Kiss by Francine Pascal

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 for you. Save somebody’s ass, and they’ll rob you blind. Give a lot, and they’ll take a lot more.
    Shit!
    She moved to the sink, splashed cold water on her badly bruised face. When she looked in the mirror, she got a shock. The left side of her face, her cheekbone all the way up to her temple, was already covered by an ugly purple bruise. The corner of her lip was bleeding, not to mention her mascara. Mary’s velvet dress was ripped in two places. She was a freaking mess.
    She retrieved the shoes and squeezed them on her sore feet, trying not to let herself cry. Now what? She’d arrived at the station full of cash and ready to start a new life.
    She’d be leaving it broke and broken.

Hunted Prey
    â€œWHERE 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.
    â€œOh, 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 from roasted duck to wild Scottish hare to rock Cornish hen with the word of caution to be careful of possible bird shot.
    This was George’s consolation prize to Ella for his being called away on Thanksgiving. The restaurant was fine with her; the company, a bore.
    â€œI would so like to see Gaia, that poor thing,” Mrs. Bessemer agreed. “Her parents were such lovely people.”
    Ella stifled a yawn. She shrugged daintily. “Gaia is a teenager, as you know. Her appearances are difficult to predict. I told her of course how much you’d all like to see her, but . . . Gaia has a mind and a schedule of her own.” Ella lied effortlessly, without even needing to listen to herself.
    Besides, she has an appointment with a doctor, Ella added silently. She tapped her menu. “Listen, why don’t we just go ahead and order? I’ll order a little something extra for Gaia so when — if — she comes, she can join right in. I’m sure she won’t mind.”
    That said, her beeper went off. She opened her purse, extracted the beeper, and looked at the number. “That’s probably her now. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Insult and Injury
    THE DOCTOR STOOD INSIDE THE phone booth just outside Penn Station’s southwest en-trance, annoyed