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“Definitely,” Maddy said, trying to forget the fact that a picture of her and Jackson Godspeed had been the center of the whole debate. Just a few days earlier she would’ve probably taken Tyler’s side. But now that she had met Jackson, she felt . . . different. There were lots of details people didn’t know about the Angels, but maybe they weren’t necessarily bad things. Just stuff they wanted to keep private.
The girls made their way down the hall. The conversation turned to Homecoming and who had already been asked from their classes. Gwen reminded her that Ethan “was still single.” Maddy relaxed a bit now that the topic had turned away from Angels and, specifically, Jackson. Maybe it really wasn’t something to get worked up about. She even started to feel a mischievous sort of pleasure about the whole thing when her phone squawked in her backpack.
“What was that?” Gwen asked, crinkling her nose. Maddy fished out her ancient phone and flipped it open. It was a text messag
e.
From Jacks.
It simply said, See you at 8.
Maddy’s mouth went dry.
Gwen leaned in to look. “That thing gets texts messages?” Maddy whipped the phone away and held it on the other side of her body.
“It’s not a text,” she blurted. “I mean it is. But it’s nothing.”
“OMG, is it a boy?” Gwen probed with eager eyes.
“No! Okay, yes. Could you just leave me alone?”
Gwen looked shell-shocked. The very idea of not sharing boy information was a fundamental violation in Gwen’s mind.
“I’m, like, your best friend!”
“It’s just . . .” Maddy’s mind raced. “It was a wrong number.” It was a terrible lie. Gwen’s eyes flashed with suspicion.
“You’re acting strange. What’s going on, Maddy?”
“Wrong number, Gwen, honest, I swear. Just seemed like it was from a guy. Not a . . . girl wrong number. Guys are stupid like that, right?”
Gwen flipped her blond hair, annoyed and suspicious. “. . . Right.”
The bell rang.
“See you later,” Gwen huffed, and disappeared down the hall.
Maddy focused on taking steady, controlled breaths. When Gwen was safely out of sight, she pulled the phone out of her pocket and read the text again. Could she back out? Yes, she thought, she could. Like a complete coward. And worst of all, then she would be proving him right. About her. And all that “living life” nonsense. She wondered where he would be taking her, and what they would be doing, and if she would know how to act. And what was she going to wear? Not her jeans and hoodie, and all that pretty much left was her waitress uniform. She couldn’t borrow anything from Gwen without raising even more suspicion, so she didn’t even consider it. There was one other option, something she hadn’t thought about in a long time.
Maddy sighed. Gwen was right. She was acting strange.
She looked at Jacks’s text and simply texted back:
Okay.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sylvester drove his unmarked cruiser drove down Wilshire Boulevard, passing the designer stores, luxury car dealerships, and upscale office buildings of Beverly Hills. Though once located at the Temple of Angels itself, the corporate offices of the Archangels had long since been moved to a sleek, ultra-modern building off Beverly Boulevard. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze overhead as Sylvester drove. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue.
He turned right at Beverly and pulled into the parking garage entrance under the dark glass monolith of the NAS building. The ramp led him straight to the valet-parking booth. There was no self-park option. He grumbled to himself as he waited for the attendant to make his way over. Having to pay someone just to park your car for you seemed like a crime.
After receiving his ticket, Sylvester called one of the sleek stainless steel elevators and rode it up to the lobby. The architecture of the NAS lobby was striking and minimalist, with dramatic full-length windows and near-futuristic furniture. On the walls, large flat screens played footage of recent saves on a continuous loop. Against the far wall was a glowing reception desk and, to the left of that, a hallway led back to the offices of the Archangels.
Sylvester crossed the lobby to the reception desk and smiled sheepishly at the impeccably groomed girl with perfect skin and blond hair who looked up at him. She eyed his rumpled coat and scuffed shoes incredulously before pasting on a plastic smile.
“Can I help you?” she said in a chirpy voice.
“It’s Detective Sylvester to see Archangel Godspeed.”
