Rebel (8 page)

Skizz chuckled. His laugh was very easygoing and friendly--which somehow only made it more terrifying. "Then we have a problem," he said.

IF MARY COULD COUNT ON
ONE
THING
in life, it was that Gaia Moore would end up okay. Gaia Moore would always find a way to survive, no matter how bad things got. So there was no point in worrying. Right?

Wrong, a silent voice answered.

In the old days, Mary used to tune out that voice by doing a quick blast of coke. She shook her head. Bad to think of coke.
Very bad.
She paced the floor of her vast bedroom, kicking through the clothes that were strewn everywhere. Amazing how depressing the place looked when she wasn't high. Even after a month of sobriety, she still hadn't managed to clean it. But the mess used to be a comfort; she felt like she could hide in it--as if the heaps of dirty laundry were actually enchanted mountains in a magical, secret world. When she locked the doors and sliced out a couple of lines in the mirror, everything around her became transformed....

"Stop thinking about drugs!" she hissed out loud.

She glanced at the clock on her desk. It was already past six. A whole day had come and gone--and she still had heard no word from Gaia. Nobody had picked up at Gaia's house when Mary had tried to call

there, either. But it wasn't as if they had made definite plans or anything. After they bolted from that dorm last night, Gaia had just kept on running. She hardly even said good-bye. She didn't even look back. For all Mary knew, Gaia had gone upstate on some foster family outing.

Yeah. Sure.

A person didn't have to spend a lot of time with Gaia Moore to know that foster family outings played no role in her life.

But at the very least, Mary had made an important discovery last night. There definitely
was
some history between Gaia and Sam Moon--

The phone on her desk rang.

Finally,
she thought. She ran over to grab it--but unfortunately, there was no place for her to sit. All of those stupid Christmas books were stacked on her desk chair. Jesus. She was definitely going to have to trade them in for some
real
gifts. With an impatient swat, she shoved them onto the floor, then snatched up the phone and plopped down into the soft, cushiony seat.

"Hello?"

"I want my five hundred dollars, bitch."

The blood drained from Mary's face.
It wasn't Gaia.

"S-S-Skizz?" she stuttered.

"Hello?" her mom answered on another phone.

Shit.
"I got it, Mom," she said quickly. "I got it--"

"Okay, dear." Her tone was cheerful. "Dinner will be ready in five minutes, so keep it short, okay--"

"I
got
it," she hissed.

There was a fumbling click.

"Aw," Skizz said, his voice gravelly. "Ain't that sweet? Well, don't worry,
dear.
You're gonna make dinner. We ain't got much to talk about."

Mary's breath started coming fast. "How did you get this number?" she whispered.

Skizz started cracking up. "Damn, girl, you musta been more messed up than I thought. You don't remember giving it to me?"

No, she didn't. Then again, she wouldn't be surprised if Skizz were lying right now. That was one of the
many two-sided problems with drugs:
you did things you couldn't remember, but you also hung out with con artists who made up lies about you. And since your brain was fried most of the time, you could never provide any evidence to contradict those lies. You never knew the truth. But it was always safe to assume the worst.

"Well, that's okay," Skizz went on. "I won't take it personally. All I want is my money. Then you won't have to worry about me calling you again. Ever."

Mary swallowed. Her eyes kept darting to the door. What if her mother decided to come in right now? She should have locked it; but then, she wasn't
allowed
to lock it anymore. That was one of the conditions of her cleanup program.

"I don't have your money," Mary said finally.

Skizz chuckled. His laugh was very easygoing and friendly--which somehow only made it more terrifying. "Then we have a problem," he said.

"Look, just give me a couple of weeks to get it together, all right?" Mary whispered frantically.
She could feel herself starting to panic.
"I swear to God, I'll get it to you. It's just ... I don't--I mean, my family will be suspicious if I start taking money out of the bank in huge amounts, so--"

"I don't need your life story, sugar," he interrupted coldly. "I just need that five hundred bucks."

She shook her head. "I ...I ..."

"Don't think you can hide. I know where to find you. I can come up to that swanky Park Avenue apartment, or I can wait for you downtown. Makes no difference to me. And this time if that psycho blond bitch tries anything, I'll be ready."

"Don't touch her," Mary whispered instinctively. God, why did he have to drag Gaia into this mess? Well, actually, she knew the reason. Gaia had kicked the shit out of him once already. His reputation would be severely damaged if rival dealers found out he'd been beaten up by a girl--
twice
.

He laughed again. "Fine. You got twenty-four hours. You know where to find me. If you don't, I'm coming to find
you."

Mary opened her mouth to plead with him one last time. But the line was already dead.

SAM FULLY EXPECTED THE RAGING BATTLE
in his head to be over. He'd made his decision. Or rather,
Heather
had made his decision for him. She'd been incredible. Like some kind of wild goddess. A month on the rocks did wonders for a relationship.
Especially the physical part.
There was no way anybody could top the way Heather made him feel last night. None. He still couldn't quite believe it. Even in memory it seemed more like a crazy, erotic dream than reality.

So why was he miserable?

Well, for one thing, he was stuck in his dorm room the day after Christmas. Aside from him and the security guard, the entire place was deserted. And he couldn't go to Heather's because she was up visiting relatives in Connecticut.
Loneliness always made a person depressed.
Then there was the fact that his dorm room had no windows and was the

size of a prison cell--and was seriously beginning to reek. He hadn't changed his sheets since ...well, it was best not to think about that.

But he was lying to himself. He knew it. He was just making up reasons to be bummed out. Anything to prevent him from seeing the truth.

The battle wasn't over.

He stared at the phone, half buried under a pile of papers next to his computer. He could just call her. Right now. He could at least find out if she'd kept the chessboard. If she hadn't thrown it out, then he would finally know for sure if it was even worth this agony.

She doesn't give a shit about the stupid chessboard, you idiot.

Whatever. Impulsively he grabbed the phone and punched in Gaia's number, sending the papers flying.

"Hello?" a woman answered after two rings.

"Um ... hi." Sam cleared his throat. It must have been her foster mom. He suddenly found his palms were moist. Maybe he should have waited a little longer and planned exactly what he was going to say. "Is Gaia there, please?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

"This is, uh ... this is Sam," he said.

"Oh, hi." Her voice suddenly brightened. "I'm Ella."

"Uh ... hi," he answered awkwardly. Why did she sound so pleased to talk to him? She didn't even
know
him. His mouth was dry. "How are you?"

"Very well, thanks. And you, Sam?"

Was it his imagination, or was her tone a little ... flirtatious? She was speaking very quietly and intimately. It kind of gave him the creeps.

"I'm fine," he said. "So ... "

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Gaia isn't here right now."

He bit his lip. "Do you know where she is?"

Ella sighed. "With that boyfriend of hers, I imagine."

Snap. Ka-boom.
Thermonuclear detonation.
Mushroom cloud. A red haze filled Sam's brain. Nervousness turned to rage. "Who is this guy, anyway?" he found himself demanding.

"I don't know. But whoever he is, I'm sure he isn't half as cute as you." She sighed again. "Gaia's not known for her judgment, though."

No. She sure as hell wasn't. And Sam was going to give her a piece of his--

Hold on.
Did Gaia's foster mom just call him
cute?
Yeah. She did. But how could she even know if he was cute or not? She'd never even
seen
him. Blood rushed to his face. This was more than creepy....

"Sam? Are you there?"

"Uh ... yeah--yeah," he stammered clumsily. "Listen, can I ask you something?"

"Anything," she answered in a sultry whisper.

His skin was starting to crawl. "I just want to know if you've ever seen her with, um, a new chessboard," he said. "You know, playing chess."

"I sure haven't. I think she plays chess in the park--"

"Thanks," he cut in, slamming the phone down on the hook.

Well. There it was. Not a lot of gray area. Nope. Gaia had thrown away the gift.

Gaia was out of the picture.

So. It was probably about time to give his amazingly hot, ready-and-willing girlfriend a call in Connecticut.

"ELLA?" GAIA YELLED FROM THE TOP OF
the stairs. "Did somebody just try to call me?"

Gaia could have sworn she'd heard the phone ring while she was in the shower. She wasn't the type to imagine things. Well, she
had
imagined that Sam had kissed her--but that was due to a traumatic head injury. She tightened the towel around her body and ran a hand through her soaking hair.

"Ella!" she shouted. "Are you--"

"Quiet!" Ella barked. She stamped loudly up the

stairs to the third-floor landing and glared up at Gaia. "We have neighbors."

Then why are you yelling? Gaia wondered, but she kept a lid on her anger. She wasn't in the mood for a fight right now. "Sorry," she murmured with as much politeness as she could manage. "I was just wondering if that call was for me."

Ella raised her eyebrows. "Why? Are you expecting to hear from someone?"

Gaia's jaw tightened. Asking meddling, inappropriate questions was Ella's specialty. She'd probably guessed correctly that Gaia
was
hoping to hear from someone. Namely Sam--so he could explain why the hell he went back to his heinous girlfriend after what had happened between him and Gaia ... whatever it was.

She drew in a sharp breath. She would
not
think about Sam. Never again. It was her New Year's resolution, and it was coming a little early. Besides, Gaia didn't want to hear from Sam, anyway. She wanted to hear from Mary, so she could have the opportunity to explain why she had freakishly bolted from Sam's dorm the night before. But Ella had been online half the day. And Gaia had been too embarrassed to call Mary herself. She just hoped Mary wasn't mad.

"And would you please put something on your feet?" Ella demanded in the silence. "You're dripping all over the place. Water is bad for the carpet."

Unbelievable. But Gaia simply plastered a big, fake smile on her face.
Sometimes the best offense was passive resistance.
Ella always got the most frustrated when Gaia refused to engage in an argument.

"No problem," Gaia said sweetly. "I'll put something on my feet just as soon as you answer my question. Was that call for me?"

Ella blinked. "No. It wasn't." She turned and marched back down the stairs.

Gaia rolled her eyes. Obviously it
was.
Good thing Ella Niven was a wanna-be photographer and not a covert agent, like her husband. She was probably the worst liar Gaia had ever met. And it wasn't a good quality for somebody who was trying to play her husband for a chump, either.

It was strange, though. There was no possible reason Ella could have for preventing Gaia from getting phone calls.
Then again, Ella wasn't famous for making sense.

Gaia trudged into her bedroom (not that she really thought of it as
hers;
it was just the room she temporarily inhabited), picked up the phone on the desk, and dialed *69.

But instead of ringing, she heard three painfully loud and atonal beeps--the sound of a nonworking or disconnected number.

"We're sorry," a computerized female voice

answered. "At your request, this feature has been deactivated. If you wish to have it--"

Gaia hung up the phone. She scowled in bewilderment. Why the hell would George and Ella deactivate the *69 feature? Why would anyone ...

CIA, Gaia suddenly realized. George probably wanted to make sure that none of the incoming calls from the Agency could be traced--for security purposes. Now that she thought about it, her father had done the same thing. Deactivating the *69 feature was probably company policy. Wonderful. Just her luck. For all Gaia knew, that could have been Sam, calling to confess his love for her. She laughed miserably. Yeah. Chances of that were approximately
one in four zillion.

But it wasn't as if she had to launch a massive investigation. Only two people in the world would possibly call her. Mary or Ed. She decided to try Mary first.