Fallen Angel • Lost Boys

.two.

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  Indigo Frog hated Santa Carla. It wasn't the city of dreams that all the runaways foolishly believed it to be. It was a dirty, cruel place. Runaways came to Santa Carla with wide eyes and innocent minds, only to become trapped. Kindness was a lie, the bright lights and charming smiles nothing more than a ploy. A gimmick. Behind every giving hand was a knife; a string tied tightly around honeyed promises. Runaways came to Santa Carla full of hope, only to be consumed by misery.

  Tourist came for the fun. They flocked the boardwalk every summer, partying and crowding up the streets. It was easy to pick out the tourist, their wide eyed wonder and loud chatter a prime opportunity for any decent thief. They never knew enough about Santa Carla to expect the little kid they'd brushed shoulders with to swipe their wallet.

  Indigo knew better however. Sidestepping the boy who scowled up at her through dirty black hair. The far too long bangs quickly brushed from his face as she made a shooing motion with her left hand. The right holding her purse tight in a death grip as the boy stuck out his tongue.

Indigo knew the poor kid wouldn't last long. He'd eventually pick the wrong pocket and find himself washed away by the waves of the Pacific. His retreating form quickly swallowed by the crowd. She hoped the kid would be lucky enough to see the sunrise.

Lighting the cigarette between her lips she inhaled the smoke. Her back coming to rest against the railing of the dock as she let the smoke fall from her parted lips. She was once like that kid. It was after Edgar was born, when her mother began showing four months later. It got bad. Formula and diapers where so expensive, she'd gotten to the point where she couldn't even afford to feed herself. So she did the only thing she could think of.

Indigo learned a lot picking pockets. She learned how to read people, from body language to tone of voice. She learned the best ways to rob a man blind and make women question their sexuality. From quick snatch and grabs to drawn out games that only lasted as long as she needed it too. Sometimes as long as she wanted it to. It'd been so long since she'd resorted to such measures.

  Her fingers twitched as a drunk stumbled past. A clearly visible bit of cash catching her attention as another cloud of smoke escaped her lungs while she watched him stumble off. The crowd swallowing him whole as she glanced at the wad of cash in her hand. A smirk gracing her lips.

"Damn. That took some skill." She practically jumped out of her skin at the sudden voice. Her body spinning so her hip pressed against the railing. "Bastard didn't even notice you." The offender offered her a cheeky grin. His sea-green eyes sparkling as he glanced from the cash in her hand to her face. His eyes studying her as she did the same.

He was by no means bad looking. He looked almost angelic with flawless skin and a mess of perfectly curled blonde hair atop his head. His wide eyes filled with mischief as he chewed childishly on his thumb. The bright patched jacket and leather chaps betraying the innocent look he held. Though the glint in his eyes is what had her stuffing the cash in her back pocket and ready to fight. "That was kind of the point." The snarky response only seemed to make the grin grow across his perfect lips.

"What's your name?"

She scoffed. "What's it to you?" A puff of smoke leaving her mouth as the words fell from her lips. She couldn't say for certain, but she's pretty sure his eyes where glued to her lips the entire time.

"I like putting names to faces."

Her eyes practically rolled out of her skull. "What good is a name if it's not worth remembering?"

"A face like yours," he stepped closer to her. His hand trailing the railing as he did so, stopping an inch from her own. "Is worth remembering."

She kept her cool. "Doubtful, I know your type." The toe of her boot snuffed out the cigarette until all that was left was a pile of ash.

He cocked his head in an animal like fashion. Confusion flashing through his eyes as his face remained a grinning, perfect mess. His fingers tapping on the wood gave him away. His eyes flickering rapidly across her face in an attempt to read her. "My type?"

"You act like a local." She started, studying the boy intently as her mouth ran wild. "Your sweet words are tangled in strings that you control like a puppet master." He was still studying her, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. "You aren't a local though. Not a local-local. You where a runaway. Daddy issues?" She sent him a questionable glance before continuing. "You came here hoping for a better life only to fall victim to Santa Carla. This place hardened you, made you cold and dangerous. You have the face of an Angel, but you are nothing but trouble. Am I right?"

Instead of answering her he just stared into her eyes. It was...strange. The way he looked at her made her feel like the only girl in the world. Yet the predatory glint in his green eyes was not lost on her. His angelic face was a complete lie and she refused to fall for it again. "Well, what about you? What's your type?"

"Why don't you tell me pretty boy?" She challenged. Deep down Indigo knew better than to let this go on. Yet as much as she knew this needed to stop here, she couldn't stop herself. The innocent little back and forth that bordered on flirting wouldn't actually go anywhere. Besides, it's not like she'd ever see him again.

Though that smirk may just do her in for a very enjoyable night if he didn't stop. "You're a local. A local-local. Probably taught to avoid the beach at night and carry pepper spray just in case," he teasingly brushed his fingers against hers as he drew even closer. "You smoke to take off an edge. Probably got some daddy issues with a sprinkle of some mommy problems. You walk around like you are untouchable yet pick pockets with desperation. Obviously not well off." Nail on the head pretty boy. "How was that, buttercup?"

"Indigo."

"What?" He looked so confused it pulled a laugh from her lips.

"It's Indigo, not buttercup."

"Indigo," all humor left her as he let her name fall from his lips. His eyes shining as he continued to say her name. As if he was tasting it. His eyes never leaving hers as she shifted. "Indigo."

"What about you?" The words felt rushed. A single breath plucking them from her lips as she thanked her lucky stars she'd managed to say it without a stutter.

"I'm Marko."