Angels on Sunset Boulevard (17 page)

“Five minutes, Mr. Silver,” a stagehand called.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to prepare my client for his show. And Taj? I trust we'll see you at the next meeting?”

Taj nodded her head. “Yes.”

HE WALKED OUT OF THE IN-N-OUT BURGER, WIPING
his hands on his pants. He was still shaking, and his mind was a muddle. The kid he'd met in there had told him he was supposed to be onstage at the Hollywood Bowl at that moment. That didn't make any sense. But then nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Not since the night of the light.

What he'd told the kid was the truth. All he remembered was a blinding white light, and then he'd woken up in the desert, alone. For a long time he'd just been wandering by himself, hungry.

Then a car had arrived to pick him up. Out of nowhere, as if it had known where to find him.

There was a guy in the car who looked familiar. The guy said his name was Sutton, and he was a friend. The guy took him back to a hotel; it was a nice one in Palm Springs. He remembered the name of the town because he'd been there as a kid.

They'd stayed there for a while, and then the guy took him to another hotel. The guy kept asking him if he thought he could play, but when he picked up a guitar, he looked at it and didn't remember anything. Too bad, said the guy—Sutton—remember—his name was Sutton.

It was so hard to remember things now. Like his name. Sutton had said that if anyone asked, his name was Johnny. Johnny was a nice name, so he'd liked that.

That's what the kid called him. Aren't you Johnny Silver? The boy had asked. And for the first time, it resonated. Johnny Silver. He had been Johnny Silver. But he didn't know who he was anymore. Not after the light.

Sutton had taken him to another nice hotel, high up in the hills, with a great view. It looked familiar. And the other day he was asleep in his bed and he heard a girl's voice. It, too, had sounded familiar. It sounded like home.

The girl … he had to find the girl. She would know. She would know how to help him. She knew everything. She always did. That much he remembered.

So today, he decided he wanted to walk outside, and he found himself in front of the In-N-Out Burger.

He'd walked in and ordered the number one. That he remembered. He'd always gotten the number one before.

He took a deep breath. He was still confused and disoriented, and sad. He felt the tears falling freely on his cheeks. He had no idea why he was crying. Something about remembering that night had made him sad. But no matter. He liked being outside. Sutton kept him inside all the time. Wouldn't let him do anything but order room service.

The light changed, and Johnny crossed the street. He didn't know where he was going, didn't know where he was from. But all he knew was he had to find her. He had to find the girl who had given him his name.

HE SPENT THE EVENING DRIVING AROUND, TRYING TO
get in touch with her, but she never picked up her phone. Finally he decided he would do what she had done. He would wait for her in front of her house.

“Hey,” she said, not looking the least bit surprised to find him sitting on her porch at one in the morning.

“I've seen Johnny,” he said.

“You mean at the Bowl.”

“No, I mean at the In-N-Out. Just now. He looked like he was on something. He was barely coherent.”

“Interesting.” So Sutton hadn't lied—Johnny had left on his own.

“That's it? You think it's interesting?”

“What do you want, Nick?” she asked.

Neither of them was sure just what had happened between them, but the easy camaraderie between them had changed—shifted.

“What are they going to do with that kid up onstage at the Bowl? The pretender. Is he going to disappear too? Listen, I don't know what you are doing, but I know you need to keep away from Sutton. He's dangerous,” Nick said finally.

“Nick.”

“We need to find out more about TAP. That drink they give the kids—it's dangerous. It's fucked up Fish. She's not the same person. We need to stop them. Will you help me?”

“No,” Taj said quietly.

Nick turned to her. “What do you mean, no?”

In answer, she showed him the inside of her wrist. Something that wasn't there before. A tattoo. The angel wings.
One million years of allegiance.
It was a joke, she'd said. She'd dismissed it as nothing. But perhaps that was a lie too. She was one of them. She'd been Tapped.

“What does this mean?” he asked, holding her wrist up to the light and not quite believing what he was seeing.

She drew him closer, put her light hand on his cheek. He put a hand on top of hers.

She lifted up her chin and he leaned down. She
kissed him. A long, passionate kiss. A kiss like the one they'd shared at the station. They kissed, and for Nick it was like time had stopped. He pulled her into his arms. Things were going to be okay. This was okay. This was what he had been waiting for.

Then she drew back. She looked at him sorrowfully.

“This is good-bye, Nick.”

“What?”

“We can't see each other anymore.”

“Because of Johnny? Because you're still in love with Johnny?” he asked, his voice tight.

“No. It has nothing to do with Johnny,” she said, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

“But why then?”

“TAP is about loving everyone, not just one person. I'm sorry, Nick,” she said, as if she were reading from a script. Her eyes were blank and remote.

Then she walked into the house and locked the door.

This time, Nick could actually feel his heart breaking. And he realized that he'd been wrong. You could fall in love at seventeen. Desperately in love. No matter what she had done before, or why she was involved in the shadowy world of TAP, she was in something deep and scary and he needed to get her out. He needed to rescue her. He was going to find a
way. If it was the last thing he did in his life, he swore he would do it.

Nick Huntington walked down the steps, took one last look back at Taj's house, got in his car, and drove back to the Westside.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE IN MY S&S FAMILY:
Emily Meehan, Elizabeth Law, Rick Richter, Courtney Bongiolatti, Michelle Montague, Jen Bergstrom, Bethany Buck, Paul Crichton, and Karen Frangipane. Thank you for believing in me, for supporting my work, and for all the wonderful book parties!

Thank you to everyone at ICM, especially Richard Abate and Josie Freedman.

Big ups to JDK (Jennie Kim), who helped with all the skateboarding research. Any and all mistakes in the skater text or lingo are my own.

Many thanks to my cousin Sigmund Torre, magna-artist extraordinaire, for the fabulous character portraits.

Thanks and love to my DLC family: Pop, Mom, Chit, Aina, Steve, Nico, and Joe. And my Johnston family: Dad J., Mom J., John, Anji, Alex, Tim, Rob, Jenn, Val, and Lily.

Thanks and love to all my friends in L.A. and New York. (And my friends all over the world—in Kiev and Buenos Aires, especially!)

Thanks mostly to my husband, Mike, for dreaming up the TAP when I told him I was writing a book about cults in L.A.

Thanks to baby Mattie, who was with me every step of the way.