Kiss Page 14

  Disappointment "SO, GAIA, HOW LONG HAVE YOU lived in New York?" Now Gaia remembered the problem with meeting strangers, particularly the parents-of-friends variety of strangers. They asked you things. Gaia chewed a piece of turkey breast and tried to look agreeably at Mary's mother. She swallowed it with effort. "Well, I guess I -- " "No questions," Mary interrupted, coming to Gaia's rescue yet again. "No interrogating Mary's new friend, Mom." Mary's mom laughed, which Gaia thought was pretty sporting of her. She gave Gaia a conspiratorial look. "My daughter is very bossy. You may have noticed this." Gaia liked Mary's mom so far. She had dark red hair, sort of like Mary's but far better behaved. She wore cropped black wool pants and a bright orange velvet button-down shirt that clashed mightily with her hair. It wasn't standard middle-aged mom apparel, but it wasn't a grown-up person trying too hard to be cool, either. The family's cook, Olga, appeared at Gaia's elbow with a steaming s

  Butter "MY GOD, SAM, THESE ARE THE best potatoes I've ever eaten," Mr. Gannis said heartily, serving up his fourth helping. Sam hoped he wasn't going to be responsible for putting the man in the hospital with a heart attack. He looked at the other plates around the table. Each of the four underfed Gannis women still had on her plate an untouched pile of potatoes so calorie packed, they were bleeding butter. Heather met his eyes apologetically. "They're awfully, um . . . rich." Dear Ed, I'm sorry not to be saying this to you in person, but good-bye. I have to leave New York for a while. Things got out of hand with Ella, and, well . . . hopefully I'll get the chance to tell you about it someday. It's time for me to set up a new life. I'm almost of legal age to be on my own now. And with all of my useful skills and abilities -- not to mention my sunny temperament -- I should have all kinds of great job possibilities: Waitress Counter-person at 7-Eleven Tollbooth attendant Dishwasher So be

  pennsylvania station He wheeled back and opened the door just wide enough so that he could toss the bloody scalpel into the trash can.

  One Way GAIA LOOKED UP AT THE BIG destination board that hung above the expansive waiting area of Penn Station. The board operated like the tote board on Family Feud -- its tiles turning to reveal all the destinations. "Survey says ... Trenton -- Northeast Corridor -- track 12 -- 5:09." "Survey says ... Boston -- New England Express -- track 9 -- 5:42." The place was ugly and crowded, and it smelled bad. And by the way, she wondered sourly, whose brilliant idea was it to call the train station smack-dab in the middle of New York City Pennsylvania Station? Hello? Ever take a geography class? She felt tired and sad and cranky, no longer riding the powerful surge of anger and indignation that made it much more satisfying to run away. She eyed the different cities, having absolutely no idea where she wanted to go. If she could go anywhere, she'd choose Paris. The Latin Quarter. She'd sit at the terrace of a quaint cafÈ across from the Notre Dame cathedral. Sip a double espresso as she read

  Getting Acquainted THE DOCTOR QUICKENED HIS STEPS as he approached the escalator that would carry him down into the bowels of Penn Station, unquestionably the most hideous train station in the country. But he was pleased to be here. He was downright overjoyed that his target had abandoned her safe perch up on Central Park West and come down here. The ugly, subterranean corridors of this station were hardly fit for any human pursuit, but the place fit his needs quite perfectly. According to his device, she was less than two hundred feet away. He began scanning the crowds in the hope of identifying her, acquainting himself a little with her face before he went to work.

  Out of Order GAIA REREAD HER LETTER TO Ed. She was seated at the counter of a small coffee-and-muffin place in the train station's row of shops and eateries. What a stupid letter. She went to crumple the letter, then stopped herself. She needed to say something to him. She thought of him calling her on Friday night at eleven o'clock, expecting another of their ricocheting, sleepy, oddly intimate conversations. He'd call her and find out she wasn't there. Really, really wasn t there. Gaia sighed. She propped her chin in her hand. This was harder than leaving had ever been before. None of the other places had Ed. Or Sam. She folded her letter carefully and put it in the envelope. She wrote out Ed's address and placed the stamp in the corner so it wasn't crooked. She felt the eyes of a man slumped at the next table over, hovering on her legs. She turned to him. "Letter to Mom and Dad, sweetheart?" he asked. The smell of stale alcohol on his breath made Gaia wince. Okay, she thought. That'

  Unholy Moment "ALL ABOARD FOR THE SOUTHERN Star, now boarding on track 12. All aboard!" A large segment of the Penn Station crowd shuffled in unison toward the steps that led down to the waiting train. He shuffled right along with them, his yellow-green eyes darting wildly. Searching for his target. His tracking device told him he was at point-blank range. He reached the platform and caught a glimpse of her -- a blond in a yellow-green Polartec jacket, carrying a black messenger bag. She was just stepping into one of the train's sleeper cars. He calmly made his way through the frantic human herd and boarded the same car, but at the other end. He walked with haste and purpose through the car, noticing the blond up ahead. She was scanning the compartment numbers as she advanced, finally entering one near the middle -- on his left. Number 33A. He arrived there not more than ten seconds later, pausing a moment to close his trench coat over his tie -- a Salvatore Ferragamo yellow silk, dott

  Done Deal FIVE MINUTES LATER, HE STEPPED off the train. One of the conductors, doing some final work on the platform, gave him a curious look. "Wrong train." The doctor tossed him a shrug, pretending to be embarrassed. "I must be blind." He made his way back up the steps, back to the vast waiting room with the giant destination board. On the way he couldn't help thinking that the redheaded woman was a little off in her assessment. The girl was hardly "tough." Annoying, maybe, but tough? And her face wasn't so pretty, either. He imagined a little sculpting work on that nose would make for a significant improvement. . . . Perhaps a little Gore-Tex in those thin lips. An injection for those premature lines in her forehead. Under different circumstances he would have certainly left his card. Oh, well . . . He stopped at the rest room, whose door had a crude Out of Order sign taped to it. A perfect place to get rid of the instrument. But when he opened the door, the stench that hit him was

  GAIA After I hit my head in the train station, I saw red and green sparklers bursting in front of my eyes. I must have passed out after that because I had this weird, dreamlike reverie about Ed and his being color-blind. Don't ask me why. In my dream I was color-blind, too. I couldn't see green, which my whacked-out mind was convinced was the color of fear. Green looked the same as red, but red wasn't the color of fear, according to my dream self. What was red the color of? It became this desperate, urgent thing I needed to figure out. What was red the color of? Green was fear; what was red? What was red? Well, red is the color of tomatoes, you might say sensibly, and shut up already. But you know how dreams are. Anyway, I guess it was around then that I came to.

  not a penny Heather was too hurt to feel it. Her heart was on autopilot once more. "You've fallen for her, haven't you?"

  A Freaking Mess HER VISION AND AWARENESS CAME back slowly. She blinked open her eyes and then closed them again. Then came the smell. What the hell was that? Where was she? Gaia forced open her eyes. Oh God. The bathroom. The awful bathroom in the train station. She sat up and looked around her. The thugs she'd fought were still passed out on the other side of the room. One of them was breathing loudly, fitfully. The other was clutching his jaw and moaning. They'd be up and at it soon enough. And the girl. Where had the girl gone? Suddenly Gaia froze. She clambered to her feet, ignoring the searing pain in her temple. She checked the floor around her. She checked the stall where she'd begun to change. Mary's shoes were just where she'd kicked them off, but her bag was gone. Her bag with her wallet and her money and her clothes and shoes. Oh Christ, and where was her coat? Her coat with the train ticket to Orlando inside the pocket. It was gone. All ofit. Shit. Well, that was gratitude

  Hunted Prey "WHERE IS GAIA? I THOUGHT SHE'D be joining us."
Ella took a protracted sip of her third glass of merlot, letting the velvety nectar wash over her tongue. Then she made a whole show of sliding back the sleeve of her blouse to glance at her watch. "Oh, my, it is getting late, isn't it?" she said, wondering just how Gaia was doing. Although the obnoxious girl had run, she had certainly not gotten away. It was helpful that Gaia had taken off after Ella had slipped the tracking device into her coat pocket. Ella sat with two of George's old agency friends and their wives. They were gathered at a table for six in the opulent dining room of La Bijou, an haute-cuisine restaurant on West Sixty-fourth Street, off Broadway. Most of the patrons here were silver-haired, silver-spooned socialites who just an hour earlier had been watching the new opera across the street at Lincoln Center. The waiters were French to a fault. And then there was the menu. A menagerie of hunted prey, ranging

  Insult and Injury THE DOCTOR STOOD INSIDE THE phone booth just outside Penn Station's southwest entrance, annoyed at this particular aspect of his written instructions. Who used a phone booth anymore? It was rather galling. He'd punched in the beeper number as instructed, and now he waited for the ring. There it was. "Mrs. Travesura, I presume?" "Yes, Doctor. Is it done?" "Of course." "Excellent. And in what condition is our patient?" The woman could barely contain the pleasure in her voice. "Alive, as promised," the doctor responded. "Though not likely to recount her experiences any-time soon." He wouldn't reward her with the graphic details. "No one saw you?" The doctor sighed impatiently. "Absolutely not." "I'm sure. Now, did you remove the bug from the pocket of her coat?" This had grown annoying, verging on insulting. "Mrs. Travesura. I am a professional. You need not grill me on these absurd details." "I apologize ... Doctor. If you'll permit me one last question?" He sighed agai

  No Refunds GAIA TURNED AT THE SOUND OF the explosion. Virtually everyone in the station jumped at the noise. Within a minute she heard a symphony of sirens. She glanced ahead of her in frustration at the single open ticket booth. She glanced behind her at the ten or so people who continued the line, all of whom looked as cranky as she felt. She didn't care ifher own feet exploded. There was no way she was losing her place in this line. Scores of policemen were zipping in and out the south doors of the station. Many civilians were running around, too, wanting a piece of the action. "There was a bomb!" she heard somebody shouting. "Right out front. Blew up a phone booth!" There were lots of oohs and ahs and murmurs throughout the station, but Gaia was morbidly amused to see that not a single person left her line. Just wait until the camera crews from the local news get here -- then it will really be a circus, Gaia found herself thinking. Another ticket salesperson opened a second window.

  The (Other) Magic Word HEATHER LAY BACK ON THE COUCH and rested her head on Sam's lap as he flipped channels with the remote control. Without looking at her, he rested his hand on her stomach. She felt her iridescent pink silk blouse riding up over her belly button. She studied his face above her. It was so unbelievably handsome. His strong jaw was smooth and clean shaven for this event. His brownish gold hair had gotten long and was curling around the collar of his cobalt blue oxford shirt. His complicated hazel eyes were framed by long black lashes. She wanted those eyes on her. On her face, her hair, her breasts, the bare swath of skin above her skirt. But at the moment his eyes were riveted on the television screen as he burned through almost a hundred channels' worth of programming. It was hopeless sitting in a room with a boy, a television, and a remote control. You never got any attention or even the pleasure of watching any one show for longer than three minutes. She smiled up

  Grandpa Fargo's Famous Apple Pie Ingredients: 8 red Rome apples 1 recipe pie crust ½ cup sugar ½ teaspoon cinnamon 2 tablespoons flour pinch of nutmeg pinch of salt 1 tablespoon butter 1 well-beaten egg Filling: Peel and core apples and slice into ½" wedges. Place in large mixing bowl. Add sugar, cinnamon, flour, nutmeg, and salt. Toss until thoroughly blended. Roll ½ pie crust dough to 1/8-inch thickness. Line 9-inch pie plate with dough, allowing ½ inch to extend over edge. Add filling. Dot with 1 tablespoon butter. Roll out rest of dough and lay over pie plate, tucking excess dough along pie-plate edge. Crimp along edge with knife handle to create a wavy pattern. Use fork to puncture a few holes into top of crust in pattern of your choice. Brush top of pie with 1 well-beaten egg. Bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes. Turn down heat to 350 degrees and bake for ½ hour.

  freedom / nothingness Without thinking, she threw herself on his bed. It was sick, but so delicious.

  Wobbly GREEN. RED. GREEN. RED. OUT the front window of the diner on University Place, Gaia watched the traffic light run its cycle again and again. She thought of Ed. She'd meant to go, she really had. But here she was again. She realized she was still shivering. She put her hand to her throbbing head. God, what she would do for a dollar to buy a hot cup of coffee. "Excuse me, sweetheart, but if you're not going to order anything, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The waitress wasn't mean. She was old and tired. She had turned a blind eye to Gaia for the last forty-five minutes. Now she was doing her job. "But it's so cold out," Gaia said, mostly to herself. "What's that, hon?" The waitress leaned in. "Nothing, I'm going." It took all of Gaia's strength to climb out of the booth and balance herself on her feet. The room spun around her. She closed her eyes, trying not to be sick. "Are you okay?" the woman asked. Gaia opened her eyes. She steadied herself against the top of the vi

  Now What? SAM FELT DISGUSTINGLY LIGHT ON his feet as he walked down Third Avenue. He should have been miserable or at least heavyhearted. But he wasn't. His muscles were buzzing with life. The world looked new to him. Clean and fresh and in excellent focus. He looked at the shops on either side of the avenue, closed up for the holiday, with their iron safety gates pulled down and locked. It was the kind of sight that had depressed him when he'd first moved to New York. Tonight he liked it. He was sorry about Heather. He was sorry for Heather. He genuinely was. She didn't deserve to be treated the way she'd been treated. But nor did she deserve to have a boyfriend who thought so constantly of someone else. And now, for the first time in months, he felt free. Free for the moment, anyway. Free to be with Gaia, a voice in his mind added. Hold up, he ordered that voice. He wasn't sure about anything yet. He wasn't sure what the real status was between him and Heather. He wasn't sure whether

  The Key THERE IS NO WAY SAM COULD BE here, Gaia told herself for the tenth time. She was certain of it. Sam was the kind of guy who had a loving family and scores of other good backup options for Thanksgiving in case the family thing wasn't happening. In fact, he was probably sharing warm food and feelings with the she-wolf. Still, Gaia felt self-conscious as she stepped into the entrance of the NYU dorm. She was tired of looking like a prostitute in this awful dress. The place was nearly deserted but for the omnipresent security guard at a table a few yards into the lobby. Shit, she'd forgotten about him. He was absorbed in a noisy hockey game playing on the tiny TV perched on the table less than a foot from his eyes. The warm air felt so good. If she could just manage to stay in here for a few minutes, maybe she'd be okay. Now that she'd finally slowed her pace, the dizziness was coming back. The guard and his TV were in their own little world. Maybe she could just . . . "Excuse me?

  Moving Right Along SAM TOOK OUT HIS WALLET SOON after he'd sat down at a table to see how much cash he had. He rifled through every compartment. Unfortunately, he had none. He checked the pockets of his jacket. He had no money. Not one red cent. He remembered now that he'd given Heather two twenties to buy pies for dessert from an overpriced Upper East Side gourmet shop. He flagged down a waiter. "Excuse me, do you take credit cards?" The surly waiter fixed him with a look that clearly meant no. "Do you know if there's a bank or an ATM around here?" he asked. The waiter looked like Sam had burned his house down. "Twenty-theerd," the man replied in a clipped, Eastern European accent. "But this is Thirty-first Street," Sam said, wondering why he bothered. "Twenty-theerd," the waiter said, louder. Sam blew out his breath. "Okay, thanks." He headed toward the door. It looked like he was
going to end up in his dorm room after all.

  Moony AS SHE LEFT THE DORMITORY, THE cold practically knocked Gaia senseless. She was covered head to toe in goose bumps, only they didn't seem the least bit compelling. Suddenly, a few yards from the building, she stopped. Her eye caught on a logo on the hood of a car parked directly outside the dorm's entrance. So she wasn't totally senseless. She walked slowly around the car, studying it for another moment. Then she saw the vanity license plate. RANGERFAN, it read. Oh God. Could it be? Could there actually be a small piece of good luck in all of this blackness? Gaia put her hands to her head. She needed to expel the dizziness, to gather her wits and her physical capabilities if she had any left. Okay, now. She raised her foot to the side of the hood and shoved it hard. The car rocked violently, and a car alarm blasted through the silent night air. Perfect. She ran to the side of the building and backed herself up against the wall, a few feet beyond the front awning. Exactly as she'd

  the color of love He was leaning forward, leaning over her. So close now. So real. "Can I?" he whispered.

  Something Sublime "HEY, BAUMAN, WHAT'S UP?" SAM said to the security guard. "How're the Rangers?" Bauman grimaced. "Down by two in the third. How's your holiday, Moon?" Sam actually thought about his answer. "Good," he said. "Surprisingly good." Except for the fact that all twenty digits had lost feeling about a mile ago. He rubbed his hands together. "Quiet here tonight, huh?" "Yes, it is," Bauman answered vaguely, his attention back on the game. "Later. Happy Thanksgiving," Sam called over his shoulder as he entered the stairwell. Not that he expected his bland sign-off to compete with the Rangers. He was pathologically polite. He couldn't help himself. He took the stairs slowly. Was he the only student in the entire building? It felt almost eerie. None of his suite mates were around, that much he knew. He swung open the door of the common room. The place was exactly the pigsty he'd left it. He didn't even bother to turn on a light. He'd so completely frozen himself, walking almost s