City of Angels

by Kristi Belcamino

  I walked up to the desk now and leaned over. “I need your help.”

  She kept her gaze down.

  “If someone called and asked about your members, who would you transfer them to?”

  Again, nothing.

  “Please listen. Do you have kids? I need your help. It’s about a girl. She’s missing.” My voice trailed off. She was not going to help me.

  “You’re going to have to leave now.” She picked up the phone and spoke quietly into it, looking up at the ceiling. I followed her gaze. Security cameras hung in each corner. I walked around the desk, keeping my eyes on the cameras. With a small whirring sound, they rotated to follow my movements.

  “My name is Velma,” I said into the cameras. “I need to talk to someone about your members. I think one of them knows my friend. Her name’s Rain.”

  Two men in suits appeared out of a panel in the wall I hadn’t even realized was a door. At first I thought they were going to help until they grabbed my elbows and pointed me toward the door. I struggled but they were holding on tight.

  “Ow. Let go of me, you big gorilla. You’re hurting me.”

  “Come along, miss.”

  The doors slammed behind me. I jerked around. The two security guards stood on the other side of the glass with their arms crossed over their chests. I flung open the doors and was greeted by a solid wall of flesh.

  As I walked down the steps, I turned. The two beefy men were still standing there with blank expressions.

  THE NEXT DAY, I was back in front of the center. I planned on standing on the sidewalk until someone came out to talk to me. Or I had to leave for work. I’d been waiting for about thirty minutes and nobody had come out, so I took out my camera and began taking pictures of the center. It took about thirty seconds before a guy wearing mirrored sunglasses and a walkie-talkie came.

  “Can I help you?’

  “Yeah. I need to talk to someone inside about your members and a missing twelve-year-old girl. Named Rain.”

  He said something quietly into his walkie-talkie.

  “Have you seen her? Blond hair with pink streaks? I just want to talk to somebody. Anybody. Please.”

  “Time for you to leave.”

  Just then, a man in a mask came running up. “I don’t think the young woman needs to go anywhere.”

  Another man in the same type of mask—a smiling guy with a small goatee and thin moustache—ran up holding a video camera to his face. “The last time I checked this was a public sidewalk,” he said.

  The masked cameraman recited some law while the polo-shirted guard tried to get away from the camera.

  “Do you believe that humans are descended from aliens from another planet?” one of the masked men shouted at the guard, who was walking away, holding his hand up to cover his face. Pretty soon, the masked men were chasing him up the driveway.

  A few seconds later, the two men returned. One guy stuck out his hand. “I’m Incognito. Pleased to meet you.”

  The cameraman offered his hand. “Incognito here, too. Nice to meet you.”

  I backed away. What kind of game were these guys playing? I wasn’t going to shake their hands or tell them my name. I backed away.

  “Don’t be afraid,” one guy said.

  I squinted at him. “Why are you wearing masks?”

  “Haven’t you heard? These guys like to retaliate. They like to make sure anyone who films them or criticizes them is punished.”

  I’d taken a picture of the black car and was horrified by a sudden thought. What if they had taken Rain to punish me?

  “I think they have my friend,” I said, trying to see any expression behind the mask. “Do you think it was because I took a picture of one of their cars?” I swallowed hard.

  The man in the mask must have seen I was on the verge of panic because he laughed.

  “Nah. You’ve got to do more than that. You’ve got to harass them a lot—like we do,” he said. “Why do you think they have your friend?”

  The other man had stopped filming and the camera was hanging by his side. He seemed bored, as if he were just waiting for his friend to finish talking to me so they could leave. I told the man about Rain’s disappearance. He was quiet. Again, I wished I could see his expression.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Seventeen.”

  He seemed to file that way. “And how old did you say your friend was?”

  “Twelve.”

  He made an exasperated sound. “And I suppose you went to the police and they brushed you off, didn’t they? Not a big surprise.” He swore. “Speaking of the police, here’s L.A.’s finest to scare us away.”

  Two officers were headed our way. He started to walk away, but before he did, he leaned down to whisper, “Whatever you do, don’t trust the cops. Some of them—a great many of them—are crooked and working with the church. Don’t trust anybody.”

  I followed him. “Please. Stop. Tell me what you know. Why did it matter how old she was?”

  He kept walking. I tugged at his sleeve, but he kept walking. I ran in front of him and put my hands up to this chest to stop him. “Please, you have to tell me. I can handle it.”

  But he brushed by me and walked on. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  I stopped. He wasn’t going to help me. The police officers stood blocking his way with serious expressions. Behind me, the other man in the mask came up and brushed against me. It took me a second to realize he’d tucked something into my hand. I stuffed it in my pocket. I crossed the street and headed for the café. The police escorted the two masked men to their squad car and drove away with the men in the back. As the squad car passed, one of the men turned my way, the mask looking at me as if imploring me to help.

  IN THE CAFÉ across the street from the Star Center, I sat with my knees pulled up to my chest, reading the pamphlet the man had slipped into my hand. A group called Incognito put out the brochure. All its members wore masks to protect their identities and didn’t carry wallets with identification. What had happened to the two men I had seen? Could police put someone in jail for standing outside the celebrity center? It didn’t make any sense, but sent a chill down my spine. The brochure claimed that the church was a front for black magic.

  Then I read something that made me spill my coffee.

  The group claimed that some followers believed in killing kids to get magical power. It all sounded so far out, but with what I had learned about the church, anything could be possible. If they believed they could cut someone in half through mind control, they would probably believe anything. No wonder the man in the mask had grown grim when I told him Rain was twelve. And that homeless guy, Chris, knew all of this, or at least suspected it—that the man in the car was a member of The Church of the Evermore Enlightened and was taking girls who were never seen again.

  That was when I knew.

  Rain was probably dead. Or if she weren’t already, she would be soon.

  The next morning, sick of avoiding the café downstairs—and all my fourth floor neighbors who hung out there—I decided to stop in, even though Eve was working the counter.

  Maybe I went because I knew Eve was there. I was so lonely that every time I thought about my neighbors my stomach ached. They were only down the hall from me, but the distance seemed impossible for me to travel. I’d stop in for just a minute and talk to Eve. It wouldn’t hurt anything. I still cringed every time I thought of her and John being harassed at Al’s for being a bi-racial couple.

  And after yesterday’s revelation that The Church of the Evermore Enlightened believed in child sacrifice I didn’t want to be alone. I was a little nervous when I pushed open the glass door, but Eve had a huge smile for me like I’d visited her the day before.

  “Girl, let me tell you about last night.” She idly tugged on a spiral curl that hung down from her huge afro.

  I stared at the counter. I hadn’t forgotten her comment about the Midwestern boys keeping her up nights. I wasn’t
into that kinky kind of stuff. And thinking of Taj still stung.

  “If it’s about having sex with Taj and John, I don’t think I can handle it.” As soon as I blurted it out, I knew it was a mistake.

  She looked at me with surprise. “Whoa, girl. Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t kick Mr. Taj out of bed for eating crackers, but I’m with John. He’s my man. We’re committed, you know?”

  I blushed with shame. Anybody else but Eve would’ve been insulted. And rightly so. “I’m so sorry,” I said, and stuttered a little trying to make amends. “I misunderstood…I thought when we first met…you said the two Midwestern boys kept you up all night…I guess I made an assumption.”

  “I’ll say you did.” Her black-rimmed eyes were wide. “Sure, I was hanging with both those boys, but John was the only one who got to put his feet on my rug, you know?”

  I closed my eyes in embarrassment, but Eve put her hand on mine.

  “Let me tell you something about Taj,” she began. I tried not to seem interested and began folding my napkin into tinier and tinier triangles. “All the girls love Taj. They all fall for him. Like dominoes, you know. But here’s the thing, he never feels the same way for them. It’s sort of sad when you think about it.”

  Was she warning me away from him? She needn’t. She continued, “But you know what I think? I think that he just hasn’t found the right girl, yet. He’s got his own problems to deal with. Like the rest of us. He probably just needs to meet someone he trusts so he can work all that shit out, you know?”

  I stopped folding and listened, surprised. What “shit” did Taj have to work out? He seemed so alive and so open and passionate and unafraid. Except when it came to that tattoo. So what? What was the big deal? So what if the girl tattooed on his chest had broken his heart, big whoop. If that was the worst of his “shit,” he had good problems. We all had shit to deal with of our own.

  “If he met the right person,” Eve paused, giving me a meaningful look, “one who he could trust himself with, he’d be a great boyfriend.”

  When I didn’t answer, Eve changed the subject, telling me how she and John were going to see U2 next month at the L.A. Sports Arena. Everyone had been talking about the show for months.

  “No way. How did you get tickets?”

  “Last summer, some friends and I pulled an all-nighter. You gotta get to Tower Records at, like, nine p.m. so you’re first in line when they open in the morning. You bring beer, blankets, munchies, lawn chairs, and stuff. It’s totally cool. Like a tailgate party before the show. Sometimes you’ve got to sweet talk the guys at the front of the line or the show will sell out before you even get inside. I just flashed them my dimples and the next thing I knew I was fifth in line.”

  I burst out laughing. She’s right. Nobody could resist those dimples. Talking to her felt so normal and good. I’d missed her more than I realized. I suddenly felt shy. “It’s really good to talk to you again, Eve.”

  She smiled back before slapping the counter, startling me. “I just thought of something,” she said, eyes bright. “John bought an old Caddy last week. Maybe you and I can go for a drive. Have a girls’ night out?”

  I wanted to go so badly that it hurt, but something stopped me. Eve looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer.

  I exhaled loudly. “Um, I’m not sure.”

  Eve’s smile faded slightly and she started busying herself stacking some coffee mugs not meeting my eyes. My stomach twisted as she tried to hide the hurt expression that flickered across her face.

  “Eve?” I waited for her to look up. “I meant to say that would be really great. I’d really like that.”

  Her grin returned full force. We sat there for a moment in silence, me nursing my coffee. She lit a cigarette and put her hand on her chin, smiling at me.

  “Did you hear about the janitor?”

  I shook my head.

  “Cops were here last night. Led him away in cuffs. He threatened to kill his shrink yesterday.”

  Rain had felt so sorry for the grumpy curmudgeon. “That’s sad.”

  “Get this. We walked by his room after he left. Door was wide open. Big stack of flattened boxes he used for a bed. Gallon jugs of water lined up against all the walls. And guess what else he had in his room?”

  I shrugged.

  “Nothing. Nothing else. That was it. Trippy, huh?”

  “That’s weird,” I agreed.

  I also remembered that Danny was also really nice to him one time despite the janitor screaming at him. Maybe Eve could tell me what was going on with Danny.

  “Eve, I saw Danny the other night. He said he took angel dust. He was really messed up,” I said. “He didn’t seem like such a druggie when I met him.”

  Eve’s brow instantly furrowed. Her eyes got shiny and she blinked. “Yeah, he’s always struggled with drugs,” she said, and pressed her lips tightly together, blinking some more. “But he really went off the deep end when they told him he was HIV positive.”

  “What?” I choked out the word, stunned. “When did he find out?”

  “Remember on Christmas when he went by his sister’s house to get those brownies and tamales?”

  Oh God, how could I forget? I nodded and a sour taste shot up into my mouth.

  “Well, his ex-boyfriend was waiting for him there. Told Danny he had AIDS. Merry Christmas, huh? They’d been together four years but homeboy had been getting it on the side the whole time. Danny got tested the next day, but he knew before they told him.”

  I closed my eyes. I was a total asshole.

  EVERY TIME I heard footsteps in the hall that day, I opened my door a crack and peeked out. Once it was Sadie on her way to the bathroom. Another time, my heart sank to see John’s and Taj’s back as they walked by with some friends, including a blond girl in a miniskirt who was walking awfully close to Taj, gazing up at him adoringly.

  Finally, I heard a jingle of keys. I raced down the hall, surprising Danny in front of his door.

  “Whoa.” He jumped back a bit. He seemed stone cold sober. One eyebrow rose over his black eyes as he waited for me to say something.

  “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “Sure.” He held the door open for me. Inside, a seven-foot high wooden cross with different colors of wax dripping down it leaned against one wall.

  “Cool.”

  “I been working on that at night.” He paused. “Instead of writing. Hadn’t had much to say poetry wise. Guess I’m still gathering my thoughts about some stuff.”

  He looked sheepish. He was talking about being HIV positive and I wanted to talk to him about that, but I had something to say first.

  He sat on his wheeled office chair, swiveling back and forth. I took a deep breath and plunged in. “Danny…I’ve been such a jerk. Will you ever forgive me?”

  A broad smile spread across his face. “Yeah, totally. Of course. I’ve been here for you the whole time. I’m your friend. Do you know what that means?”

  I choked back a sob. “No. No, I really don’t. Maybe you can help me learn what that means. Because I really want to know.”

  He jumped up and wrapped me in a hug. He held me for a long time with his head resting on mine. I mumbled into his soft flannel shirt. “I’m so sorry. I know you miss Rain, too. It was so unfair of me to blame you. I’m a terrible person. I’m a terrible friend. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Shhhh,” he said, rubbing my back. “It’s okay, Nikki. I love you.”

  I stiffened and he pulled back, and out came that loud, goofy, cackling laugh I had missed so much. “Relax. I love you like a sister, home girl. You know, if I were straight, I’d marry you in a second.”

  “It’s not that.” I looked away. I wasn’t convinced my own father loved me. I met his eyes. Seeing the warmth in them and his Cheshire cat grin did something. A hard and dark knot lodged deep inside me broke free.

  “I love you, too.”

  It felt strange but exhilarating to say it. When was th
e last time I had told someone I loved them? Maybe my mother? But long before she became an addict. I bitterly regretted not telling her I loved her the last time I’d seen her. But now I focused on Danny and how good it was to make up with him. I had missed him so much. I sobered, remembering what Eve had told me.

  “Danny…I heard about…what you found out…you know.”

  “You mean that I’m HIV positive?” He said it so matter-of-factly.

  I nodded, pressing my lips together tightly.

  “Yeah. At first, it really fucked with my head. I thought if I did enough sketchy drugs, I’d just do myself in and wouldn’t have to deal with it. Problemo solved. But I’m a little better now. I’m not saying I won’t still turn to that shit, but I’m better about it, smarter. I’m doing it to escape now, not to die. You see, here’s the thing, I been meeting other guys who are HIV positive and it doesn’t have to be a death sentence. Maybe that’s what will happen to me, you know?”

  I nodded.

  “And the thing is, with all this shit happening, I realized I’m not really that afraid to die. It’s okay.”

  I sniffed and he cupped my chin in his hand, his black eyes so full of life it made a sob rise into my throat. “No, really. It is. It will all be okay.”

  I just closed my eyes. Of course it wouldn’t be okay. It seemed inevitable—maybe my curse—that everyone I loved would die.

  Voices and noises in the hall outside woke me the next morning. Shivering, I pulled my leather jacket over the long t-shirt I slept in and cracked my door.

  Everyone from my floor was gathered in the open space in the hall in front of my room. They stopped talking and turned when my door creaked open. Through their legs, I glimpsed what they were standing around. A big, shiny black coffin. I blinked. The lid was off to the side. Good God. Was there a dead body in it? I shrank back against my door.

  Taj turned, gave me a look I couldn’t read, and gestured for me to come closer. “Better come over here.”