Free Angels on Sunset Boulevard by Melissa de La Cruz

out of there. He was sure Maxine was somewhere on the premises, and he had to leave before he saw her.
    â€œLater,” he said, slapping Eric on the back.
    â€œDude, 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.”
    â€œHow 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?
    â€œHey, 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 eventhough 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.
    â€œWhat’s the word?” the kid with the flashlight asked, shining the beam right into Nick’s face and making Nick blink in annoyance.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œSorry. Private party.” The kid started pulling the door shut. Nick put a hand on the door.
    â€œC’mon, my kid sister’s in there.”
    â€œSorry, 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.
    â€œWe have to stop meeting this way,” Nick said.
    She looked up. “Do I know you?”
    â€œNo,” he said. “We almost met—the night ofJohnny’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.
    â€œOh, yeah.” She smiled.
    â€œTaj, do you mind?” the kid on guard said, as he closed the door firmly behind him.
    â€œWhat’s going on in there?” Nick asked.
    â€œOh, 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.
    â€œYou’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.”
    â€œI have a name,” she said coyly. “I’m Taj. Well, Tatiana, really. But no one calls me that.”
    â€œTaj … you do the show, right? On the college station?” Nick said, walking in step with her as they made their way through the crowded