Fearless 2: Twisted; Kiss; Payback by Francine Pascal

Author:Francine Pascal
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

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 café across from the Notre Dame cathedral. Sip a double espresso as she read some poems from Baudelaire’s Fleurs du mal. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not today, anyway. She didn’t have a passport, let alone money for the flight.

Hmmm. Maybe Chicago. She’d always wanted to visit the museum there. If she couldn’t go to Paris, she could at least sit for an hour in front of Gustave Caillebotte’s wall-sized painting, Paris Street, Rainy Day. She first saw it in an art magazine she was flipping through while waiting to have a wisdom tooth pulled. The dreary scene spoke to her. Ambling along a cobblestone street on a gray, rainy day. That was her.

Engine, engine, number 9, going down the Chicago line. If the train falls off the track, do you want your money back? Yes. Y-e-s spells yes, you dirty, dirty dishrag—you.

She waited in the Amtrak ticket line behind a twenty-something couple from Jersey who—Gaia gathered from overhearing—had met the night before in an East Village club. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Pinching, groping, giggling. It took everything Gaia had not to gag before she finally reached the window, where she came face-to-face with Ned, the ticket vendor.

She leaned forward to speak into the round voice amplifier.

“Chicago. One way.” He visibly perked up at the sight of her. His eyes leered at her from behind the thick Plexiglas.

“Going all by yourself?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“No . . . I just thought . . .” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Thought what?”

“I don’t know, a girl as pretty as yourself. Just seems like you’d have a . . . companion.”

She sighed. “Well, I’m alone. Is there a sleeping car on that train going to Chicago?”

He swiveled on his seat and clacked a succession of keys at his computer. “Not until nine-thirty tonight.”

“How about another train, then? Is there any train with a sleeping car leaving soon? Doesn’t matter where it’s going.”

He looked at her.

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