Sex (20 page)

“All right!” Casper hollered, securing the gun against her head.

Tatiana's face had gone totally blank as Casper tugged on her head like it wasn't even attached to a body. All she could do was stare coldly at Gaia. Stare at her and curse her with her eyes as Casper pulled back the hammer of his gun.

Once he'd flipped back the hammer, that nagging paranoid buzz that had been gnawing at Gaia's stomach exploded into a sense of doom that shook her insides to the point of nearly vomiting. Fearful yet again when she needed to take action—it was hardly even a surprise now. She had scraped every ounce of her brain for a way out of this, and she'd failed to find one. So she stood there like a useless fool and apologized to Tatiana with her eyes. In this final moment, it seemed she was really no better than Tatiana. Just as wispy and timid. Just as utterly helpless.

“Say good-bye,” Casper uttered. He tightened his outstretched arm and squeezed down slowly on the
trigger. When Tatiana suddenly opened her mouth and began to spew out a vicious stream of Russian words directly at Gaia.

The volume and urgency of her voice had erupted from so completely out of nowhere that Casper actually flinched and let go of the trigger as he watched her growl with rage into Gaia's face.

“Holy crap.” He laughed nervously, looking over at Gen. “Bitch scared the living daylights out of me. What the hell language is she speaking?”

“Russian,” Gen said. “I think she's a little pissed at my buddy Gaia here.” She smiled. “Either that or she's saying her prayers or some shit.”

Gen was right about one thing. She was definitely pissed. But she wasn't saying prayers at all. Far from it. Gaia listened to each harsh word being shot at her like gunfire:

Get that pathetic helpless look off your face and work with me. If you think I'm going to let this needle-brained drug-dealing son of a bitch be my executioner, then you re truly out of your mind. Now, you listen to me. I am going to count to three, and then I am going to elbow this pathetic lowlife where it hurts. You do what you have to do, and we will get ourselves out of this. On three. Do you understand me?

“Okay,” Gaia replied calmly.

She was simply too amazed by Tatiana to offer a more detailed response.

“Is she finished?” Casper laughed.

Without further ado, Tatiana began a slow and steady countdown in Russian.

Three… two… one…

Without moving an inch from her seated position, Tatiana whipped her sharp, bony elbow directly into the center of Casper's crotch, forcing out a high-pitched howl of agony as he dropped his gun and collapsed to the floor in a rolled-up fetal ball.

Gaia seized her moment instantly, taking hold of the arm that Gen had around her neck with both hands and flipping her tragically skinny frame about five feet in front of her. Gen screamed out in pain as her entire skeleton cracked against the glossy hardwood floor of the living room. There was no way a hundred-pound junkie was going to be getting up from that fall anytime soon.

Gaia rolled forward and grabbed the gun off the floor as Tatiana dropped to her knees and swiped up the knife. She quickly knelt over Gen and held the knife to her nose. Not that Gen would have been able to move, anyway.

Casper had managed to make it back up to a crouching position, when Gaia hit him with a vicious kick combination. First a side kick straight to his gut and then a sweeping roundhouse kick to his jaw, rocking his entire body into the dining-room chairs before he slid down into a heap on the floor.

Gaia quickly turned to Tatiana, speaking urgently in Russian. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I'm fine,” she replied in Russian. “But I want them out of here. I want them out of here now.”

“You read my mind,” Gaia replied.

Like clockwork, Gaia and Tatiana grabbed the mumbling, moaning Casper and dragged him straight across the floor right into the building's hallway.

“Let
me
get the other one,” Gaia requested. Tatiana stepped out of the way and left a clear path for Gaia. Gaia stomped back into the room and lifted Gen into her arms as though she were a bag of trash, carrying her bony frame out into the hallway and dumping her on top of Casper's semiconscious body.

She got down on one knee and tapped Gen's half-conscious face a few times to get her attention. “You just keep doing what you're doing, Gen. You keep using, and you stick with him… you'll be dead in no time.”

Gaia and Tatiana stepped into their apartment, but Gaia turned back with an afterthought. “We're going to open this door again in five minutes. If you're not gone… that will be bad.”

“That will be very bad,” Tatiana agreed.

Tatiana slammed the door closed.

After a few moments of recovery, Gaia and Tatiana walked slowly over to Casper's overstuffed Christmas bag and began to put the items back in their places.

“I don't think we need to tell my mother about this
night,” Tatiana said as she examined the wiring on the back of the VCR.

Gaia froze for a moment as she was setting the silver bowl back on the coffee table. Each moment of the last ten minutes had only served to inform her of what an absolute imbecile she was when it came to people. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Da,”
Tatiana replied even more quietly.

They worked in silence for another few moments until Gaia just had to ask something.
“‘Hit him where it hurts?'”
she asked in Russian. “I didn't know they used that expression in Russia.”

“This is not right?” Tatiana asked. “Where it hurts? This is not where I hit him?”

“No, it's perfect,” Gaia said. “It's perfect…. That's exactly where you hit him.”

“Good. That was where I wanted to hit him.”

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Time:
2:06
A.M.

Re:
I will delete this

Gaia,

God, I wish I could understand what happened that morning. I really, really do. I'm staring over at my bed, or our bed, or whatever, and that night that was only a few days ago… seems like it was about ten years ago.

The thing is, I love you so much, Gaia, and I could have sworn you loved me, too, and now it seems like everything just fell out the window for no apparent reason at all. And I mean EVERYTHING, including the most important friendship in my life.

Can you explain ANY of this to me any better than you have? Am I crazy, or did I see the actual you for two seconds in the cafeteria this afternoon? Wasn't that you? Can we just sit down for a couple of normal minutes and talk it over? The actual me and the actual you?

Yeah, I know, I know. Blahblahblahblahblah who cares who cares, right??

her identity had fallen so far into the crapper that could no longer recognize anyone else's identity, either.

purified hatred

WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THIS train, Gaia? Do you know what you're doing on this train?

Electromagnet

She knew; she just didn't want to tell herself. She was on the six train, heading down toward Ed's …
neighborhood.
Not heading down toward Ed's per se, just down toward his neighborhood. Because God knew she needed a break from the Upper East Side. A nice long break.

It was just something about this night. This night had sent her one very basic message above all others. That message:

This whole “new life” of yours … total, unmitigated disaster.

Indeed, every single choice Gaia had made in her “new life” had not just backfired. It had back-
exploded.
Sticking to the Upper East Side had only brought her to Central Park. Central Park had only introduced her to Gen and Casper. Befriending Gen had nearly gotten her and Tatiana robbed and killed. Bad choices. Nothing but bad choices.

And then there was the matter of her complete and utter misjudgment of both Tatiana and Gen. How could such a well-educated, perceptive person have gotten it so completely wrong? The only conclusion she could draw for herself was that her identity had fallen so far into the crapper that
she could no longer recognize anyone else's identity, either. That was why she'd roamed out of that Seventy-second Street apartment and onto a train downtown at two in the morning. Because downtown at least had a few remnants of a Gaia she could recognize. A few tattered remains of something resembling “home.” West Fourth Street. Washington Square Park.

And Ed. Of course Ed. Ed was home.

Her new life had in fact made her so ill that she'd actually found herself harking back to the days of the Perry Street town house and George and Ella Niven. Even that godforsaken place struck her as home tonight in her sickeningly glorified memories. And if those horrible days could feel like home … well, then things had gotten awfully bad.

She climbed out of the train at Astor Place and stood on the small, windy island, trying to pick a direction. Gray's Papaya would be closed. So would the Krispy Kreme. Of course … Ed's was just a few blocks away….

She began to walk east in his direction. For chrissake, this was ridiculous. She could sneak in a little meeting with Ed. Just a few minutes. Maybe give him a slightly better explanation than the crap she'd been dishing out and despising herself for? Didn't he deserve that? Just like he'd said?

Or maybe they wouldn't even have to talk. She could
announce a no-talking rule, and they could just have a quick hug. Or maybe a little kiss. Or maybe even … Honestly, it was so late already, would they even be watching her that closely now? Whoever the hell
they
were? Would it really make that much of a difference if she stayed the night? One extra night?
God,
she wanted to stay the night. She wanted that so badly, it was sending painful bolts of electricity down her spine….

Okay, STOP. No, mean literally STOP. Stop walking down this block.

She froze on Sixth between First and Second in front of a long row of Indian restaurants that had closed for the night.

Seeing Ed would only be for
her.
The hug, or the kiss, or … what she really wanted … would only be for her. And then Ed would be dead by the following day, and therefore so would she. It would not and could not happen. She wouldn't let it. In spite of the nuclear-powered, billion-gigawatt electromagnet that was pulling her toward his house and his arms and his bed … she would turn around now and thus extend his life for years to come.

Nope. Ed was home, but she couldn't go all the way home. Downtown was the closest she was going to get. Or maybe …

The park. At least she could revisit Washington Square Park tonight. There was a time when she had felt like that park was the only true home she had. It
was too late to see Zolov or Renny or good old Mr. Haq. But at least the arch would always be lit up. Who knew? Maybe there would even be some legitimate criminals there tonight. Criminals she would be damn sure not to befriend or bring home as roommates.

HEATHER HAD GOTTEN COMPLETELY lost in the world of Josh's lips. And his hands, and his incredibly muscular arms, and the dent that ran down the center of his chest that she could even feel through his shirt, and …

Blurry

Yes, she was plastered, absolutely, but still … Josh had been right about Washington Square Park. Being wrapped up in his arms, straddling his legs, with his coat wrapped around her shoulders and his lips sending rich and glorious tingles through her entire body. The park at night did feel completely new. She and Josh had already created an entirely new memory for Heather, a whole new mental association with that park. Or in this case, more of a
physical
association, really. But it was a physical association that was, just as Josh had promised, unforgettable.

That was, until Josh quite suddenly jerked away
from Heather and lifted her back onto the side of the park bench.

“Wh-What's wrong?” Heather asked, trying to catch her breath as she did a quick mirrorless lipstick-smudge removal around the edges of her mouth.

“Nothing,” Josh assured her. “God, not you,
definitely
not you.” He shot out of his seat.

“Well, if not me, then
who?”

“Oh, man.” Josh sighed, backing away from the bench. “I am
so sorry,
Heather, I totally forgot …”

“Forgot
what?”
Heather squawked in a state of pure, perhaps drunken confusion. “What did you forget at two in the morning?”

“It's … Josh slapped his hands to his sides and sighed. “You know, it's so complicated, if I tried to explain it to you now, it would take forever.”

“I
have
forever.”

Josh's eyes darted out into the park and then to his watch. “Oh, damn hell damn hell. I'm so sorry, Heather, I've got to run. I'll call you first thing in the morning, okay? I had an amazing time tonight.
Amazing.”

“It is first thing in the morning.”

“Second
thing, then,” he said, backing toward the bushes that led toward MacDougal Street. “I'll call you second thing!”

And then he took off in a full sprint. Like a bat out of hell.

Heather was absolutely, unequivocally confounded.
Had she done something wrong? Was it something about her kisses? Had she said something wrong? No, that wasn't possible, given that neither one of them had said
anything
since they'd landed on that park bench together. What … the hell … was that about? How could he have just left her in the park alone that way?

“Heather!”

Heather looked out at the center of the park and saw a blurry figure sprinting toward her. It couldn't be Josh, since he'd just taken off in the other direction. Besides, it sounded like a woman's voice.