Escape Page 11

  “Why?” Gaia shouted again, staring down Cigar Breath. “They’re doing everything you say! Everything. Why does he have to kill anyone?”

  “You’ll see,” he said with a disturbing smile.

  “Adios, Mr. Dumb Trucker.” Tony dug the gun deeper into the man’s stomach.

  She had to move. She’d have to improvise. All that mattered now was that completely innocent man’s life. Move, Gaia, move! The stool. It’s a spinning stool. . . .

  Gaia dropped her hand down and tugged on the seat of Cigar Breath’s stool with all her strength. The bastard’s gut smacked into the counter and he bounced off onto the floor, but Gaia had already taken to the air.

  She grabbed onto Tony’s neck, pulling him down to the floor as the gun fired up at the ceiling, smashing one of the fluorescent lights and sending the entire fixture crashing to the floor. Then all hell broke loose.

  Tony began to rise up off the ground. Gaia clasped her hands behind his head and smashed his face back down against the floor, hearing the distinct crack of his nose as he cried out. He reached for his gun. Gaia kicked it to the other side of the room. She was about to dropkick his head back against a table, but before she even got the chance, a mass of bikers had converged on the two of them. It was Tony they were after. Without his gun, he was just one poor thug with a broken nose against ten or fifteen angry bikers. But Gaia was still in the way.

  She got caught up in the melee and tried to work her way around their flailing fists and their loud angry shouts. She ducked their wild kicks and punches, searching for the daylight in this huge, vengeful brawl—searching for Sam. She somehow got turned around as she worked her way out of the crowd and the deafening noise. She ultimately had to back her way out of the pileup step by step.

  But somehow, in spite of all the noise, she was able to hear it. The stupid loutish voice of that cigar-smoking son of a bitch. She heard him utter two simple words right behind her.

  “Good-bye, Gaia. . . .”

  Jesus, you’re dead! she howled at herself. Move now!

  Thoughts dropped away, and so did sound, and so did light, and somehow. . . so did time. Gaia had never moved so quickly in her life. Faster than she’d even known she was capable of moving. Almost as if she’d found the smallest little rip in time, an invisible gap that left her just enough space to maneuver. She could almost see the gun at her back—hear it hovering behind her as the trigger was being pulled. . . . She shot out both of her arms and whipped her entire body around, slicing at the air until her fists made contact with gun, swatting it ten feet from his hand as it fired off into nowhere. She even had time to see his stunned expression as he watched her complete her backward spin and leave him empty-handed.

  And then she laid into him. She pummeled his chest with a blur of jabs, cracked his chin back with an outstretched palm, and then rose up high into the air, spinning three hundred and sixty degrees. As she reached the peak of her leap, her foot snapped out against his jaw, nearly severing his head from his spine as his entire body careened into a row of chairs and tables. She came down on the floor with her fists cocked and ready for a counterattack. But it would never come.

  He was out cold on the floor. Covered in ketchup, lettuce, and hamburger grease.

  Gaia turned around to get her bearings again. The bikers had begun tying up the bruised and battered Tony, and now they were flying past Gaia with their rope and heading for Cigar Breath.

  “Did somebody—?” she began loudly.

  “I’m calling the cops now,” Doris assured her, clutching her chest and trying to catch her breath.

  “Sam!” Gaia called out. “Sam, where are you?” She ran over into the tiny hallway and threw open the bathroom door. But Sam wasn’t there. There was another door on the opposite side of the bathroom. A rusty metal door that had been left partially open. Gaia cracked it open farther and saw that it led outside, like the door of a gas station rest room. She turned around and ran back into the restaurant. . . just in time to see Sam out the window. He was walking back from the parking lot.

  Gaia leapt to the front door, hoisted it open, and stepped out in front of the diner. “Where the hell were you?” she howled.

  Sam’s eyes nearly popped out of his head in response. “Whoa, there.” He thrust out his hands, just to defend himself from her frenzied volume. “Re-lax. I just went out the bathroom door to check on the car. There were so many freaks in there. . . and then those two guys that walked in. . . . I just thought I should double-check and make sure the car was locked and secured. Why? What happened?” He looked over Gaia’s head and in through the window.

  Gaia stared at him a few more seconds, dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that he had somehow missed the entire nightmare. Which was not to say that she wasn’t incredibly grateful that he had missed it. In fact, with a few seconds to breathe, she realized just how elated she was that he had missed it.

  Because “it” was clearly something much more sinister than a couple of thugs trying to rob a crappy diner. He knew her name. “Good-bye, Gaia,” the bastard had said before he’d tried to shoot her in the back. Not, “Good-bye, bitch,” as would have been expected, but, “Good-bye, Gaia.”

  This entire thing had been an elaborate hit.

  Those guys had obviously followed Sam and Gaia all the way from the city and then followed them into the diner with a series of distractions and fake outs to get Gaia right where they wanted her. They knew they didn’t stand a chance with her alone. So they wanted chaos. They wanted her caught up in the confusion, focused on saving someone else’s life, with her back to the shooter. They had probably come for Sam, too. And it had almost worked.

  “Let’s just go,” Gaia said, looking back through the door. She could hear the sound of police sirens far down the road. Doris and the bikers had the situation under control. She pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of her pocket, strode across the room, and threw the money down on the counter. “Thank you,” she called out to Doris.

  “Now, wait a minute,” Doris called to her. “You need to sit down. You need to—”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Gaia interrupted. “The cops are on their way, okay? I’m. . . I’m sorry. . . .” Here she was, apologizing again.

  “Sorry for what?” one of the bikers asked. “You were the one with a gun to your head. Are you okay? Don’t you want to—?”

  “I’m really sorry.” Gaia stepped back outside the door and looked up at Sam. “Let’s go. We need to get to that compound now. And then we need to get home.”

  “Gaia, what happened in there?”

  “Nothing,” Gaia said, tugging Sam back toward the car. “Just a whole lot of nothing.”

  cool gray lines

  The only thing left in this horrid place was wind.

  Catwalk Struts

  SO THESE WERE “BOY” THINGS. BEER and basketball.

  Based solely on the fact that Ed and Jake were boys, Megan had insisted that there was no way they wouldn’t enjoy drinking a beer and watching a basketball game. So she had basically posed them in front of the TV like her very own boy dolls and handed them their beers before following the rest of the girls into Tatiana’s bedroom for the closet raid. Ed didn’t know how to tell Megan that he really didn’t drink much at all and that the only time he cared about sports was when he was playing them, not watching them. And even then he only cared about sports of the extreme nature. He’d just been too depressed to even go into it.

  He sat silently, pushed up against the right edge of the thick white couch. Jake was pushed up against the left. They each had an Amstel Light in their hands (the only beer Tatiana had), and they kept their eyes glued to the TV. There was a “classic” Sixers-Lakers game on, but Ed was more fascinated by the players’ giant seventies Afros and freaky short shorts than the actual game.

  Incessant annoying giggles kept wafting in from Tatiana’s bedroom down the hall as the girls proceeded with their “girl” things. Ed could already picture the FOHs piling
out of Tatiana’s bedroom with shopping bags full of her wardrobe. He still couldn’t believe that group theft was the highest praise these girls had to offer. He hoped Tatiana could keep them from taking advantage, although, judging from the way she had been dealing with them since yesterday, it seemed like she had the situation under control. Complete control, actually.

  “You play ball?” Jake asked, keeping his eyes on the TV.

  “Not really,” Ed replied. He was surprised Jake had even tried to start a conversation.

  “Football?”

  “Nope.”

  Silence followed.

  “I’m a recovering skate freak,” Ed explained.

  “Sweet,” Jake replied, finally turning to Ed. “Did you compete?”

  “Um. . . it was more of a city thing.”

  “Oh, right,” Jake said, nodding foolishly. Ed was surprised to find Jake making no attempt to hide the fact that he suddenly felt stupid. From the little Ed had seen, Jake seemed like such a conceited ass. “The ‘city thing’ is still a complete freaking mystery to me,” Jake admitted.

  “Why, where are you from?”

  “I’m from Oregon,” Jake explained. “Not Portland, so don’t bother asking me about grunge.”

  “Not a problem,” Ed said. “I’m all about the Backstreet Boys, anyway.”

  Jake stared at Ed, blank faced.

  “Kidding,” Ed said, sipping from his tepid beer.

  Jake’s face relaxed. “I knew that,” he joked. “Knew that”

  All right, maybe Jake wasn’t that bad. Maybe Ed had judged him a little too soon.

  Jake surveyed the room slowly and then peeked down the darkened hallway. “So. . . where’s Gaia?” he asked, focusing on the TV again and sipping from his beer.

  Another silence followed. Ed turned slowly to Jake and examined his generic “stud boy” profile. He was beginning not to like him again. “I don’t know. . . why?”

  “Huh?” Jake turned with an almost imperceptible twitch of his eye. “Oh. . . no, I just thought—I thought she’d be here. Doesn’t she live here, too?”

  “It depends on her mood,” Ed replied, feeling depressed again as he stared at Jake. “And all the potential casualties.”

  “Huh?” Jake grunted again, scrunching up his eyes.

  “Forget it.” Ed sighed, turning back to the TV.

  “Okay, are you boys ready?” Megan’s offensively singsong voice came echoing from the hallway. “These are just the first options, but I think you should be pleased. . . .”

  Ed swallowed a gulp of annoyance and sighed heartily. He turned dutifully toward the hallway. Fashion shows. This was one of his favorite aspects of Gaia—not having to worry about fashion shows.

  Am I “with” Gaia Moore?

  Shut up, Ed. Shut up and watch the fashion show.

  Megan, Tammie, Melanie, and Laura paraded themselves out into the living room in a freakish festival of tastefully revealing tops and short skirts. They gave their best catwalk struts, with their hands on their waists, their cheeks sucked in, and their lips puckered out like a bunch of too skinny well-dressed blowfish. Jake honored their unfortunate display by providing the requisite applause and hooting.

  Ed took another sip from his beer and tried to shake off an image of Gaia in her black dress from the night before. That had been beauty in the truest sense of the word. Beauty that was just born out of nowhere—without an ounce of fakery or contrivance. Beauty that wasn’t made, but just was. But these girls.. no matter how perfect their breeding, no matter how expensive their outfits, no matter how much lettuce they ate, or water they drank, or trips to yoga or Pilates or the gym five times a week they took. . . these girls would still never be truly “beautiful.” They would still always look like girls playing dress up in their mothers’ clothes. At least, that was how they looked to Ed.

  “Thank you,” Megan joked, bowing to Jake and Ed as Jake continued to applaud. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. But wait just a moment. . . . Silence, please.” She grinned, playing the part of the grateful award winner. “There’ll be time for autographs later.”

  Jake finally stopped applauding, much to Ed’s delight.

  “Thank you,” Megan said again. “We have all done our best to look fabulous. But in truth. . . tonight’s not really about us. Yes, it’s time to bring out. . . the one. . . the only. . . ladies and gentlemen. . . make way for Ms. Tatiana Petrova!”

  Then Tatiana finally stepped out into the living room. And somehow it felt like a bright spotlight had just been turned on.

  She was wearing a formfitting strapless black gown that dipped slightly at the center. Her vanilla-colored shoulders and the very top of her chest were totally exposed. She had put some kind of gel in her hair that made it shine like yellow gold and cascade with a movie-star lilt down to her shoulders. The only other things on her body were the two long black velvet gloves that traveled up the length of her arms, ending above her elbows.

  Ed felt a sudden gap in his breathing. He quickly attributed it to beer-induced gas. He instructed himself to turn back to the game. But he had never been very good at following instructions.

  “Wow,” Jake uttered, leaving his mouth open as he gawked shamelessly at Tatiana.

  “I told you,” Megan squealed, looking over at Tatiana. “Look at them. They’re goddamn zombies. Ahhhhh. . .”

  Tatiana flashed a smile, and then the girls began to squeal in unison, dragging her farther out into the room and pushing her toward Ed and Jake as she laughed. Megan began to applaud, followed by the rest of the girls and Jake, along with his frat-style hooting. And then. . . in spite of himself, Ed found himself beginning to clap for her. Just to play along. Just out of respect. He still refused to smile, given his state of mind.

  “Thank you,” Tatiana joked, blowing them all ironic kisses. “Oh, thank you so much. Thank you. . . .”

  Megan ran over to the coffee table and pulled a bouquet of flowers from a vase. She giggled as she handed the flowers to Tatiana and began singing her own version of the Miss America theme. “Ohhh, there she is. . . Ms. Superhottieeee. . . .”

  “Thank you,” Tatiana joked, imitating the shallow smile and mechanical waving of a beauty pageant winner as she walked toward Ed and Jake on the couch. “I love you all. I do. I would just like to thank God and capitalism and my plastic surgeon, in that order. . . .”

  Ed tried to maintain his self-pitying expression, but he finally gave in to a slight half smile. Tatiana was funny, and she deserved at least some mild props for it.

  “I love you all,” she went on. She turned back to the girls, crossing her eyes like a hypnotized Barbie doll. “I love you, and you, and you. . . .” She turned to Jake. “I love you. . . .” And finally she dropped down onto Ed’s lap, dipping herself back as she held on to his neck and posing for an imaginary Vanity Fair cover. She came up from her dip and locked her eyes with Ed’s. “And I love you,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

  The entire room chuckled. With the exception of Ed, who was suddenly feeling quite uncomfortable. The half smile fell from his face. He was about to find his way up from the couch when Natasha interrupted the preparty festivities.

  “What is all this giggling and singing?” she asked with a laugh. The group turned as Natasha stepped out into the living room, apparently infected by the laughter that was spreading through the apartment. “I thought the party was not until tonight? Hello, Ed.” She smiled.

  “Hi,” he said with the fakest smile he could muster.

  “We’re just getting ready for tonight,” Tatiana explained from Ed’s lap. “Is there. . . any good news yet?”

  “No,” Natasha said, furrowing her brow in frustration. “Apparently not yet.”

  The pleasant smile dropped from Tatiana’s face. For a moment she looked almost angry. “That is too bad,” she uttered calmly.

  Ed assumed they were talking about Gaia’s father.

  “Yes,” Natasha agreed. “I know.” She turne
d to address the group. “I’ll be at a UN function tonight. They usually last until the wee hours of the morning, so you kids have a good time, okay?”

  “We will,” Tatiana said.

  “Okay.” She turned back to Tatiana. “I’ll call you when I get the good news, Tatiana. I’m sure it will be before the end of the night.”

  “Good,” Tatiana replied.

  Natasha pulled her black turtleneck sweater taut over her black leather pants and headed for the door. “Good night,” she said. The girls all said good night as she picked up her bag and her long black coat from a chair by the door and headed out for the night.

  “Okay, second option!” Megan announced with a grin. “Let’s roll!” The girls all broke into laughter again. The FOHs quickly followed her back into Tatiana’s bedroom to change into the next outfit. Tatiana stayed seated on Ed’s lap, coming down from her laugh. Ed began to shift his legs obviously, hoping she would stand up. But she didn’t seem ready to move.

  “Oh, no,” she started, finishing up her laugh and staring back at Ed. “What happened? Look at your face. I thought I saw at least the beginnings of a smile before, no? Now you look like the boy who has lost his puppy again.”

  “I’m fine,” Ed grumbled, trying to subtly remove Tatiana’s arm from around his neck.

  “This is not what ‘fine’ looks like, Ed. I know what you look like when you are fine. Come on.” She giggled, brushing the side of his face with her hand. “I have just made a complete fool of myself for everyone’s amusement. Look at me.”

  Ed wouldn’t quite look at her. “What? I’m fine.”

  “Ugh,” she grunted, crossing her legs. He felt her strong thighs press more firmly against his lap. “You have it again.”

  “What?”

  “The disease,” she said. “The Gaia disease.” Ed became all too aware of Jake watching this exchange from the other side of the couch. “Don’t be so gloomy about her,” Tatiana went on. “I’m telling you, everything will be fine. It isn’t worth it. I mean, Gaia is so much. . . her own person, you know? You should be, too.”