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“You look like shit”

Angel heard the drawling, southern-fed voice and almost smiled Would have smiled if he hadn’t felt so damned low He cracked his eyes open, blinked hard as the fluorescent lighting stabbed through his brain

’Thanks” Angel inched his way to a sit The needles in his veins pinched with every ht, he inded and his chest hurt like hell

Val stood in the doorway, his thin, designer-clad body angled against the doorfraled blond hair tucked self-consciously behind one ear He pushed away frolided into the room in that slow, loose-hipped walk that always drew attention frorabbed the bedside chair with long, delicate fingers, and twisted it around, slu forward, he rested his chin on the chair back and dangled his arms over the mustard-colored fake leather A slon pulled at his eyebrows as he studied Angel “I mean, you really look like shit Even worse than last time”

Angel didn’t have the strength to sarette, will you?”

Val reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboros Flicking the hard pack’s top, he checked the contents and shrugged “E” He pulled a pint of tequila frorinned “But I’m not completely useless” He set the bottle down on the bedside table “I just watched the dailies for yesterday That death scene of yours was unbelievable—even I didn’t know you were that good The writer went ape-shit When you get out of here, we’re going to start the Oscar hype immediately The publicist thinks…”

Blah, blah, blah Val’s voice droned on and on, but Angel stopped hearing, stopped listening, anyway

He stared at the ent, for sixteen years and tried to suht now But he couldn’t do it; he wasn’t that good an actor

He reht he’d ht in a seedy tavern, when they’d both been cold and hungry and lonely Angel had been just a kid then—barely eighteen and already on his own for over a year

They beca fro until it wasn’t fun anyfrom Dumpsters

Ale day … a day that started with old tuna Val had gotten violently ill from a tuna sandwich he’d stolen from a hot Arizona lunch counter At the hospital, he called his parents Within hours, the two boys were ensconced in the Lightners’ gorgeous New York penthouse apartment

Val’s el had ever seen Cold as ice, hard as dia her where they’d been and what they’d done She was horrified, of course, and Val ive thee

“But you haven’t even finished high school,” she said in a nasal, white-bread voice

Val only laughed “Please, Mother You’re rich”

She’d wagged a ringed finger at hio your way, Valentine”