Her name really isn't Garden Angel, actually it isn't even Angela Hart as she is known in the seedy town of Los Angeles. But her agent Andres insisted that she use it instead of her real name. She'd always liked her name Lisa, but with a Hollywood full of Lisa's, maybe he was right. Angela didnt know who to believe anymore. In the beginning life had been simple. But now with her second flop of a movie, Andres had sent her to Forutune City to recover from the last disaster.
She had arrived in Fortune City on one of those dreary foggy nights. She was
staying in the garden house of her friend Delta. Delta had given up the
Hollywood scene a long time ago, choosing instead a life of leisure as a
wife of a Nebraskan corn farmer. She rarely used the main house, and
never the garden house since her retirement. With the last dreadful
movie, Angela had little choice but to take up her friend's generous
offer. As she came up the walkway, she carried her cat, JA Goodfellow,
with her in one those cramped carriers. Andres had joked that from the
reviews of her last movie, that they would have been better off to have
JA write the script instead of the John What's His Name.
Morning came and Angela woke with a horrible migrane. She reached for her purse,in search of the codine. Swearing to herself because it wasn't on the kitchen table where she'd left it. She knew that she'd dropped it there before opening JA's carrier the night before. She walked around the corner to look out the open front door, too see James Abner eyeing a dove in the garden. That was the last thing she remembered seeing, as her cat James Abner Goodfellow sprang for the bird, and she tripped over the carrier and fell down the rocky steps.
