Scott Speer: Immortal City

Jacks smiled at his baby sister. “I didn’t know A! paid you all to interview me over breakfast.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “You better be ready. Don’t let the family name down.” She took a swig from her juice and made a face. “Ew. Juan!” she yelled, letting her voice carry through the kitchen as she continued to surf her Berry.

Juan’s sweating face appeared in the doorway. “This juice tastes funny. I think something’s wrong with it.”

“My apologies, Ms. Chloe,” Juan said. “I squeezed it fresh this morning.”

“Well, it tastes funny to me,” Chloe said. “Make it again, okay?” Looking confused, Juan obediently took the jug of juice away.

“. . destructive addiction that must be dealt with!”

Mark snapped, startling his family. “I want to meet with you at ten to discuss this.” He ended the call and returned to the table. “Not to worry,” he said calmly, sitting back down and pouring more coffee.

“If you say so, honey,” Kris replied, looking concerned. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

Chloe grabbed the remote on the island and powered the downstairs TVs. Two flat screens in the breakfast room and one in the living room blinked to life, all set to A! The same breathless anchor, Tara Reeves, had moved on from headlines to photos.

“Hot photos! Vivian Holycross was spotted as she stepped out to do some shopping yesterday on Rodeo Drive. The Angel beauty picked up accessories from Fendi and Valentino while trying to avoid those pesky paps.”

The flat screen showed the image of Vivian running with shopping bags while trying to hide behind a pair of Chanel sunglasses.

“Her boots are so cute,” Chloe breathed, then glanced over at Jacks. “She is so hot, Jacks. You should have never broken up with her.” As if in agreement, Tara continued on-screen.

“But while she looks amazing as always, the question we really want to know is, are they or aren’t they? Is Vivian secretly back together with drool-worthy Jackson Godspeed?”

As she spoke, the footage cut to a photo of Vivian from an ad for her own fashion line. Her wings extended out behind her, displaying finely spun gold spirals that spread out in delicate patterns, glittering. They were considered by some to be the sexiest wings of all time. “Vivian’s publicist would neither confirm nor deny, but the rumors are swirling. Together or not, they remain, easily, the hottest Angel couple on the planet!”

The kitchen had gone quiet. Kris raised her eyebrows knowingly. Mark turned toward Jacks with a pregnant expression. Jacks sighed.

“We’re just friends,” he announced to the room. “We are not getting back together.”

“Well, we like her very much, son,” Mark said. “You know that.”

“Yes, that has been made abundantly clear to me,”

Jacks said with a laugh.

“Jacks, we would so get along,” Chloe said pleadingly, coming around the kitchen island to pull on her half brother’s arm. “Now that I’m older, I can totally see her and me being best friends.”

“Let’s give the young Angel a break for now,” Mark said, winking at Jacks. “He’ll be seeing her this week.”

Feeling suddenly tired, Jacks put his glass in the sink.

He went out to the foyer.

Keys hung on a rack under the security camera monitor: Jacks’s Ferrari, Mark’s M7, Kris’s hybrid Lexus, and Chloe’s Porsche — which, Jacks thought, was a little ostenta-tious for such a young Angel. He grabbed his keys and returned to the kitchen, where he kissed his mother and snatched a final piece of toast off the cart before heading toward the door.

“Jackson?” Mark called after him.

Jacks turned in the doorway.

“Good luck this week,” Mark said.

“There’s no need for luck when there are Angels in the world,” Jacks replied.

“Who taught you that?”

Jacks smiled. “You did.”

With that and an approving nod from his stepfather, Jacks disappeared out the door and into the blinding south-ern California sunshine.

Jacks cruised down Sunset Boulevard in his cherry-red Ferrari, passing the famous boutiques, restaurants, and rock clubs of the Halo Strip. It was going to be a busy day, as usual. In an hour he was scheduled to make an appearance at the Angels Weekly style lounge, where he would share his thoughts about his Commissioning in an exclusive interview and then pose for pictures with lucky fans. He wasn’t a fan of the magazine— AW was one of the most notorious Angel gossip rags — but Darcy, his publicist, had more or less forced him to do it. Keep them happy, she had told him, keep them off your back .

From there he would make a quick stop at the Lexus Angel’s Flight VIP room, where he would do another interview and would most likely have to decline an offer for a free Lexus LF-A. Again. He had already told them — and it was the truth — that there just wasn’t any more room in the garage, but he knew that wouldn’t stop them from offering again. Maybe he could donate it to charity, he thought, and made a mental note to do so. Then he would rush over to the EA Saved! 2 video game launch party. The new version gave players the option of being Guardian Jackson Godspeed, and experts were predicting it would easily become the best-selling game of the year. As part of the endorsement deal, he would be giving ten awestruck contest winners the chance to play against him during his agreed-upon one-hour appearance. Finally, he would try and make it to his own Halo Magazine Pre-Commissioning party.

Taking the turn onto Melrose, Jacks passed the Pacific Design Center and flipped a quick U-turn into the valet for Urth Caffé, an Angel City landmark and hot spot for Immortals. Girls screamed, people shouted, and paparazzi reached their cameras over the car’s hood as Jacks eased the Ferrari into the sudden human swarm.

“JACKS! JACKS! JACKS! OVER HERE, JACKS!” A barrage of camera flashes erupted as Jacks stepped out of his car. “WHO’S GOING TO BE YOUR FIRST SAVE, JACKSON?” one of the photographers shouted. “ARE YOU BACK TOGETHER WITH VIVIAN?” another yelled. “ SAVE ME , JACKS !”

A few security personnel managed the paparazzi and fans. These guards were also useful for the occasional weirdo stalker like the one who’d followed Jacks’s every move last year, who was now in jail, or for the wacko anti-Angel activists who arrived at the café every few months or so and started making a ruckus. Jackson waved the photographers and fans off with a friendly smile as he ran up the steps to the patio, where Angels sat at tables sipping lattes and socializing. All eyes turned to the brightest star in the Immortal City as he made his way through the tables.

He found Mitch sitting at a table drinking a green tea latte and eyeing the female Angels at the next table.

“There he is!” Mitch said, getting out of his chair.

“Ready for your big week?”

“Not you, too,” Jacks said, groaning, and the two friends embraced. Mitch was short for an Angel but stocky, like an athlete. He had rich brown eyes and a dimpled smile for which he was famous. They sat and Jacks ordered coffee from a gawking waitress, who brought it promptly.

“Check it out,” Mitch said, nodding toward a female Angel with long black hair who had just sat down at a nearby table. She was stealing glimpses at Jacks as she chatted with her friends.

“That’s Elena. She just did the new Versace campaign.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jacks said absently, enjoying his coffee.

“And check out by the steps.” Mitch said.

Jacks glanced over and saw a tall, striking platinum-blond Angel looking in his direction.