Heat by Francine Pascal

enjoy it that much.
    But this time Sam wasn't drinking for enjoyment.
He was drinking to take the edge off
of Heather's betrayal. He was drinking to wash Gaia out of his mind. He was drinking to smother the pain that cut through him anytime he thought of either girl.
    He expected it would take a lot of drinking.
    Sam stared at the multicolored bottles for a few
    seconds, then shook his head. "Give me a recommendation," he said.
    The bartender took a bottle of water-clear liquid down from the shelf. "If I was you, I would go home," she said. "But if you're going to stay here, then go for vodka."
    "Why vodka?"
    "Because," said the bartender as she pulled out a glass and set it down on the bar. "Vodka is good when you want to do some serious drinking. It doesn't leave you with such a bad hangover." The woman tipped the bottle and filled the glass nearly full of the clear fluid. "And kid, you look like you're here for serious drinking."
    ED HELD HIS FINGERS AGAINST THE bridge of his nose and tried to get his temper under control. "I
understand
you still need insurance information. I don't
have
insurance information. No. No. No! I don't know his Social Security number!" He listened for a moment longer, then slammed the phone back into its cradle.
    One Thing He Knew
    Four hours before, Ed had been on his way out of the house. Instead of leaving, he had been on the phone for
    hours.
He never even got out of his kitchen.
    Ed had been trying to get information from St. Vincent's, where Skizz was staying, by pretending to be everything from the police to Skizz's brother. The workers at the hospital weren't stupid, but they were overworked. If you kept at it long enough and pestered hard enough, you could get them to tell you what you wanted. But it sure took time.
    Ed glanced toward the windows and saw it was already dark outside. He thought about going out. He could find something to eat. Wander down to see what was on at the movies.
    But the sad truth was, despite all the time he had spent badgering people over the phone, Ed still didn't have all the information he needed.
He had the first part.
It wasn't much, really, just a sentence or two.
    And Ed knew one thing for sure--what he had learned so far wasn't going to make Gaia happy.
    "COME ON!" MARY TOOK GAIA
by the hand and started dragging her toward the dance floor.
    Why People Dance
    Gaia put on the brakes. "Wait."
    "Wait for what?" Mary let go of Gaia's hand and swayed from side to side in time to the music. "Come on. Let's get out there."
    People pushed past them on both sides. The band had been playing for only a few minutes, but already the floor was getting crowded with couples, singles, and assorted groups. The close press of people made Gaia feel more than a little trapped. She was used to being alone, prowling around the park or hiking down the streets at night. Being in the crowded nightclub made her so squeezed, that Gaia almost forgot about the way she was dressed.
Almost.
    "Gaia!" Mary called. Even from two feet away she had to shout to be heard over the driving music. She spun around on her high-heeled shoes and flashed a bright smile. "Aren't you going to dance?"
    Gaia shook her head. "I don't think so. Dancing isn't on my resume."
    Mary grabbed her hand again. "You know how. You just don't know that you know." She pulled Gaia toward the center of the floor.
    Gaia let herself be pulled. First it was the skimpy dress. Now it was dancing. She wondered if a person could reach a complete overload of embarrassment. A pressure so strong that they collapsed inward,
like a star falling into a blackhole.
    Mary released Gaia's hand. She started to dance slowly, shifting her weight and letting her arms drift
    back and forth. "Here's the secret," she said. "Guys have to learn how to dance. Girls don't. I mean, sure you have to learn if you want to be really good, but if you just want to have fun and get the guys bothered, all any attractive girl has to do is move."
    Gaia