Blackness lifts.
And Angela wakes up.
In bed.
Whose bed?
Not a bed, just a mattress.
In the alley.
Dino!
Dino?
Bruno?
All alone.
Where did they go?
Stan? Even Stan is gone.
Stan's *body*.
It's dark.
Ow. Hurts to move.
I got shot! No, that's not why it hurts.
Dino. I touched him. It felt... draining. I must have passed out.
How long have I been out? Why did they leave me here?
When did it stop raining?
Why's it so dark?
Who's there? Someone. Just standing there. Help me.
Hey. Hey!
I can't just lay here. Gotta get up...
Angela gets to her feet. Her vision doesn't streak anymore, but everything looks distorted. Flat. Too close.
Spinning.
She falls to hands and knees. The room twirls around her. No, she's rolling over. No, both.
The sky seems small, crowded.
Her stomach heaves.
Ouch. *Ouch*.
She tastes a hot burning.
When it subsides, she works on getting back to her feet.
It takes a long time.
At some point she realizes she's lost her dress. She's too stiff to really look for it.
She takes a step toward the man leaning against the car. Bruno?
His eyes shift. He looks past her, behind her...
Angela turns.
A door. The restaurant. Did Dino go inside? Maybe to get help.
To the left: the street.
To the right: DEAD END.
Better go inside.
It takes a few tries to work the doorknob; her fingers don't want to grip.
Inside, it's bright.
Really bright.
Really *really* bright.
A few steps in... there was a hallway here. It wasn't this open.
This isn't the restaurant.
Why is it so bright?
It's a room. White. A wall of blinding light ahead.
Am I... dead?
The light changes to her left; Angela turns to see a door opening in front of her, a figure silhouetted by light. A soft random rush of sound washes in from the doorway.
God?
And then a voice -- the figure speaks to her. A young woman's voice.
God is a young woman?
"Hey, welcome back."
Angela moved to shield her eyes, wincing at her arm's stiff protest.
"Where am I?"
"In my apartment."
God's apartment?
Waitaminute, God sounded familiar.
"Monique?"
"Yeah."
Reality crashed.
"Ohgod, Dino!" Angela stepped toward the door, dizzy, almost fell. Monique caught her. "Dino! Shot, in the alley, at the restaurant..."
"Shh. He's okay." A grocery bag fell; Monique slung Angela's arm over her shoulder to keep the shaking naked girl from crumpling to the floor.
"I heard the shots, and the blood, and... and the rain washed it away and he wasn't shot anymore..."
"Woah, calm down. Dino wasn't shot."
"He was shot, I saw it."
"You were on Glitter, you were hallucinating."
"I saw it!" she shrieked, spasming and struggling to get away, almost falling again.
"Woah, woah, *woah*! Stop it, Angela. Everything's fine." Angela felt more than saw herself dragged toward a darker room. She tried to focus on... well, anything, but Monique was yanking her around like a doll. Either that or her muscles were staging a revolt. "Somebody *did* try to shoot Dino, but he got the gun away from him. Nobody got hurt."
"He *did* shoot him. Stan. Three times, right here." Angela pointed at the right side of her abdomen. "Then Dino fell on Stan and grabbed him and wouldn't let go and Stan just *died*. And I tried to help Dino get up but it hurt to touch him and he made me dizzy and... and Bruno got shot too but he was wearing a vest, but Dino didn't need a vest, I opened his shirt and the blood went away and the holes closed up like he never got shot but he did I know I saw it happen."
"Angela!"
Slap!
"Shut up and listen for a sec, okay?" Monique leaned Angela against something and grabbed her chin. Angela's eyes were finally starting to focus; Monique looked... irritated. "Listen! Listen to me! You were hallucinating. Glitter does that, it makes you see things, imagine things, it messes with your mind. Dino was wearing a vest too. He's okay. They both are. They brought you here last night."
The events seemed less clear, if not less vivid. But Angela couldn't shake the image of the blood washing wounds away to nothing... For some reason she remembered Noel Aquino coming home from work one day still wearing his kevlar vest; it made him look bulked up, like a small-time pro wrestler. But Dino didn't have that look at all -- when he gave her his jacket, her eyes naturally darted down his gorgeous body... "Dino wasn't wearing a vest; I would have noticed it."
"Girl, you were so high last night, he could have been wearing a clown suit and you wouldn't have known the difference."
"I know what I saw! I know. I know. I know..." Angela collapsed against Monique again, spasming. "Nnngghhh! Where's my stuff?"
"In the kitchen. We're almost there."
"I n-n-n-need m-my m-m-meds." Angela's eyes made out a table; she staggered toward it.
She shook so bad she collapsed on the way; Monique helped her up. "Careful." Angela's hand trembled as she dug through her purse, past the tiara and wristbands to the bottom, looking for the vial; the purse jittered across the table as she dug.
She got the vial out, but couldn't seem to open it. Monique took it from her -- "Hey! I need that!" Angela shouted.
"Yeah, I see that."
"I don't wanna hear a Just Say No speech right now, okay?" Angela reached for the vial back.
"I'm not taking it away from you. I'm trying to help you. You're shaking so bad you'll scatter it all over, and then you'll really be screwed."
Monique wiped down the counter, unscrewed the vial, tapped a tiny bit out -- "More."
"Shh."
"That's not enough."
"Any more and your heart will stop."
"Fine." Angela started to push in, but Monique body-blocked her. "Hold on."
"What?"
"Let me get it ready for you." A kitchen knife sang at its release from the knife rack; soon it was flattening the pretty powder with a rapid staccato.
"You're wasting time," Angela protested, anxious to be rid of her bad vibrations.
"No wonder you think you need more. Your body absorbs it better if you chop it fine, and you get more of it if you line it up."
"Oh."
Monique pulled a crisp $20 and rolled it up really tight. "For somebody who needs it so bad, I'd think you'd know how to use it."
"I used to take pills. When I ran out, I couldn't get more, and then I... got that instead."
"Whatever. Here."
Angela ended up pushing most of it around, getting only a little bit up her nose, but the effect was immediate. After a couple of deep freeing breaths, she looked at what was left, tiny scattered piles and broken trails of glittering lavender-white powder. Monique saw Angela's hands were already calming down, and offered her the knife. "Don't cut yourself." Angela mimicked what she'd seen Monique do.
When she'd finished sniffing the last of it, Angela rubbed her nose, suddenly self-conscious. But Monique seemed cool about it.
"So do you...?"
"No," Monique answered. "But I've been with coke fiends enough." She looked out the window. "When I want a little boost I'll just take a pill. It's not like I'm paying for it."
The chill of the room reminded Angela that she was naked. She thought of covering up, but Monique had seen her birthday suit before, and it wasn't like there were any guys around. Still, she wasn't the kind of girl that pranced around without a stitch on...
"Where are my clothes?"
"Hanging in the bathroom. You were soaked when you got here; I had to dry you off or you'd get sick."
"My shoes!" She'd slipped them off in the alley when she'd thought they were hurting Dino somehow...
"Right there on the floor. Though you're in no condition to be walking around on those stilts. Why don't you just sit down for a couple minutes until you get your legs back, then you can take a shower and get cleaned up while I fix us something to eat."
Angela took a couple of deep breaths. She could feel herself settling back to normal. No, better than normal. Glitter was a great thing when she was on it -- if only it didn't hit like a hammer when it was finished.
She wondered if it was the Glitter or just exhaustion and stress that put a hole in her memory. Maybe Monique could help her fill it.
"You saw them." Dino and Bruno.
"Yeah. Around ten o'clock. You were passed out. They asked me to keep an eye on you while they took care of some business."
"And they told you what happened."
"Stanislav Something-Or-Other jumped you and Dino in the alley behind some restaurant, threw you down, tried to shoot Dino, but Dino got the gun away from him and he took off running. Then they saw you were passed out. At first Dino thought you got shot, but they didn't find any blood." Angela remembered feeling something hit her side -- thank God she'd been wearing her sapphire shoes. "Then Dino remembered the Glitter. He almost took you to the hospital, but Bruno convinced him you'd be okay if you just rested a while, so they brought you here."
"Why didn't they just take me home?"
"In case that guy recognized you and came after you. And just in case you did take a turn for the worse, he wanted someone watching you."
But if Dino really cared he'd still be here.
"Now why don't you go take a shower -- you'll feel better. I'll get you something to wear."
The little black dress draped over the shower curtain rod was dry now. Angela pulled it down. She could just wear this instead of borrowing something from Monique, couldn't she? She held it up to herself. Maybe not. What seemed flirtatious at night was totally out of place for daylight.
And then there was the bullet hole.
Right there in the side. Angela checked herself there -- not a scratch. That seemed normal, and yet it reminded her of Dino's gunshot wounds, and the very much not normal way they'd shriveled up and disappeared.
Angela wondered if anyone else had noticed the bullet hole. She tugged at it -- just a ragged roundish tear. Well, if they did notice, she could just say it snagged on something in the alley when she fell.
Anyway, what was she worried about hiding? Dino wasn't about to ask any questions, not with the bizarre secret *he* was keeping.
Unless of course Monique was right and Angela had just hallucinated the whole thing.
The water was hot. Angela stepped in.
A hallucination?
No way. I know what I saw. That wasn't hallucination. Glitter might make things look all neon-y, but it doesn't make things up out of thin air, like somebody getting shot -- or getting un-shot.
Does it?
There's a bullet hole in my dress.
Maybe it really did get snagged on something.
Dino could have been wearing a vest.
I would have noticed if Dino was wearing a vest.
Maybe Stan missed.
Nobody misses from that close.
Nobody can heal themselves like that. It's impossible.
Sapphire is bulletproof and flies. What's impossible?
Angela rinsed her hair, feeling the shampoo slide down her body.
If only confusion could wash out so easily.
Why would Monique lie?
Maybe she's not lying. Maybe she's just repeating what Dino and Bruno told her. Maybe she has no idea what Dino can do.
And maybe it's all just the Glitter.
But I know what I saw. It was real.
So what did that make Dino?
Maybe it was just the sapphires. No, she hadn't touched him until the end, and then she kicked her shoes off. It wasn't her doing.
Was he some kind of vampire? Immortal? Alien? Robot? Every science fiction and horror movie she'd ever seen or heard about lined up for inspection. Nothing passed.
Maybe I should confront him.
That's nuts. What if he's evil? Touching him felt... weird. Draining. Even through the sapphires.
What if he felt the sapphires? Maybe he knows who I am now.
Come on, Angela, that's just being paranoid.
Angela looked for a towel. There, hanging on the back of the door.
Underneath, something dark gray. With long sleeves. Big.
Dino's jacket.
He'd given it to her to wear, just before they'd gone outside.
The envelope!
Was it still...?
Dripping wet, she checked the pocket.
Still there!
Hands quickly dried each other and hastily wrapped and tucked the towel around the girl's torso.
She fished out the envelope. The flap was hardly closed; between last night's rain and the shower steam there wasn't much left of the adhesive.
I shouldn't look.
The envelope's already open. He'll assume you looked anyway.
She was careful anyway.
It was an invitation to a child's birthday party. Jay-Jay the Jet Plane.
Cute. And clever.
Inside:
It's a party for Marinka!
Sunday, 2 o'clock
Bolsillo Cielo Park
A knock on the bathroom door startled her.
"Lunch is ready," Monique called out. "I put some clothes by the door."
"Thanks," Angela said, too loud.
The still-wet girl gingerly tucked the invitation back in its envelope and the envelope back in Dino's jacket pocket.
It was while she dressed that the excitement of knowing what was going to happen faded and the uncertainty of what to do about it grew.
This was what she'd been working for. What she'd sacrificed so much for. She'd seen enough movies and TV to know if the police caught Dino and Filip in the act of exchanging money for stolen goods, they'd both go to prison for a long time. And they'd likely take a bunch of subordinates with them. It would be a major bust.
But did it really matter?
And was it better than the alternative?
Bruno had said if this deal didn't go down right, bad things would happen to Dino. And maybe to her. Angela sensed there was even more at stake than two people. After all, that guy Stan had tried to take out Dino last night, and if the stories were true, somebody else had made an attempt on Kostya Moroshkin's life recently. It was like the Russian Mafiya was just waiting for an excuse to reorganize itself -- and made no bones about doing so violently.
Bruno had also said, "Dino Sinclair is a good man. Don't give up on him."
Angela's personal feelings for Dino aside, that seemed a lot worse than a few rich people's cars getting stolen. Inconvenience and insurance claims hardly measured up to shootings. It was only a matter of time before innocent people got caught in the crossfire.
Heck, if it hadn't been for her sapphires, Angela would have been the first victim -- and the deal hadn't even happened yet.
Wasn't it exactly that kind of violence that demanded action?
Sure, but it was important to be careful and smart about it. Charging ahead was the kind of thing that got her in trouble.
Just being around Dino got her in trouble. Just *knowing* Dino got her in trouble...
And yet she didn't know Dino. Not if last night was any indication.
But what did last night indicate?
If it wasn't just a Glitter-induced hallucination, then why did she imagine herself waking up in the same alley? Why did she think she'd died?
Well, any light is bright when you've been in the dark...
But since when does a bedroom look like a dark alley?
Angela checked herself in the mirror -- not like she expected anybody to see her, but there was a bit of an exhibitionist/competitive streak to her when she was around another dancer.
The oversize white T-shirt had beautiful airbrushed artwork on it -- a semi-abstract girl with huge butterfly wings, wrapped in a silvery mist. She tied a knot in the shirt at the hip to snug it up a bit, but it still hung down to mid-thigh, covering the too-new-to-be-cool cutoff shorts. Monique had left the tag on the cute little pink panties; Angela would have to buy her a pair to replace them.
Well, the outfit would look flat-out comical with her sapphire heels, but barefoot it was almost retro-cute.
Angela opened the bathroom door. A half-step toward the kitchen was aborted; she swung her leg the other way.
A quick look can't hurt. I gotta see her bedroom.
And when you see that it's just a normal bedroom?
Well, maybe what I thought I saw was a... waking nightmare.
You're making that up.
Woah.
Even without a light on, enough light leaked in from the main room that she could see Monique's bedroom.
Only it wasn't a bedroom.
Angela blinked.
Still the same.
If this was a Glitter hallucination, she was never taking the stuff again.
The wall in front of her looked like the alley she'd been in last night -- through a slightly-distorted, soft-focus lens. A tweaked grid of dark-gray bricks, faded graffiti tags struggling to push through the grime; a shadowy figure in a trenchcoat, backlit by the soft glow of a mis-aimed headlamp. The car it belonged to was a long, low black mass, its creases and chrome lit from some unknown light source, the back window down just enough to make out a figure within, all shadow save piercing blood-red eyes.
The scene wrapped around the room; a lone streetlamp in the corner, blurred cars rushing by on the street at the end of the alley -- if there was a window in the room, it had been covered -- and the opposite alley wall painted over the sliding closet doors, complete with a dilapidated dumpster and piles of trash. The actual door between bedroom and hallway fit right into the mural as if it was the back door to some warehouse (or restaurant), a pair of glowing-green streaks mocking an industrial flourescent lamp above it. The other wall represented the end of the alley, with a big yellow-diamond DEAD END sign, the side walls' perspective distorted so they seemed to be closing in.
The walls-on-walls stretched up, onto the ceiling, adding to the ominous claustrophobic feeling, coming together to frame a small rectangle of blue-orange, dotted with specs of white that seemed to glitter. (Maybe her own dose of Glitter was exaggerating it.)
Even the floor fit in -- black industrial tile, like the kind found in the lobby of some old 60's office building, its shuffled lustre making it eerily like wet asphalt. There was no furniture, just a mattress on the floor, half-covered by a once-white sheet with a wadded-up nylon sleeping bag at one end.
No wonder she'd thought she was in the alley. It was as if someone had taken the last thing she'd seen and copied it.
"Oh, there you are."
"Wow." It wasn't a word so much as a breathless request to be allowed to finish marveling at what she was seeing.
"Here, your soup's getting cold."
Angela felt a warm mug pushed in her hand, but she didn't look at it -- her eyes were still processing the amazing work before her.
"Who did this?" she whispered.
"I did." Said with surprise -- like, who else would have done it?
"It's..."
"Overdramatic. Overgothic. Sophomoric."
"Incredible."
"Yeah, well..."
"I had no idea you were so talented."
"Yeah, cuz I suck on stage."
"That's not what I meant."
"Yeah, I know. I'm just giving you shit."
"I'm trying to be serious."
"Well, I'm sorry. It's just been a while since anybody's seen my stuff. Don't tell anybody, okay?"
"Why not? You're really good."
"I'm also really *wanted*."
"Sorry?"
"Just... don't tell anybody."
"Okay..."
Angela took a sip of soup -- tomato, just like her mom used to make for her on chilly Saturdays -- and went back to studying the mural. The angles and drawn-taut forms were very graffiti-like, but there were also gentle curves, and certain parts had complex blends and shading like airbrushing while other parts were solid and hard-edged. Angela didn't know anything about art, but she knew Monique's work was something special.
"You did this all with spraypaint?"
"Mostly, yeah. Sometimes I use a brush for hard lines -- it's faster and easier than masking -- or a roller for the background."
Angela looked back up the dismal gray-black brick effect to the small patch of sky. "Why did you make it so small?" she pointed. "It's like the walls swallow you up."
"It's kind of inspirational, like a metaphor or something. A daily reminder. As long as I can still see the sky -- even just a little bit of it -- it doesn't matter what's around me, I'm still a free spirit. I can always touch the stars."
That sounded *so* corny... but Angela could tell Monique was serious about it. And Angela could certainly understand.
Still, Angela wouldn't want to sleep in an alley every night, even a stylized imaginary alley.
"Not that it isn't amazing, but if you wanted to be reminded of freedom, a green meadow with butterflies and unicorns could have done it. I mean, this is kind of depressing."
"I guess. I don't really see it that way, though. I used to have a romantic fascination with the gangster lifestyle."
Angela raised an eyebrow. "Really..." Used to?
"And I like the generally threatening power vibe about it. Not that I really think about it much anymore, since I've only been sleeping with it for, like, over a year."
"Well, it's weird, but awesome." Angela smiled at her host.
Monique smiled back, liking the way the compliment sounded. "Thanks."
"Though it was, um, a little freaky waking up and seeing it, since the last thing I remembered was getting shot in an alley *just* *like* it."
"Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I wasn't thinking."
"That's okay."
Monique's brow furrowed. "Waitasec, you got shot?"
Angela stiffened. "No," she covered, "why do you say that?"
"You just did."
"What?"
"You just said that. 'The last thing I remembered was getting shot in an alley just like it.'"
"Oh. I meant Dino."
Monique just grunted.
"So," Angela said, anxious to change the subject, "have you... painted anything else?"
"Well, the shirt you're wearing."
Angela looked down. "Oh. Cool."
"I didn't really like how it came out. The mist wrapping around her waist is too thick, almost like she's wearing it. And the wings are too blue. You can keep it. I want the shorts back, though."
"Thanks. You're too critical, though -- I think it's great." It reminded her of Sapphire... "Did you ever work in one of those booths, like in the crafts area at Four Points?" Four Points Legendary Adventures theme park, out in the hills southeast of the city, just off the Interstate. A lot of high school and college kids worked summers there. Not much money in concessions or ride operation, but the booth artists and show dancers made pretty good money.
"Nah. But there's this guy that sells them for me online."
"Cool."
"Yeah, but it's weird -- every once in a while I see some rich brat wearing one of my shirts."
Angela nodded, looking back at the wall, and the shadowy figure painted there.
"Come on. All this staring is making me self-conscious. Let's go back out to the kitchen."
Angela finished off her soup. The warm liquid felt good inside.
Monique put her mug down. "You know, it was kind of weird seeing Dino on my doorstep with you in his arms."
Angela was wondering about that. About where Monique fit in. What she knew.
"Weird? Why?"
"Well, I thought you two were finished. Plus, he doesn't exactly like me."
Why would Monique think that Dino didn't like her? She worked for him, and she was good at it.
Ohh... maybe Monique liked Dino. As in, "liked him" liked him. Angela had never seen the two of them together. Maybe he avoided her the way he used to avoid Angela. The way he was still trying to avoid Angela.
But if Monique liked Dino that way, why did she help Angela get close to Dino?
"What's your relationship with him?"
Monique got uncomfortable. "Nothing, really. I just work there."
"But he decided to bring me *here*."
"Well, you're a friend."
"Yeah, but did you do it for me, or did you do it for Dino?"
"I did it for Bruno."
Ohh-kay.
"We're kind of seeing each other," she explained.
Ohhh-kayyy.
"But I also did it for you. And Dino." Monique rolled her eyes. "It's not like I have to choose."
"What if you did?" Angela thought out loud.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind."
"So... you didn't answer my question."
Angela thought back. What question?
Monique asked it. "What were you doing with Dino?"
Angela didn't know what she could safely reveal, so she answered with a question of her own.
"How much do you know about what Dino does?"
"More than he thinks. And not as much as I'd like to."
Well, that's an intriguing answer. If not a useful one.
Angela was cagey about saying more based on such a non-answer. Monique's eyes narrowed. She went from cryptic to concrete: "Kostya Moroshkin runs the Russian Mafiya on the west coast. Dino works for Kostya. What else does anyone need to know?"
Okay, so Monique isn't totally in the dark... "Well, last night wasn't a social engagement."
"Yeah, I figured. I thought you and Dino were history." She made it sound like a normal relationship ended in a normal way.
There was nothing normal about it. Not her. And certainly not him.
Monique caught Angela's eye. "Um, hello?"
Angela had drifted off. "Sorry."
"What was last night about?"
"Bruno didn't tell you." Half question, half statement.
"No. They were here for like two minutes." Monique was beginning to look at Angela strangely. "What are you into?"
Angela considered how far she should go, how much she should share. "Well, Dino has been working on this big deal. Getting... stuff... that this Russian guy wants to buy."
"You mean Kostya put him in charge of an auto theft ring stealing luxury cars and exotics for Filip Chapayev."
"Yeah. That." Angela was floored.
"So?"
"Wait, how'd you know so much?" Suddenly Angela felt like everything she'd worked so hard for was common knowledge, or at least she'd gone about everything the hard way.
"Sweetie, I'm an exotic dancer in a gentleman's club owned and frequented by organized crime. I hear things. Plus, you know... Bruno."
"Oh." Right. Boyfriend Bruno. That changed things. Might as well tell Monique everything. She obviously wasn't bothered by the idea of working for a gangster. Or dating one, apparently.
Okay, not *everything* everything. Not about working with the police to bust a car theft ring. But about the deal, and what Bruno asked her to do. That everything.
"Anyway, maybe you heard that Crisco almost got caught trying to steal the car Filip wanted most."
"Not specifically, but I'm not surprised. Chris Cogan is a punk."
"Maybe, but he got it on his second try. Last night."
"Probably went after a different one."
"I think the same one. Apparently it's really rare. Anyway, that's what last night was about."
"I don't get it."
"Well, before Crisco got the car, I guess Filip assumed he wasn't going to get it, and he told Dino the deal was off unless he could have a night with me."
"Woah. Hold on Miss Thing. Are you trying to tell me this guy asked for you specifically?" Monique sounded jealous.
"Filip and Howie are friends."
"Oh, yeah, Howie." Howard Jones, bigshot construction contractor, and the fulcrum of former strip-queen Kat's hatred for Angela. Both girls figured there was more than met the eye on that one. "Figures."
"I think it had more to do with getting back at Dino. You know, because Dino and I were an item." That was only slightly less aggrandizing, and yet Monique understood.
"Yeah, I was gonna say that, but I didn't want to take the wind out of your sails."
"So anyway, Bruno came over and asked me if I'd do it. For Dino."
"Geez. Dino couldn't ask you himself?"
"He wasn't going to do it. He was gonna tell Filip No."
Monique let out a low whistle. "Damn. Dino really is fucked up over you."
"Thanks," Angela pouted.
Monique chuckled. "And you're just as fucked up over him, obviously, if you went along with it."
"Thanks again." Eyes rolled.
"No, seriously. It's like the two of you are fucking up your lives for each other, and you're not even really together. It's... what's the word..."
"Romantic?"
"Well, I was thinking more like tragic. No, masochistic."
Great.
Angela gave Monique a hurt glare.
"Don't shoot the messenger. I mean, come on, Angela -- Dino went against Kostya, he fired his best dancer, he was willing to blow this deal -- and God knows what kind of collateral damage *that* would cause. And you, you went to work as a waitress at a strip club, you became a stripper, and you were going to sleep with some guy to get Dino out of a really bad spot."
Angela bristled at the stripper comment. "If becoming a dancer was such a bad thing, why'd you help me do it?"
"It's not that. I mean, I don't know whether you regret it or not, and I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but... be honest, you never would have done it if it wasn't for Dino."
"I guess. But what's your point? I mean, things have been a little rocky, but-"
"It goes way beyond 'a little rocky.' It's like Fate doesn't want you together. I'm all for pursuing a relationship, but... this one's jinxed. It shouldn't hurt this much. You'd probably do less damage if you *tried* to hurt each other."
Angela took a deep breath and sighed. Monique was right.
And Angela was in a position to hurt Dino again.
She didn't want to think about it.
"So, you still dancing?"
"Yep."
"Cool."
"Everybody misses you."
"It's been, like, less than a week."
"Still." They knew she wasn't coming back. Angela almost missed it.
"So... how'd you get into painting?"
"Guy I knew in high school. Doug. He thought he was such a badass, always bragging about how his crew was the shit. He was always hitting on me. So finally I decided to call his bluff, and I told him to prove he was who he said he was -- I wanted to see him do this tag he claimed was his. So I meet up with him and his crew, and sure enough, he is who he says he is -- but he's still a dork. Well, they tell me now that I've watched them, I have to tag something, otherwise I might narc on them.
"So... they hand me a can of paint, and they tell me I have to tag this billboard. They steal this ladder off a paint contractor's truck a block away, and up I go. I do some stupid little squiggle, only when I go to get down there's no ladder -- fuckers took it and left me stranded up there. They said they'd be back for me in the morning."
"No way."
"I was so pissed. There was no way I was gonna be up there when they got back. So, this billboard is only like twenty feet up. Just a little too high to jump. I'm wearing this denim jacket and jeans, so I take them off, knot them together, and use them like a rope to dangle close enough to drop. Only now I'm standing in the middle of the street in a bad neighborhood in my underwear. That's when the cop pulls up."
"Oh my gawd."
"I thought maybe he'd give me a break, but he was a total dick, said he was gonna take me in and shit, unless I cooperated and helped him bust all my friends. Well, it's not like they were my friends -- they stranded me on a billboard -- but no way am I gonna be a snitch. Then Doug comes out of nowhere on his skateboard and eggs the shit out of the cop's car and takes off. Got eggs *inside* the car! The cop was wicked-pissed, and took off after him. I walked home, wearing nothing but a poncho. Thank God my brother covered for me, although he made me give him free looks for like a year. I was so mad at the cop, I started using his name as my tag.
"Anyway, Doug kinda saved my ass, even if he did stick me up there in the first place, so I wasn't too pissed at him. We started hanging out, and he taught me everything he knew about tagging -- getting the paint, reaching tough spots, ditching the cops... it was a lot of fun." Monique had a far-off smile.
"And you went from graffiti to that," Angela said, jerking her thumb toward the bedroom.
"Yeah, something like that."
"So why don't you want to be an artist?"
"I do."
"But I thought you wanted to be a choreographer."
"That's just what I tell people at the club. I don't need to get arrested. The tags I've done, they'd lock me up for life."
"For a little spraypaint?"
"For a *lot* of spraypaint."
"I didn't think graffiti was that big a deal in Oak Valley."
"Not like New York or LA, but it's around. But the cops really have it out for me in particular."
"Why?"
"Well, after Doug moved away -- Army brat -- I kept tagging, solo, but I started getting more creative. I actually painted *stuff*. And I was getting pretty good -- none of that stereotypical P.C. street scene shit, either, more like... landscapes, and portraits and stuff. As time went on my stuff got more and more elaborate. It was a challenge, figuring out how to do it, planning everything, getting away with it. At some point I guess I became an artist. The cops were mad as hell, and for a while I was at the top of their list, but with budget cuts and stuff... they never did catch me. Once I turned eighteen I chilled out -- got a day job, ya know -- but every once in a while I get the bug, and I'll do a piece, something small."
"So, um, is any of your stuff still around? Maybe I've seen it."
"You remember when the new MOMA opened about a year ago?"
"Moma?"
"Museum of Modern Art."
"Not really." Angela wasn't really into museums.
"Oh. Well, night before the grand opening, there was a big power outage downtown."
"I remember that. My mom got me up, took me up on the roof to look. Almost half the city was blacked out. It was kinda spooky."
"Well, the next morning I had an impromptu exhibition in the square in front of the new museum."
"Oh." Angela hadn't heard anything about --Waitaminute! "You did the angel?"
"Yep."
Whenever Angela was downtown, she passed by the big white building to see the beautiful twenty-feet-high angel painted on the side.
"I love the angel. I didn't even know that was graffiti."
"Most people don't. The museum acted like it was planned. But man, you should have seen their faces. The next day they got somebody to cover up my tag in the corner; most people never noticed the difference. Every couple of months I go back down there and add it back, just to piss them off."
"Wow."
"Yeah, I've done maybe a thousand tags all over the valley. Most of them are gone, but a few of them, they're left alone."
"And you still do it?"
"Not as much anymore -- the hours at the club don't leave much time for it -- but I still do one every once in a while. Mostly now I do the T-shirts."
"That's really cool."
"And if you tell anyone I'll kill you."
"I won't. I'm glad you shared it with me."
"Well, I figure if Dino can trust you, so can I."
Angela's mood darkened.
After a few awkward moments, she stood up. "I should go."
She didn't know what she was going to do, but she knew whatever it was, it wasn't here.
Monique raised an eyebrow. "Where you gonna go?"
"Back home." Angela grabbed her purse.
"But what if somebody's there?"
She grabbed her dress from the bathroom, folding it over her purse so the bullet hole wouldn't show. "Stan's dead."
Monique didn't deny it.
"Anyway, I can take care of myself."
"So, what, you gonna walk?"
Oh, right. "I'll find a cab."
"You'll need money." Monique handed her a few twenties.
"Thanks."
"One more thing."
"Yeah?"
"I feel bad about what happened between you and Dino, and I know we're friends and all... but don't come back here, okay?"
Angela was surprised -- and a little hurt.
Monique tried to explain. "It's not that I don't want to help you out -- if you need like a job I can give you some numbers, or if you need money or something, you can always reach me at the club, but... It's just that, well, there's a lot of heavy shit going down, and if somebody follows you here or something... I mean, when you guys just showed up last night, it kinda freaked me out a little, and-"
"Hey, it's okay. I understand. I don't want to drag you any deeper into this either."
"I'm really sorry."
"Don't be."
"Yeah." Monique looked down at her feet.
"Well, I'll see ya. Thanks for everything."
"Yeah."
Once outside, Angela let out a big sigh. Monique had basically told her that between Angela and Dino, she'd choose Dino. Angela really couldn't blame her.
After all, Angela's own resolve was fading.
The invitation burned in her mind: Marinka, 2pm Sunday, Bolsillo Cielo Park.
She could finally end the ruse. Finish what she'd started.
With one phone call, she could put Dino behind bars and deal a devastating blow to the local Russian Mafiya. (God, it sounded so good -- and so simple -- when she thought of it that way.)
Indeed, Miguel Rubio was no doubt chomping at the bit to get something from her.
And yet she hesitated. She didn't know what to do. "The right thing" just traded one bad act for another. One bad man for another.
It was the opposite of where she'd started.
In the beginning her vision had been so clear, her course of action so certain.
And it had been a law enforcement officer who'd expressed reservations . . .