Grounded! More Confessions of an Angel in Training (9781310362958) Page 5

  At least I was right about one thing. Michael finds it funny that I’ll be stuck singing.

  }{

  Before climbing into bed, I check my A-Mail to see if Mercy has written to me. Nothing. My fingers hover over the keyboard. I miss her, but I’m still upset. Upset that we fought. Upset that she left for the workshop before we could work it out. Upset that she hasn’t figured out I’m meant to be a Guardian. Finally I type:

  From: glightbourne@halo.hvn

  To: mbeamkind@halo.hvn

  Subject: HEY!

  Mercy,

  Just a quick note to let you know what’s going on with me. I saw Victor in Paradise and we were going to go to a concert, but things didn’t work out. That’s probably for the best. He’s too tempting.

  I don’t know if Faith has told you (but I wouldn’t be surprised if she did) that I got another Mission. This one is in New York City. You might remember seeing it on a couple of episodes on HVEN TV. I’m rooming with Aisha and it’s good to know someone here because it’s a very big and very busy place.

  I feel a little guilty since other Full Angels are waiting for a Mission, but I guess I’ll have to trust that the Big Guy knows what He’s doing. I’m definitely meant to be a Guardian.

  How is your space thing going?

  Gotta go. Must get up early tomorrow and meet my Assignment. Write when you get the chance.

  Loyally Yours,

  Grace Lightbourne

  Angel-in-Training

  Chapter 5

  The theater where I’m auditioning is so stuffy it’s like the air has been sucked from the room. I can’t get out of my coat, scarf and gloves fast enough. As I strip them off, a hipster-looking guy with black glasses and skinny jeans writes my name on a clipboard and then hands me some sheet music. He’s wearing an ear piece that has a cord trailing over his shoulder and down his back.

  “You’ll be singing ‘Nighttime.’” He looks at his clipboard and raps it with the wrong end of his pen. “And you’re number five. You can wait in the wings until you’re called.”

  Wait in the wings? Oh no! I can’t possibly have given myself away already, did I? The butterflies caged in my stomach beat against it. I feel like I could lose my breakfast. “Excuse me? What do you mean by wings?”

  He gets that is she for real? expression. “Have you auditioned before?”

  “Yes. Of course. Kinda, um…” I shake my head. “Actually, no, never.”

  “You’re not from New York, are you?”

  Confession: I was thrilled that my background was the same as my last Mission because no chance for confusion.

  “I’m from Paradise, Montana. My mom is a teacher and my dad’s in commercial real estate.”

  “That’s nice,” he says like it’s mostly boring. He sets down the clipboard, grabs my shoulders and steers me from behind like I’m grocery cart. “Here are the wings. And here are the other singers. Girls this is Grace. Grace, meet other girls. I’m sure they’ll be fascinated to hear all about your home.”

  I’m sure they’d be fascinated by it too, but I can’t tell them a thing about Heaven. One of these days, Michael is gonna have to send me to Montana, so I know what I’m talking about. “Hi!” I give a little finger wave.

  A blond with skyscraper legs says, “Hi, I’m Mitzi,” but the rest don’t respond and only stare or smirk at me. If only I could light up my halo, it’d wipe that look off their face. We all pretend not to look at each other or to care when the auditions start.

  The first two singers are pitchy. If Gabriel’s watching, he’s probably shaking his head. The third has the wrong kind of tone for the song—too much darkness, thickness in her voice. A guy in a suit asks her if she can brighten it, and when she tries it just sounds raspy. The fourth singer sounds awesome, but she seems awkwardly uncomfortable on the stage. It reminds me of the way Tara had to embrace her gift and gain confidence during my first Mission.

  While she sings, the hipster guy comes up and says, “You’re next.” I know, I know. As she walks off, she’s looking down, watching herself put one foot in front of the other, like she doesn’t want to stumble.

  “You sounded great,” I tell her. “Keep at it.”

  She shakes her head.

  “No, really. You did.”

  “There’s no time for chit chat. Go, go, go.” The hipster guy gives me a little bit of a shove.

  Geez, he could use a little more patience, huh? And suddenly I’m in the hot glare of the stage lights. I attempt to glide to the red X on the floor in front of the mic, because if there was ever a time the Angel-walk could come in handy, it’s now.

  I recognize Izzy from the file Michael gave me. He’s wearing jeans and a bulky retro-cardigan over a gray tee. He’s holding the hand of a striking woman, who’s practically glowing. Her pale, rosy face is framed in long, dark curls. Next to her is an older gray-haired guy with a ponytail dressed in sweats. On the other side of Izzy is a business guy in a suit who looks totally out of place.

  I stand tall, imagining myself as elegant and halo lit.

  “Grace Lightbourne,” Izzy says in a neutral voice and then rubs his lip. “Clever stage name.”

  “It’s my real name,” I say, trying to sound confident, but my palms are sweating as bad as they did on D-Day.

  “Interesting. Go ahead, Grace.”

  As I step up to the mic, I notice a hulking figure in the shadows near the door at the back of the auditorium. Who is that? Step into the light.

  “Grace, are you going to sing for us? Or just stun us with your beauty?”

  “Yes, sorry.” I clear my throat, which is probably a huge faux pas, but it had closed up at the sight of the shape in the shadows. Then I imagine myself in Gabriel’s class and let the music I memorized last night wash through me. I hold the last note, making it quieter, quieter until the silence ends the song.

  Izzy stands up, clapping enthusiastically. “That’s exactly how that song was meant to be sung, isn’t it, darlin’?” He leans down and kisses the beauty next to him straight on the lips.

  Is she the final say on if I get the job?

  “Yes, lovely, perfect pitch. Excuse me.” She gets up and slips past the ponytail guy, floating up the aisle toward the back door. She stops at the big figure lurking by the door, rests her hand on his shoulder, leans over and whispers something to him. Then she’s out the door.

  The shadow takes two steps forward, and then—

  Everything freezes. A Time Bend.

  Victor?

  Victor!

  He strides down the aisle and with what looks like an easy step leaps onto the stage beside me.

  A bazillion emotions and thoughts whiz through me. I’m so happy to see him, angry that he stood me up and confused at what he’s doing at my audition. Mostly confused. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” He grins crookedly at me.

  It’s deja-vu. Almost exactly what he said when I bumped into him in Paradise. How do we keep ending up in the same places? “Did you know I would be here?”

  He has the Holy Ghost of a smile. “Well maybe a little birdy told me.”

  I run through a short list in my mind. Faith? I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know him. Aisha? Unlikely. She tries to keep us apart. Michael? That’s seriously cray-cray.

  Victor’s hand encircles my waist and he pulls me closer. “You sounded incredible and you look…”

  I push him back, and there’s a wounded look in his eye. “Why did you stand me up?”

  “I got an assignment; I’m here on a Mission. Didn’t Valor explain that to you?”

  “No, he just said you couldn’t be there, but I could still go to the concert if I wanted.”

  “So did you?”

  “No, I bought my textbooks.”

  One side of Victor’s mouth quirks up. “Textbooks! When you could see Skynard?”

  I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Yes, textbooks. I’ve turned over a new leaf. I�
�m practicing the virtue of Diligence, which as you know has never been my strong suit.” I hope my expression looks defiant enough.

  He breaks into a full grin. “Really? A new leaf? How come you’re back on Earth?”

  I drop my arms, look at my feet and sigh. He makes me feel bad about not being in school like a normal AIT. “I’m not sure. School wasn’t unbearable. But one day in class I disagreed with a future Throne and the next thing you know, Michael sent me back.” I hesitate. “It’s not the worst thing, y’know?” Because the truth is while I felt bad at L’Academie, I feel better now that I’m here, on a Mission. Except for Victor. I’m not what to make of all that. I look up, into his eyes.

  I melt a little when he takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, whispering, “It’s not the worst. Far from it.”

  I’d pretty much written him off on the way to the bookstore, but now it seems like he had a decent reason to no-show. Is today purely coincidental, or… “Are our Missions linked?”

  “You could say that. I’m Izzy’s bodyguard.”

  Confession: I thought I was as confused as it gets. I was wrong.

  “How can that be? I’m his Guardian. I have a file in a hideous black briefcase that proves it.”

  He laughs. “I didn’t say I was his Guardian. I’m really here for someone else, but my cover story is that I’m his bodyguard.”

  “His bodyguard? Is he that popular?”

  Victor hems and haws. “He wants to be that popular. How’s that for an answer? Anyway…that’s how we’ll be linked.”

  “Does that mean you think they’ll pick me to be a singer? Because that one girl had a beautiful voice, and there are still three more left to audition.”

  Victor reaches out and tucks a curl behind my ear. My knees turn squishy. “He’d have to be deaf and blind not to pick you, Angel.”

  It’s official—I’m glad to be back on Earth. In the presence of this gorgeous Full Angel who just called me Angel. My hope rises. This time I’ll earn my wings.

  Maybe.

  I smile at him.

  “Finally. That’s the first time today. Hey, after the auditions are finished, Izzy and I were going to grab a burger. Wanna come?”

  Victor introduced me to burgers and strawberry shakes on my last Mission, which I have to say are much tastier than the ambrosia Celestial Beings typically have. “Is it as good as the Jukebox?”

  “Uh-huh. Better.”

  “That sounds divine.”

  Victor hugs me leaving me breathless then leaps off the stage and heads back into the shadows. I take my spot on the X, and Victor sends us back to Ordinary Time.

  “We have a winner. You sing like an angel, Darlin’.”

  So it’s settled. I’m officially part of Izzy’s entourage.

  Izzy walks over to shake my hand, Victor trailing closely behind him. “Excited to have you as my back-up. First rehearsal tomorrow—”

  Victor leans forward, interrupting Izzy. “We’re going to grab a bite to eat, Grace. Why don’t you come with us? I’d like to get to know you a little better.”

  }{

  The taxi driver pulls up to Le Parker Meridian. Victor’s out first and holds the door for both of us. The lobby has a cool, quiet elegance, with high, high ceilings and fancy architectural arches. My boots clickety click as we cross the polished marble floors.

  “What is this place?” I ask Victor.

  “The Burger Joint.”

  I know that’s where we’re supposed to be going, but the opulence is entirely unlike The Jukebox. It’s more like something from Quadrant One in Heaven.

  We hang a sharp right, heading for a floor-to-ceiling red velvet curtain. Is the Wizard behind there?

  The closer we get to the drape, it seems like I’m hearing muffled music, but music nonetheless, and when we slip behind the drape into a hallway it grows clearer. The rock song gets louder as we continue down a dimly lit, narrow corridor with a neon hamburger sign at the end. Then, it’s like we cross into another dimension that has graffiti-covered wood paneling and a greasy spoon odor.

  Victor lines up at the counter to order, while Izzy and I grab a seat at one of the beat-up tables. I slide across the bench to lean against the paneling. Right next to where I’m sitting it says Izzy was here in five-inch lettering.

  I point to the scrawl. “You?”

  “The one and only. But someday I’ll sign there.” He points to a white wall at the back filled with signatures. “Lots of rock stars dine here.”

  “Like you?”

  “Not quite yet,” he says with a wistful expression.

  Victor shows up with brown paper bags filled with fries and burgers wrapped in plain white paper. “Ah, my favorite burger at my favorite table. Can it get any better?”

  “Simply the best.” Izzy says and unwraps the burger only halfway before taking a bite. He closes his eyes in bliss as he swallows.

  “We’re on a mission, right, Iz?”

  “Absolutely. And it’s quite an important one.”

  Mission? But that can’t be. I’m Izzy’s Guardian. I raise one eyebrow. “What kind of Mission?”

  “Actually it’s more of a quest,” Izzy explains, taking another bite. He swallows in one gulp. “To find the best burger on the planet. What do you say, Vic?”

  Victor wipes a little mustard from his adorable upper lip. “A worthwhile mission. It’s as good as always.”

  Worthwhile? Is he making fun of what we do? I know they didn’t ask me, but sometimes I can’t help but say what’s on my mind. “If you’ve already eaten these burgers—and you must have, with a favorite table and your name on the wall—why aren’t you trying somewhere new?”

  Izzy laughs. “She’s a cute little bird, ain’t she?”

  Suddenly I’m in freeze time.

  “Shush,” Victor says.

  How dare he! Izzy is my Assignment. “I believe I’m trying to get to know my Assignment.”

  “Well then, don’t ask him silly questions. You won’t get any clues about your Mission from our burgers. Did he show you the white wall?” He grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze.

  I pull away.

  “Geez, just follow for a change, Grace.” Then he resets, with no warning or chance to get into position. “The cutest,” Victor answers him then turns to me and winks. “It’s the best burger in Mid-town.”

  I’m annoyed about what he said during freeze time, but he also called me the cutest. Besides, if I act pissed, Izzy will think I’m schizo. He didn’t see our light-speed exchange.

  Victor crumples the piece of white paper the burger was wrapped in and drops it into a brown paper bag. “Seems like everything worked out with Roger. You got to pick your back-up.” He tilts his chin in my direction.

  Izzy says, “The list of stuff to be worked out is longer than my arm. Do this, don’t do that, shave, grow a beard, get a haircut. Once I make it, I’ll have more freedom and I’m this close.” He takes the ketchup bottle and squeezes out two thin lines that are practically touching and swipes a fry through both lines blurring them together. “On the verge of a breakthrough. I can feel it. I’m closer than I’ve ever been before, and if Roger would just listen to me or Stevie…” Izzy pauses then gobbles the fry. “But you’re right, I won the battle over Candace. Can you believe it? He wanted me to take her. I know you’re not a musician, Vic, but you could hear it, right? That bird squawked like a parrot.”

  I cover my mouth and laugh.

  “You should have heard her, Grace.” Izzy starts squawking and flapping his arms. “My name is Candace—awk, awk—and my father the record exec thinks I should be a singer.”

  Diners at a couple of the other tables are staring at us. Victor gives Izzy an arched look and a quick nod.

  Izzy calms down and says, “Thank God for your audition. There was no denying your talent, luv.” He wipes the napkin over his mouth. “Enough of this boring music business talk. How do you like your burger?”

  “Delicious.”


  “Now that’s wonderful. See. To find one who can enjoy a burger. Not like Cherish—all salads and whole grains—bluck. You know what I mean?”

  Cherish? WTH. I stare at Victor, trying to catch his eyes, but he won’t look up from the table. My eyes and mind are asking, is this the Cherish? Your Cherish?

  On my last Mission, the very last time I saw him on Earth, he spoke directly to my mind when I was fifty feet away from him.

  I know you can hear me, Victor.

  Without lifting his head, Victor lifts his eyes. As they burn into mine I hear one word—Yes.

  Chapter 6

  My hair is committing a deadly sin this morning. Sloth. It’s refusing to do what it’s supposed to, instead all static and fly-about. I try to persevere, like The Angelic Code of Conduct requires, while growing impatient. Wow! I can’t seem to get all the paperwork out of my head.

  Finally, I’m booking for the subway. As I buy my ticket, I repeat Aisha’s instructions in my head like a mantra. It shouldn’t be a big deal; it’s the same route I took yesterday when Aisha rode with me to the audition.

  I rush past the turnstile, through the already closing doors, and grab a pole, sighing in relief. We’ll be rehearsing three songs today, and I’m worried that I’ve mixed up the sheet music of one with another. Under my breath I move my lips to the lyrics, hearing the melody in my head. I glance up from the floor and see one of the other passengers staring at me like I’m a bit loco.

  Confession: I got used to that look from the Murphys on my last Mission. It doesn’t bother me anymore.

  The train hisses to a stop and it seems like I should almost be there. Looking out the window I see the sign for this station: Cathedral Parkway—110th Street.

  Ohgodohgodohgod!