Payback (11 page)

GAIA WALKED INTO THE CAFETERIA
and quickly glanced over the crowd. She'd already decided she was ditching out on lunch today, but there was something she needed to get out of the way first.

She plunged into the seat-searching crowd and maneuvered her way over to the table by the window where Charlie and Tim were sitting with a bunch of their friends, some of whom had fallen victim to her projectile peanuts a couple of nights ago.

They were both surprised to see her, so she got to talk first.

"So, I'm in," she said, focusing on Charlie. The sweet if cocky face. The just slightly overlapped, yet ridiculously white teeth at the front of his smile. Not a rapist. Ed must have misheard. Misunderstood. She didn't care. She knew who she was dealing with.

"You're in," Tim repeated, glancing at the other guys around the table. A couple of them snickered and looked away. So juvenile.

"Tonight," Gaia said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll be there. Where's your place?"

Charlie finished chewing on a soggy-looking fry and pulled another little flyer out of his bag. This one was yellow with a cartoon of a little kissing couple.

"Oh, how sweet," Gaia said, stuffing the flyer in her back pocket. "Later." She turned and headed into the crowd again, ignoring Charlie as he called after her to join them. Screw Ed and his bogus accusations. His little speech that morning had reminded her of why she had sworn off friends in the first place. Too much pressure. It was like he thought he could use her as his own personal superhero. He got an idea in his head, and she was expected to follow through with it or what? He wouldn't talk to her for the rest of the day?

Gaia shot a look at their regular table and saw Ed immediately look away. Apparently that was the punishment.

What was the point?

Gaia took the steps in the stairwell three at a time and burst through the heavy metal door onto the street. Automatically her feet started to turn toward the park, but she stopped herself, reaching out to grip the wrought iron fence that ran along the sidewalk in front of the school.

What was the point of going there? Another good question.

Sam wouldn't be there. Sam hadn't called. He hadn't written again after his original, blow-off e-mail. Hadn't called to clear up the mystery of what had or hadn't happened on Thanksgiving. Didn't even have the courtesy to let her know whether she was still Gaia the Unkissed. There was no reason to torture herself by going to the park. She was a sorry case for thinking about it. She'd already wasted enough of her life pining. Obsessing. Daydreaming.

Gaia started off in the other direction, sure she could find some distraction farther downtown.

She didn't need Ed. And she didn't need Sam. Gaia Moore was a loner. She did what she wanted when she wanted.

It was time she started to remember that.

The Big Ten

10. Christina Perraita

MARY QUICKENED HER STEPS AS SHE
turned off Barrow onto Hudson and started to walk uptown. She'd chosen a far too flimsy jacket, which she pulled more tightly around herself as the signal at the corner turned red. She'd lived in New York all her life, but it never ceased to amaze her how she could be perfectly comfortable on one street, turn a corner, and be freezing. The city was a climactic anomaly.

It was early, but she couldn't wait to get to the club and get all sweaty and gross on the dance floor. Mary much preferred hot to cold. She knew it was dangerous, going out with these friends to this place. She knew there would be temptations. But she could handle it. She could. All she had to do was think of Gaia. Think good, clean fun.

She'd yet to have any since she and Gaia had made their pact. Her first try had entailed staring at mutts while they tried to hump each other and getting threatened and the most nonpartyish party she'd ever come across. Mary was beginning to think "good, clean fun" was an oxymoron, but she would give it the old Mary Moss try. At least one more time. Mary took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. It was all good. She was going to be just fine without the coke. Perfectly, perfectly fine.

Making the left on Jane Street, Mary was suddenly aware that the two guys walking behind her were the same two guys who were walking behind her back on Barrow. She hadn't gotten a good look at them, but they stood out because they were walking so close together and she hadn't yet heard them say a word. Her heart started to pound a little faster. She suddenly didn't like the feel of this.

She slowed her steps, hoping they were just a couple out for a walk and were just too in love for words. Maybe they would get frustrated at her pace and pass her by.

Which was exactly what they started to do. Big sigh. Mary stepped left to let them pass. And that was when she saw the masks.

The scream came out without her even willing it, but a large, gloved hand slapped over her mouth and practically twisted her head off as it pulled her back. Mary struggled, reaching her arms up over her head and scratching at his ski mask as the attacker pulled her down a set of darkened stairs.

She kicked out her legs, causing them both to stumble, and they crashed down into the little concrete cove in front of a basement apartment.

Mary had just enough time to register that the door was boarded up and the place was abandoned and that there would be no help before the masked guy backhanded her across the face. She tasted the blood before she even felt the pain pop behind her eye. Then he planted a fist in her gut.

Doubling over, Mary crumpled to the ground. She had to cough, but her body wouldn't let her take in enough breath. Something sharp was cutting into her leg, and she could feel the blood spreading out over her skin, sticking to her tights. It was warm, and it brought her to her senses.

Enough to realize that the guy hovering above her was taking off his jacket and going for his zipper.

The terror that seized her heart was almost enough to kill her right there. But instead it seemed to take control of her body and tell it what to do. Mary quickly rolled over onto her back, lifted her bleeding leg, and delivered one hard kick to the masked guy's balls.

He let out a primal grunt and went over, falling right on top of her, his elbow grinding painfully into her chest. Mary struggled to get out from under him, which wasn't that hard this time since he was totally incapacitated. He fell over onto his side, holding his groin and sputtering a cough.

As Mary struggled to her feet, she scraped both knees against the concrete but barely felt it. She was too busy checking out guy number two through her throbbing eyes. He had his back to them, standing watch. Apparently he expected a loud struggle because the fight hadn't even caught his attention. But Mary running past him would certainly turn his eye.

How the hell was she going to get by him?

And what if she didn't? Was he going to rape her when his friend was done? Was that the plan? The thought sapped Mary's strength, and her knees started to shake as hot tears blinded her vision. She was falling apart. And that scared Mary even more than the situation. She never fell apart.

Suddenly two arms grabbed her from behind, and Mary let out another scream. She reached back with her one free hand and scratched the guy's forearm as hard as she could. Her nails came back with skin and blood packed under them. He yelled out and dropped her. Mary immediately sprang to her feet, taking the steps two at a time.

The watchdog was just coming to the top of the stairs when she got there. He was big. Bigger than the attacker below, but Mary had two things going for her. Adrenaline and speed. She rammed into the guy's shoulder, sending him reeling backward in obvious surprise.

Then she ran, tears streaming down her face as she barreled by shoppers and theatergoers and drunks. Part of her wanted to go right home and hide under her covers, but the rational part of her brain kicked in and told her she was miles from home. She'd have to wait for the subway. They could follow and catch up to her, and who knew what they'd do to her now that they were pissed.

When she got to Perry Street, she hooked a left.

She just hoped Gaia was home.

GAIA HAD YET TO ANSWER THE
doorbell at George and Ella's house, but there was a first time for everything, and she was sort of standing in front of it. Avoidance was almost impossible. But when she swung open the door, she immediately forgot about the novelty of it all.

Mary was standing there, looking like she'd just clawed her way out of the grave. There were cuts, bruises, blood, dirt, dried tears. A crushed cigarette butt hung from a tangle in her matted red hair. For a moment Gaia forgot where she was.

"Can I come in?" Mary asked. Her voice sounded like someone had rubbed her throat down with sandpaper. She pulled her hair back from her face, revealing more bruises, and shook the cigarette away, the effort almost bringing her to tears.

Gaia stood aside, holding the door open farther. As Mary entered the foyer, Gaia heard Ella stirring in the office.

"Can you get up the stairs?" Gaia asked, glancing toward the back of the house. Ella was closing drawers, putting things away. Any second she would walk out, and she would definitely want an explanation. She'd probably toss Mary out on the street before she'd risk getting blood on any of her "neocolonial" furniture.

"I think so," Mary croaked.

"Then let's go," Gaia said. She hustled Mary up the stairs, moving her faster than was probably comfortable for her. It was painfully, painfully slow to Gaia, but it was fast enough to get her friend out of Ella's sight in time.

"Gaia?" Ella called up after them. "Who was at the door?"

Normally Gaia just wouldn't bother answering, but she didn't want Ella coming upstairs and banging into her room again.

"Girl Scouts!" Gaia called back. "I put you down for a dozen boxes."

Mary stumbled into Gaia's bedroom and sat down hard on the floor, wincing in pain. Gaia slammed the door shut behind them and joined her friend, sitting Indian style on the hard wood.

"What happened?" Gaia asked, trying to keep from staring at Mary's wounds. There was a yellowish bruise forming around her left eye, and her lip was crusted with blood.

"Two guys just decided to use me for some recreational entertainment," Mary answered, gingerly touching a cut on her leg. Gaia reached up onto her bed, grabbed the white T-shirt that was balled up there, and handed it to Mary. Her friend looked at it quizzically.

"It's for your leg," Gaia said.

"It's brand-new," Mary said, holding it carefully away from all the blood.

"It's just a shirt," Gaia answered. She took it out of Mary's hands and held it to her friend's leg. A bright red splotch of blood seeped out across the stark white fabric. They both stared at it for a moment in silence. Gaia could tell by the steadying of her breaths that Mary was taking that moment to calm down. To come to grips with the fact that she was safe.

Gaia was just getting more and more angry.

"Did you get a good look at them?" Gaia asked finally, still staring at the blood. If Mary told her one was blond and one was brunette, Gaia would take out every Waspy guy in the city.

"No, but I took a chunk out of the one who used me as a punching bag." Mary held up her right hand. Three of her fingertips were covered in dried blood. Gaia was glad that Mary had gotten in one good blow.

"They were wearing masks," Mary continued, pressing her hands onto the floor and squeezing her eyes shut in pain as she adjusted her position. She pushed herself up so that her back was leaning against the side of the bed and let out a sigh. "But I know who they were."

Waiting for Mary to tell her was hard. It took away from precious ass-kicking time. But Gaia did wait. Mary needed to put forth obvious effort just to think.

"I went to that party the other night," Mary said finally, glancing at Gaia quickly. "You'd already left, I think."

Gaia felt like someone had just slammed a kick into her stomach. She suddenly had a suspicion about where this was going, and she didn't like it. Her self-flagellation mechanism immediately kicked in, telling her this was her fault. All hers. Somehow everything was her fault.

"I walked in on these guys . . . some kind of sex club or something. They were keeping score," Mary said. She looked down at her lap and picked at the little fuzzies on her sweater. The blood splotch continued to grow on her leg, but her sweater was cleaning up rapidly. "A couple of them threatened me."

"Names," Gaia said, clenching and unclenching her fist. "Did you get their names?"

"Only one," Mary said, looking Gaia in the face. Her eyes squinted, and she bit her bottom lip. "It was Charlie, I think. Yeah. Charlie. He didn't like me very much."

Gaia's vision blurred gray. Her head felt like it was going to explode. Her fist gripped so hard, her jagged, ripped nails cut into her palm. The anger was almost paralyzing. But it wasn't directed at Charlie now.

For the moment she was angry only at herself.

"ED, WHERE ARE WE GOING?"
Heather asked, sounding weary. She stuffed her hands under the arms of her black wool coat. Her collar was pushed up against the wind, and her hat was pulled down tightly over her ears. You'd think she was on an expedition in Antarctica.

"You asked me to help you, so I'm helping you," Ed said, bringing his chair to a stop in front of their destination. Bowlmor Lanes.

Heather looked up at the red banner with its big bowling pin and ball. Then she glanced inside at the neon lights and dingy tiled floor. Ed wasn't surprised by the grimace of disgust.

"Help me what?" she asked. "Immerse myself in cheese?"

"Cut the snob act, Heather," Ed said, rolling through the door and into the waiting elevator. He turned around and looked up at her. "You forget you're dealing with the one person who knows it's faked."

For a split second the mask fell, and Heather stepped into the elevator beside him, but by the time they got up to the lanes, it was back in full force. "Can you even play in that thing?" she asked, eyeing his chair as they approached the counter.

"I can do
lots
of things," Ed said in a little kid voice. Heather cracked half a smile and looked at the big Italian guy who was doling out the shoes.

"Size seven," she said. As he turned toward the wall of shoes, Heather almost grabbed for his arms, then obviously thought the better of it and pulled back. "Clean ones, if you have them," she said. Ed laughed out loud.

By the time Heather had picked out her ball -- a purple one, of course -- and strapped on her decidedly not clean shoes, Ed had already bowled four balls and hit one strike.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Heather said, tiptoeing up to the line, ball in hand. "If anyone saw me --"

"If anyone saw you, they'd be here, too," Ed said, smiling cockily up at her. "So then they'd pretty much be in the same situation, wouldn't they?"

Heather gave him an oh-aren't-you-so-smart? look and held the ball up to shoulder level. Ed pushed himself back to give her room and watched her as she studied the lane. She could complain all she wanted, but Ed knew she loved to bowl. She got so competitive, you'd think she was on the Olympic team. If she wouldn't let him help her by going to the police, the least he could do was take her mind off things.

Especially after the way he'd crashed and burned with Gaia.

And crashed, burned, and almost been killed by Tim.

Heather took a few steps, pulled back her arm, and let fly. The ball careened down the lane and smashed into the middle pin, sending the entire set flying. The big dancing X appeared on the screen above their heads.

"Yes!" Heather shouted, throwing her arms in the air.

Ed laughed and automatically held out his hand to her. She slapped it as she strutted past.

"Beat that, Fargo," she said, plopping into an orange plastic chair and crossing her legs in front of her. The waitress came by, and Ed heard Heather order two turkey burgers and two sodas.

"Thanks," Ed said, grabbing his ball and placing it in his lap so he could maneuver to the top of the lane.

"For what?" Heather shouted over the loud music pumping from hidden speakers somewhere over their heads. "Loser's buying, so you'd better find your wallet."

Ed shook his head and pushed his chair forward.

It was nice to have the old Heather back in full force.

Kind of.