Bad (13 page)

Blond?

Oops. Somewhere in the middle of his fantasy Heather had morphed into Gaia. And now that Gaia was in his head, he knew from past experience that there was no way she was getting out anytime soon. Oh, well. Nobody was perfect.

He only had to look at his parents to remember that.

Code Name Enigma

THE SNOW WAS NOW FALLING SO
heavily that Tom couldn't keep it from sticking to his eyelashes. He stepped farther back into the doorway of the building across the street from Compagno's.
There was little doubt in his mind about whom Gaia was meeting inside. Teenagers couldn't afford to eat at such a place—nor would they want to. But Loki loved gourmet food, and he loved to show off his wealth with expensive bottles of wine and lavish dinners.

Tom ignored his throbbing shoulder. His toes were so cold, they felt like they might snap off. But he wasn't leaving his post until he saw Gaia leave the restaurant. No matter what. Once again—for the fifth time in an hour—the cell phone in his pocket began to vibrate.
Damn.
He wanted to let it ring, but there was no point. His superiors would just keep calling back until he answered. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and clicked the talk button.

“Yes.”

“Hello, Enigma.”

Tom was surprised. He hadn't been addressed by his code name in quite some time. That meant the call was regarding a mission. It was probably coming from thousands of miles away, but thanks to technology, the voice sounded like it was just two feet away.

“Your orders have been issued,” the voice stated.

“Yes, sir.” Tom felt his chest tighten.

“You're to report to Paris immediately.”

“I ...I understand.”

“Your contact will meet you tomorrow at six P.M. at
the hotel Belle Epoche. If you fail to report, we have advised the intelligence community that your employment is to be terminated.”

The line went dead.

Tom thrust the phone back into his pocket, wishing he could smash it into the snow-covered cement. He wasn't in the least surprised. He had been sentenced to death by those to whom he had given everything—

Across the street the door to Compagno's opened. Tom froze, momentarily forgetting the call. There was Gaia. Loki was right behind her.

Tom watched as Loki hailed a cab for his daughter.
His
daughter! Not Loki's! He gnashed his teeth, resisting the urge to pull out his Glock semiautomatic and end his twin's life right then and there.

And then his brother gave Gaia a kiss on the cheek.

God, no.

They hugged. Gaia disappeared into the back of the cab.

Loki stood in front of Compagno's, watching the taxi drive away. Tom knew he could make a move now. It would be so easy. His legs tensed. But right at that moment a black Mercedes pulled up beside the curb. Loki ducked inside. Seconds later the car's taillights vanished around a corner—gone before Tom could even exhale.

He had lost them.

They were gone. Both of them. Loki
and
Gaia. And now Tom had to go back to his motel and pack a bag. He had no choice. If he didn't, he was a dead man. The reality was as clear as the snow falling around him: For the time being, all he could do was pray that George would be able to protect her.

It wasn't much to believe in.

She felt a tremor of rage. Another life lost because of some stupid white powder.

 

AS A RULE, GAIA DIDN'T TAKE CABS.
But Uncle Oliver wouldn't take no for an answer. He'd handed her a twenty-dollar bill and practically shoved her into the backseat. On the other hand, she could get used to this kind of treatment. Expensive meals, fancy cars . . . She drew in her breath. She'd better
not
get used to it.

Proverbial Chatty Cathy

But Oliver was going to make it. Of course he was. He was strong. Like her.

At least the driver wasn't in a chatty mood.
There was way too much going on in her head to make small talk about the Knicks or listen to a litany of complaints about the mayor.
Walking home through this snow—now an official blizzard—would have been far from pleasant, even for her. And the streets were absolutely deserted. She wouldn't even have been patrolling for muggers, rapists, and murderers.

“Stop here,” Gaia instructed the driver. He pulled up to the curb and pointed to the meter. She handed him the twenty. “Ten back, please.”

He silently counted out the bills—all ones, naturally—and thrust them into Gaia's hand. “Have a good night.”

A freezing cold blast of air and snow hit Gaia's face as she slid out of the taxi. She sprinted toward the lobby of Sam's dorm. Never before had she been so anxious to see him, to talk to him . . . ever. For a second she considered creating a distraction to get past the security guard. But then she realized that this was just instinct—an
instinct from the past. There was no reason to do so
.
She wasn't sneaking around anymore.

She burst through the doors. “I'm here to see Sam Moon,” she breathlessly announced.

He glanced up from whatever sporting event was playing on his tiny black-and-white television set and grunted. A flicker of recognition crossed his chubby face. He nodded. The gesture filled Gaia with a strange wistfulness. She'd been here so many times now in the past few days that he knew her. She was part of the place.

And now she was leaving.

As she pounded up the stairs, Gaia categorized the things she wanted to tell Sam in order of their importance. There was so much, she didn't know where to begin. Clearing the second flight, she realized that her personality had taken a complete 180-degree turn. In the past no one, including Sam, could have pried her thoughts out of her.
Not even with torture
.
Now she was practically bursting to share, share, share. She was a proverbial Chatty
Cathy. In some ways it was pathetic. In others it was liberating.

At last Gaia burst into the suite. It was as hot inside as it had been cold outside. The radiator in Sam's dorm was on overdrive.

“Sam!” she called, knocking on the door. “It's me.”

“Come on in.”

She stepped inside, then froze. He was lying in bed, wrapped in a blanket that looked like it had been first used during the Civil War. It was ridiculous. But there was no time to talk about
that.

“Don't say anything,” she ordered. “I have all this . . . stuff . . . to tell you. Just let me tell you the whole thing before you interrupt.”

Sam blinked. He swallowed, then shrugged, sliding over to make room on the bed. But she remained standing. There was too much excess energy swirling inside her for her to sit.

“I told you about my uncle Oliver. But I didn't tell you the whole truth. Before we, well, you know, Oliver and I talked about leaving the country together, my life at George and Ella's was total hell, I hated school, and you were out all lovey-dovey with Heather.” She took a deep breath, struggling to keep her thoughts straight.
Sam's face was a flat mask, a
tabla rasa
.

“I wanted to move in with him, but I couldn't,” she continued. “Not until I turned eighteen. But we
realized that if we just moved to Europe for a few months, there would be no problem. It wasn't like George was going to bother to track me down.”

Gaia paced back and forth across the tiny room. The radiator was clanging so loudly that she could barely hear herself think. But she had to get through this. She had to tell Sam about Oliver's illness. It wouldn't be real until she had said the words out loud.

“Anyway, I went to dinner with my uncle tonight, and I told him I didn't want to leave New York after all. But then he told
me
something. He has cancer. And his only hope for beating this thing is going to Germany to get some kind of experimental treatment.” She paused, staring at Sam. “I don't know what to do. Should I stay here? Or should I leave?”

Sam took a deep breath. His expression was still unreadable. “Gaia . . . I—I'm sorry. Really.” His voice was a flat monotone.

For the first time since she had walked into the room, Gaia noticed that Sam's skin was as white as a sheet. But she had the sense that he wasn't just upset about the idea of her moving away. His eyes were red, as if he had been crying.

“What is it? What happened?” she demanded, growing more and more disturbed by his glazed expression. It was as if he wasn't even there.

“Mike,” Sam croaked.

Gaia knelt beside the bed and took his hands. “What about him?”

Sam shook his head. “He's . . . dead.”

Several seconds passed before the words even registered. Gaia swallowed. A vision of Mary flashed through her mind. She felt a tremor of rage.
Another life lost because of some stupid white powder
.
Of course, she hadn't really known Mike Suarez. She had seen him a few times when she had been stalking Sam's dorm, but he was basically a stranger. Still, Sam had told her all about him. Sam had liked him. Sam had befriended him. And now he was gone—
poof!
Just like that. It was so meaningless.

“Sam, I'm so sorry,” she murmured. For the third time today she had absolutely no idea what to say.

“I went to the hospital to give him these magazines,” Sam whispered, producing a rumpled stack of sports mags from under the covers. “But by the time I got there, he was gone.” His voice broke. “There was nothing . . .”

Gaia wrapped her arms around Sam and pulled him close.

“It's okay to cry,” she whispered as he shook against her. “It's good to cry.”

But all she could think was:
It's too bad my words aren't true for myself.

“I WISH I HAD CABLE IN MY
room,” Heather mumbled into the phone, lazily twirling the cord around her fingers. “The idea of going into the living room and watching Nick at Nite with my parents is totally unappealing.”

Ninety-Nine Percent Sure

“I wish I had
you
in my room,” Ed replied. “I'm lying in bed, looking at your picture.”

“What are you wearing?” Heather asked.

“Hey, isn't that my line?” He started breathing heavily. It sounded like he was snoring.

Heather giggled. Thank God for Ed. He kept her sane. “Why don't we have breakfast tomorrow?” she suggested. “I'll come over to your apartment and make you my famous eggs Benedict.”

“You don't know how to make eggs Benedict. You don't even know how to make toast.”

“Okay. So I'll pick us up a couple of lattes at Starbucks and pour us two bowls of cornflakes.”

Ed sighed. “Actually, I can't do breakfast tomorrow. In fact, I'm not going to be in school . . . for a few days.”

Heather frowned.
This
was news. “What do you mean?”

“My mom is dragging me to my great-aunt's in
upstate. She broke her hip, and Mom has to help her out. But since they can't stand each other, I've got to be there as a human buffer zone.”

For some reason, Heather was under the impression that Ed's great-aunt lived in Arizona with her third husband. But that must have just been a mistake. Or maybe she'd moved. No . . . Heather was sure now. She remembered Ed talking about her.

“It totally sucks,” Ed added. “But I'll call you in a couple of days, okay?”

He was lying. It was obvious; Heather knew that much from the weird tone of his voice. But why? What could he possibly have to hide from her? She knew that Ed wouldn't cheat on her or hurt her in any way.
At least, she was ninety-nine percent sure
.
If he couldn't tell her why he was leaving town, he must have a good reason. Unless it had something to do with . . .

No. He and Gaia are friends. Not even. They barely hang out anymore. Ed's moved past her. She was just an unfortunate episode in his mixed-up life.

“So . . . ah, I'll see you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Heather hung up. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all. She would have time to hang with her friends. They could go window shopping in SoHo or try to spot celebrities at Universal Diner. Except . . .
that Heather didn't want to hang out with her friends. Next to Ed, they were just shallow vessels with good skin and great haircuts.

She laughed out loud. Okay. That wasn't very fair. What was she thinking? She
loved
her friends. Yes. In fact, she was going to call one of them right now. Why not?
It was time to start being Heather Gannis again
.

 

SAM

Reasons for Gaia to Go

1. She wants to get to know her uncle.

2. Her uncle needs her.

3. They make really good sausages in Germany.

4. It's not forever. She'll be back.

5. If she weren't here, I could concentrate on my classes.

6. Without Gaia around, I wouldn't feel the need to blow my money on a new comforter.

Reasons for Gaia to Stay

1. She could finish her senior year.

2. I'll die if she's out of my sight for over six hours.

3. She barely knows her uncle. How much can she really care about him? (Admittedly, this is a selfish, self-interested reason.)

4. If she moved to Germany, she wouldn't be able to survive without a steady diet of Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

5. I'll die if she goes. That deserves to go on the list twice.