Payback (4 page)

THE LIBRARY WAS PRETTY. THE
books? Gorgeous. The leather chair felt like a little piece of cloud. But the people were all very uninteresting. Bland. Ugly, even.

None of them were Gaia Moore.

Sam was fully aware that at least three students in the East Asian Library were staring at him with a disturbed sort of curiosity. Why shouldn't they be? He was kicked back in a big green chair, his feet up on the table in front of him, about ten large textbooks piled around him -- and he was smiling like an idiot. Like he was lying on a massage table on a white beach in the Caribbean.

It was almost finals week, and Sam Moon was summer-vacation giddy.

"What are you on, man?" whispered Sam's suite mate, Mike Suarez, leaning across the table. "And can I have some?"

"Shhh!" Keon refused to let anyone get out a sentence without scolding them. Sam and Mike both glanced at him, then smirked.

"Nope. Definitely not. None for you," Sam said, adjusting the physics book on his lap. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Keon shake his head in frustration, but the kid was just going to have to deal. Sam couldn't render himself mute for two weeks' worth of studying and exam taking.

Mike's whole forehead scrunched up, and he looked like he was suddenly reconsidering their living arrangements. "Well, at least cut the smiley face act. You're freaking people out, and we can't be driven from East Asia."

"Right," Sam said, attempting to force down the corners of his mouth. "No problem." For a split second he tried to concentrate on his book, but then he found himself looking around the room, Gaia thoughts flitting in and out of his mind. The East Asian room was the most comfortable, quiet study nook in the library, but only a select few people knew about it. Mike had found out about the cozy chairs and relatively private tables from one of his frat brothers and had let Sam and Keon in on the secret. Today they'd shown up early enough to stake a claim in the prime corner, right at the end of the stacks.

Sam had promised Keon he was ready to cram. Get down to business. Study like it was going out of style.

But he couldn't stop thinking about Gaia.

He could still feel her hands on his shoulders. Her tongue grazing his lips. Her --

"Is it Heather?" Mike whispered, causing Sam's little fantasy world to disappear in a poof of guilt-tinged smoke.

"Is what Heather?" Sam asked, glancing over his shoulder. Had she found him at the NYU library? Had she tracked him down? Somehow Sam wouldn't have been surprised to see her sauntering through the room, ready to grab his arm and force an in-depth analysis of the big blowout.

"The I-just-got-me-some look on your face," Mike said with a grin.

"Shhhhhh!" Keon exploded.

"Give me a break," Mike hissed. He looked back at Sam. "Did you and Heather get busy last night or what?"

Sam sighed in relief and righted himself in his chair.
Getting busy
wasn't exactly the phrase he would have used to describe what had gone on between him and Heather over Thanksgiving. Before he'd walked out on her. Before he'd gone back to his dorm. Before he'd found Gaia there. Waiting for him.

"Not exactly," he said, pushing himself back in his seat.

"Then what is it, Moon?" Mike asked, his brown eyes twinkling. "Some other girl?"

Sam cleared his throat. "I thought we were studying," he said, highlighting a random sentence on the glossy page of his physics text. He could feel that Mike was still staring at him, so he kept pretending to read until the kid gave up and flopped back in his chair, the cushions letting out a little hissing sound as air escaped through the seams.

Swallowing hard, Sam forced his eyes to the top of the page and started to read for real. The mention of Heather had brought him back down to earth, hard. Yes, they'd fought. She'd told him to leave. But he knew Heather, and he knew she said a lot of things she didn't mean. Which meant that she was still technically his girlfriend. Which meant that Thanksgiving night in his dorm, he'd cheated on her. With the one person she hated more than anyone else on the planet.

Sam had no clue what to do about Heather. He had even less of a clue how to proceed with Gaia. She wasn't a normal ask-her-out-on-a-date-and-don't-forget-to-bring-flowers type of girl. That had been proven many times over since the first time he'd met her.

With a deep breath, Sam pushed Heather and Gaia out of his mind and picked up his notebook, flipping it open to the first page of notes.

Suddenly he was glad to have something as important and all consuming as finals to command his attention.

ONE LITTLE E-MAIL MESSAGE WAS
all it took.

Even after Heather. Even after Marco. After David. After her father. After every deranged, psychotic, evil, slimy, grime-covered, bad-cologne-wearing midnight assailant. Even after dealing with each and every one of these hateful beings, Gaia could quite honestly say she had never felt so much rage before in her life.

And from the look on Ella Niven's face, the woman was just smart enough to know that this rage was directed at her.

"You lied to me," Gaia said. There was no surprise in her voice. Only the rage. Ella's face went white for a moment underneath her layers of foundation and powder. She backed away from the foul-smelling sludge she was frying on the stove and crossed her arms over her chest. Gaia wondered if Ella was remembering when Gaia punched her. Remembering and fearing.

God, she hoped she was.

"I don't appreciate your tone, Gaia," she said, wiping her hands on her ruffled apron.

"I was with someone on Thanksgiving," Gaia said, trying desperately to ignore the burning, acrid stench that was assailing her nostrils and choking her airways. Her eyes were watering, and she suddenly registered the fact that Ella was actually cooking -- or attempting an unreasonable facsimile thereof. She never cooked. Was the woman actually trying to kill her?

Ella took a deep breath -- how she managed it, Gaia had no idea -- and smoothed her blazing red hair back from her face. "And how, exactly, does that make me a liar?"

"You told me there was no one there, at the hospital," Gaia said, leaning onto the counter in front of her, her veins throbbing in her forehead. Ella had hated Gaia from the moment she'd first walked through the door. Gaia had picked up on it immediately and hated the woman right back. But why did Ella feel the need to take every single thing away from her? Gaia had never even met her before she came to Perry Street, but the woman was brimming with malice. Why?

Ella's amphibian green eyes narrowed into angry slits. "That's right," she said calmly. "There was no one with you at the hospital. God only knows what you did before then. I did tell you they found you outside some dorm, babbling about someone named Sam." She ran her fingernail along the side of her mouth, like a cat who'd just finished off the forbidden goldfish. "Is that who you're talking about?" she said with a light laugh. "Maybe he'd just kicked you out of his room."

There was a moment without air. No intake whatsoever. A moment when Gaia's heart felt like it was about to burst open from the pressure.

Her first inclination was to launch herself at Ella and make her take it back.

Her second inclination was to entertain the idea that the woman might be right.

That was the standard Gaia-as-masochist inclination.

But no. It wasn't possible. Sam's e-mail had said thanks. He'd said he wanted to see her again. She was no relationship expert, but if he'd booted her, he wouldn't be saying that. Right?

And he wouldn't have left her outside in the cold, bruised and woozy and half comatose.

Not Sam.

Gaia rounded the counter and, in one long stride, got within centimeters of Ella's pointy little face. She was quite satisfied when Ella flinched.

"I swear to you, Ella, if you don't tell me the truth right now --"

There was a door slam, and two pairs of eyes darted to the kitchen entry.

"George," Ella whispered, sounding like she was uttering the name of salvation.

"I'm home!" George shouted from the foyer. "What smells so interesting?"

Gaia felt her muscles untighten, and she pulled away reluctantly. The threats were going to have to wait for another day unless she wanted to explain to George why she'd kicked his wife's skinny ass as his homecoming present.

AS SOON AS YOU'RE ALL WASHED
up, come back down for dinner!" Ella called cheerily as Gaia slammed her way out of the kitchen and into the hallway, the heinous smell still clinging to her skin. George was shaking out his coat and hanging it up in the closet by the door. Gaia paused. He looked tired. Almost older.

"Hi, George," she said, going for the closet before he had a chance to close it. She pulled out her flimsy jacket and started to put it on, hoping he was so tired and jet-lagged, he wouldn't feel like starting up a conversation. She could talk to him about his trip later. She had to get out of this house, pronto.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw George's already wrinkled brow crease even deeper with concern. Damn. So close.

"Where are you going?" he asked, eyeing the arm that was half in, half out of the sleeve. "Aren't we about to eat? Ella told me this morning that she was going to give cooking a whirl."

He inhaled, and Gaia was gratified to see the tears spring to his eyes, not that he'd ever acknowledge them. "She was very excited," he said evenly.

"I'm not really hungry," Gaia said. She had been starving, but the stench, Sam's e-mail, and the almost fight took that right out of her.

George sighed and shook his head slowly. His eyes looked all heavy and apprehensive, like he was a doctor about to tell a couple he'd done everything he could, but he just couldn't save their kid.

"Gaia, Ella told me all about what happened while I was away. I know things are hard for you right now --"

The squirming started immediately. Exactly how much had Ella told the poor old guy? Gaia wasn't certain how much his creaky little ticker could take. And she'd hate to be a cause of stress to George. Any more than she already was, anyway.

"With your father gone and your mother . . ."

Gaia's eyes focused on a tiny spiderweb in the corner behind George's head. Heart-to-hearts weren't her thing.

"And after this whole Christmas . . . I mean --" He brought a hand to his forehead and laughed at himself. "Thanksgiving mess . . ."

Apparently George wasn't very good at them, either.

"Well, I just want you to know that if there's anything you ever need to talk about . . . whether it's boys --"

"Stop." The word was out of Gaia's mouth like a shot. George's face went from pink to crimson, and Gaia immediately felt guilty. "Sorry." She pulled on the hem of her baggy black sweater resolutely, inhaled, held back a choking cough, and looked him in the eye.

"Let's eat."

THERE WAS A WHITE BLOB, A reddish brown blob, and a pile of what looked like dried sticks. Gaia gulped her water as Ella related the fascinating details of her day of beauty at Aveda. George kept nodding as if he knew exactly what his wife was talking about, but Gaia wasn't even sure what exfoliaters and sloughing cream were -- which just reminded her what a pathetic excuse for a female she was. This had to be over soon.

"So, Gaia," Ella said, spooning a heap of the white mush into her mouth as she finished a harrowing tale of an acid peel gone awry -- a story that suddenly made Gaia feel
glad
she was a pathetic excuse for a female. Ella licked her lips daintily and touched a napkin to her mouth. She did this after every single bite she took. It was starting to drive Gaia insane.

"What?" Gaia said tersely.

"I don't suppose you would want to tell us how
your
day went, would you?" Ella asked, shooting George a look as if seeking affirmation that she'd now officially done her duty. She'd acted interested.

"Not really," Gaia answered, pushing at her pile of sticks with her fork. A few toppled over the rim of her plate onto the white linen tablecloth. Ella glared at them, but Gaia didn't make a move to clean it up. Fewer sticks for her stomach.

George shifted in his seat slightly, gearing up to talk. Gaia silently prayed he wouldn't bring up the whole boy topic again.

"Are you making friends at that school yet?" he asked, bravely taking a bite from the reddish brown blob. The flinch was almost indiscernible.

"Oh, she's making friends," Ella said, her eyes on her food as a little satisfied smile played about her lips. "Just not at that school."

Gaia felt an angry blush color her cheeks, and she shot Ella a glare that should have turned her to vapor. In a perfect world. In this world, Ella just smirked back at her.

"Really?" George looked intrigued. Gaia shrugged. Like she was really going to share. There was nothing
to
share. Not yet. At least not with these people. Ella, after all, still quite possibly knew more than she did, a thought that did nothing for her already squirming stomach.

"Come on, Gaia," Ella said, placing her napkin on the table. She was all glee. "Tell George about your little Sam." The way she said the last three words made Gaia come unconscionably close to lifting her end of the table so that the entire meal slid into Ella's lap.

George smiled and looked from Ella to Gaia. The guy was definitely ready and willing. To hear what? That she might or might not have kissed the boyfriend of a girl she hated who also happened to be the most popular girl in school? That was sure to make George beam with pride. Not that Gaia cared.

"I have to go," Gaia said, standing up and letting her napkin slide from her lap onto the floor.

Ella's freshly waxed eyebrows arched. Gaia wondered if they colored those during her day of beauty, too, along with her fake red hair. "Don't tell me you have somewhere to be."

"Ella," George said in a tone that came close to a warning. Apparently he'd finally picked up on her ever sarcastic tone.

Gaia looked into Ella's eyes and paused. There wasn't just surprise and mockery there. There was something else. A guarded, defensive kind of look. Jealousy? Was that even possible?

"Party," she said, just to gauge the reaction. Ella blinked, and her expression went flat. Then she quickly looked away and picked up her water glass with one hand while fiddling with the gold pendant that always hung in her cleavage with the other. It
was
jealousy. Interesting.

"On a Monday?" George said. He looked at Ella as if he wasn't sure whether or not this was acceptable. Like Ella knew anything about propriety. Unfortunately, Ella was too preoccupied trying to look unfazed, and she didn't notice her own husband's stare for help. Gaia decided to put him out of his misery, if only so she could get out of here and put herself out of her own.

"I won't be late, George," she said, forcing a tight, hopefully reassuring, but probably just disturbing smile. She hoped he would just hurry up and tell her it was all right. If he didn't, she would sneak through the window, anyway, but it was much less trouble to go out through the front door.

"Okay," he said. "But you be careful out there. You never know --"

But Gaia was already down the hall and halfway up the steps to the relative privacy of her own room.