Tears (10 page)

Gaia bit the inside of her cheek. Slight point there. But she was changing. “Let's back up. You haven't exactly been one big open book since I've met you.
There's the small fact that you slept with my foster mother. . . .” She broke off, instantly regretting the words. Sam's face was whitewashed in pain, his mouth open like a wound. They'd made a pact to never mention that incident again. Gaia had broken her promise. She'd made a mistake. Especially since Sam hadn't even known who Ella was—

“Yo, Sam Moon!”

A jovial voice tore into the thickening silence.

Gaia turned to see a tall guy with dark hair and NYU sweats jog toward them.

“Josh,” Sam hissed. He bristled, then backed away. Gaia glanced at him, puzzled. “It's my—my RA,” he stammered. His eyes were wide. If he was still angry about the Ella comment, he didn't show it. There was no mistaking the look in his eye: It was fear. But why would he be scared of his RA? Anyway, wasn't Josh supposed to be Sam's new pal? She remembered Sam talking about him recently....

“What's up?” Josh asked casually, glancing between the two of them. “You must be the lovely Gaia. Heard so much about you.”

Gaia's eyes narrowed.
The lovely Gaia.
Well, she could see why Sam didn't like him anymore. His slick, oily, confident manner definitely rubbed her the wrong way, too.
In fact, he looked like any number of annoying, handsome jocks who breezed through life
—
never struggling, never
suffering.
But he certainly didn't come across as anyone to
fear.
Just someone to avoid.

Gaia opened her mouth to reply—but Sam caught her off guard, grabbing her arm. “We have to get going,” he mumbled, half shoving Gaia down the street.

She frowned. “Hey—”

“There's no need to be rude, Sammy,” Josh shouted after them.

Sammy?

Gaia shook loose of Sam's grasp, then glanced between the two of them.

There was a weird dynamic here, one she couldn't understand. Who on earth called Sam “Sammy”? But neither of them spoke for a moment. Sam was glaring at Josh. Gaia had never seen him so flustered.

“So you two are just hanging out in Chinatown, huh?” Josh asked, oozing his macho frat boy version of charm. “Just sight-seeing?”

“What do you want?” Sam spat. His voice was trembling.

Josh clucked his tongue. “You shouldn't be down here. You shouldn't be hanging out with Gaia.” He flashed her a phony smile. “Nothing personal toward you, but Sammy knows he shouldn't be hanging out with you.” He turned to Sam again, his smile vanishing. “You've got another test coming up, Sam. I know you don't want to fail.”

“Another. . . test?” Gaia asked, completely bewildered now. That was news to her.

“I'm just going to take her home,” Sam whispered.

“Good idea.” Josh's eyes flashed to Gaia. “Well, I'll tell you, Gaia, I have noticed that Sam's been pretty tense lately, and I just keep trying to tell him to relax. Like I always say, things could be worse. Things could be much, much worse. You know what I mean, don't you, Gaia? Don't you ever just sit and contemplate how much worse your life could be—”

“We have to go!” Sam spat. He grabbed Gaia's arm again, dragging her down the street.

This time Gaia was too shocked to resist. Their rapport made absolutely no sense. As far as Gaia could tell, Josh was just an oaf with a penchant for spouting clichés. So why was Sam acting so weird?

“See you back at the dorm,” Josh called. “And nice to meet you, Gaia. Hope I see
you
again real soon....” His voice finally faded into the distance.

“What was that about?” Gaia hissed in Sam's ear.

He just shook his head, his face an unreadable mask.

“Nothing to do with us, huh?” Gaia asked. With a savage twist she pulled her arm free of Sam's grip. Ashen faced, he opened his mouth, apparently searching for the right words to say.
As if there could be any.
Too late. Gaia turned, and this time she really sprinted. Sam would never catch up to her
now—not if she put her mind to it, and that was exactly how it should be.

She'd had enough of the boyfriend-girlfriend thing for one day.

LOKI HAD SEEN SOME UGLY FACES
in his time. But every time that prison guard slid open the window of his cell door, he still couldn't help but gasp at the sheer hideousness of her features. That drooping, useless eye. And the black-and-yellow highlights of her teeth—she grinned each and every time she provided his meals—made the virtually indigestible food even less appetizing. Worst of all were her bulbous cheeks, which seemed to fill every corner of the rather large window. . . . She was just repellent.

Planning a Dinner Party

He made a mental note never to use her again once she'd completed this job for him.

“Lunch!” she announced with a primitive grunt. For what seemed like the thousandth time, she slid a tray through the midlevel slot in the door.

Loki grabbed his meal and immediately searched under the paper plate for his delivery. The moment his fingertips made contact with the flattened shrink-wrapped package, a smile overtook his stern expression. It was his first smile in days. And from this moment on, it certainly would not be his last. Loki peeled the package from under the tray and punctured the shrink-wrap, taking a nice long whiff.

Ahhh. Nothing like the scent of fresh laundry.

He made a mental note to have his entire wardrobe laundered for his return home. Which, thankfully, would be in just a few more days. The preparations had taken a tad longer than he'd predicted, but at last events were falling into place, and the plan was back on schedule.

Loki pranced back to his bed (there was room for about two steps of prancing in his claustrophobic cell) and placed the package under his mattress, humming the “Ode to Joy” from Beethoven's Ninth.
Yes, it had become overexposed and bourgeois, but it seemed appropriate for the moment.
He could feel the tide was turning back in his favor.

Permanently.

Freedom was just days away. Dinner at Compagno's, a comfortable bed, tailored shirts, and best of all... a brand-new daughter.

GAIA MOVED THROUGH THE CHILLY
darkness, a light rain sprinkling softly around her. It had been a long time since she'd done this—since she'd roamed the streets at night, looking for action. She crossed Little West Twelfth Street for the second time already, staring into silent storefronts up and down dark alleys that glistened slick and empty.

Big Sugar-Coated Lie

Gaia's eyes raked right and left, desperate to lock onto something suspicious. Maybe a wife-beating alcoholic would materialize. Or a rapist. A bunch of looters.
Come on,
Gaia willed. It wasn't that late, only a little past ten.
There had to be some thuggish activity so that she could jump in, kick some ass, and at least feel useful in the world.
Anything beat trying to sleep with Sam's enigmatic, guilt-ridden face in her mind.

But there was simply nothing out here tonight. No one to punish. No one to save.

So much for the rough-and-ready Meat-Packing District. The place was deserted. She was alone in the softly falling rain.

Which meant she was forced to think about him again.

Beautiful Sam Moon.

I don't understand it, Sam,
she called silently to him.
After all the shit we came through to get here. Why are you doing this?
True, Gaia was inexperienced with relationships. Meaning that she had no experience whatsoever. But somehow she had the feeling that even if she were a craggy old veteran of love—even if she were some kind of love guru, the love
doctor
—she'd still have no idea why Sam was being so distant.

It was so horribly twisted, in a way: She had returned from Paris as the “new” Gaia. But while she'd been away, the “old” Sam picked up and split.

She shook her head, glaring at the bleak cityscape. A couple of roundhouse kicks was all she wanted. Was that too much for a girl to ask?

Apparently, yes.

Her thoughts raced, scurrying across her mind like the rats that darted in and out of the neighborhood gutters.
What was Sam keeping from her? What was really behind his half-baked attempt to placate her by insisting that there was nothing wrong between them? Why was Sam so damn nervous around her? It was so unlike him—or at least, who she
thought
he was....Maybe it
was
just the pressure at school. Like Josh had suggested. Yeah, right. Bullshit. Sam had always managed to pick up his grades, no matter how fast and far he'd fallen. He was an ace student.

Maybe it was some kind of family thing?

No. He would have shared that with Gaia. At least, she thought he would.

An electric tingle fizzled in her veins. There was nothing to be scared of, obviously. Nothing around here, anyway. Even the meekest person in the world would probably feel comfortable in this spot. Just a little weird. No. . . but Gaia knew why she was feeling that sensation that always came instead of fear. It was because she was just circling around the obvious possibility.

Sam had finally spent enough time with her to know that he didn't love her.

No. It's not that simple. Sam loves you. He loves you, and you love him. But for whatever reason, you just can't stand to be around each other right now.

Strange. Before they'd even met, before they'd exchanged a single word, Gaia had thought about being with him all the time. Now that they were going out, being together was an impossibility. Yes, Camus was definitely right. Life was absurd.

Gaia walked east into the wind. The rain was coming down in sheets now. She felt exposed.
As if people were staring at her from blackened windows.
Only one person aside from Sam could make her feel better. . . but Ed had shut her off, too. He wasn't answering her calls; he wasn't replying to her e-mails.

That left her father. But did she really want to open up to him about her boyfriend problems? No. She'd done that once. It was enough. Anyway, he was having a drink with George Niven and would be home within the hour—and if she tried to get in touch with him anytime before then, he would probably have a panic attack. He thought she was home right now, after all.

Probably just as well. Perhaps she shouldn't share her problems with her dad or anyone else. Lately, sharing hadn't gotten her too far.

From Ed Fargo's Trash Mail Folder


To:
[email protected]


From:
[email protected]


Re:
. . .—fargo. .—. . please. .—come. . .—in. . -.


G:


I want to talk to you, too. I know I've been distant lately, but I have a very good reason, and it has to do with Heather. I've kept this to myself because I didn't want you to judge her too harshly re something v. important that I can't discuss in e-waves.


Need to talk in person, urgently. I have to run this by you. You're the only one I trust.


I have some exciting news, too.


Ed

From Ed Fargo's Sent Mail Folder


To:
[email protected]


From:
[email protected]


Re:
. . .—fargo. .—. . please. .—come. . .—in. . -.


G:


Sorry I didn't reply sooner, but I've been busy. I got your phone message, too, but haven't had a chance to call back. Primarily because I am a lame ass. And in keeping with my current lame-ass status, no, I can't hook up tomorrow. I have a family thing.


Then I'll be attending the convention for lame asses
. . . .

But in the meantime. . .


“Stay alive! No matter what occurs! I WILL CALL YOU!”


—A little Daniel Day Lewis from
Last of the Mohicans.


Are my movie references getting too obscure? Yeah, I think so, too.


See you at school.


Ed

I
think my daughter is withdrawing from me. Tonight my meeting ran late with George. He leaves for Washington, D.C., tomorrow morning, and there are concerns about Loki that require our fullest attention. When I came home just before midnight, I looked in on Gaia, worried that she was still up, concerned that I was not yet back. She lay still, pretending to be asleep. Everything was perfect: the even rise and fall of her lungs, the relaxed eyelids—except that I knew she was faking it. Years of experience has taught me the difference between sleep and a facsimile, no matter how good.


But why would Gaia pretend with me?


Perhaps it is to be expected, these moments where Gaia sees fit to screen herself. I suppose I had naively hoped for the impossible: that once Gaia and I were reunited, she would forget about the separation I had forced her
to endure for so long. Yet there is no denying that I put my daughter through years of bitterness that no amount of explaining can melt away.


The poor girl. I worry so for her happiness. And my work pressures are building. The agency has long since abandoned their lenient attitude. I won't have limitless time on my side. And the agency's impatience will affect my daughter. Not just her happiness, but most important, her safety. Gaia's protection is all that counts.


Sometimes it amazes me that after all I have seen and known, I still have the capacity for simplistic optimism. I still want to believe that Gaia could somehow forget everything that's happened between us, to trust me and open up to me without hesitation. As if that could make the world stop turning and grant me a reprieve from reality.