Full of train smoke, the air stuck in her throat. She had to cough three times to clear her passageway, and wipe aside the tears the coughing caused.
But none of that fazed her, either.
Nothing could.
Her ordinary life was over.
Or soon would be. Her first order of business was to find a job. The money she’d saved was down to a pouch of coins and a few bills.
She wasn’t overly particular, and certainly wasn’t afraid of hard work. Things took time; she fully understood that. Becoming a singing sensation would be no different. Until then, she could only imagine that no matter where she got a job, it would be wonderful. It had to be. This was California!
Swinging her purse in one hand, her suitcase in the other, she headed toward the blocks upon blocks of tall buildings. Made of brick and concrete, every building was connected to the next one. The entire block was that way. Every block for as far as the eye could see. Some buildings were tall, some short, some had arched windows and decorative dormers, others just had rows and rows of windows.
Ten. That one building had ten rows of windows! She couldn’t help but wonder what could be behind all those windows, and scurried forward, rushing across the street to the next block. The first floors of most every building were businesses, all sorts of them. One sold only shoes. Another cigars and tobacco. Another one sold cakes.
Just cakes?
She stepped closer and peeked in the big window. Sure enough. That’s all that was inside there. Cakes. And people buying them.
People. Good heavens but there were people everywhere. Dressed in fancy suits and work clothes alike. Men, that is. The women, they all had on stylish clothes. Not simple dresses like the one she was wearing. Someday, she’d have dresses like they were wearing, but she wasn’t going to worry about that. Not today. Not when there was so much to see.
Like that cake shop.
Who’d have thought a store could sell nothing but cakes? That was truly fascinating.
Everything was fascinating.
There were big signs, like the one about selling nothing but cakes, everywhere. In all the windows. On the storefronts and on the sides of the buildings, even sprouting out of the rooftops like an old man with only a few strands of hair sticking straight up.
Billboards. That’s what those signs were called. She’d seen pictures of them in magazines. Every chance she’d got the past few years, she’d popped into Lester Frank’s store and read those magazines cover to cover. When she had time to read. Other days, when she had to hurry or be left behind by one of the Swaggerts, she’d just looked at the pictures. Every last picture before she put the magazine back and bought the items on her lists.
The pictures in those magazines looked just like everything around her.
Everything.
Except those pictures had been black-and-white. Here, everything was colorful.
Right down to the automobiles parked along the curb and those buzzing up and down the street. They were red, green, yellow, blue, silver, even white. Why, there was hardly a black one to be seen.
Back home, they’d all been black.
Dull black cars. Just like her life had been. Dull. Colorless.
Happiness bubbled inside her. She was here. Truly here! And everything about her old life was behind her.
All those colorful cars, of all different makes and models, were something, but the roads, they were amazing. These roads weren’t made of dirt like back in Nebraska. No, sirree! They were paved. And the sidewalks concrete. Her heels clicked against it as she walked.
That made her smile.
Everything made her smile. She spun in a circle, looking up at all the signs, around at all the stores and cars and down at all the concrete. It was all she’d dreamed it would be.
Stopping before she made herself dizzy, she drew in a breath and set her focus on her first necessity.
Money made the world go around and she needed to find a way to make a few bucks—seed money—to get her world spinning.
Her smile increased upon noticing a newspaper stand across the street.
Ask and you shall receive!
She stepped off the curb and walked between two parked cars. When there was a break in traffic, she took the opportunity and hurried forward to cross the street.
Out of nowhere, a sound, or flash of color, had her looking left.
A big red car was barreling right at her.
Shirley leaped backward, but her feet went out from beneath her as a screech the likes she’d never heard before scared the very soul out of her body. The next second, her rump landed on the pavement so hard her teeth nearly rattled out of her mouth.
* * *
Walter Russell shut off the engine of his Packard at the same time he threw open the door. Thank goodness the roadster had mechanical brakes on all four wheels, otherwise he would have hit the woman. He didn’t think he had hit her, but couldn’t see her over the hood. She’d gone down while his brakes were squealing like a stuck hog.
Where had she come from? It was as if she’d shot right out in front of him on purpose.
He rounded the front of the car, saw her sitting on the pavement and ran closer. “Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Eyes wide and mouth open, it was a moment before she shook her head. “My behind is throbbing and my teeth are stinging ’cause this here pavement is a hell of a lot harder than dirt. I can tell you that. And hotter. Boy-oh-howdy but it’s hot. That sun is doing its job.”
He held back a grin, because it certainly wasn’t funny. Not even her thoughts about the pavement. She just looked so cute, so startled, sitting there, shaking her head.
Walter gave his head a clearing shake. “Here,” he said, taking ahold of her arm. “Let me help you up.”
She pulled her arm away. “I can get up all on my own. Been doing it every morning since the day I was born.” She let out a tiny giggle. “Well, dang near since then.”
He stepped back as she planted her heels and palms on the pavement, then arching her back, she literally leaped upright. It was a smooth, somewhat graceful movement, just one he’d never seen done before. And wasn’t overly sure he’d seen it this time. She was a little thing. The top of her head barely came up to his shoulders. That could explain why she was so agile. How she’d hopped up off the ground like some acrobat in a circus show.
“Hand me that suitcase, would you?” she asked, nodding toward the Packard as she picked up her handbag.
He spun, and frustration washed over him. The suitcase had landed on the hood of his roadster. His brand-new roadster. He’d owned it less than a month. Gingerly, he lifted the hard-sided suitcase off the hood, checking to make sure none of the bright red paint had been scratched.
It didn’t appear to be. The chrome Flying Goddess of Speed hood ornament appeared undamaged, too, so did the big chrome headlights on both sides of the ornament.
“Well, give it here,” she said. “Why’d you try to run me down like that?”
Walter handed her the suitcase as more frustration filled him. “Run you down? I wasn’t attempting to run you down. I’d just pulled away from the curb and you jumped out in front of me. There is a city ordinance against jaywalking. You can be arrested for that.”
“Arrested?” She took a step back. “For what?”
“Jaywalking.”