Any characters/plots/histories/circumstances, etc. found within the movie/novelization/script or otherwise stated for the movie The Lost Boys isn't mine. Duh. Any characters/plots/histories/circumstances, etc. not found within the movie/novelization/script or otherwise stated for the movie The Lost Boys is mine. So no touchy.

"Now, if you could just sign here, Miss Matise, the house is yours."

The gentleman sitting on the other side of the desk from her smiled his slime-dripping smile as he offered her a pen.

"I have one. Thanks," she said, wiggling the pen at him.

Detta had met some sleazy people in her life but this real estate broker was the tops. If his V05 hair and faux designer suits weren't enough, his trying-to-be-intellectual-but-only-sounding-condescending tone was it. She just wanted to buy a house. Nothing extravagant but something nice. She wished she could say this move had been a long time coming but frankly, she just wasn't old enough for that. It was a transfer, pure and simple. Her editor wanted her working closer with the San Francisco office. She told him she was freelance and that location didn't really matter in her field. He called her a rookie, threatened her job and ultimately forced her to move but supplied her with a rather nice bit of compensation for her troubles.

Or rather, compensation meant to keep her mouth shut. She had walked in on some rather unsavory business being conducted by her editor and one of his many temporary secretaries. Funny how little a piece of gold on a finger actually means. He panicked and, given her access and ability to report, he feared that she would let his secret out. As if it weren't a common knowledge secret anyway but now she had proof. He felt she taunted him every time she looked at him. This is also the same man that convinced himself that the janitors were trying to break into his desk when they cleaned. While he was in the office. Sitting at his desk. With the keys in his hands. And he couldn't fire her. She was one of the smarter Tits that would sue. He knew that. And yes. Tits. When referencing women to his other testosterone counterparts, they didn't have names. Just Tits. Not Toots. Tits. Occasionally he would slip and actually call someone that to her face but he would chuckle it off. Few of the women in her office had IQs higher than toasters but not many so more often than not they would look a little confused and giggle.

But not Detta. She was a smart blonde. Much to her editor's disbelief. She was convinced that was why he was never that fond of her, never gave her perks like longer lunches, days off, smoke breaks. When she was in the office, she sat huddled at her desk shoved into a corner, stacked high with old newspapers and magazines, no extra light and a typewriter as ancient as Alexandria. She didn't conform so neither did he.

And now he was shunting her out. He didn't even want her in the same city, nor on the same coast. If she wanted to keep her job she needed to leave everything behind. It paid too well not to. So she accepted her transfer, and generous compensation, and relocated to California. She wished she could have had some time to look for a place but he nearly dropkicked her onto the plane and popped the champagne cork before she even departed. She packed what she could into the luggage limits for the flight and had everything else shipped. Living in New York, she didn't have a need for a car but here, she didn't know how close she could get to the office and didn't know how often she needed to be in. That could prove problematic.

Her editor, being the generous man that he is, stuffed her and all of her belongings into a hotel in San Jose on the company's dollar until she found something, which had "better be quick." If talk was cheap then silence was expensive. But Detta didn't ask for it so she didn't care. If he wanted to put forth such funds, that was his problem. So, considering the amount of her transfer bonus that she received, she decided to buy something instead of rent. Why not? It would be more cost effective in the end and she could probably even pay up front. That would be a large portion of her check but it wasn't severance. She was still making money. Maybe she could pick up some side jobs as a supplemental income. She would see.

Detta went to a real estate agent in San Jose and they passed off this sleaze on her. Was he the "charmer" of the office? Did he actually smear Vaseline on his teeth to make them shine? Did the rest of the office think she would fall for his shtick? Did she really come off as a dumb blonde? She didn't look like a flake; at least she didn't think so. Stupid stereotypes. Not all blondes are brainless! Regardless, he oozed towards her when he saw her and turned on his "charm" that smelled like fermented Drakkar.

"I'm looking for something around San Francisco that I won't have to sell my soul to buy."

He smiled a smile that could repel prostitutes and said, "Let me show you what we have," and he ushered her to his desk to flip through his picture book of properties.

Unfortunately what he had to offer her didn't really appeal to her. They were either too far away or so dilapidated cockroaches would turn away in disgust.

"They're fixer-uppers!" he said with enthusiasm.

"Detta only raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like a fixer-upper type person to you, Mr.…?"

"Diamond." Detta stifled a laugh and covered it with a cough when he mentioned his name. She should have expected it. "No. I guess not then. Looks like paint might frighten you!" Mr. Diamond chuckled. Detta looked aghast. That was funny? He saw her look, dropped his movie star smile and cleared his throat. "Well, all that's left are these two. One in Monterey, one in Santa Carla."

Detta rolled her eyes and sighed. She was about to get snotty with him again but bit back her tongue. It wasn't his fault. He was only working with what she could give him. She took the two pictures that he offered her and looked them over.

"What kind of distance am I look at between these places and San Francisco?"

Mr. Diamond settled himself back into his chair. "Santa Carla is about seventy-five miles from San Fran and Monterey is south of Santa Carla."

Detta's eyes widened as she handed the picture of the house in Monterey back. "That one's just too far. This one's even too far but it looks like I'm all out of options, huh? It looks nice though."

It was modest, the house, and, from the picture, looked to be sitting atop a cliff. It looked to be a single storey, maybe with some attic space or even a loft judging by the elevated windows. The house itself was white, brown shutters and door, in good condition, well-kempt yard. Why not?

"Can I take a look at this one?"

"Let me get my keys!" He nearly sang his line and his enthusiasm rose exponentially.

Detta was apprehensive about getting in the car with him but did it nonetheless. The drive from San Jose to Santa Carla wasn't long, mainly because it was mid-afternoon when they set out. As they got closer to town, Detta began to smell the salt on the air. It was a nice departure from the smell of exhaust off the Hudson. It was ocean air. She'd have to clean her window more often, that's for sure. The town itself looked like a haven for punks and surfers, runaways and teenagers, perhaps even some old hippies.

"Are there any adults in this town?"

Mr. Diamond chuckled. "Santa Carla definitely has a younger population but you can't be that old that you wouldn't want to join in the fun."

Detta's words caught in her throat. She didn't know quite how to answer that. "I'm twenty three, Mr. Diamond. Definitely not a teenager but I'm also not above acting like one." She smirked slightly.

"Twenty three, huh? Can't say I've ever had anyone your age looking to buy a house. Most of them can hardly rent an apartment. So where'd you get the cash?"

Where did this guy come up with these gems? Detta scoffed and beat around the bush. "It was a transfer bonus from my boss. He wanted to make sure I could make myself comfortable. Make the move easier to take, you know?"

Mr. Diamond's arm shot out in front of Detta's face, coming within inches of her nose. "There. That's the boardwalk. Pretty much the center of town. If you look over there, the pier's down there. Kind of fancy, that end. This is the main beach. There are a bunch of smaller ones dotting the coast but everyone comes here."

Detta's body was forced back against the seat to avoid coming in contact with Mr. Diamond's arm. Only when he replaced his hand on the wheel did she chance a look out the window. It definitely looked like a fun town but she was thankful that she already had a job. It didn't look like Santa Carla was all that rich in employment opportunities.

As they drove further through town, Mr. Diamond continued to talk. "You have your basic grocery store, drug store, all that scattered about town, most set back a bit from the beach. There's a small gym if you like that kind of thing, town hall, et cetera, et cetera. It's your standard small town, just set on the beach."

Detta wondered why the house she was going to look at was so cheap. It was coastal property. That alone should have rocketed the price. Santa Carla didn't look run down or slummy. So what was it?

After climbing a rough grade up to the top of a bluff in Mr. Diamond's used up Mercedes, they had finally reached their destination. Detta was right. The house was on the bluff. There was a decent sized front yard, thick trees to either side and blue in the back. She looked around and frowned.

"Am I on the moon or something? Don't I have neighbors?"

"On either side, yeah. The houses just aren't that close up here is all. See? If you look down through those trees there, you can see red and white, probably the car and the house. Now, let me show you inside."

Detta nodded and followed him inside. He turned on every light he could, even though it wasn't necessary, making sure she could see very nook and cranny of the house. They walked into what would be a living room. It and the dining room were separated by an island. Next to the dining room, separated by another island, was the kitchen. Off the kitchen was the half bath and next to that a decent sized bedroom. The second floor was lofted; the stairs leading up were at the front door. The loft itself had a picture window that looked out back over the ocean and it's own full bathroom. Back downstairs, off the dining room was the deck, shielded by a large sliding glass door. Detta walked out onto the deck and grasped the wrout iron banister. There was only about fifty feet between her and the edge of the cliff but the view was astounding. Open ocean and open sky. Detta frowned and whirled around to face Mr. Diamond.

"Ok. What's the deal? Am I on Ocean Avenue or something? Are the walls going to start bleeding once I move in?"

"I don't—"

"There's no way this house should be in my price range but here it is. Was there a mass murder here I should know about?"

Mr. Diamond laughed. "No murders. The last occupants had to leave in a hurry. Well, a hurry a year ago. People like to visit beach towns, not live in them. And a lot of people are put off by the kids. So, the house was on the market for a long time and the price kept dropping."

She looked at him skeptically, only believing half of what he said but not letting on. Detta turned her head to look over her shoulder quickly before walking back inside. "Well, I hope I don't have to go to the office a lot. I'll take it."

She wiggled the pen in front of Mr. Diamond a bit too rigorously since he started to look at her oddly. She smirked at him and put pen to paper, signing her name on the dotted line that would grant her the deed to her new house. Detta leaned back in her chair and watched him compile the rest of the paperwork. She shifted uncomfortably, the heat of the office starting to get to her. She much preferred the agent's car to this heat box of a room. At least the car had windows that could open and was a bit more spacious.

"Now, this will release the transfer so just sign here."

Wire transfers. What would she do without them? Well, her closing wouldn't be going this smoothly, that's for sure. She leaned forward again and signed the paper before tucking her pen back into her purse. Mr. Diamond reached into a drawer in his desk and drew out a large yellow envelope and handed it over to Detta.

"Everything you need is in there: keys, deed, pertinent phone numbers, including mine," he chuckled. Detta tried to suppress a laugh. "If you have any questions, you know where to find me. Enjoy your new home, Miss Matise."

"I'm sure I will."