Angels on Sunset Boulevard Page 12

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s so weird.”

  “Fish …”

  “What?”

  “You sure you don’t remember anything?”

  “No. Wait. Yeah. Maybe. I remember being home sometimes. But then I would wake up and I would be somewhere else. I’m confused,” she said. So she had been home. She had been the one stealing.

  Fish began sobbing quietly. “I don’t know what’s happened. My mind is all blank. I’m trying to remember, but I can’t, and I’m scared, Nick. What’s happened to me?”

  “Do you remember something about the back room? Something about a drink? It’s red. It makes you feel … dreamy, sleepy,” Nick said.

  Fish’s eyes lit up. “TAP … I remember that. I took that drink and then, I don’t know … nothing.”

  The light went out of her eyes suddenly. Nick was concerned. The loud little stepsister he’d known was nowhere in that bed. Fish was a shell of her former self, almost as if she’d been drained—literally—of her entire personality. Sucked dry and spit out.

  “Leave me alone, Nick,” Fish said, turning her back to the wall.

  The drug. The angel factor. He had to find out what was in it. Had to find out what it was really doing to kids.

  Taj

  IT WAS GOING TO BE THE BREAKTHROUGH performance of a lifetime. Johnny Silver was back! He’d been gone for a while, but he’d returned. He was playing at the Hollywood Bowl, and Taj wouldn’t miss it for the world, even if she knew that that wasn’t Johnny up there with his guitar.

  First she had to see Sutton. This had gone on long enough. She didn’t want any part of it anymore. And she wanted to know where Johnny was. Wanted to make sure he was really okay. Sutton had been kind enough to send her several tickets and backstage passes.

  There was the usual mad chaos backstage, and Taj found him conferring with the stage director on lighting issues.

  “You’re really going through with this,” she said.

  “Trust me, it’s not how I planned it. I’d always wanted Johnny to come back himself, but he’s forced me to find an alternative.”

  “Where is he, Sutton? I know you know. Where have you been hiding him?”

  “Like I told you the other day, he’s gone, Taj. He doesn’t want anything to do with TAP anymore.”

  “So he just left? He’s just poof—disappeared again?”

  “I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. You know Johnny. He can take care of himself.”

  “Well, that’s it for me. I’m getting out too,” Taj said.

  “Out? What do you mean, out? We haven’t even begun yet,” Sutton said. “And baby, I don’t think you have much of a choice. You knew what was in TAP You knew what was required. Plus, you knew what would happen if you really tried to get out.”

  He was right. She’d known all along. She had been the one to suggest they play Johnny’s songs in the back room. She’d been the one who’d discovered Johnny, really Who’d created the myth around him. And there was the angel factor. She’d been the one who had discovered how to make it, had suggested mixing it with Kool-Aid, giving it to kids in the back room at the parties.

  “I don’t care—I’m getting out. Or at the very least I’m taking the songs. They’re mine. I wrote them. I own them.”

  “Wrong again, Taj. Did you ever see that little disclaimer on the page? ‘All contents on the TAP.com website are owned by TAP.com. Copyright TAP.com. No reproduction without permission from TAP.com.’ Everything anyone puts up on the site is owned by TAP and by Werner Music. It’s the same with any website—Amazon owns the reviews people write. Think about that next time you put something up on the Web.”

  Taj frowned. She hadn’t figured that. “Fine. You own the songs. I can write others. But what I need to know is why?”

  “Why?”

  “Why did you let the gifting get out of hand?”

  Sutton shrugged. “Why not? Why not see how far it could go? Besides, you know kids. They want more and more. They want stuff. They want friends. They want to be famous. They want to feel good. We provide all this. You and me, Taj.

  “We’ve—if you’ll forgive the pun—really tapped into something here. The gossip—that was your brilliant idea, about controlling behavior. The wish lists. Creating a desire. Keeping the cows dumb. Keeping everyone content. Distracting them. So that they don’t see what’s really out there.”

  “It was only supposed to be an experiment, a prank, nothing real,” Taj said. “Nothing that would affect anything in the real world.”

  “It’s very real, Taj. You know as well as I do.”

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “You sent Nick that postcard, didn’t you?” she said.

  “Nick.” He grimaced. “You should stay clear of that guy. He’s never going to get it. He’s a nonbeliever. Lots of bad energy.”

  “You wanted him to hate me,” Taj said softly. “Maybe he already does. Did you know his friend is missing now too?”

  “Oh, that kid. Yeah. We gave him a little scare. Told him to stop hacking into systems he shouldn’t be concerned about. He’s all right. I think you’ll find him much chastened.”

  “Where are those missing kids, Sutton? What happened to them?”

  “Most of them should be waking up now. It’s a sad side effect of the drug. The angel factor isn’t quite stable yet—it causes an allergic reaction in some. A pity.”

  “Where’s Nick’s sister?”

  “She woke up. She’s home. They’re all home now. You see? Like I told you, there’s been no harm. And hopefully she’s learned her lesson. That’s what happens when you get behind. When you try to leave.”

  “Fish was trying to get out?”

  “She said she couldn’t afford it anymore. But that’s irrelevant. It’s not part of the rules. Just because you can’t score doesn’t mean you can stop playing the game. Remember that, Taj. Remember what you promised.”

  “You’re sick. And this cult you’ve created—”

  “’Cult’ is a strong word, Taj. You say cult; I say gathering of like minds.”

  “You’re using the Web, and Johnny, as bait. He brought more people into TAP than anyone else. You used him to recruit kids.”

  “Oh, no—they came to us. But yes. So useful, your creation. Johnny Silver.”

  “Why?”

  “Because every cult needs a messiah, Taj. And rock stars are perfect for it. I had thought Johnny was special. I had bought into it just as hard as anyone. It was a revelation when you told me the truth. Then I saw all the possibilities.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Like I told you at the hotel, I had thought Johnny would be the one to take TAP to the next level, but he was only a vessel, able to receive and send, but not able to create. But you, Taj …”

  “Me?”

  “Those songs you wrote. Those ideas you had. You’re a natural. Don’t deny it. And besides, it’s too late now.”

  “What’s it all about, Sutton?” Taj sighed. He was right. It was too late. She’d signed her name in blood. She’d made the pact. They all had.

  “The usual story.” Sutton shrugged. “Sex, drugs, rock and roll. Isn’t that what every teen wants? And fame. Yes. Fame is a new thing now. Did you know that sixty percent of America’s teenagers believe they will become famous? For no reason at all. Not talent, certainly. But they believe it. And they put up their TAP pages and they wait for the call to come in. For almost all of them, the call will never come, but in the meantime, there’s TAP”

  “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.”

  Johnny

  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 t
o 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.

  Nick

  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.

  Acknowledgments

  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.