Angels on Sunset Boulevard by Melissa de La Cruz Page A

he noticed that Rosa,their housekeeper, had already set up a breakfast buffet in the kitchen. He picked a croissant from the tray and tore it in half, stuffing it into his mouth.
    â€œHola,”
he said. “Fish come down yet?”
    â€œNo, Mr. Nick. No Fish.” Rosa shook her head.
    Nick looked at the time. It was only ten o’clock. He’d give the kid till noon, then ask her if she knew anything about Citibank, and what she’d thought of the party the night before. She’d be thrilled to know he’d met Taj Holder—Fish had Web shots of Taj in a series of outfits taped to her wall. Fish was a big MiSTakes fan, and she played Johnny Silver’s record around the clock.
    Saturday at the Huntington household was usually quiet. If Dad and Evelyn were home, which they weren’t, they would be out at the country club by now for a tennis tournament. Nick checked the calendar by the phone. Dad was shooting in the Czech Republic. Evelyn was making a presentation in D.C. on global warming. Neither of them would be home for another week or two.
    Thank God for Rosa. If it weren’t for the housekeeper, who’d been nanny to both Nick and Fish, they would never have had a real home-cooked meal, let alone someone who remembered to sign them up for dental appointments and pick Fish up from acting class.
    Nick made himself a plate of cold cuts and pastries, then took it up to his room.
    A few hours later, Eric called to ask him if he wanted to drive up to Malibu for a party. “Man, what happened to you last night?”
    â€œNothing. I went home.”
    â€œSerious?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, you missed out.”
    â€œWhere were you?”
    â€œYou know there’s this back room, right? At the party. Dude, I’m telling you, it’s crazy in there. You’ve got to come with me next time.”
    â€œI tried. They wouldn’t let me in. Said I needed a password.”
    â€œOh. Right. Forgot about that. Didn’t you get one in your in-box?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œOh.”
    There was an awkward silence.
    â€œWhat goes on in there anyway?”
    â€œAh, it’s nothing. Nothing to be worried about. I’m sure you’ll get the password next time.”
    â€œHey, did you see my sister in there, by the way?”
    â€œYour sister—you mean Fish?”
    â€œYeah. I saw her go inside. They wouldn’t let me follow her.”
    â€œI don’t think I saw her,” Eric said cagily. “It was really dark.”
    â€œOh. Whatever.”
    â€œSo you wanna go to the ’bu?”
    â€œSure.”
    When Nick left for the afternoon, Fish still hadn’t emerged from her room. When he returned late that evening, the house was so quiet he decided she’d already gone to sleep. The next day was the same—Nick had to leave early for practice and didn’t get home until late after hanging out with the team.
    It wasn’t until Monday night—three days later—when Fish didn’t come home from school, that Nick finally realized something was wrong.
    Fish had never come home on Friday night.
    She was missing.

Taj
    â€œIS THIS A NEW BOYFRIEND?” MAMA FAY ASKED, pounding pieces of veal into paper-thin slices. The force of her hammering shook the kitchen counter.
    â€œNo, Mama Fay, he’s not my boyfriend,” Taj said, dipping the pounded veal into an eggy mixture and then coating it in bread crumbs and flour. “We just met last week. I told you, at a party in Bel-Air.”
    â€œWhy not? He’s not good enough for you, doll?” Mama Fay fired up the stove and poured oil and butter into a sizzling fry pan. When the oil began to bubble, she picked up a cutting board full of onions and gently eased them onto the surface.
    The delicious smell of fried butter and onions permeated the air. “Hand me that cabbage for the
kapusta,”
Mama Fay ordered.
    Taj made a face. “What if he