Angels on Sunset Boulevard

by Melissa de la Cruz

  “Yeah. I want to get my spirit on,” Div said, her color high and her hands already shaking with excitement.

  “Go ahead,” Taj said. “I’ll catch up later.”

  She wandered into the kitchen and picked up a beer from the Sub-Zero, forgoing the telltale red TAP punch that was available in a crystal bowl. She saw Sutton leaning by the counter; a tall, strikingly beautiful girl in a diaphanous silk dress, her shoulders tan and creamy, stood beside him. Taj remembered her from backstage at the Viper Room. He raised his glass and she walked over.

  “Taj, do you know Maxine?”

  “No,” Taj said.

  “Maxine, this is Taj. The one you’ve heard so much about. Johnny Silver’s muse.”

  “I heard you’re the one responsible for all of his songs,” Maxine said.

  Taj raised her eyebrow and looked at Sutton. What had Sutton told her? But Sutton looked blank.

  “Thanks,” Taj said icily, living up to her nickname. “Sutton, you haven’t heard from him?”

  “I told you, Taj, the minute I do, I’ll let you know. I’m sure our Johnny’s just, you know, hanging out somewhere.”

  For some reason this caused Sutton’s date to giggle uncontrollably.

  “Great party,” Taj said, for conversation’s sake.

  “You going in?” he asked, nodding his head toward the back room.

  “Later,” she said.

  “That’s my girl.” Sutton smiled.

  “A lot of new people here,” Taj said, surveying the crowd. God, and some of those kids looked really young—fourteen, thirteen, even.

  Sutton nodded. “Word’s spreading. That’s the way we like it.”

  Taj took her leave and walked around the party. I won’t do it tonight. I won’t. I won’t. But she found herself in front of the door anyway. And when the kid with the flashlight asked for the password, she gave it up willingly.

  She walked inside the dark room, smelled the pheromones from the people around her, the woody, cloying smell of incense. She unzipped her jacket and stripped down to a thin black tank top. They were playing a track from Johnny’s album. Someone handed her a plastic cup. Oh, well. What could it hurt. It was all-natural. Organic. It was good for you. It made you feel good. She drank it, savoring the familiar, sweet taste of TAP. No wonder Johnny had found it so alluring. This feeling of lightness, of joy, of ecstasy …

  Johnny’s voice was amplified on the speakers. It was almost as if he were there in the room with her.

  She took off the tank top and stood there in her black lace bra. Then she unhooked the straps from behind and walked with her eyes closed into the crowd.

  It was time for the ritual.

  Nick

  “I TOLD YOU, I’M LEAVING.”

  “Aw, c’mon.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t be a wuss.”

  “Dude, just shut up.”

  “You shut up.”

  Nick shook his head. He should have known. The minute they drove up Benedict and pulled into the driveway, he realized how incredibly stupid he had been. Some TAP party in Benedict Canyon. Yeah, right. How could he have forgotten? Maxine had been talking about it all week.

  Eric, that traitor, had taken him to one of Sutton’s parties.

  Sutton Werner was famous for his TAP events. They were at different locations every time—once on his father’s yacht in Marina del Rey, another time in an abandoned castle high up in the Silver Lake Hills. Every other Friday of the month, just like clockwork.

  No one knew much about him; even though he was a perennial boldfacer in the “Tapped In” column, his personal TAP page contained the bare minimum of information, and he hardly ever updated the contents, nor did he allow friends to leave comments. It was like he’d come out of nowhere but was everywhere, so suddenly you couldn’t escape him.

  Nick remembered him vaguely from sixth grade. A wimpy little guy who wore glasses and carried an inhaler. Sutton’s family had moved back east, but now they were back, and the asthmatic nerd had transformed himself into a popular partymonger. Sutton was a strange character—he wore ascots underneath his polo shirts, carried a silk handkerchief in his pocket, and had adopted the habit of looking as if he were peering at the world with the help of a monocle.

  In any other school, in any other city, he would have been laughed at, mocked, shoved against the lockers, beaten within an inch of his life.

  But in Los Angeles? At Bennet Prep? He was a beloved character. A worshiped oddball. The secret to his popularity? An empty house, perennially absent parents, and keys to the most well-stocked liquor cabinet in the 90210 zip code. And the fact that his father helmed the biggest music label in the industry.

  Nick had been to several of Sutton’s parties, which were heavily promoted on TAP and linked to the site in some way—dozens and dozens of party pictures were posted on the site after each event. Photos of good-looking kids in various states of undress, but never so obscene as to be actually raunchy; Paris Hilton stepping out of a Ferrari in a miniskirt was more pornographic than anything TAP published. The appeal lay in the cooler-than-thou attitudes presented, the bizarre hairstyles, the outrageous fashion and the secretive air. Johnny Silver, with his thick white bangs that covered half his face, and his hyper-skinny frame in those tight black T-shirts and peg-leg jeans. The girls with their pin-curled hair and candy-red lips wearing fingerless gloves and peekaboo shirts. Even the fashion magazines had become hip to the phenomenon, and reported that TAP looks were being copied from Tokyo to Reykjavík. Johnny Silver and Queen CoolGaze clones multiplying across continents.

  • • •

  Nick didn’t have anything against Sutton, except for the fact that the guy had somehow misplaced his hands down Nick’s girlfriend’s shirt the other week. Nothing personal.

  He had to get out of there. He was sure Maxine was somewhere on the premises, and he had to leave before he saw her.

  “Later,” he said, slapping Eric on the back.

  “Dude, man, don’t be like that,” Eric pleaded. “Chill out—the guy may be a pretentious jackass, but the jackass’s bar is stocked with 141 proof.”

  Nick just shook his head. “See ya.”

  “How are you getting home?” Eric yelled. “You don’t have a car!”

  Nick was making his way through the crowd, trying to get to the front door, when he noticed someone familiar. The curly blond hair, the jean jacket, the multitude of rubber bands on her wrist. Did Sutton know eighth graders were crashing his events?

  “Hey, Fish!” he called. But the music was so loud she didn’t answer, didn’t even hear him.

  He fought his way through. Her bright curly head was walking farther and farther into the party, and he followed her. This was no place for a kid. And even though Fish was precocious, she was still his baby stepsister. How did she even find out about this?

  Fish was with those new friends of hers, and the group made its way to a back door. The door was opened a crack, and then he saw his sister and her friends walk inside.

  He walked up just as the guy was closing the door.

  “What’s the word?” the kid with the flashlight asked, shining the beam right into Nick’s face and making Nick blink in annoyance.

  “Huh?”

  “Sorry. Private party.” The kid started pulling the door shut. Nick put a hand on the door.

  “C’mon, my kid sister’s in there.”

  “Sorry, brah. Boss man says no word, no entry.”

  A slip of a girl passed through from the other side. “Thanks, Charlie.” She glanced at Nick, who was smiling in an amused fashion. It was the same girl from backstage at Johnny’s concert. The one with the shiny black hair and the shy smile. The one whose face he couldn’t stop thinking about, even as he’d been arguing with Maxine earlier that evening.

  “We have to stop meeting this way,” Nick said.

  She looked up. “Do I know you?”

  “No,” he said. “We almost met—the night of Joh
nny’s concert? Me, the one without a backstage pass? Toe crusher?”

  The girl’s eyes cleared. She was drenched in sweat, her tank top plastered to her small frame. She was holding her leather jacket in her arms and she looked beyond sexy.

  “Oh, yeah.” She smiled.

  “Taj, do you mind?” the kid on guard said, as he closed the door firmly behind him.

  “What’s going on in there?” Nick asked.

  “Oh, you don’t want to know,” she said, pursing her lips. “You’re not missing out on anything, believe me.”

  Nick nodded. It was always some stupid thing. Like in sixth grade when people started being secretive about what went on behind closed closet doors; he finally found out it was just about kissing a girl, and he’d already done that. He’d been worried at first, but he relaxed. It was probably just some extreme version of a VIP room, and he’d been inside many VIP rooms. Nothing special ever went on in there.

  He looked at her. She was really pretty She wasn’t wearing the glasses this time, and her skin looked translucent. What they called a regulation hottie, except there was nothing standard about her.

  “You’re Johnny Silver’s girlfriend,” he said suddenly. So that’s why she looked so familiar. “The one with all those pictures on TAP. You’re in the MiSTakes. You guys DJed at one of my friends’ parties once.”

  “I have a name,” she said coyly. “I’m Taj. Well, Tatiana, really. But no one calls me that.”

  “Taj … you do the show, right? On the college station?” Nick said, walking in step with her as they made their way through the crowded party.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m Nick. Nick Huntington.”

  Taj grinned. “Hey, you were the guy who called tonight. Is your name really Nick Nick?” she teased.

  He blushed, jammed his fists into his trouser pockets. God, he could be such a nerd sometimes.

  “I’m just teasing,” she said slyly. “Walk me out?”

  “Sure.”

  Taj

  THE BOY SEEMED NICE ENOUGH. THE PREPPIE. ONE OF Sutton’s friends, most likely. She would let him walk her out, and then she would disappear. The ritual was a joke. She shouldn’t have joined in; she knew that now. It was too weird with Johnny gone, without him looking out for her. It was scary—she didn’t know how Div and Deck could do that. It was all in good fun at first, but now it was getting way too serious. It wasn’t what it was supposed to be anymore. There were too many kids in there who just watched and didn’t participate. Too many boys who were there for the wrong reasons. It wasn’t about that, she’d wanted to scream.

  And the girl who’d gotten Tapped that night. She looked like she was about to faint when she saw the needle. The fear in her eyes! That had been painful to watch. And it wasn’t supposed to be painful … it was supposed to be holy. A divine experience, shared with those who felt the same as you.

  She’d only stayed for a few minutes, and then she’d had to bail. She didn’t want to bump into Sutton again. He’d only convince her to stay. Give it another chance. Let the Spirit move you.

  Just keep talking to the cute boy, she told herself. He wasn’t one of the chosen. He didn’t have the password. He didn’t make the cut. She wondered why—he was handsome enough, surely. But those were the unwritten rules of TAP. Some people got in; some people didn’t. She guessed he was one of those kids who just didn’t get it. He was nice enough to offer her a ride home, but she told him all she needed was a ride down to Sunset.

  “Oh man,” the boy—Nick (he had a name)—was saying. “I totally forgot. I didn’t drive.”

  “That’s all right,” Taj said. A Bel-Air preppie with no wheels? “You know how to ride one of these?” she asked, finding her board against the wall in the entrance hall. She handed him Deck’s Osiris.

  “A little. When I was a kid.”

  “I’ll loan it to you. My friend won’t mind. We could skate down the hill, then I could catch the bus home.”

  “The bus?” Nick smiled. It occurred to Taj that he’d probably never heard of anyone actually taking the bus, let alone admitting it. Well, welcome to my life, she thought.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think we can do better than that,” Nick said.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked. They walked companionably to the front gate, each of them holding a skateboard.

  “Dude, not like that,” Taj said. “You can’t hold it like a briefcase.”

  “What?” Nick asked.

  “Hold it here, by the lip, see? The top of the board?” Taj said, showing him. “Only amateurs hold it to the side, like you’re doing. Dead giveaway. I can’t be seen with anyone like that.”

  “Oh, no?”

  “Nope. And don’t hold it by the truck either,” Taj said, pointing to the wheelbase. “Only gutter punks do that. It’s a board, not a weapon. When you hold it by the truck it looks like you’re planning to pound someone with it.”

  “Maybe I am.” Nick smiled. He is really hot, Taj thought.

  “Okay whatever you say,” he said.

  They’d made it out to the gravel path when they were stopped at the exit by the same girl who’d been hanging on Button’s arm earlier that evening. Maxine something. The one who’d made that comment about Taj being responsible for Johnny’s songs. But the girl wasn’t paying any attention to her. She was looking only at Nick.

  “Sweetie.”

  Taj noticed Nick flinch.

  “Maxine.”

  “Can we talk?”

  Taj held up her hands. Go ahead. Don’t worry about me, her shoulders communicated. She was cool, although she felt an instant flash of jealousy when she picked up on the tension between her new friend and Button’s girl. But really, what was it to her? He was just a boy she’d met that night. Not even her type. Too clean-cut. Too rich. Yes, you could be too rich, in Taj’s book. Look at what all that money did to Johnny. None of it good.

  “Taj, hold on. Will you wait?” Nick asked, giving her back the board.

  Taj gave Maxine a cool up-and-down. Queen CoolGaze indeed. “Only for a minute.”

  Nick

  MAXINE LED HIM TO A QUIET CORNER ON A STONE bench behind the hedges at the side of the house. “What’s the deal with you and Lady ColdFish?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I just met her tonight,” he said. “Why do you care?”

  “Believe me, I don’t,” Maxine retorted.

  Nick looked up to see the face he had so recently adored—those almond-shaped eyes, those full, rosebud lips, that upturned nose, that mole by the side of her left cheek; he’d loved that mole most of all—and he felt … confused. Numb.

  “Nicky,” Maxine sighed. “Can we talk?”

  She traced her fingers on his arm, her touch making his stomach leap in a thousand different directions.

  He refused to look at her, but he didn’t get up off the bench, either.

  “It’s all a mistake … there’s nothing between us. Sutton … I think he was drunk—he, like, came on to me backstage. It was a mistake. I didn’t know what he was doing. You know I’d never do anything like that…. Don’t listen to any of the garbage on the Web, baby—I love you …”

  Nick shook his head. If she wasn’t with Sutton, why was she at the party? What did she want from him?

  Maxine placed her hands on each side of his face, “Look at me.”

  He did and sighed.

  “Don’t do this to us.”

  For a year now they had been an “us.” He still remembered how it started—they’d just hung out in a group, the guys from the soccer team and the Beverly Hills girls, and Maxine had just been one of them. She was the new girl; she’d only transferred to Bennet Prep earlier that year. Rumor had it she’d grown up in Riverside of all places, and that her mother had remarried very, very, very well.

  “Look, I gotta go,” he said, gently taking her hands away. “Maxine, like I told you this evening, we’re over.”

  “No one dumps me,” Maxine said
, gritting her teeth, her eyes narrowing. “No one leaves me, ever. Got it?”

  “Well, there’s always a first time,” Nick pointed out.

  “You’ll regret this,” she warned.

  Nick shrugged his shoulders. “What’s your problem?”

  “You know,” Maxine said, her exquisite face twisted in a cauldron of hatred, “Sutton was right about you. You’re nobody. You don’t even know half of what’s going on all around you. I don’t even know why I wasted my time.”

  “Good-bye, Maxi,” Nick said. “I’ll see you at school.”

  “I’ll see you in hell.”

  Nick shook his head. He’d had his share of bitter breakups, but Maxine was by far the most psycho. Why did she even care? It wasn’t like she was so into him, after all; she was the one who was cheating. But there were girls like Maxine who could never take rejection. Not even when they had caused it. They believed they deserved to be loved, to have everything in spite of their actions. Or that their actions had no consequences.

  He was sick of it. He was tired of being a chump. The good guy. The one who turned a blind eye to her indiscretions. This time she had gone too far. There was a picture on the Web for everyone to see. His pride had been hurt. And maybe his heart, as well. He wasn’t sure. Was it even possible to fall in love at seventeen? He wasn’t a cynical guy but he was pretty sure what he and Maxine had had wasn’t love.

  He walked over to where Taj was waiting patiently. “Everything all right?” she asked, noticing the dark flush on his cheeks.

  “Everything’s perfect,” he said. “Now, I’m a bit rusty, but you wanna skate down the hill and I’ll call you a cab? It’s on me. Don’t worry about it. Can’t have pretty girls like you walking around town at three a.m. by themselves. It’s not safe.”

  “Pretty girls?” Taj smiled.

  “Very,” Nick said, smiling back. Somehow, seeing Taj had taken the sting out of the conversation with Maxine.

  She taught him how to balance on the board, and together they coasted down the hill, all the way back to Sunset, where Nick, as promised, called her a cab and gave the driver a twenty to take her home.