Angels on Sunset Boulevard Read Online Free Page B

it for you? Sutton?”
    â€œBaby, you don’t even know what I need,” Johnny sang softly.
    â€œYou don’t even know what’s in there.”
    â€œWhatever it is, it works for me. Are you sure you don’t want any?”
    â€œYeah, I’m sure.”
    Taj shook her head. TAP—The Angels’ Practice. It wasn’t just a website. Or more specifically, the website was only the beginning. It was also a movement, a phenomenon, and a drug. Nobody knew what was in the drug, but its effects were astonishing—otherworldly, like taking heroin, ecstasy, and acid all at once. Not only did you feel fantastic, but all your senses shifted, and your mind opened to another plane. It was all-natural, organic; most of the ingredients were sold at Whole Foods, except for that one variable, of course—the angel factor—and no one was sure what it was. Some kind of plant that they were growing down south? Some kind of new hybrid from the rain forest? It didn’t matter. All the kids knew was that it made them feel good. The beauty of it was that it wasn’t even illegal. It was something in the water; the mixture was what made it potent. But no one was quite sure how.
    Best of all there were no consequences. At least none that anybody could see. There was no crash, no afterburn, no need to cut it with alcohol to soften the harsh landing when the high faded. After taking TAP,you were just like you were before, only more peaceful. It wasn’t even supposed to be addictive. But tell that to Johnny.
    â€œGood luck tonight,” Taj said, watching him sink the needle into his arm and his face relax as TAP hit his bloodstream. He was mainlining now. Most people just drank it—TAP mixed with Kool-Aid was the beverage of choice for most. “I’ll be outside, watching.”
    He nodded dreamily, already lost in his own universe, barely even acknowledging her presence.
    Taj found her seat in front of the stage, off to the side. Sutton was already seated in his usual place, where he could survey the stage and the crowd at the same time. He was alone; the girl he had been with was gone. She’d left a mark on his neck, though, an ugly purple hickey that he hadn’t bothered to cover up. He offered her a glass of beer. “To Johnny.”
    â€œTo Johnny,” she replied, accepting it.
    The chanting of the crowd grew impatient, and the TV reporters gathered behind them were muttering complaints underneath their breath. Taj could hear them talking about their kids, wondering when they would be allowed to go home; the show was going to be too late to make the eleven o’clock news anyway; it would have to be saved for the morning program.
    â€œCan you feel it?” Sutton asked, wagging his eyebrows. “The coming of the supernova?”
    â€œThe death of a star?” Taj asked skeptically.
    â€œTechnically, yes,” Sutton grimaced. “But what happens before a star dies? It goes supernova—releasing an incredible explosion of energy and light into the universe. An explosion so powerful it resonates throughout the entire galaxy.”
    Taj grunted. Sutton could be so trig sometimes, what they called cuckoo. But even trigs could be useful. She and Johnny had trusted Sutton, had let him and his ideas into their lives. Taj wondered if that had been wise of them—but it was too late now, wasn’t it? It was too late to back out. Too late to pop the genie back into the lamp. Too late to ask for those three wishes back from the traveling monkey.
    She sat back and watched the stage. This was everything they had dreamed about, this night, the record sales, the attention of the entire world. This was what Johnny had been working for ever since he was an eight-year-old kid strumming his first Fender Stratocaster with its flamed finish and vintage tube amp.
    The houselights dimmed. The curtain parted. Taj leaned forward in her chair, her breath caught in her