when I was determined to lose my virginity with Sam. Things didn't go exactly as I had planned. I went to his dorm room and found him having sex with Heather Gannis. The fact that she was his girlfriend at the time didn't make me feel any better. For that momentous occasion, I bought a pack of Trojan Magnas. Call me an optimist.

That first pack of condoms went the way of my stolen messenger bag. I hadn't bothered to replenish the supply until this afternoon. Not that I'd needed to. A girl with size-ten feet, zero social skills, and a wardrobe from
Platoon
doesn't generally need to worry about safe sex. Or any sex at all.

Now losing my virginity isn't a possibility. It's a certainty. I want to be fully prepared the next time Sam and I are ready to
do the act. So I bought ten packets, just to be safe.

I think the guy at the counter thought I was a prostitute. Either that or insane. I couldn't tell which.

 

SAM

I
have to say from the outset that I hate to buy condoms. I always feel like some kind of demented pervert when I slap them down on the counter to pay for them. My solution to this problem is to buy as many other items as possible at the same time. I always hope that my three pack of Lifestyles won't be noticeable amid the pile of soap, disposable razors, Bufferin, and toothpaste.

The usual humiliation of the whole process is also compounded by the fact that the very act of buying the condoms makes you think about what you will be
doing
with them. It's not exactly something you want to be sharing with the lady across the counter at the Valu-Mart.

 

ED

I
know Heather and I haven't been back together all that long. And I know I have a fear that borders on morbid at the idea of her seeing my pale, shrunken legs. But I think I could overcome that fear if at least I could stand up and walk to the bed.

The truth is that as much as I want to regain the use of my legs for a million reasons—skateboarding, running, surfing, driving, jumping jacks—there's one activity that stands out in my mind above all others. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out what that activity is.

I decided that buying a pack of condoms would be a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. If I
planned
for the operation to be a success, it
would
be a success. But believe me, a guy in a wheel-chair hovering in front of a massive display of condoms is an awfully conspicuous sight. More than one woman gave me a dirty
look. As if it were illegal for a handicapped guy to think about sex.

But the best was the guy behind the counter. His eyes moved from me to the box of Trojan condoms at least four times before he finally rang them up. I lingered an extra few seconds, just to see if he would have the balls (like Carl's sweet friend Joe) to ask if a guy in a wheelchair could “do it.”

He didn't, though.

“My girlfriend can't get enough of me,” I told him as he handed me my change. “I just wish she loved me for my mind.”

The guy didn't laugh. People like him never do.

The words didn't register. They floated straight past him. The sterile white hospital floor turned to liquid. He pressed his hand against the wall for support.

 

Supremely Delicate Moment

LOKI HAD CALLED THE RESTAURANT
ahead of time to ensure that he and Gaia would have a private table—in the back, away from the Little Italy tourist crowd. He wanted her undivided attention. He
needed
it. And he was glad he had made the effort. Sitting in this small booth, across from his beloved Gaia, he felt that every other human being in this city ceased to exist.

Gaia was staring at the menu. He loved the way her long blond hair drooped around her face as she studied the names of the dishes. Her eyes were playful, happy. Of course.
She'd been praying for this reunion.
He could see it. She'd been thrilled he'd contacted her; she was even at the restaurant five minutes early, looking absolutely stunning in that same black dress she always wore.

“Do you know what you're having?” he murmured.

She shrugged and glanced up. “I think you're going to have to order for me again.”

Loki smiled. “My pleasure.”

She set down the menu, looking relieved. “Good. You know— “ She broke off, her smile fading.

“What is it, dear?” He leaned forward, smoothing the lapels of his dark suit.

“I have to tell you something,” she whispered. “Well . . . uh, I guess the best thing to do is to come out and say it. I've decided to stay in New York. At least for now.” The words came tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. She nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then glanced up at him expectantly.

That's where you're wrong,
Loki thought—but the expression on his face didn't change. He made sure of that.
He was too well trained to display any disappointment or anger.
In any event, there was no reason for anger. Gaia's statement was simply unacceptable. She would understand. No need to blow this out of proportion.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

Loki suppressed a smile. The girl was a wonder. Nothing escaped her. Nothing. He lifted his shoulders in a noncommittal fashion. “Just a little surprised. The last time we spoke, you were unhappy with your home life. What changed?”

Gaia sighed deeply. “It's complicated.” She paused. “My foster mother is dead. She was murdered.”

This was his cue. Loki made sure to look sympathetic. “That's terrible. I know you didn't get along . . . but it must have been an awful blow.”

Gaia nodded. “I found out a lot about her before she died.”

Instantly rage surged through him. Ella loved to talk,
didn't she? He should have shut her up long ago. But he didn't betray even the slightest displeasure. Instead he envisioned the look on her face had
he
been the one who had killed her—
slowly squeezing the life out of her with his own two hands.
He didn't make mistakes very often. But allowing Ella to live had been one of the biggest of his life. He wouldn't forget it.

“She wasn't who she said she was,” Gaia continued. “She was only with George to get close to me.”

Rage turned to fear. Loki's legs tensed. This was beyond unacceptable; this was dangerous. Gaia
couldn't
know the whole truth, unless . . . Was this a trap? No. She was happy to see him. Nobody could act being that sincere, not even Gaia. So Ella hadn't revealed
everything.

“Why would she do that?” Loki asked, thankful that years of training kept his voice from trembling.

“She was working with my father. I don't know the details . . . but apparently my father is some kind of terrorist. He goes by another name. Loki.” She fixed him with a penetrating stare. “Do you know anything about this?”

Loki summoned every ounce of concentration to meet his niece's gaze. So
that's
what happened. Maybe Ella hadn't been as useless and erratic as he'd previously imagined. Maybe she hadn't turned against him. In the final moments of her life she must have served him one last time. Yes. She'd convinced Gaia that Tom
was Loki. It was brilliant.
Absolutely brilliant.
Rest in peace, Ella.
Still, this was a supremely delicate moment—one that required perfect execution.

“I've never heard anything of the kind,” he whispered. “Loki?”

Gaia nodded. “The Norse god of the underworld. It's fitting.”

“I see,” Loki said. Gaia's response was almost too delicious. The name
was
fitting, though not in any way that Gaia knew. But soon she'd understand the truth. Soon she'd embrace it.And as for now . . . well, he was safe. More than that, he had the advantage. The
ultimate
advantage. Gaia would never trust Tom again. She thought
Tom
was Loki. And that meant she belonged to Loki now—the
real
Loki.

“Anyway, the point is, George is a nice guy,” Gaia said. “He's kind of old, and he's really broken up about Ella. I think he sort of needs someone around to keep an eye on him. I owe him that much.”

Ah.
He'd almost forgotten that Gaia was also full of compassion. An admirable quality, but one that didn't serve Loki's cause. He would have to find a way around it.

“Taking responsibility for a young girl might be too much for him to handle right now,” he said.

Doubt clouded Gaia's eyes. Clearly she hadn't considered this angle. But then she shook her head. “George isn't the only reason I want to stay in New
York.” She smiled, then blushed slightly. “I have . . . friends.”

Loki nodded. Obviously she was referring to the Moon boy. It was ironic, in a way. He had wanted Gaia to make connections in New York City when she first arrived. It had been a way to ensure that she wouldn't run away in the dead of night and disappear from the radar screen.
But those bonds had long since served their purpose.
Now they were simply getting in the way. They had been for a while, actually. First there had been that horrible drug addict, Mary. She had made Gaia lazy, sloppy, out of control. But Loki couldn't dispense with Gaia's other friends' lives the way he had dispensed with Mary's. Gaia would get suspicious.