Dangerous Angels Read Online Free PDF Page A

pink-and-aqua-tiled bathroom. Weetzie felt as if she were turning into steam and milk and honey. She massaged My Secret Agent Lover Man’s pale, clenched back with aloe vera oil and pikake lotion.
    “If I was ever going to have a baby, it would be with you, Miss Weetzie,” he said after they had made love. “You would make a great mom.”
    Weetzie just kissed his fingers and his throat, but she didn’t say anything about the plan.
     
    One night, while My Secret Agent Lover Man was away fishing with his friend Coyote, Weetzie and Dirk and Duck went out to celebrate. They had received their test results, and now they could have a baby. At Noshi, they ordered hamachi, anago, maguro, ebi, tako, kappa maki, and Kirin beer. They were buzzing from the beer and from the burning neon-green wasabe and the pink ginger and from the massive protein dose of sushi. (“Like, sushi is the heavy protein buzz,” Duck said.)
    “Here’s to our baby,” Dirk said. “I always wanted one, and I thought I could never get one, and now we are goingto. And it will be all of ours—My (your) Secret Agent Lover Man’s, too.”
    They drank a toast and then they all got into Dirk’s car, Jerry, and drove home.
    Weetzie changed into her lace negligée from Trashy Lingerie and went into Dirk and Duck’s room and climbed into bed between Dirk and Duck. They all just sat there, bolt upright, listening to “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”
    “I feel weird,” Weetzie said.
    “Me too,” Dirk said.
    Duck scratched his head.
    “But we want a baby and we love each other,” Weetzie said.
    “I love you, Weetz. I love you, Dirk,” Duck said.
    “‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand,’” the Beatles said.
    And that was how Weetzie and Dirk and Duck made the baby—well, at least that was how it began, and no one could be sure if that was really the night, but that comes later on.
    When My Secret Agent Lover Man came back from fishing with Coyote he looked healthier and rested. “I haven’t seen the paper in three weeks,” he said, sitting down at the kitchen table with the Times .
    Weetzie took the paper away. “Honey, I have something to tell you,” she said.
    Weetzie was pregnant. She felt like a Christmas package. Like a cat full of kittens. Like an Easter basket of pastel chocolate-malt eggs and solid-milk-chocolate bunnies,and yellow daffodils and dollhouse-sized jelly-bean eggs.
    But My Secret Agent Lover Man stared at her in shock and anger. “You did what?
    “The world’s a mess,” My Secret Agent Lover Man said. “And there is no way I feel okay about bringing a kid into it. And for you to go and sleep with Dirk and Duck without even telling me is the worst thing you have ever done.”
    Weetzie could not even cry and make Kleenex roses. She remembered the day her father, Charlie, had driven away in the smashed yellow T-bird, leaving her mother Brandy-Lynn clutching her flowered robe with one hand and an empty glass in the other, and leaving Weetzie holding her arms crossed over her chest that was taking its time to develop into anything. But My Secret Agent Lover Man was not going to send Weetzie postcards of the Empire State Building, or come visit every so often to buy her turkey platters at the Tick Tock Tea Room like Charlie did. Weetzie knew by his eyes that he was going away forever. His eyes that had always been like lakes full of fishes, or waves of love, or bathtub steam and candle smoke, or at least like glasses of gin when he was sad, were now like two heavy green marbles, like the eyes of the mechanical fortune-teller on the Santa Monica pier. She hardly recognized him because she knew he didn’t recognize her, not at all. Once, on a bus in New York, she had seen the man of her dreams. She was twelve and he was carrying a guitar case and roses wrapped in green paper, and there were raindrops on the roses and on his hair, and he hadn’tlooked at her once. He was sitting directly across from her and staring ahead and he didn’t see