Sunset Boulevard (27 page)

fingertips tracing her shoulder blade. Smiling through gritted teeth, Jojo did her best to stay

still. His grabby hands only served to remind her that they were hanging out again tonight. Last

night's date had consisted of "movie night," except she'd only seen ten minutes of
Lords of

Dogtown
as she fought to keep Tucker's hand from traveling up her shirt. Tucker was growing

more irritating by the second, and she didn't think they'd be the new super couple much longer.

"Yeah," Tucker said, grinning appreciatively. "Who do you have?"

"Mr. Dietz," she said, wishing she could be in her honors English class right now. Mostly to

get away from Tucker. "Have you guys read
Catcher in the Rye
yet?" Every guy Jojo had ever

known had loved, or at least claimed to love,
Catcher in the Rye
. From Justin Klatch, whom

she'd seen reading a dog-eared copy on her summer stalking missions, to--she bet--Jake. She

didn't care if Tucker liked the book or not. She just thought she would scream if she had to

listen to him describe again the yearlong process behind the hand-carved surfboard he'd

ordered from an Australian surf company.

"Uh, I'm not really into baseball," Tucker said, slurping his Diet Coke noisily. "It's so slow and

boring."

Look who's talking,
Jojo thought meanly. Out of ideas, she reached for the last slice of pizza,

greedily biting into it. Giving her taste buds a little joy was the least she could do, since every

other part of her was suffering.

"Dude, you took the last slice," Tucker said flirtily, pulling her to him for a kiss. "You owe me

next time." Jojo clamped her lips tightly as she kissed him back. She really did need to speak to

Myla about breakup protocol.

She was starting to craft a lie about needing to meet Myla before lunch ended when her cell

buzzed with an incoming text. Willa's face popped up on the screen. Jojo scooted away from

Tucker so she could check the message in private.

Family function, yeah right. Thanks for missing the invitational.
Beneath the text was a

forwarded TMZ article, accompanied by a photo of Jojo on the beach at Malibu, laughing with

Myla and the rest of the girls.
Barbar's Daughters Spotted at Malibu Bash,
read the headline.

Jojo tasted the acidic tomato sauce rise back up her throat, picturing Willa as she realized Jojo

had lied to her.

She clicked away from the text message, not looking Tucker in the eye. "'Sup?" he asked, in his

annoyingly casual way.

"I just want to go back now," Jojo said flatly. Back to school, or to her old way of life, she

wasn't sure.

Fifteen minutes later, Jojo marched into the cafeteria with Tucker, holding hands. Jojo kept her

grip limp.

Myla was sitting at her usual table, with Talia, Billie, and Fortune, who'd all dressed like slutty

angels. Jojo rolled her eyes when she saw why: Amelie Adams was sitting in Myla's seat.

Jojo led Tucker to the table. Every table turned to watch as they made their way past.

After the only awkward lunch period of her teenage life, Myla was relieved to see Jojo and

Tucker walk through the cafeteria's double doors. Her friends really seemed to
like
Amelie.

Maybe at first they'd just viewed her as an instrument to get closer to Grant, but their affection

actually seemed genuine. None of them had even asked Myla what was going on with Ash.

She really wanted to spill about telling him to kiss Crazy Daisy, to see if they thought she'd

gone completely nuts. But apparently, none of her friends cared what was happening in her life

anymore.

"Myla, did you hear me?" Talia, oblivious to Jojo's approach, cut into her thoughts. Myla

swirled the melted remains of her parfait, looking into her friend's brown eyes. "Amelie invited

us to a
Class Angel
charity event tonight. Some of the cast are going to work at the Angel Food

soup kitchen for publicity. Get it?" Talia smiled admiringly at Amelie.

Myla flipped her long ebony hair over one shoulder. "I go there all the time with my parents,"

she scoffed. "Only they don't do it for publicity." She shot Amelie a cutting look.

Amelie didn't blush, though. She flashed a megawatt grin that made Myla want to slap her.

"You sure you don't want to come? Everyone who helps is going to get to visit the VIP tent at

the
Class Angel
wrap party this weekend."

Myla stared at Amelie in disbelief. How dare she imply Myla would need
help
getting VIP

access? Especially to a lame school-sanctioned wrap party for a teen movie. The only reason

Myla even planned on going to the wrap party was to talk to Ash.

Myla turned to Jojo and Tucker instead. "Hey, what are you guys doing tonight?" she asked,

ignoring Jojo's
don't go there
look. She needed to get away from her friends, and from Amelie,

but didn't want to give the impression that she was the one being pushed out.

"We were gonna hang at my place, but then I thought it might be fun to head out to Venice,"

Tucker said. "Get some eats on Abbott Kinney."

"That sounds cool," Myla said, standing up and throwing an arm around Jojo. She turned to

face her friends. It was time to draw a line in the sand. "Sorry, guys, I don't really want to go

with you. I think I'd rather hang out with my sister."

Jojo couldn't believe it. Myla hadn't seen her friends in weeks, and now she was blowing them

off to hang out with
her
? Maybe she could deal with Tucker for one more night.

OOPS-A-DAISY

Ash flipped through the channels on his LG flat-screen, annoyed that every station he tuned to

seemed to feature kissing.

Turner Classic Movies.
Casablanca
. "Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time."

TNT.
She's All That
. That lame song, "Kiss Me," that Myla had played over and over for three

weeks when the movie come out.

MTV.
Barnsley's Babes
. "Your lips, my lips, some tequila. Let's do this thing."

Ugh.
Ash dropped the remote and shifted his recliner to its 180-degree position. Myla

seriously was not backing down on her whole kiss-someone-else plan. And now it felt like

she'd paid the cable company to remind him. Which he wouldn't put past her.

He rolled onto his stomach. Did other guys go through stuff like this? Or had choosing Myla

meant he got the best and worst of both worlds--amazing girlfriend, terrifying ex?

He closed his eyes, hoping to wake up with selective amnesia, something to make him

remember only the good Myla stuff. His phone broke out in its new ringtone, "Don't Let It Get

You Down," by Spoon.

"'Lo?" He was too spent to roll off his stomach.

"Ash? Are you in a tunnel or something?" Daisy's English accent bubbled over the line.

He surprised himself by not only rolling over but sitting straight up.

"Daisy? What's going on?" He instantly felt worried. Last time he saw her, he had to pick her

up from jail. Even if he knew now she wasn't really crazy, he still didn't feel good about her

getting into the kinds of situations she got herself in.

"I'm just bored is all," she murmured. He could hear television chatter in the background.

"There's crap on the telly, and I feel like I've been trapped in this room since my tenth birthday.

I was thinking about going out... if you'd join me."

Ash grinned. "Do you mean bail you out? Because we have this three-strikes rule in California.

Maybe it doesn't apply to English rock stars, though."

Daisy's laugh rang over the line. "No, I promise. I'll go incognito, blend in.
L.A. Weekly
wrote

up this place Largo. Maybe you could meet me there?"

He'd always wanted to go to the old Largo in Silver Lake before it had moved to its new spot

on La Cienega. Myla had always refused, saying that the place was full of old hipsters with

superiority complexes.

"Yeah, that would be cool," Ash finally said. "Half hour?"

"I'll see you there, by the main stage, not the little room," Daisy said. "I bought tickets already,

so get yours at the door. But remember, I'm incognito. So this time, don't look for the girl

who's flashing her knickers."

The second he set foot inside, Ash knew he was going to like Largo. With its pewlike rows of

seats, and hushed, reverent crowd, it felt almost like a church, minus all the talk about your

mortal soul. Everything was bathed in a burgundy light, except the stage, where blue lights

shone as bright as a full moon on a rare smogless night. A couple who looked like twin emo

lumberjacks in faded black-and-white checked shirts strummed guitars onstage. The song

wafted through the club hauntingly.

Scanning the rows in front of the stage, Ash couldn't see Daisy. Myla was right about the

crowd being older hipsters; the youngest people here had to be in their late twenties, but most

were closer to forty, the men in slim blazers and the women in dark sweaterdresses over tights

and slouchy boots.

The duo on stage slipped out of their mournful dirge into a cover of Albert Hammond's "It

Never Rains in Southern California." The spotlights moved over the crowd, and Ash laid eyes

on Daisy, alone in the back row, her toffee-colored hair up in a messy bun. She wore a filmy

dress with tiny roses printed on it, a tiny gold locket draped around her neck. She
was

incognito, but that didn't mean she blended in. Her skin glowed beneath the flickering yellow

bulb near the exit, and her eyes were silver in the dimness. She reminded Ash of Zooey

Deschanel, but even more beautiful.

"Hey," Ash said, slipping into the seat next to her. "Thanks for inviting me."

"It's the least I could do." Daisy tilted her head so that a soft curl fell from her bun. "Though

the police station does add a certain level of excitement to our relationship."

Ash grinned, signaling a waitress to bring him a beer. "Do you want anything?"

Daisy shrugged. "I guess a club soda."

"A Stella and a club soda," he said, as the waitress nodded and flitted off. He turned back to

Daisy. "Not drinking tonight?"

Daisy pulled nervously on her earlobe. "I don't really drink all that much. Unless I have to

work to be... you know."

Ash nodded. "I get it." The guitarists announced a set break, and the club's sound system took

over. The Rolling Stones' "Beast of Burden" sauntered through the club. A couple near the

stage wandered out to the tiny dance floor, clinging to each other in a tight embrace.

"I love this song," Daisy said. "You wanna dance?"

Ash stood, offering his hand to Daisy. "Why not?"

They made their way to the front, Ash spinning Daisy out onto the floor. Her dress twirled

under the blue lights, and she looked like an indie rock angel. She spun herself back, curling

herself neatly under his arms, careful to leave a foot of space between them.

"You can come closer," Ash said. "I do bite, but never in public."

Daisy inched closer and leaned her head on Ash's shoulders in an exaggerated manner. "So, do

you want me to see if I can get us kicked out of here?"

"Maybe not tonight," he said. Her wrist felt light against his neck. "You're kind of cool when

you're not in handcuffs." He blushed as soon as he said it, and was glad she couldn't see his