It was the City of Angels, and the angels were screaming. Rain, lightning, thunder and wind swept through the valley with such power and such ferocity that those caught in the storm felt as if nature itself was in pain.
On a night like this the streets were deserted. Due to the
poor drainage in the valley this sort of weather caused roads to become rivers and cheap houses to flood. These storms didn't hit that often, but when they did... 'We do things big in LA,' someone once said, and even the weather had a tendency to adopt that attitude. During storms like this, you stayed inside and prayed. But tonight, the storm was the last thing on eighteen-year-old Hannah Wyatt's mind. Tonight, someone else could do the praying.
As she ran blindly through the storm the rain blended in
with the tears on Hannah's cheeks. She splashed through the puddles sending water cascading upwards and slid all over the street, several times almost tripping in the deep rivers that were spreading across the roads. But she didn't care about the rain. Her clothes and shoes were ruined, but she didn't care about them either. She just had to get away.
At last Hannah got to the end of the street and saw a bench overshadowed by a store canopy. She glanced at the road, at the pools of rain spilling over the kerbs, getting deeper and deeper by the second, and realised that she would be too wet to keep running if she didn't find some shelter. She'd stay here until the morning, until the rain cleared. As long as she was far away from Raymond, she'd be OK.
Sitting down on the soaked bench, she tried to ignore the damp sensation that quickly began to settle into her clothes. She reached into her coat pocket and took out the photo of her and Raymond. Staring at the grinning faces, she realised that it was two months since the picture had been taken. So much had changed since then.
She angrily tore the already soggy photo in two and threw
the pieces to the ground. Letting out a long, resigned breath, she put her head in her hands. This was the first time she had been able to sit down since she'd run from Raymond. The first time she had been able to stop and think about what had happened to her. The enormity of her pain hit her like a punch in the stomach.
Five minutes of crying later, Hannah noticed the man in black.
'Pretty wet tonight, huh?' he said, smiling from beneath his panama.
Hannah glanced up at the stranger, making no attempt to
hide her curiosity. He was a tall and slender man who held an umbrella steadfastly upwards as if in a gesture of defiance to the tempest above. Most of the details of his features were hidden in the shadows, but she noticed that he had smooth, young-looking skin marked by a small scar across his left cheek.
As if sensing her interest, the man walked over and sat down next to her on the bench. He looked up at the rampaging sky and smiled, revealing a row of sparkling white teeth with a single gold one at the front. The rest of the world was disturbed, but this stranger looked at peace. His features were clearer now, and he smiled at her in a way that she found reassuring. His eyes glowed with compassion and Hannah felt as if he could help ease her pain.
'Don't be afraid,' the man said, 'It will be OK.'
And she believed him.
After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. 'Do you want to talk about it?'
Hannah shook her head. No one wanted to talk about things like this. But she found she talked anyway. Over the next thirty minutes she let it all out to the stranger. She told him how she had met Raymond one night when she was working as a receptionist at the Grand Vine Hotel. How they had got on as if they had known each other for years, and how she had learned
that he was not the humble salesman she thought he was, but was actually a movie producer sounding out the hotel for use
in his next picture. Hannah told the stranger how Raymond
had promised to make her famous, how he had told her that he believed she had everything he was looking for in a lead actress. He had told her everything she wanted to hear, and she had fallen for every word. She had fallen for him, and she had given him everything he wanted from her in return.
For three months their affair had lasted, until this evening, the day before filming was due to begin on the picture. This afternoon, the men from the studio had come in to prepare the hotel and all the production staff had been assigned their rooms. Wary that there was still no sign of a contract, Hannah had marched into Raymond's room demanding to know what was going on. She had found him in the arms of Linda Howard, Hollywood's latest hot property, straight from Broadway.
'Did I forget to mention?' Raymond had said. 'We've changed our minds about the casting. Linda has the role now.'
Hannah had thrown a fit at this news, of course, but Raymond had just laughed. 'Sorry baby, these things happen you know.'
'I'm sorry,' the stranger apologised, as Hannah's attention snapped back to the present. She still could not believe how much she had told this man. 'I'm sorry I can't do more than just listen.'
'He was going to make me famous, you know?' Hannah cried. 'He promised me! But he betrayed me.'
'Here,' the man said, handing her a blue handkerchief. 'Dry those tears.'
Hannah chuckled, surprised that she could find anything humorous at this moment. 'In this weather,' she mocked, 'what would be the point?'
The man smiled, again, and for a brief moment he had a look on his face that reminded Hannah of how her father used to look when he tucked her in at night, all those years ago.
'I'm so confused,' she confessed. 'I don't know what to do.'
The man paused, clearly trying to decide whether or not to say the words forming in his mouth.
'Do you trust me?' he asked her.
A peculiar request from a stranger, but one that Hannah found scarily easy to answer. 'A little,' she replied. 'I mean, yes, I suppose so.'
'Then let me show you something.'
He reached inside his coat and produced a small hip flask.
He unscrewed the cap from the top of the flask and turned
it upside down to use it as a cup. He turned away and Hannah heard the sound of the liquid trickling into the cup. He turned back to Hannah and placed the cup in her hands. She was surprised to find it was warm. Not hot, just pleasantly warm. Hannah brought the cup closer, thinking it must be soup or coffee or some other comfort drink, then gasped when she saw its contents. It was filled with a bright, golden liquid that sparkled like nothing Hannah had ever seen before. The glow from the drink illuminated her arms and chest. Sparkling orange dust swirled in the steam that rose from the liquid. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
'What is it?' she asked.
The man raised his hand in a gesture that told Hannah to drink from the cup.
'What is it?' she asked again, but she didn't need an answer. This was hope. Whatever was contained in this cup, the man was offering her something magical, something appealing. Something a million times better than Raymond's shitty film deal.
Hannah raised the cup to her lips, never for a moment questioning the wisdom of taking a drink from a complete stranger.
The warm liquid didn't taste of anything, but as she drank it a pleasant heat spread inside her and she felt a tingling sensation, like tiny sparks of static electricity, dancing down her throat.
The moment she swallowed the liquid she became stronger, more confident, and the thought of Raymond and his whore grew further and further from her mind.
She turned to look at the stranger, marvelling at the effect his gift had had on her.
'Oh my... it's amazing! It's wonderful!'
'It likes you,' the man said. 'I can tell. You've acquired a taste for each other very quickly indeed.'
Hannah didn't quite understand what he was saying, so was content just to sit and listen to his words.
'You see Hannah, you don't need to sleep with producers, or take your clothes off for magazines, to be famous. All you need is glamour, poise and perfection. You have all that, you just don't know it. I can help you find those things inside yourself, you know.'
Hannah felt tears welling in her eyes once more, except this time they were tears of joy. 'I know, I know,' she told the man. 'Help me. Show me how.'
'Just drink the rest of that,' he said, pointing to the cup. 'Absorb it into yourself. Accept it, and agree to follow how it makes you feel, what it makes you want to do. Very soon, with very little effort, you'll be loved and wanted the world over. You'll be famous.'
Hannah finished the drink, wiped her mouth, then handed the cup back to the stranger.
