The bike slowed to a stop just past the bright billboard reading "Welcome to Los Angeles- See the Stars Here, Day and Night!" After killing the engine, Gina pulled off her helmet then perched on the saddle of the panhead and propped her feet on the stone retaining wall that kept the curvy mountain road from spilling off into the glittering lights of the city below. Lighting a cigarette, Gina let her eyes roam the landscape from behind dark sunglasses; probably too dark for how deep the sun was beginning to sink behind the horizon. Far in the distance, she could see the jewel-toned blue of the Pacific Ocean at low tide. How she ached to be sitting on the back of a board, letting her body rise and fall with the gentle wave of the ocean. Not that a 74 cubic inch V-twin between her legs was all that bad; but it had been a long day of riding, and sinking into the ocean really sounded like heaven. 

Gina took a final drag of her cigarette and then dropped it onto the ground, smashing it with the toe of her boot. As she stood and looked out over the vista of the City of Angels, she knew the trip wasn't going to make itself; and the faster she got down the hill, the faster she could find some place to crash in this shit town and maybe get some beach time before it was too dark. Sighing out a puff of smoke into the air, she picked up her helmet again and murmured at nothing in particular.

Fuck....

The decision to leave Santa Cruz was one Gina made on her own; only slightly influenced by the end of a relationship she never should have gotten into in the first place. It was a decision heavily influenced by something much more real; like a sign from above. Technically, it was a sign at the convenience store that caught my eye as I stood in line for a pack of smokes. L.A., where stars are born. I didn't want to leave California, but getting out of Northern California seemed like a good idea at the time. Rocky needed some time to cool off. 

Who was I kidding? That pencil-dick Mama's boy was never going to get over himself, or the fact that I beat him fair and square in a friendly street race. For fuck's sake, it was supposed to be fun; and you would have thought I told everyone he still sleeps in Superman bedsheets. (He did, but I was going to be a lady enough not to say anything.) I figured his childish fit after the race would have been the end of it; until the pink slip showed up in my timecard slot at the steel mill. The steel mill owned by his grandfather. I had almost loosed a string of obscenities that would have made the crankiest old bastard at that mill blush; but I was determined to take a higher road than Rocky had. So, instead, I took the pink slip, signed my name on the line, and walked out the door within two minutes of arriving for the shift that was not to be. The next stop was the convenience store for the cigarettes; and the push toward Los Angeles. 

Two days later, I find myself wandering into a swanky hotel called the Paramount. I tipped the guy at the valet station a fifty to put my bike somewhere safe; he better have done it. I've got enough for a room for a week and at least a couple of days worth of food and gas; but finding a job is going to have to be top priority. Well, maybe after a dip in the pool. Or two. 

Gina sits at the edge of the pool with her feet dangling in the cool water. The hot afternoon sun glints off the little gold key attached to the chain around her neck as she moves it back and forth between her fingers. 

"No one remembers the foreman...but they always remember who signed the blueprints."

The words of Mr. Babic- Babs- had stuck with her throughout the next few days that followed her chance meeting with the sharply-dressed businessman from Detroit. The delicate necklace with the key, which now lays on the lightly sun-kissed skin of her chest, had been met with a slightly glib joke. 

"Seems like I had things all wrong. I thought I'd have to do a lot dirtier shit for rich strangers to be handing me jewelry."

Smirking, Gina twirls her feet in the water and watches the erratic ripples created by the movement. Maybe she did do something dirty. Joining the mob? Hell, it's dirty to someone; but Babs had made it sound awfully good. By no means had he made it sound easy or without consequence; but Gina had never been afraid of hard work, and consequence was usually what she had for breakfast. So, really, how bad could it be?

“Detroit. It’s a place where no one gives you anything. But if you know where to look… you take more than anyone expects. That’s where I build. That’s where it all starts.”

Sighing, Gina looked out past the pool, over the sea wall, and into the vast expanse of the ocean. 'Yeah, but does Detroit have beaches?' So much for California. She'd taken the key, taken the cash. No matter how many more days she lazed around by the pool or wandered up and down the beach in Los Angeles, she had a job now, and it was across the country. Muttering to herself, Gina gets up from the pool deck and yawns.

"It's a good thing he paid up front. My bike is going to need one hell of a tune up after this ride."