Page 35 of Ticket to the Stars: Part One

Pills in one hand, water bottle in the other, Angel looked up at me with a look that made something in me twist. “Thank you,” she whispered for about the thousandth time tonight. She tossed the pills into her mouth and took a swig out of the water bottle, and then she went for the Hot Pocket.

I made myself another one and got myself a new bottle of water from the fridge. It was right as the microwave was beeping, telling me that my late-night dinner was ready, when Angel asked, “Do you want to sit with me?”

Did I… did I want to sit with her? No. The answer to that was most definitely a negative.

But I didn’t say that, for whatever reason. No, instead of giving her the answer I should’ve, I found myself taking my water and my new Hot Pocket over to the couch and sitting beside her. She’d only eaten three or so bites out of hers, so she still had some left. The Advil bottle was on the coffee table before the couch.

There was a foot or so between us, and it was as I wondered if I should move away from her and put more space between our bodies that she said, “You’re not as mean as you come off.”

I glared at her. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it. You can be rude, but I don’t think you’re as mean as you think you are.” She took another bite of her Hot Pocket, chewing thoughtfully.

My jaw ground. I did not appreciate her words. “Next time I’ll let you be, then.” I started to get up, prickly, but Angel reached for me. She stopped me by setting a hand on my arm and pulling me back down.

“Don’t be mad,” she said. “I’m just saying… I don’t think you’re that bad.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really care what you think.” Her hand was still on my arm, even though I’d sat back down, and since I wore a short-sleeved shirt, I could feel just how smooth her hand was. Not a bit of information I should know. Her hand was pretty damn small, too. No wonder she couldn’t open the Advil bottle; she had the hands of a freaking kid.

Except they weren’t a kid’s hands, because they were attached to her, because even though she was underneath a blanket and wore a severely oversized hoodie, I was suddenly all too aware of the fact that she was a beautiful girl.

Angel slipped her hand off my arm, not responding to that. Instead, she ate the rest of her Hot Pocket while I ate mine.

Sitting there with her, having my late dinner… it wasn’t something I was used to. This was supposed to be alone time for me—although, I supposed that wasn’t really different from any other time. Ever since Pope got kicked out, I’d been shut off, shutting out everyone else.

Pope was my brother. How could I not be upset that he was forced out of the band he’d basically created? I wasn’t defending anything he’d done, but… he was my brother. I was loyal.

But I also had my own contract, and therefore I couldn’t do anything about it.

Now I was sitting here, next to his replacement, realizing for the first time that she was a beautiful girl that would be stuck with us for at least a year, and we’d be stuck with her. I’d thought it’d be hell, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I could get used to it.

Angel finished her Hot Pocket and set her plate on the small coffee table, near the Advil bottle. She took a sip of water and then set it near the plate. As she leaned back, she tossed me a glance. “How come you didn’t eat dinner with us?”

I’d scarfed down my Hot Pocket much faster than she had, so I was already done. The empty plate sat on my lap, my excuse to get up and get the hell out of there. But, instead of getting up to put the dish away, I found myself not moving an inch as I told her, “I don’t know. I guess I don’t see the point in kumbaya-ing it. There’s no way this is going to work. You could never take Pope’s place—”

“I told you I don’t want to take your brother’s place.” She shrugged. “I’m only here because of luck, I guess, and my stalker of a sister. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here, so believe me when I say I would never want to take your brother’s place in Black Sacrament.”

I guess, since she wasn’t a fan, since she’d pretty much never heard of us before this, it did make me feel a little better.

I didn’t know what made me do it, but I leaned forward and put my plate near hers, along with my water bottle. As I leaned back, I said, “Black Sacrament was Pope’s idea. The name, the whole schtick with wearing masks and all that… it was all Pope’s idea. It’s not just the same.”

“Things change.”

“Yeah, but just because something changes doesn’t automatically make it better. Sometimes things change for the worse.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized she might take it the wrong way. After all, she was the change in question.

Angel gave me a small smile. “Well, it might not mean much to you, but I’m going to try my best. I don’t want to ruin anything for you guys.” Her voice came out soft, gentle, warm and sincere. Listening to her, it was easy to believe every single word she said.

“I guess we’re going to find out tomorrow how you mesh, and how Priest sounds taking up Pope’s mantle.” Bishop and I were being forced to go, mostly so we could all hear the new sound of Black Sacrament. Ramona would be there too, an extra set of ears.

“I guess so” was all she said to that.

I should get up and go, let her be. I should go back to my room right now. But even with those thoughts in my head, I remained right where I was. It was the weirdest thing. Almost like an invisible force kept me rooted in place, like this was where I was meant to be.

If that sounded insane, it’s because itwasinsane. This whole thing was insane.

“You,” I paused, remembering her up on that stage at the karaoke bar, “do have a nice voice.” It was the first time I’d complimented her on it. At the bar, I’d pretty much stuck to, you know, the bar, which led me to drink a little more than I should’ve that night. I’d been the opposite of a good sport.

“Thank you,” Angel whispered. “Thank you for all of this. I feel better.”

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