To a casual observer Sally Henderson was a polite and honest girl. She was always on time and never cursed or smoked. She could wait on the sloppiest and most horrendous customers and still pull off a disarmingly pure smile. Sally lived with her parents and went to Santa Carla High with impressive grades. Her composure was something to value in an environment where everyone wears their emotions on their sleeves. Sally had a life ahead of her unlike the rest of us working at Bill's. I heard she was accepted into Georgetown University and fully planned on attending. If anyone could have left it would have been her. I was glad for her, if not a bit jealous.

Like any other busy night at Bill's, we were all working hap-hazardly, but there was one exception on that night. Earlier that day, the little red dented phone rang in the back and I, the only one remotely close to it, reluctantly answered.

"Hello, this is Bill's Diner. How can I help you," I asked in monotone while picking the dirt underneath my nails.

"Hey, Ana. It's Sally. I wanted to call to tell you that I'm not going to be able to make it in tonight. I got a bad case of the flu," I heard her cough in the background. She sounded very apologetic and genuine, so I didn't question her excuse.

"Ok. Get better," I replied in rare sincerity. We had needed her to get better. Any night short of a waitress was like missing an arm or limb. It was that night that I was the last person to speak to her, and the following morning she was noticed missing when her parents called Bill's.

I am thoroughly used to people disappearing. One night someone's at a party and the next gone. This time with Sally… With all the people in the world, Sally Henderson disappeared! It unsettled me. She, who was supposed to be a goody-two shoe, should be at home in bed. Now, she had been reduced to another missing poster on the boardwalk's walls.

After many questions and accusations of the so called police officers, they could only let me off the hook. I was at work all night and according to her drug addicted parents, she left the house around 10 at night in the guise of picking up medicine. The authorities chalked it up to running away. It happened all of the time in Santa Carla (despite its own share of runaways) and she did have an unstable home life. With the entire crime rate in Santa Carla, the police hardly had the time to track a simple runaway girl.

I knew Sally didn't runaway. She had an awaiting future, what could be the point of leaving now? What the hell happened? Where was she? Nothing had made sense, so something bad had to have happened.

A little over a week later, Sally's body was discovered in the San Diego bay. I heard that the cause of death was blood loss, not drowning. Nobody at work talked about her thereafter. No one who lives here talks about the disappearances. It's a subject never approached as if some curse was set on any who would dare speak out. Santa Carla was funny about that. I must have fallen under the same spell; I only ever thought about it. Not that I make casual conversation often, I just never brought it up even though I think about it occasionally.

It was the crashing lurch of the bus that dragged me back to the world. My Jeep had decided to mysteriously break down again, another reason to not go to work. The dense and brightly colored crowd moved vigorously in and out of the entrance of the boardwalk. Most were young adults and teenagers, but a few punks lingered in the front. I gathered my purse and exited the body-odorous bus and into the smoking crowd, pushing and shoving my way to get through.

"One night," said my boss. Only one night off, to live and try to relax. It was ironic that I had to work to even get onto the boardwalk and then the beach.

I made my way onto the main avenue and continued to dodge the purse thieves and screaming children. The rancorous smell of body-odor and corn-dogs filled my delicate nose. I made it all the way to the entrance way of the beach when I caught a glimpse of Tiffany Swanson's sobbing, surrounded by the rest of her equally upset girlfriends. Their loud cries could have awoken the dead! Many in the crowd sent the girls disapproving and irritated looks, but no one stopped to ask if they were alright.

I paused in a moment of indecision, before turning to them and hesitantly walking over. I have never been good with leaving people to wallow in misery.

Stopping a few feet away, I began to have second thoughts when the brightest clothed of the girls glanced at me.

"Did… did… you know… Sal-sal-salleeeee!?" Her high-pitched voice broke and cracked horribly on Sally's name, and her mascara ran dreadfully down her face. It was nearly comically to see their similar stained faces.

Tiffany herself peaked at me through her puffy lashes and with no warning, launched herself from one crying girl to my shoulder. I was temporarily knocked off balance and stiffened when she clutched at my favorite buttoned plaid shirt. What the hell?

I guess I can't really tell her to get off, can I?

Awkwardly, I patted her back as she hiccupped something unintelligible at me. I even felt her tears start to dampen my clothes. How should I get her off of me? Should I try to make an excuse? Should I pretend to be as sad as her and then run off? I could-

I loud roar made me jump to my left and I narrowly missed two motorcycles tearing down the dodging crowd. Tiffany had disentangled from me, but clutched her heaving chest as she bleary looked after the two distant whooping blonds. It happened so quickly that I didn't even have time to feel scared, just dumbfounded and a little angry at nearly being hit.

"Why aren't they sad too," Tiffany whispered so softly that I only just heard her. I glanced at her and realized that these were the same guys at the gas station. Twice now these guys have nearly killed me!

"Why are they so happy?!" Tiffany surprisingly demanded and her brown eyes filled with incense. Tiffany took off after the loud chorus of bikes and escaped my hands that were going to stop her. The crowd immediately cloaked her escape and I began to follow the irate and grieving girl (thus stupid), but another pair of hands gripped my elbow, effectively stopping me. Turning, I took in the sight of one of the more composed compadres of Tiffany. She was another light blond beach girl with many freckles dotting her face because of her tacky dark brown tan. Now this was girl who was going to have (if not already) skin cancer. She immediately let go almost as if I burned her and stared after Tiffany.

"Don't try. You would only get sucked in with her mess that she's going to make with the Lost Boys," she commented in a tight voice.

….

Huh?

"What do you mean Lost Boys?... Who are they? A band," I asked. The girl immediately shot me an "Are you an idiot?" and disbelieving look. Her small face and button nose crinkled unhappily and unattractively

It's nice to see that grief can easily be swept aside and be replaced by pure annoyance at someone's social ignorance.

"Have you been living under a rock? Marko, Dwayne, Paul, and David are the Lost Boys. They're the ones causing the security here so much trouble. You know!- the ones that race almost every weekend on Maggie Street and fight with the Surf Nazi's like every night. For God's sakes, Clarissa dropped out of community college for them," the girl ranted to me and I paused. A deep feeling in the pit of my stomach surfaced and uneasiness filled me. The only connection I could make was centered on one crazy attractive humored man.

"Does Paul look like Twisted Sister," I asked quietly. The girl stared at me before sighing and rolling her drooping eyes. To her this was so obvious that it should have been written in law. Obvious to everyone, everyone but me that is. She had completely forgotten about her grief as I had about Tiffany.

"Yeahhh. He's the one that's funny and actually spends some time with the girls around here," she paused as I froze. The girl with no name elaborated some more as I took it all in, "The Lost Boys are a gang. They go to the best parties. Paul is the one that dances on the tables and breaks everything in sight. It's really funny to watch," she giggled exposing her metallic brace-filled teeth. "Betty here tried to hook up with him but he was eyeing Mary Gibson at the time. Paul really doesn't care too much who he's hooking up with as long as he has someone cute looking. But um... Yeah- they ride their bikes, get in pretty cool fights. David's the leader- you know the lightest blonde one with uh… unique voice... Dwayne is the one-"

"Have they been to jail ever," I cut in before she could continue. Without another beat and apparently pleased with my participation in the conversation and her own social importance, she answered.

"Well- I don't know." I glanced back at the crowd hoping to see Paul magically appear in his usual fashion. "They can be really nice. They put the Surf Nazi's in their place. Did you know…"

"Excuse me," I cut her off again without looking at her and took off after Tiffany.

The crowd was rough, especially when I caught a young boy sandy-blond staring at me open mouthed while his mother (in horror) dragged him away (from me). I was merely trying to push my way through the crowd and had gotten stuck between a bunch of giggling 13 year old girls and the Surf Nazi's hijinks at Doug's Dogs. The kid was stuck right there too! It's not like I chose the spot…

Once again, I pushed and shoved through the crowd. After ten minutes of it, I began to give up. However, a loud sobbing caught my ears and I turned back around to follow it. Scrambling up a few stairs, I witnessed Tiffany clutch at a blond curly haired man as he pushed her away from him and taking off on his bike after his friend. Completely ignoring the two guys, I watched Tiffany's reaction.

The world crushed Tiffany. Her body swung around completely unaware of the world, but lost somewhere in her own broken mind. Rushing, I took her by her elbow and tugged gently, trying to pry her lost and graying eyes. Lines that have never been present suddenly appeared around her mouth and eyes. The young-vibrant and annoying Tiffany had aged an extra ten years. Tiffany was not one for disillusionment. Not acknowledging me, she pulled away from me and quietly walked off bumping into individuals like she had never seen them. I watched her retreat until I couldn't see her golden hair anymore.

Fuck. I guess their friendship was that strong. I have never felt that level of camaraderie that would drive me to a deep depression that Tiffany had definitely fell in. Whatever those guys said or did, it took away all of Tiffany's healthy grieving. Wow. I can't believe Paul's friends are such assholes.

I sighed deeply before rethinking that last statement. I can believe that they were his friends. It seemed fitting. As much as I liked Paul, there was so much that I didn't know about him.

The rest of the night passed me by in a haze. I was too focused on Tiffany's quivering lips and lifeless eyes to enjoy my night off. Adding in the implication that Paul might actually be bad for me, I was a jumbled mess on the inside. I joylessly wandered the boardwalk. As much as I wanted to 'run into' Paul for the whole night, I didn't. What was I going to do with Paul? His friends were assholes, and I bet it wasn't much of stretch to include him in that assessment.

And the Lost Boys… why did that sound so familiar? It was on the tip of my mind, but nothing came out of me mulling it over and over again.

My next night of work wasn't any better. The idea of Paul being a bastard bothered me beyond belief. I probably scared him off too! Paul had been kind to me, so why should I pass judgment on him simply because he associated with assholes? If I kept this up, I really would be an island onto myself.

I wanted to pinch the bridge of my nose, but the fucking mask wouldn't let me. I was giving myself one hell of a headache. Sighing deeply, I leaned against a wall and closed my eyes in a brief respite.

"Dearie… you alright," a sweet and old voice asked from my right as a soft hand touched my shoulder. My eyes cracked open to see Bill's mother Gertrude.

Gertrude was a rare flower, and despite her son's profession she had managed to be not only a nice woman, but high on the Santa Clara society totem pole. On Saturday nights like these, Gertrude would come in and make the beef tenderloin preparations because of the sheer volume of orders that we would receive. Otherwise, she came in on Sunday days to eat a light lunch before church. I would have usually faked a smile for her, but the mask prevented it. Gertrude was still dressed in the 50's garb, including the bright red lipstick and thick pink blush washed out her pale wrinkled face.

"I'm fine," I replied faintly.

"You better be, 'cause no one here will pick up yur tables," Sydney took a pass at me as she sashayed to the line. Fuck you too.

"Ignore her, dear... I have an idea! You should come to Santa Carla's Masquerade Ball. I have the perfect dress that you can wear! Come before the official ceremonies begin and I will fix you up," Gertrude offered crinkling her beautifully weathered smile on me. "And I'll let you in free," she whispered conspiratorially. The masquerade was guaranteed to be full of everything that I hated.

You realize she's trying to be nice, Ana.

"Thank you, Mrs. Stein. But I'm going to have to pass," I apologetically said. Gertrude frowned at me before smiling again.

"Well, I'll bring the dress anyway, just in case. The door will be open for you hun," Gertrude added patting my arm.

"ORDER'S UP ANA," Andy, our cook, hollered at me and I scuttled to take the hot plate from him.

My shift passed by in blur as it usually does. Once off, I gathered my things and ignored the digs coming from my coworkers and hurried out the front door into one of the strangest scenes of my life that I was sure to never forget.

It was Paul and a boom box blaring so loudly that I wondered why I didn't hear the music inside. Paul was trying to dance to 'Sweet Home Alabama' by Lynard Skynard in the middle of the parking lot next to his parked bike. It was loud and the beat was desirable after my hard night. Paul's hips swung playfully shaking his butt with his arms around him in a circle holding a lit cigarette and taping his boots in some strange dance. His face was focused and happy. I sighed. You only live once.

I dropped my bag and he looked up from his feet with a playful smile knowing it was me. Joining hands, we danced together, swinging, dipping, and fox trotting without reservation. I knew he wouldn't judge me. So, I would sashay and he would shake his hips in such a way that would make me laugh so hard my lungs could have burst and my face hurt like the fifth circle of hell in Dante's Inferno.

I let go of him, and decided to find the strength to sing the words as loud as I could. When he joined in, the moment transformed us both into proud Alabamians.

"Sweet home Alabama! The one I'm coming home to!" We let go of each other and danced in circles while closing our eyes. The air was warm and I knew Paul forgave and forgot about what I had done, if he even remembered. A sigh escaped me and all my pent up tension left.

The world felt okay for once.

Opening my eyes, Paul was still tapping his foot with his eyes closed and smoking what was left of his cigarette. This was pure bliss. I had a friend. I once again shut my eyes, lifted my hands into the air and spun in a circle. I spun and spun and spun. Something like freedom and happiness encompassed me. Tiffany's sobering face was far away and I for once enjoyed my life.

"You wanna go steal some coke from da gangbangers at the 711 on Clark," Paul asked out of nowhere and I abruptly stopped. Swinging to him, my mouth was wide open, but I wasn't sure I heard correctly. "Is that a yes?" I paused cocking my head. How could it be a yes? "You know I can't tell with that mask in the way," Paul remarked and I shook off my undercurrent of upset. He couldn't read minds (or my face).

"PAUL," I barely begun as he innocently stared right back at me. "Why do you want to risk your life over coke," I quizzed.

"Wha'? It could be funny," he replied shrugging nonchant.

"Ya know what? Why don't you go try and I'll watch and be your look out."

"Okay! Lessgo," Paul clapped once and ran to his bike. I froze before deciding to follow. This would be interesting to witness.

As it turned out, the kids had stopped going to that corner to sell. Paul was particularly unhappy, but got over it in the span of a minute.

As the days passed by, every night Paul met me from outside my work. I was always greeted by some good song to loosen me up and throw my worries away. Also, Paul's routine was perfect. We would run around the boardwalk for an hour or two and I would attempt to keep him out of too much trouble.

…Too much trouble? He tried to jump over a moving vehicle to prove that he could!

Paul must have been a terror when he was a kid.

He still is a kid.

At least, he knew how to cheer me up and I would always be given a bike ride back to my Jeep. Paul's hooting and hollering was beginning to rub off on me, and on occasion I would do the same. I always left satisfied and eager for another night spent with him.

Sometimes I found myself admiring him too often and imagining a relationship. It felt like one. It was always me and Paul spending time together. I could see that Paul did regard me differently than the other girls. I could also tell that he liked me in some ways, but the mask made all the difference in the world.

The mask had forced Paul to not see me as his potential girl, but as a girl that he enjoyed running around town with. I really hated this thing! I had already considered the mask as a symbol for the end of my normalcy. Now, it prevented the one relationship that I considered in wanting to have.

It was during our time together, that I learned about Paul's other friends. Paul would hint without my prying. Remarking that a guy called David would like to think that he was "bad to the bone", Dwayne was a "stubborn pain in the ass", and Marko was "simply impossible to beat at thumb war".

It had been almost 2 weeks of an established routine, when I excitedly exited Bill's and wasn't greeted by a dancing Paul. I paused, taken aback by the empty and silenced lot. I was horribly at a loss and a little unnerved. Where was he? Maybe something…

"Hey you, scary girl!" Relieved, I turned to glare at Paul and prepared to chew him out when I noticed the two guys following close behind him. My comeback froze on my lips before I started to get a little angry. Really… you couldn't give me ANY warning, could you Paul?!

I didn't know that he was going to bring… them! Instinctually, I knew these were his friends: the Lost Boys. Really- I shouldn't be surprised. This was Paul's style and it was obvious that I would eventually meet them. I had to accept that by hanging out with Paul meant that I would have to associate with the rest of his friends.

One had a boyish lean physique. His blonde and long curly hair was familiar, and I flashed back to the time that he had pushed Tiffany away from him like some useless animal. So this was the bitch that had taken Tiffany's innocence? I hated him without reservation. His lips were quirked in an awful presumptive smirk that set me on fire. The hair was girlish, but the swagger in his walk was at ease and sure of his own manhood. His jacket was quite a tragic ensemble, and I felt like sending a blow to his sense of masculinity by asking if he was gay.

The other one was what one would call 'tall dark and handsome'. He didn't wear a shirt, showing off his perfectly sculpted body. While Paul was a bit lanky, the dark one was every bit of a man should be. He possessed no presumptive gait but silently observed me with his dark brown intelligent eyes. His leather jacket was open letting my eyes slide over his physique unabashedly. I couldn't be sure, but he looked Native-American which would explain his exotic face and the cool looking tooth earring.

"I would like you to meet Marko…" Paul pointed to the girl pretending to be a man, "and Dwayne," Paul pointing to the dark one. Dwayne? Well- that's an unusual name for someone as exotic as him. "This is Scarface…" Instinctively, my hand shot out and hit him upside the head. "I mean- the beautiful Ana," Paul amended while rubbing his head and giving me a mischievous look.

"Nice intro," I muttered noticing his grinning blonde friend and a blank Dwayne.

"Wha'?" Paul asked while opening his arms.

"You guys aren't willingly his friends, are you," I snidely asserted. The blonde, to my great annoyance, openly snickered but Dwayne barely twitched lips. Paul sent me an incredulous glare.

"S'cuse me, but…"

"We most definitely were blackmailed," Marko replied, cutting Paul off from his rant.

"Money was involved," Dwayne added. Paul began to get red in the face.

"A lot of money," Marko concluded while I felt myself warm at the help that I was receiving from his friends.

"Marko- we both know that you couldn't find a decent girl without my help. And Dwayne… you…you…"

"Backstabber?" Dwayne supplied with curiosity.

"Ye-ah!" Paul replied breathlessly. This was funny. It was almost like Paul was off his game.

"Paul- the only decent girls that you find are of… loose quality anyway," I added. Marko gazed at me appreciatively.

"When exactly have you eva helped me find a girl," Marko quizzically questioned quirking his eyebrow. Paul opened his mouth and nothing came out.

"A speechless Paul? Now, I've seen everything," a strange voice crept over me and goose-bumbs overtook my arms. A rotten wind blew and some breath left me catching sight of the man walking out of the darkened alley next to Bill's and the abandoned office building.

Stepping into the light of the parking lot, the stranger was completely colorless and in stark contrast to the rest of the boys. Clothed in a black trench and pants (even his hands were covered in black leather gloves) and bleached white-blonde spiked mullet, the man flicked the ash off his burning cigarette. His skin was as pale as his diverted blue eyes, but over a week's worth of a beard grew around his cheeks and pointed mouth. The color of his beard was not the same as his hair. It was more of a gold-blonde and not white.

I knew who he was immediately. This was Paul's leader: David.

David… The name fit.

David's eyes did not meet my own but stared at Paul expectantly. The air around him reeked of something… devious and self-assured. It could have been the random wind, but I could feel something naturally be drawn from deep inside of me. I was intrigued. I could sense a vibrant history, partially because of the medallion shaped cross pined on his coat. David's pull was different than the boys, and I could see in his demeanor why he was the leader. In his unique and wicked way, he held a dangerous lure that I didn't dare admit.

"Fuck you, David," Paul snapped at David's amused face, who was taking his last drag from the cigarette.

"This is David, Ana. David, this is Ana," Dwayne politely and quietly introduced taking up Paul's responsibility. David glanced up from squishing his cigarette with his boot to look at me for the first time. My eyes averted immediately and my posture tensed. Something was off. I couldn't name it, but I consciously moved toward a frowning Paul and declined to meet his eyes.

"Pleasure," David nodded to me in my peripherals, while I nodded back.

"So… who's hungry," Marko asked, breaking the awkward first meeting that we were experiencing. The boys virtually smirked at once and I felt out of the loop. Paul's little temper tantrum lifted and he perked up.

"I am," Paul replied quickly. Dwayne nodded and David shrugged. The boys glanced to me at once and I froze.

"I could eat." The words tumbled out of my mouth.

"Where to then," Marko asked at me.

"How 'bout McDee's," Paul suggested hopefully -Thank God!- while the boys together as a whole groaned in disgust.

"We've been there how many times in the last month? In the last week? Dude- lets go to China House," Marko proposed. David lightly chuckled shaking his head.

"You're forgetting Paul's… fiasco with the Asian waitress," David pointed out while sending Paul an amused and indulgent glance. The boys once again sighed exasperatedly and I glanced at Paul curiously. Paul almost looked sheepish, but he shrugged instead. "We can't go back any time soon."

"Jesus- Paul, I think slappin' her ass when her parents are standin' a few feet away wasn't a great idea," Marko chuckled. Paul smirked, but forced it to down (but not even the slightest bit successful) when he met my eyes.

"He's had worse," Dwayne chipped in and I whole-heartedly agree. Paul and fully formed thoughts don't mesh well. It usually spelled disaster.

"Well… where we gonna eat then," Paul drawled and Marko shrugged. "McDee's it is!" Shrugging, the guys strolled out the parking lot and David retreated into the alleyway. Paul motioned for me to follow. Glancing at the vanished Neo-Nazi, I wondered why he wasn't going with the rest of us, but I doubt that I would have ever gotten an answer. The guys didn't even glance twice at his exit.

Paul slung his arm around my shoulders making me turn away from the alley and casually hummed some Jimi Hendrix song. With no other option, I observed the two guys strolling in front of me. Marko swung his left arm while his right was perfectly stationary and his bejeweled jacket twinkled in the passing shops light. Dwayne was silent despite feeding off of Marko's careless swagger, but I soon realized why he was in the gang.

Dwayne, at first, would smack every sign that we passed as hard as he could, making a really ugly noise that I would jump at without fail, receiving congratulations from the other two. He found my reaction extremely funny, and even more so when on occasion, he would walk right into a busy intersection, forcing cars to stop unexpectedly and honk their horns nearly causing serious accidents. He would even turn in the MIDDLE of a crosswalk while ignoring the traffic, and beckon us to follow with a grin. The only reason Paul didn't was because of my death grip.

Marko had decided to be a bit tamer by jumping on benches, walking across them. At this point, I assumed Marko would have manners and not jump on a bench with a couple occupying it. However, I was mistaken when we came upon one such coupleb and he continued to step across their shocked faces and bodies. A slew of curses followed us. Paul was surprisingly tame and sent the couple a middle-finger in reply. The boy's responding laughter was mockingly loud, boisterous, and rowdy.

"Hey! Marko, ya got any bud," Paul yelled uncaringly and I elbowed him in the side, making him flinch but not move away from me. He turned to me and once again gave me an indulgent glance. "I mean… gum." Marko turned back to us with another smirk and walked backward. Marko's eyes were very big and open taking in Paul and then me.

"Nah… Fresh out," Marko snickered and whipped back around, chuckling lightly. Paul opened his mouth, but Marko cut him off, "Dwayne too." I snorted at Paul's crestfallen face. "But I'm pretty sure David's holdin' what was left from las' night," Marko amended. I frowned, and twitched when it irritated my healing skin.

"Yea-ahhh," Paul celebrated skipping a step while dragging me with him. Turning to me, he grinned again without reservation. "Chill out gurl! It's just gum. Nothing illegal about that." Marko ahead of me sniggered then covered it with a lousy cough.

"Well, you couldn't make it anymore obvious, can you," I rolled my eyes. Paul's eyes twinkled.

"Yes, he can," Marko chirped jumping from one bench to another.

We strolled past busy Broadway and the ever congested Luther St. There were many pedestrians and the Lost Boys took the opportunity to act out Moses parting of the Red Sea. Girls giggled and eyed them appraisingly, men ignored and or scuttled out the way. As many nasty looks that they got, they also were bathed in adoration. I watched the traffic as well, observing many slowing cars that passed by. What the fuck? Were they legends or something?

"Why didn't you ride to come get me like you always do," I asked Paul. Paul didn't answer as he was busy staring at a brunette slowly licking her ice cream while giving him a cheap 'come-hither' gaze. I forced him to continue our pace by latching onto his shoulder, but he didn't turn away from her. One track mind, I swear.

"Well… Paul wanted to walk," Marko answered in Paul's stead. My hands warmed up and I was exasperated. I wasn't asking him. Marko continued to stare back at me and grin, showing me his perfect teeth and a bobbing curl in the middle of his forehead. His lack of attention should have awarded him many run-in's with the other pedestrians, but because of their renown everyone moved out of the way. My eyes narrowed. I really didn't like this.

Apparently, neither did another dude who grabbed Marko's unsuspecting jacket. The light walk was finished, as was Paul's winks to the chick from afar. Dwayne did not move, but he tensed ready for action and Paul's arm slide off my shoulders moving in front of me.

The guy holding Marko wore a dark blue and white high school jacket though it had been clear that he had long since left those days behind him. His beard was thick and auburn and his gnarly eyebrows were in an angry expression. A crowd in the restaurant next to us stood from their chairs in the inside and pressed their ugly faces at the windows.

"Marko…" the man began in a quiet anger, but he couldn't seem to hold the rage at bay any longer. The man literally exploded. "What the fuck man?! After everythin' that I've done! …I'm gonna lose my license! It's the only thing I got!!! And you sold me out to the fucking Cha-cho's! Those fucking compadres will SKULL FUCK me in my sleep. Do you have ANY IDEA what I am going to lose?" The man shook Marko, pulling him into the man's red face. Marko was still, unsurprised, and uncaring.

"Wilson. If you don't let go of my jacket, one of my brothers will make you," Marko murmured in a chilling voice. Wilson didn't budge. "And they will get blood on my jacket, so… This is somethin' both you and I don't want." Wilson's face didn't alter, but he violently pushed Marko away after a pause and a curl of his lips. Moments passed, but Marko and Wilson stared each other in a silent battle of wills.

"I want compensation and my license," Wilson growlingly demanded. Paul snorted.

"Yur gonna have to take that up with David," Marko returned calmly. Wilson's nostrils flared. His eyes glanced back to Paul and my frozen body, as if weighing his options. "My brothers won't do business with you, so don't even try," Marko snapped.

"Then tell him I wanna see him before the end of the week. You know where to find me," Wilson growled. Marko nodded genteelly and Wilson stalked past without another word. The boys turned and watched him slink off into the gawking crowd.

"He might be trouble for us later," Paul declared in a tight voice that I had never heard before. I stared at Paul's wondrous expression. His face was siren and his blue eyes were dancing in a different fire that I didn't understand. The smile that spread across his features was also clouding any of my insight of him, along with the lick of his lips.

"David gets to decide what to do with him… Besides, I'm wondering why we listened to you about walking in the first place," Marko replied. My eyes wondered to the brightly colored sign of McDonalds only a block away.

"'cause I'm convincin'," Paul challenged in a drawl.

"For a slut, maybe," Marko mentioned.

"You're sayin' that you're a slut, ya know," Paul countered in a snicker and had to stop the coming playful argument that Paul (and I bet Marko) would not drop for the entire night.

"Uh-hemmm. Guys… McDee's is right over there," I pointed out and they followed my lead. I left a grinning Paul behind, but Marko decided to walk with me to my great displeasure. I ignored his prying eyes on my masked face.

"Where you from," Marko asked. I started and tensed.

"Why do you ask," I dodged the question, suspicious and alert.

"I assume that you're a runaway, right?" We were so close to McDonald's and I would be free to move away from him without suspicion.

"You know what they say about assuming. It makes an ass out of you and…"

"What the fuck!" Paul broke in, pushing past me and Marko. He stood in front a packed McDonalds, in what looked like a child's birthday party. I liked kids, but inside was a mess. Kids were running everywhere, while parents congregated in a small section to the side. One fat little boy with short blond spiked hair had the gall to purposefully tap a lady waiting in line and throw up all over her flower print dress. The boys and I were eyeing the crowd in disbelief.

"A fucking nightmare," Paul muttered to himself.

"Come on! Let's order quickly," Marko suggested.

"Why can't we go somewhere else," I questioned and stilled when Marko and Dwayne looked to me.

"'cause we're waiting for David…"

"Who has been waiting on you," a voice piped up behind me and I jerked away from it. David ignored me out right, while a giggling Paul smacked me roughly on my shoulder blade.

"Gurl! You're waaaaayyy too jumpy," Paul chortled.

Addressing the boys, David motioned to two sketchy guys waiting outside, "Boys, introduce yourselves." Huh? Paul won't leave me…

OH MY GOD… he's fucking leaving me! Paul gave me a toothy smile and made to follow Marko and Dwayne. I grabbed a hold of Paul's jacket. I wasn't- in no way- going to stay with David. Fuck. That.

"You and David find a table. I'll be right back," Paul smiled at me, rapidly changing my mind. However, I couldn't fight the despair and coldness fill me as I realized that I was left alone with David. Great! Just when I could escape Marko, I get traded to David with no Paul to serve as a buffer.

Without a word, David stalked past me into the building and toward a miraculous empty (but still trash filled) booth. David sat and I followed quietly. This was strange.

David glanced around the room and I did the same, but suddenly I felt his eyes on my mask and I couldn't help but for the first time meet his eyes. I was slapped in the face.

His eyes did not sparkle. They possessed an impossible blackness despite their light ice blue hue. I could not comprehend the nothingness shinning back at me. The eyes were not judging or harsh, but mocking the world. My mother once said that the eyes were a way of looking into someone's soul. David's eyes did not give you glimpse. His were so ambiguous that the secrets inside could hold me captive in my curiosity. I am not sure how long a stared into his eyes but I had a gut feeling- the kind that you get on a roller-coaster when it suddenly and unexpectedly drops- that he was assessing my own green orbs as thoroughly as I. When I realized my discomfort, I broke eye contact first.

"So… Do you come here often," I asked while gesturing to the horribly bright restaurant filled with screaming and running children. To anyone else, it would have been a disgustingly mundane question. However, his eyebrows arched while his eyes finally grasped who I am and not regarding me as he would everyone else. It was a reaction of slight surprise, assuming that he was not used to normal small talk. It made sense; he intimidated many and was hardly ever seen not causing trouble. The simplest of tasks for his group of friends, such as walking down the street, was next to impossible in attracting attention.

"No," was his monotone answer. It was amazing how little reaction that I could pick up from him.

"Why not?" His eyes flickered ever so slightly to me without having to meet my gaze.

"Marko or Paul usually come here to pick up the food. I avoid children," he replied while deciding to stretch his limbs across the booth and under the table.

"What kinds of food do you guys like to eat," I asked searching desperately for a question to ask to keep the conversation running smoothly. David glanced back at me while his head was turned and, if it was possible, his eyes became deeper and mischievous.

"All kinds."

I had no idea how to respond, but I did so anyway. "So… um, how old are you? Do you go to school?" The questions were fired quickly in my nervous need to keep things running smoothly. I couldn't let there be silence between us. Silence from him was deafening and threatening. I preferred his creepy voice to fill the void.

"I'm 21. I haven't gone to school since I was 18," he supplied while beginning to stare intensely at me, daring me to ask another personal question. Like that was going to stop me.

"So you didn't go to college? Where's your family," I politely inquired.

His eyebrow quirked and he slightly paused before he answering, "My family couldn't stay together, so I left. College… isn't for me." Wow… those were honest and reasonable answers, despite some vagueness. I had a feeling that I would not get a lot of those from him.

"So, your family fought a lot? Why did you come to Santa Carla then?"

"This is a runaway city. Perfect for someone like me," he answered while lightly scanning the crowd in the restaurant.

"Is your family looking for you?" His eyes flickered back to mine and I felt some of my breath involuntary leave me. His eyes could paralyze a fly.

I think he knew it too.

"They are not my family anymore." I paused while collecting my thoughts. This conversation was rapidly spinning out of my control and comfort level. I needed something lighter.

"Paul, Dwayne, and Marko are your family now? I don't know how I feel about Paul though. I would drop him from family to pet status if I were you," I inwardly smiled at my fondness for Paul and let the conversation warm. David did not award me with a smile, but his features somehow lightened, even after a few startling seconds of him continuing to stare. I doubted if he had ever truly smiled. Reaching into the pocket of his trench, he pulled out a battered carton of cigarettes and lighter.

"You can have him if you want. I'll sell him for a good meal at Bill's," he remarked while smirking victoriously while tapping out a cigarette out of its carton and lighting it. I paused before realizing that Paul had told him about me. I swallowed hard, uncomfortable at the thought. I should have realized sooner, but in some weird way it flattered and disturbed me that I was a subject of conversation with Paul's friends.

"Paul is not worth that much. Maybe a pair of my old sockets might be a deal," I grinned painfully at David and I choose to let some of my tension evaporate.

"Deal," he agreed while nodding and slipping off his black glove. David's pale skin contrasted pearly white against the bright red table. His hand open and across the table, I slipped my own sweaty palms across my shorts before grasping his hand. At first I noticed the clear lack of warmth of his hand before something clenched in my chest.

I let go quickly and abruptly. The good feelings were gone. I did not want to chit-chat anymore with him or even bother to make an excuse. Standing up, I watched his curious eyes observe but not stop me as I swept off into the dangerous crowd. Dodging as many children as I could, I left David cold in his seat and headed for the exit.

"Where do ya think yur goin'?" Someone grabbed my arm and I was jerked around to see Paul frowning with cute perk on his lips. I momentarily melted in my mind and shook myself out of my day dreams (involving me just throwing caution to the wind).

"I'm… I'm just going to go, ok?" I asked him feeling ruffled at my sudden fear of David and my own strong feelings of attraction at Paul. As his face fell, my hand twitched wanting to reach up and touch his sharp cheek bones. I clenched my hands into fists to resist.

"Oh… Um. Ok. Did he… ah… scare you off," Paul questioned sheepishly and I glanced over at the smoking David who stared creepily at us both, still completely at ease despite his surroundings. What a creep.

"No," I determinedly answered while sending a small unnoticed glare at David. "But I have to go anyway. I will see you tomorrow after work, kay?"

"Sure," he smiled at me. Letting myself not glow in Paul's light for too long, I let my feet walk me out the door.

What am I doing? Snap out of it! I have to let this go. He is not the kind of guy to ever hope for a stabile relationship. Regardless, logically it was a bad idea for me to get involved with a… ladies man when I have never even had a man. That one date with Alex was enough dates to last me a lifetime. The disaster could have been avoided if I had been honest about his character.

So what was Paul's character?

I knew Paul had a habit of making people feel what he wanted them to feel. I doubt that he was 100% honest with me, but his personality could never be faked or curbed as he didn't have that level of self-control. He did what he wanted to do, including people. He was uncaring, obtuse, magnificent, annoying, and probably a great kisser…

Ah- fuck! He sleeps with anyone, Ana! Feeling an inner anger at myself and a little directed at Paul, I felt some of my infatuation of Paul dissipate a bit. Not to mention, I had a flickering feeling that he set me up to be alone with David. What was the purpose, though?

If David was anything, he was without a doubt charismatic. He didn't need to speak because his eyes said a lot more and yet told you nothing at all. Somehow he had managed to infuriate me like Paul. David was a leader of the Lost Boys gang and seemed like the right kind of person to run it. He was cold, calculating, charming, and frightening. I could tell David was an all or nothing kind of man, who would potentially do anything to win.

Marko didn't seem too bad, I admit. However, my suspiciousness of his character would not leave me. Tiffany's heartbreak was still too vivid for me to let go. Paul and Marko were also very close I could also tell. Actually, they all were close enough to be mistaken as brothers despite their lack in a shared appearance.

As I settled into my white down comforter, my thoughts lingered on the Lost Boys and I suddenly realized why the name was so familiar to me. Could that be a Peter-Pan reference? The Lost Boys are... Runaways. They never grow old- never grow up.

Of course, that would be Paul.

I smiled at the thought, as I feel asleep.

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