Dangerous Angels Read Online Free PDF

anyone, anything there. He didn’t see Weetzie even though she had known then that someday they must have babies and bring each other roses and write songs together and be rock stars. Her heart had felt as meager as her twelve-year-old chest, as if it had shriveled up because this man didn’t recognize her. That was nothing compared to how her heart felt when she saw My Secret Agent Lover Man’s dead marble fortune-teller eyes.
     
    Nine months is not very long when you consider that a whole person with fingers and toes and everything is being made. But for Weetzie nine months felt like a long time to wait. It felt especially long because she was not only waiting for the baby with its fingers and toes and features that would reveal who its dad was, but she was also waiting for My Secret Agent Lover Man, even though she knew he was not going to come.
    Dirk and Duck were wonderful fathers-in-waiting. Dirk read his favorite books and comic books out loud to Weetzie’s stomach, and Duck made sure she ate only health food. (“None of those gnarly grease-burgers and NO OKI DOGS!” Duck said.) They cuddled with her and gave her backrubs, and tickled her when she was sad, to make sure she got enough physical affection. (“Because I heard that rats shrivel up and die if they aren’t, like, able to hang out with other rats,” Duck said.) Whenever Weetziethought of My Secret Agent Lover Man and started to cry, Dirk and Duck waited patiently, hugged her, and took her to a movie on Hollywood Boulevard or for a Macro-Erotic at I Love Jucy. Valentine and Ping and Raphael came over with fortune cookies, and pictures and poems that Raphael had made. Brandy-Lynn called and said, “I don’t approve…but what can I get for you? I’m sure it’s a girl. She’ll need the right clothes. None of those feathered outfits.”
    Weetzie was comforted by Dirk and Duck, Valentine, Ping, Raphael, and even Brandy-Lynn, and by the baby she felt rippling inside of her like a mermaid. But the movie camera and the slouchy hat and baggy trousers and the crackly voice and the hands that soothed the jangling of her charm-bracelet nerves—all that was gone. My Secret Agent Lover Man was gone.
    Weetzie had the baby at the Kaiser on Sunset Boulevard, where she had been born.
    “Am I glad that’s over!” Duck said, coming into Weetzie’s hospital room with a pale face. “Dirk has been having labor pains out there in the waiting room.”
    “What about you?” Dirk said to Duck. “Duck has been moaning and sweating out there in the waiting room.”
    Weetzie laughed weakly. “Look what we got,” she said.
    It was a really little baby—almost too little.
    “You can’t tell who it looks like yet,” Duck said. “It’s too little and pink.”
    “No matter who it looks like, it’s all of ours,” Dirk said.He put his arms around Weetzie and Duck, and they sat looking at their baby girl.
    “What are we going to name it?” Duck said.
    They had thought about Sweet and Fifi and Duckling and Hamachi and Teddi and Lambie, but they decided to name her Cherokee.
    When they left the hospital the next day, Weetzie looked down Sunset Boulevard to where Norm’s coffee shop used to be. Weetzie’s dad, Charlie, had waited all night in that Norm’s, drinking coffee black and smoking packs until Weetzie was born. Weetzie had always thought that when she had a baby its father would wait in Norm’s for her, looking like her secret agent lover. But Norm’s was torn down and My Secret Agent Lover Man was gone.
    Weetzie and Dirk and Duck brought Cherokee home and the house felt different, lighter and more musical now, because someone was always opening a window to let in the sun or putting on a record. The sun streamed in, making the walls glow like the inside of a rose. But even in the rosy house, Weetzie felt bittersweet; bittersweetness was like a liqueur burning in her throat and dripping down slowly into her heart.
     
    Then one morning, Weetzie woke up