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.”
“Ain’t never heard of that.” A deep frown wrinkled the smooth skin between her brows. “What is it?”
“Jaywalking?”
She nodded.
Between her accent and knowledge, it was apparent she was not from California. Had most likely just stepped off the train from some Midwest town. That was where most of the newcomers came from. The center of the nation. He’d been born and raised there, smack-dab in the middle of nowhere, and had been happy to leave. “It means you can’t cross the street in the center of the block. You have to walk to one corner or the other.”
She looked up the road, and then down it, before turning to look at him again. “Now, why would I want to walk all the way to that there corner?” She pointed up the street. “Or all the way down to that there one.” She pointed to the corner behind him. “When where I want to go is right there.” She pointed directly across the street. “Makes no living sense to me.”
Yes, she was most certainly from the Midwest. Walter pointed to one, then the other corner. “Drivers know to watch for pedestrians at the corners.” He then pointed at the road before her. “Not in the middle of the road.”
Her short blond hair bounced as she shook her head. “Well, they better learn to. It ain’t that hard. Folks back home do it all the time.” She gestured at his car. “You need to learn it, too.”
A horn honked. “Get out of the road!” a driver shouted while steering around the Packard.
Walter ignored the driver. “No, you need to learn not to jaywalk. Better yet, why don’t you just walk back to the train station, on the sidewalk, and go back home.”
Her eyes, a deep blue, narrowed and darkened as she planted a hand on her hip. “I just got here and no one is going to make me leave.”
A part of him felt sorry for her, the other part was thoroughly disgusted. Not by her, but by what she expected. Los Angeles was full of newcomers. Just like her. All dreaming the same dream. “Look around. The streets aren’t lined with gold and the beds aren’t made of rose petals.” That was what the magazines made people believe, and believe they did. “Go home. You’ll be glad you did.”
“No, I won’t. I came here planning to stay, and stay I will.”
“Plan on becoming a star, do you?” He huffed out a breath. That wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare. One he was still living.
“No. A singer.” She squared her shoulders. “Folks back home say I got the voice of an angel.”
He shook his head. She’d find out sooner or later, so he might as well tell her. “There are no angels in Los Angeles.” Just a lot of devils. He personally knew several of them.
She lifted her chin a bit higher. “There are now.”
He should just surrender. Leave her to her head-in-the-sky dreams. “Where are you from? Kansas? Oklahoma?” Her accent wasn’t deep enough for Texas.
“Nebraska. And I ain’t going back.”
He remembered wanting to leave that state, and had left it, only to discover there were times that he wished he’d ended up someplace other than here. Burying those thoughts, he asked, “Why?”
“Because I’m a singer.” A tiny frown formed over the bridge of her nose. “At least, that’s what I’m going to be. Soon. Real soon.”
Another car honked, the driver shouted, shaking a fist while driving past.
There was nothing he could do to change her mind. That was for sure. So there was no use trying. He should have known better right from the beginning. “You keep jaywalking, and you’ll become an angel, all right.” He pointed toward the sidewalk. “Walk to one corner or the other before you try crossing the street again.”
She shook her head. “I tell you, that there is about the craziest thing I ever did hear.”
He took a step toward his car, but stopped, looked at her again. She was cute with her big blue eyes, blond hair and catalog-ordered dress. Cute enough to catch attention. He didn’t like the thought of that, but it was a reality. She was of no concern of his; however, he knew one thing for sure. “You won’t get a singing job here.”
She puffed up like a hen shooed off its nest. “You can bet your darn tooting boots I will.”
He
