Even Angels Aren't Perfect Part 2

Even Angels Aren’t Perfect

           The man was tall, perhaps 5 or 6 inches taller than me, standing at about 6”1’. He was in his early twenties. He was well built, muscles toned. His hair was curly and brown, the color of melted dark chocolate, ending just at the nape of his neck. His features were sharp and strong, defined. His eyes were dark, chestnut colored. He was a very interesting man to be sure. But even though I hadn’t seen him, he seemed to be a native. Was he from another neighborhood?

His clothes were simple but well put together, a black long sleeved shirt, navy jeans, and a striped scarf.  He walked through the crowds with an ease only learned by living in the city for a long time. So he was local, but not close enough I ever saw him. He looked as if he could have some money, but he wasn’t rich. Middle class? It didn’t matter in the end, I supposed. 

The trick here would be to navigate to his weakness. Was he forgetful, nervous, or distracted? Perhaps he would fall for the innocent young girl act. But with the way he walks so fearlessly, he couldn’t be that naïve. I would just have to find out. I had to be careful though, or this situation could end badly. Smart people got kids like me in trouble. Still, he was new and interesting, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

He was looking at a newspaper, a coffee cup in his hand. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, seemingly aware of his surroundings. He moved when a person was about to run into him, sidestepping just in time. Damn, that meant he was observant. I was fairly confident that I couldn’t sneak up on him, at least not with time to get away. That meant I’d have to charm my way into making him trust me.

I pulled my hair into a pony and took a few deep breaths. I would have to attempt the cute girl voice, almost an octave higher than my normal one. I fixed a smile on my face and changed my gait to almost a skip, bouncy and bubbly.

I flounced over to the newsstand he was at, surveying the papers with youthful curiosity. The man glanced at me for a fraction of a second, then returned to his paper. I picked one up and scanned it quickly, looking for a common topic. Ah! Celebrity getting a DUI and crashing into a couple! I could use that to promote my innocence.

“That’s so terrible,” I said ruefully, almost crushed over the situation, “How could someone do something like that?”

The man looked up once more; curious as to whom I was talking to. I turned to him, pretending mock outrage that someone could be so careless, venting my feelings like an over trusting girl would do.

“Don’t you think that’s just the most irresponsible thing to do? They shouldn’t be driving if they’re drunk! Why were they?”

He paused for a moment, confused as to why I was speaking to him. He glanced about to see if there was anyone else, but I was clearly looking at him.

“Are you talking to me, kid?” he asked with a deep voice.

I looked up to his face, making my eyes wide and a little hurt.

“Yeah,” I said, “I saw you reading the same paper so I thought maybe you’d understand what I was talking about. Oh… Are you not there yet?”

He obviously wasn’t approached a lot, because his suspicion seemed to grow.

“No, I read it…” he trailed off, trying to figure out what he was supposed to say, “Yeah, I guess. What’s new with the world though? It happens all the time.”

I looked down sorrowfully, hoping he would engage again in the conversation. What the hell was his problem? Most people would have had their money gone by now, falling for the trick. Was he just really antisocial?

“That’s a little bit of a depressing way to look at it, don’t you think?” I asked, throwing in a light laugh.

“Don’t you have parents to go bother, kid?” he asked gruffly, looking at his paper disinterestedly.

Hey! What kind of person says that? What an ass!

I made my eyes water, looking as offended as possible by his comment.

“That’s a terrible thing to say! What did I ever do to you?” I asked, but continued before he even answered, “And for your information they’re on a business trip. So, no, I can’t go ‘bother’ them.”

He looked at me strangely, and then turned away.

“What about you, Mr. I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Talk-To-Anyone? What are you supposed to be doing?”

Without turning around, he said, “I’m supposed to be going home. And ending this conversation.”

He paid for his paper, but the window of time for me to grab his wallet was too small, and he’d be on me within minutes. I could run, but I wasn’t a miracle worker. He stuffed it into his inside coat pocket, probably the hardest place to take things from. He was definitely a smart one.

As he started to walk away, I wondered if he was too big a fish to fry. He’d been in the city for too long. Maybe I should just stick with tourists.

 But there was something interesting about him, something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He was too suspicious and too readily snappy, something that meant he had more going on in that head than any of these brainless people. I was too curious sometimes, you know they say curiosity killed the cat, but I couldn’t help studying people. I like to know what makes them tick, so irregulars attract a lot of interest.

Well, it was only 5:30, so I could wander around and “accidentally” run into the man again. If nothing else was accomplished, it would at least piss him off. I enjoyed irritating people as much as possible.

He was walking down the row of shops owned by chains, the gaudy colors and bright screens a painful assault on one’s eyes.

I kept a respectful distance, studying his numerous choices in stops on the way. Going home my ass. While he was busy, I took the opportunity to gather some more “assets” if you will. I didn’t want to go back to Klaus’s and give him less than usual, not since he’d just come back from his trip.

I turned around from looking at a store poster, only to come face to face with the man from earlier. Well, it was more like face to sternum. It took all my self control to not squeak in surprise. His expression was something that was beyond irritated, and I might have been a bit scared if I didn’t live where I did. Klaus made that face a lot.

“What the hell are you doing, kid? Are you following me? Have you lost your mind?” he asked angrily, a bit too close for comfort.

I didn’t know what to say. How had he noticed I was here? There were a bunch of people around me.

Thinking on my feet and hoping I wouldn’t screw up, I replied, “Following you? Please! Sorry to burst your bubble, but this town isn’t owned by you. I go places too. Besides, if I was going to follow someone, they’d be more interesting than you. And my name isn’t kid. It’s Lucy, if you’re going to call me anything.”

He looked agitated for a moment, and then gave me a bitter, sarcastic smile.

“Is that so? Well, it sure is a coincidence that you’re in the same area as me at the same time, and so far from the place we met too. How small the world is.”

“Well that’s what they say. Although it doesn’t make that much sense because the world is an entire planet, hardly something small. I suppose it has some metaphorical meaning I don’t get.”

He paused, caught off guard by my statement. I think he might have laughed, but he didn’t seem quite capable of laughing now.

“Are you always this irritatingly stubborn, kid?” he asked, softer this time.

I gave him a glare for the title, but answered anyway.

“Pretty much. I think it’s the hair. Or maybe just that I like to argue.”

“No kidding,” he responded.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, collecting his thoughts.

“Okay, look,” he said, looking at me, “I don’t know what weird little thing you have against me, but I need you to stop. I can’t have kids following me around.”

That was an open challenge to me.

“I’m not following you, I already told you that. I have some business to attend to in this part of town, that’s all. I don’t have a ‘weird little thing against you,’” I said, making quote signs with my fingers.

He scoffed, muttering something about weird, stubborn people.

“Just…” he trailed off, “Just don’t get in the way if you’re going to ‘attend to business.’”

I rolled my eyes, and he stepped away.

We walked along the street, watching the pedestrians slowly return to their homes. I made sure I wasn’t close enough to him that I was “following” him, but I was going in the general direction.

 If he was going put up with me tagging along, I was going to use him to cure my boredom. He was fun to argue with, his banter imaginative.

The sun was going down, but I figured I still had plenty of time to get back. How long could it take to get home?