City of Angels Read online

  Finally, darkness fell.

  Back in my room, I pulled on my Levis, a long-sleeved tee, leather jacket, and my combat boots. I yanked my hair back in a tight ponytail and smudged dark kohl eyeliner around my eyes. Tossing aside my pink lip gloss, I ran down to Eve’s room. With a slash of Eve’s blood red lipstick across my lips, I stared at myself in a small mirror and nodded. I was ready. Taj was meeting me downstairs.

  I waited near the front door for Danny to pull up in the topless yellow Cadillac. I eyed its open top warily, wishing I still had the restaurant owner’s big Lincoln Town Car. A convertible seemed dangerous. Rioters could throw Molotov cocktails at us, pull us out of the vehicle, and shoot us. Any scenario was possible. I didn’t like it. But we didn’t have a choice. I cringed a little thinking of Amir. When Sadie had called to tell him we wouldn’t be into work because of the riots, he’d been furious.

  “What? He’s keeping the restaurant open?” I couldn’t believe it.

  “That’s a notorious LAPD hangout,” John said. “He’ll be lucky if that place isn’t bombed.”

  Behind the Caddy, a parade of classic cars pulled up in pastel colors—yellow, pink, and turquoise. Thundering bass poured out of the vehicles, which rose mysteriously up and down like magic. One minute the car was a few inches off the pavement and the next; it had bounced a few feet off the ground. Special hydraulics, Danny said.

  A kid hopped out of a pink car and sauntered over to Danny, hitching up his black slacks as he re-tucked a perfectly pressed white t-shirt into them. He stopped in front of Danny, who was in the driver’s seat, humming and fiddling with the radio tuner. It was that little punk ass runt-of-the-litter gangbanger from the restaurant. My stomach flip-flopped, but Danny didn’t even look up.

  The kid ran a diamond-bejeweled hand through his slicked back hair. Without taking his eyes off Danny, he lit a cigarette. Finally, Danny glanced over at him. The kid, who had a giant gold cross hanging down the front of his crisp shirt, poked a finger at Danny’s chest.

  “Who you with?”

  Danny started cackling madly. The kid was taken aback and drew away slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Seriously, hombre,” Danny said. “Do I look like I run with a crew? Listen, esse, not every Chicano is a gangster. My only homie is Nikki here, and although she’s a badass, I think she has bigger fish to fry than you, my friend.”

  The kid frowned at me and I glared back, meeting his eyes until a whistle called him back to his car. He left, scowling.

  Taj came out the door of the American Hotel, tucking a switchblade into his belt. The three of us had decided to leave the guns behind in case we were pulled over by the cops. Eve and John could use them to defend the building if they needed to.

  Danny stood up in the driver’s seat and waved his index finger in a big spiral. Engines roared to life behind us with eager feet revving gas pedals. Time to go. Taj and I climbed into the big back seat of the Caddy. Danny drove with one hand, taking swigs off a bottle of tequila and handing it back to me. I tried not to choke as the fiery alcohol hit my throat. My mouth burned with the flavor of tequila mixing with nicotine. Adrenaline surged through me, making every part of me feel alive. As we peeled out and swerved around the corner, Taj looked over at me and even in the dark I could see his grin. He must have felt the same way I did—a mixture of surrealism, excitement, and fear. The energy of the uprising was in the night air. How could anyone not feel it?

  The feeling that I’d been thrust into an alternate universe made my limbs weak as we passed a parking lot that had been turned into an armed camp by soldiers. Camouflage netting was strung twelve feet in the air as if protecting against an aerial attack. Men in full body armor and masks carrying submachine guns and rifles patrolled the lot. I hoped the soldiers didn’t think we were rioters, but they barely looked up as our little convoy passed. To the east, an empty dirt lot behind a strip mall was now lined with trenches. You could see the helmet and guns of the soldiers laying down in them.

  Danny made me nervous by howling like a wolf every time we skidded around a corner, but his war cries were absorbed into all the other chaos—tires squealing, fires crackling, glass breaking, and people shouting.

  The night air was thick with the smell of smoke and gasoline. Everywhere, bands of people were running and yelling. We flipped U-turns when we spotted overturned cars on fire. We passed people with sweaty and dirty and angry faces pulling down store awnings and ripping them to shreds. The dark was punctuated by blue and red squad car lights that briefly sent groups scattering into the shadows. But tonight something different was happening—police were the ones retreating, reversing vehicles out of blocks teeming with too many people.

  For some reason, I’d never felt so alive. Energy surged through me, prompting me to hop up onto the top of the Cadillac’s backseat with my legs dangling down by Taj. He grabbed my shins every time we swerved around corners so I wouldn’t tumble out of the car. Just like the rioters, I wanted to attack something, too. I gave my own whooping war cry as we sped toward the Star Center, pumping my fists in the air and feeling like Sadie, I shouted, “Watch out, motherfuckers. Here we come!”

  The streetlights on Sunset Boulevard were dark, casting everything in shadows. The Star Center appeared in the darkness as we grew closer—a hulking, looming silhouette with jagged turrets jutting into the night sky. The Cadillac glided into a spot near the entrance to the driveway, my pulse thumping almost painfully in my throat as I slid down into the backseat from my perch.

  This was it.

  I leaned forward and mimed to Danny, showing him the security cameras bolted onto palm trees. Every once in a while, little red lights on them blinked. Danny nodded solemnly before hopping out of the car and running back to the caravan of classic cars behind us.

  Danny returned with two guys from Carlos’s crew. With barely audible pops they extinguished the two blinking red lights with their long guns.

  “Check it out,” Taj whispered into my ear. “These must not be small time gangbangers. Those rifles have night scopes and silencers. Cool.”

  With their backs to the ivy-covered walls, the two boys crept up the driveway, faces pressed to their rifles. They made their way up and around a corner until their dark figures disappeared. Carlos and Sadie appeared at my side.

  “Recon, baby,” Sadie said in a low whisper. “They’re scoping out what’s up.” She turned to Danny. “Can you stay here, ready to go? We’re going to need a getaway if the shit hits the fan.”

  Danny turned around. Every one of the gangster’s cars behind him had a driver waiting at the ready. “Sure thing, sister,” he said. “I’m your getaway man.” He settled back into his seat and took a long swig of tequila before handing the bottle to me.

  A low whistle sent the rest of Carlos’s gang scrambling up the driveway. Sadie grabbed my arm and pulled. “Let’s go.”

  I tossed the bottle to Danny. Our footsteps seemed too loud on the cobblestone driveway. At the entrance to the lobby, two of the center’s security goons lay on either side of the door, motionless. I raced up the stairs and caught up to Sadie, who was inside the lobby behind the receptionist desk tearing through a stack of papers, a small flashlight in her mouth.

  I felt sick. “Are they dead?” I asked, gesturing to the two men on the sidewalk outside.

  She didn’t bother taking the flashlight out of her mouth to answer, making her sound like she was underwater. “Nope. Just pistol-whipped into a brief pavement nap. They’ll be fine.”

  She kept flipping through the papers, throwing them on the floor.

  “Here we go.” She had her finger on one page. “Top floor, baby.”

  Not surprisingly, Rex Walker lived in the penthouse suite. Sadie rummaged around in a drawer, tossed me an elevator access key, and jerked her head toward the elevator as a few streetlights flickered back to life.

  Taj was at the elevator door, waiting, holding it open. I ran inside with him as Sadie leaped over the receptionist desk, her
long blond hair flying behind her. At that moment, power was restored to the building and the lobby’s chandeliers turned on, illuminating the scene before me. Before, in the dark, I hadn’t noticed Sadie was dressed in fatigues and boots. Like a guerilla warrior. She turned and winked at me just as a volley of gunfire erupted, shattering the glass front doors of the center and sending me cringing into the corner.

  Sadie crumpled. She’d been hit.

  “Sadie!” I shouted, horrified.

  I scrambled on all fours toward her, but at the last second, Taj yanked me back into the elevator. Sadie crawled behind the desk. When she sat up, blood was seeping through her pant leg near the knee. She scooted most of her body behind the receptionist desk and pulled a gun out of her waistband, checking the ammo. She met my eyes, pointed up, and mouthed, “Go. Now!”

  “They shot Sadie!” I screamed to Taj as the elevator doors slid shut.

  “She’ll be okay,” Taj said. “She’s one tough chick. And besides, Carlos’s gang is not going to let anything happen to her.”

  “Okay. Okay. Okay. You’re probably right.” I was repeating myself and distraught. I caught a glance of myself in the elevator mirror. My eyes were wide. I had a smudge of something on my cheek. My hair, half out of its ponytail, swung madly around my face as I paced. I looked like a crazy lady.

  As we grew closer to the penthouse, Taj and I each took a spot pressed against opposite walls. When the elevator came to a halt, I braced myself. It seemed like an eternity before the doors slid open. The smell of a cigar reached me right before I saw the giant white mane of hair.

  Dean Thomas Kozlak.

  Smiling around the cigar in his mouth. I frantically punched the door close button, but it was too late. Two men who had been standing behind Kozlak had already grabbed Taj despite his cursing and punching. In the chaos, an arm wrapped like a steel band around my chest. A cloth pressed to my mouth and my vision began to fade.

  The view before me was spectacular. A wall of windows revealed a distant fairy village sprinkled with colored lights. The City of Angels was below me in all its glory. But I didn’t want to keep my eyes open long enough to take it all in. My entire body was warm and cozy like I was wrapped in a fur blanket and plopped in front of a roaring fire on a cold day. My limbs tingled pleasantly and a wave of pleasure lolled through me as I licked my dry lips. In the back of my mind a nagging thought told me that I shouldn’t be feeling this way. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know what it was.

  With blurry eyes I scanned the massive room lit softly by ornate chandeliers and filled with art and massive floral arrangements. My memory was hazy. Where was I again? Why did my arms hurt? My wrists were bound to the thick wooden arms of the chair I was in.

  Fragments of what happened started floating back. “Taj!” I jerked but couldn’t move. My ankles must be bound as well. I swiveled my head. The movement made me nauseous.

  Taj was tied to a chair beside mine. His head slumped onto his chest. Strangely, I didn’t care. It was fine. Taj was supposed to be tied up in this dream, too. Something fluttered across my memory. No, that’s not right. This isn’t a dream. But what is it? We’re not supposed to be tied up. Then, movement across the vast expanse of the room shifted my gaze.

  In the corner, a man sitting in a large armchair crossed his legs. He shook his head and light from the chandeliers glanced off his silver-framed glasses. For some reason it seemed perfectly natural for him to be sitting in the penthouse of the Star Center.

  “Hey, Amir.” My voice echoed as if it were going down a long tunnel. Cool. I closed my eyes and repeated it, “Amir, Amir, Amir,” liking the sound it made.

  Something flickered across my brain. He hadn’t moved or said anything. I couldn’t see his eyes from across the room, only the glint of light reflecting off his glasses.

  “Amir?”

  He remained silent, sitting casually with one pressed gray trouser leg crossed over the other. He started swinging his foot, making a tsking noise.

  Finally, he spoke. “I told you to leave it well enough alone.”

  “What?” No, I wasn’t dreaming. We were at The Church of the Evermore Enlightened Star Center. In the penthouse. Had I been drugged? What was Amir doing here?

  “Nikki…you spoiled Americans think life is all a big game,” he said in a scolding manner, and gave a big sigh, unfolding his legs and pushing up from the chair. “I warned you.”

  As his words sunk in, I felt a sudden icy chill in my core. It was all coming back. What was he doing here? And why was I tied up? The skin on my face and arms began to tingle and my heart raced. Was I hallucinating? I must have been given something. Again. Oh God, after all this did somebody shoot me up with heroin? I glanced down at my bare arms. No needle marks. Looking back at Amir, I felt a wave of sadness.

  “I thought we were friends.” My voice sounded funny to me. “Don’t you like me?” I sounded whiny and childish, but I felt like a child right then. Was there any adult on this planet I could trust?

  “Sometimes you have to sacrifice for the greater good. These people,” he gestured around the room, “they are extremely valuable to our cause.”

  “Your cause?” I could feel my forehead scrunching.

  “Haven’t you been listening? You Americans are so sheltered, so egocentric, so greedy, and so blind to the fate of others in this world. You are the most selfish country on this planet.” He stood and even in my foggy state I could tell his growing anger was dangerous. “You think life is all about fun. You think that you matter? You don’t matter.”

  He began pacing and rambling as if I weren’t even there. I kept trying to listen and plan a way to escape but I was so very tired. It took all my effort not to close my eyes.

  “It is true that these people, this group that calls itself a church,” he said with a sneer, “are worse than nothing. But they are useful. I give them what they want. They give me what I want. They wanted the tape. I gave them the tape. They wanted you. I gave them you.

  “They provide money to help my people who are oppressed. You gave me the idea to introduce myself to them. When they learned you had the tape and that I knew where you were, they were more than happy to help with my cause. You didn’t heed their warnings. It is your own fault, not mine. You will die because of that.”

  Inside, I knew he was right. I’d known since the day they lowered my mother’s casket into the ground that my stay on this earth was limited. I was destined to die young like she did. Like my sister did. I deserved to die. I had blood on my hands.

  But I remembered why I was there. Rain. I struggled against the restraints.

  “Where is she? Where is Rain?” A little bit of spit flew out of my mouth as I said it.

  “She is not here,” Amir said. “Anymore.”

  I was right. Rain had been here.

  “Where is she now?” I glared at him.

  He paused, hands behind his back, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the lights of the city spread out before him. “You will be there soon.” Amir moved on, pacing the polished marble floor. “You are so very, very naïve. You do not realize that your life, one single life, is inconsequential in the greater scheme. My life, too, is worth nothing. That is why I will gladly give it to improve the lot of my people. What is one life compared to hundreds, thousands if you count the generations of children and grandchildren who will have a better life because of our sacrifices?”

  My vision cleared a bit. Maybe I hadn’t been given heroin like I feared. It was something else. I tried to move my legs but it was as if the signal just wasn’t reaching them. They remained still. I tried to talk logic to a crazy man, hoping he would respond. “What happens now?”

  “In a few minutes, I take you to the beach house. You will die there, but not before Mr. Kozlak sees you again. He has big plans for you.”

  I knew all about Kozlak’s plans. Bastard.

  I nodded toward Taj.

  “He will die,” Amir said. “He is no
use to them.”

  I heard a moan. Taj was waking up. “Let him go,” I said, jutting my chin at Taj. “He knows nothing. If you let him go, I won’t fight. I’ll come along willingly. Just let him go.”

  Amir gave me an odd look, his eyebrows scrunched together, and shook his head. I needed to up the ante. What did I have that he would want? The tape.

  “If you let him go, I’ll tell you where the copy of that videotape is.”

  He made another tsking noise. “No, but you forget. You gave me the only copy.”

  In the Rodney King videotape, the man had taken it to the TV reporters. “I wasn’t sure I could trust you so I made a copy. It’s hidden in a safe place, but if I disappear, it will be mailed to the TV station. I left those directions. If I don’t come home tonight, it goes to the anchor at the news station.”

  He paused, tilting his head and squinting at me.

  I wasn’t sure he believed me, but I figured he was afraid to take the chance that I was telling the truth. “If you don’t hurt him, I will walk out of here without fighting.” I paused for a second. “But if he gets hurt, I promise you, I will fight you to the death. I will never tell you where the other copy is and you will show up with my dead body at the beach house. I don’t think that is what you want, is it? I don’t think your new friends would be very happy if that happened.”

  Amir’s expression didn’t change as he walked over to me. He stood right above me holding a big knife. Distantly, I noted that the blade matched his silver hair color. My blood was pounding in my ears and I was hyperventilating, but he merely slid the knife between my wrist and chair and cut me free. He kneeled down and did the same to my ankles. With his bare neck bent over at a vulnerable angle, I knew somewhere inside that this was my chance to strike. I could hit him and maybe hurt him enough to escape. Maybe I could bite his neck? As my mind mulled over this option in slow motion, I also knew I could barely lift my arm. There was no way I could strike him. My entire body felt mushy and weak.