I just wanted to thank everyone that's been reading and reviewing my story. I never expected so many people to like it and so early on! Thanks again!

I apologize (sort of) for the length of this chapter. I just couldn't get it to end. But eh, what are you going to do? Personally I'd rather have it be too long as opposed to too short.

An entire week had passed and Detta had started to suffer some serious cabin fever. She was hell-bent on getting herself situated before doing anything else and she only left the house for the occasional supply or bite to eat (if she didn't feel like making anything). Her bedroom in the loft was the first thing she worked on. Her room was her sanctuary and before the rest of the house was made a home, her room had to be her own. The finishing touch was positioning the bed so that each morning, when she woke, the first thing she would see was the ocean. A view like that was too good to waste.

By the end of that grueling week, Detta's house was her own and it actually felt like it. For the first time she had a stand-alone office, not one but two toilets (and both actually worked), a kitchen (not a kitchenette-bleed-into-a-dining-room-bleed-into-a-living-room that totaled four hundred square feet) and a yard (not a fire escape). The adjustment from city life to…this was proving rather difficult. She hated driving everywhere and tried to walk if she could. Nothing, except the boardwalk and pier, was open past nine and the silence was sometimes deafening. She almost considered buying some ambient music of tires screeching, horns blowing and people yelling when she was having trouble sleeping. It was noise she had grown accustomed to since she was eighteen and the silence was getting rather nerve wracking.

During her adjustment week, Detta subscribed to the local newspaper. She wanted to get a feel for it. Perhaps she'd see if she could submit a few pieces for some extra cash. Her "bonus" wasn't going to last forever and while she did have a steady income from the column, she knew this move was not a good sign for it. It was a small paper, nothing like the National Tribune and reading it thoroughly took next to no time at all. When she got to the classifieds, she skimmed the notices, seeing if anything caught her eye. Mostly old cars for sale, dogs (perhaps she should get a dog), appliances. She glanced quickly at the jobs section, knowing nothing would catch her eye but just as she was closing up the paper, something did.

It was a larger ad than the rest but that's not what did it. "Writer" was printed in bold letters and her eyes narrowed in. Writer proficient in advertisements and promotions needed for small video store. Portfolio recommended, experience a must. Apply in person at Max's Video… She hadn't done advertisements since her college internship and even then they were just a few words and maybe a graphic, a feeble attempt to promote some new store or boutique. But she saved all of them, almost knowing she would need them later on. While it makes moving difficult, being a pack rat does have its benefits.

Why not? It couldn't hurt to try and Detta couldn't help but think that his applicant list was rather short if he was just advertising around here. It was strange, though, considering he wanted people in after eight in the evening. Whoever it was was rather unconventional. Nevertheless, she decided to try that night. She needed to get out of the house, even if it were for business. If it didn't last too long, she'd meander around the Boardwalk, maybe even grab a drink. It wouldn't be the first time she drank alone.

She trot upstairs and rummaged underneath her bed for a minute before realizing her portfolios were in her office. She felt spoiled just thinking of that and couldn't help but smile. She skipped back downstairs and into her office, pulling out her advertising portfolio and one of her many pre-made resumes. One could never have too many of those.

She glanced at the clock on the desk and it read just after one. She had plenty of time to kill so Detta decided on a trip to the beach. She changed into her bathing suit and threw on a pair of cut-offs and a tank top over it. She may have been in California but she was still modest. She gathered up a towel, some sunscreen, a magazine and a couple cans of soda, threw them into a shoulder bag and headed out.

Detta walked up to her car and stopped short of getting in. In New York fashion, she was going to walk. It was a couple of miles from her house to the beach but that was a cakewalk. She did that daily in New York. Just to make it challenging, she thought about trying to make it on her hands. She considered her balance and knowing she wasn't Miss Grace on her feet, she'd probably end up the worse for wear on the flip side. The walk itself took about forty-five minutes before she was standing on the stairs leading down to the beach. If she continued further, she would have made her way to the hub but she would save that for tonight.

She stepped down on to the sand and found herself an empty section close to the water. She settled herself in for a few hours of relaxation—something she hadn't had in weeks, if not months. The atmosphere was definitely less hectic than what she was used to and she could almost feel herself getting antsy but after a few breaths she calmed down and settled into her surroundings.

The sun was setting by the time Detta returned home. She still had a couple hours so she grabbed a bite to eat before showering and getting herself ready for her impromptu interview. She decided on a knee-length dress, eggplant, empire waist and bunched around the chest. She wanted to wear a strapless but, even though the amount of material was miniscule, she settled on the spaghetti straps. It was a vintage dress, one of Detta's favorites. For shoes she went with a pair of boots, ones she wore often, closely resembling cowboy boots; a deep brown color but without all of the fancy carvings on them. Those, she thought, were too tacky. She was never one for current style. Leg warmers and Aqua Net just weren't her thing. She much preferred styles from the seventies; the dresses, the hair. Sure she got looks but she also didn't have to spend hours primping.

Detta let her hair out of the towel, the wet blonde tumbling to her shoulder blades, contrasting with her sun-kissed skin. She was surprised she didn't burn but, knowing her luck, it was just taking longer to come out. She enjoyed the fact that since her face had tanned, it negated the need for make-up. Just a little bit of eyeliner and she was done. She would let her hair air dry tonight; it wouldn't take long and it would result in a nice wave.

Although she knew the way to the Boardwalk, Detta knew that walking alone at night was never the wisest idea. She didn't think twice about doing it in New York but she also felt safe there. Here, everything was foreign and something about the town made her weary. She also remembered those engines revving at three in the morning. The last thing she wanted was to run into the owners of that noise. No good could come of that.

She threw open her car door and tossed her shoulder bag onto the passenger seat, started up her engine and made her way down to one of the Boardwalk parking lots. It was a pathetic drive, really, taking just over five minutes to get there. Detta shook her head as she exited her car, locking it behind her. If only finding a parking space were this easy in New York. She had parked on the pier side of the Boardwalk where she knew the video store to be and started on her journey to the store. It was a short-traveled trip in the end considering she came up on it after only a few minutes.

She stood back from the storefront, staring through the windows. The outside was a vibrant yellow, neon breakers filling the gaps in glass. Inside there were people milling about and two behind the counter—one was a young girl probably about Detta's age but it looked as if she had just been yanked off of the streets. An African-American girl, she was gaunt and rather pale and looking like she was coming down from something. The other was an older man, old enough to be her father but he made an attempt to dress hip. He looked goofy, glasses, very tall; he towered over the girl. He looked pleasant enough. She only hoped his looks weren't deceiving.

As she walked into the store, Detta could hear the rumbling of engines in the distance growing steadily closer. She ignored them and proceeded inside, becoming overwhelmed with florescent lighting and dozens of TVs all flashing the same movie. By the looks of it, it was The Breakfast Club. Detta wasn't a huge fan of all the teen movies coming out but this one she liked, if only for Judd Nelson. She smirked to herself, staring off at the TVs when a pleasant and chipper voice wrenched her from her daydream.

"Hello and welcome to Max's Video! Is there anything I can help you find?"

It was the man behind the counter. He was beaming at her in a genuinely friendly way that Detta just wasn't used to and was rather taken aback by it.

"Do you greet all of your customers that way?"

As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she wanted to snatch them up and stuff them down her own throat. Stupid. She gave what she knew was a very defeated look and didn't even want to look at the gentleman but she did. He was looking at her, a small smile on his face, almost sensing her err in judgment.

"I'm sorry. I'm from New York, see?" Detta chuckled nervously. "Not much by the way of cordial there. I'm not used to such warm welcomes." Detta gave a heartier laugh.

The man laughed as well, not at all uncomfortable with the situation. "Ah, a New Yorker. Used to live there myself. Called the Upper West Side home for a few years."

Detta nodded. "Lucky you. Lower East Side for me. Needless to say, my defenses are always up."

The man gave a guttural laugh. "No need for New York defenses here! Santa Carla is a nice town. Maybe not as active as New York but for someone your age, I'm sure you won't be hard up for something to do."

Detta gave the man a warm smile. Her certainly was charming,

"So, what are you in the mood for tonight? A good laugh? A good scare? Perhaps a hearty cry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow to her but trying to stifle a laugh.

Detta chuckled. "Actually," she said, reaching into her shoulder bag and pulling out the newspaper, "I'm responding to your ad. It says you need a writer. Well, guess what? I'm a writer!" she said, smiling. She could feel her guard dropping with this man. He exuded comfort to her.

His eyes beamed and he clapped his hands together. "Excellent! So tell me what experience you have Miss…?"

"Sorry. Matise. Benedetta Matise," she said, reaching out her hand to he could shake it. "But please, call me Detta."

He did the same. "I refuse to let anyone call me anything other than Max. I'm old enough as it is without people adding mister to my name. Makes me feel like my grandfather," he laughed. "So, where were we? Right! Experiences."

Detta reached into her bag and pulled out her portfolio and resume and handed them over to Max. "I haven't had extensive advertising experience but I've done some and I'm a writer for the National Tribune, a columnist.

Max's eyes widened. "Very strong credentials you have here."

"Thank you. I also have a double Bachelor's in journalism and English with a minor in communication. Most of the information you need is right in the resume."

She saw Max frown and became worried. "Isn't the Tribune based in New York?"

"It is."

"And your editor allows you to move all the way out here to work?"

"Actually, there's an office in San Francisco that I have to touch base with every once in a while but I work from home mostly. I have a fax machine set up and I mail them things when necessary."

Max put Detta's portfolio down and cast her a concerned look. "So what brought you out here?"

Detta gave a nervous laugh. "Well, long story short, I was transferred." Detta gave a small smile and looked up at Max. He could read her; she felt it. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze that lasted only a moment before he returned to being chipper.

"So, tell me more about these advertisements. Who…"

Max trailed off and his gaze wandered outside the store. For the first time since walking in, Detta was aware of what was going on outside. She followed Max's look out the window and saw a group of boys, four of them, a couple years younger than herself by the looks, causing trouble for passers-by.

"Damn it. I'm sorry. Excuse me for a minute," Max said as he walked around the counter and out the door to confront the boys.

"Those boys don't know when to quit. I don't know why Max doesn't call the cops," the girl behind the counter said to her.

"They come around her a lot?" Detta asked, still looking outside. Two of them were looking at Max, the other two were looking in the store.

"Ha! You have no idea. Nearly every night they come around here, bothering people. I think they're harmless, cute too, but Max doesn't like them in the store."

Detta continued to stare outside, watching Max trying to move the boys along. She couldn't quite tell what they looked like from this angle but they kept switching off between looking at Max and the store.

"So you applying for the job?" the girl asked Detta.

"Oh, yes."

"Max's a good boss. Treats people right. I've only been here a month but you should of seen the way I looked when I first walked in the door. Don't look that better now but I'm getting there. Owe it all to Max."

"So he treats you right then?"

"Sure does. Not in that sleazy way neither. He's good."

Detta smiled at the girl, thankful for her insight.

"Name's Maria. I can tell already he likes you. Welcome aboard," she smiled and turned away as Max walked back into the store.

Detta looked out the window and saw that now all four boys were leering in after Max, straddling their bikes. They gunned their engines and squealed out of the front parking lot, Max rolling his eyes behind their backs.

"My apologies for that," he said, walking back around the counter to face her. "A drawback to working here. You have to deal with punks like them." Detta smiled, unsure of what to say. "So, where were we? That's it, your advertisements. I wanted to talk about…"

Detta and Max talked at length about her advertising and writing experiences and she shared a few ideas for advertising concepts for the store. After an hour or so of discussion, Max took Detta on as part of his team. They were to work together for coming up with advertisements and she would be able to work from home a couple days a week. Or, rather, nights. Max's schedule only allowed him to be in his store at night so Detta had to accommodate to that but everything else was a plus. The pay was good, the location was good, Max was a great guy and Maria gave him an excellent review. Nothing could be worse than her editor or her New York office.

She checked the time before she left the store and realized it was still early, by New York standards anyway. She wasn't sure what time the Boardwalk closed but from the pier it appeared to still be jumping. So Detta went for a walk. She decided on a nighttime tour of the Boardwalk before walking back and going home. Even at this hour, it was still packed with teens and people her age chomping down on hot dogs and cotton candy, pouring off of the rides and trying their hand at the games that dotted the seaside. She stopped at one, the one where you shoot water into a hole and blow up the balloon, and watched as some over-tanned surfer flipped out after popping his balloon first. The attendant handed him a stuffed animal which he immediately handed over to his girlfriend, an equally tanned (and bleached) surfer with her hair done up in a side ponytail. Detta never understood the appeal of the half a handlebar look.

As the crowd thickened, Detta snapped into New York mode, moving at warp speed through the throngs of people, weaving her way through them like thread through a needle. But quickly a light went off in her head and a voice told her to slow down. She wasn't in New York anymore and as she blew by these people, she was also blowing past some stores that she would like. A couple were closed, and rightly so, but many were open including a jewelry store. Detta was never one for accessories but it didn't hurt to look. A couple of loud hoots rang out over the crowd as she entered the store but she paid it no mind. It was very much a beachy store, a lot of pooka jewelry and threaded things. There was some silver and some of those rubber bracelets that Madonna had made so popular. Detta couldn't stand them and didn't stop to give it a second look.

But some bangles did catch her eye; a cluster of bracelets comprised of dark wooden beads and turquoise and jade stones. They were all different sizes and shapes and they looked good on her wrist when she tried them on. She brought them up to the till and paid for them, tucking them safely into her bag and walked out of the store. Mobs of people were about but there was a call of 'move mama' over the anxious chatter of people around her. For some reason Detta knew that was pointed at her. She quickly glanced around but didn't notice anyone trying to get her attention so she continued on down the Boardwalk.

She forced herself to stroll, something she was not used to in the slightest but she looked near neurotic with the way she moved about compared to everyone else. She felt she was being obvious in walking so slow but she wasn't attracting odd looks from anyone so she carried on.

Then she heard it again. "Movie mama!" It was louder this time and someone was definitely following her. Or she was trapped in front of a huge coincidence.

Detta ignored it and, in true New York fashion, put her blinders up.

"Looks like Max got himself a new employee."

This was a different voice, colder, menacing. Her heart jumped into her throat. There was no mistaking it. They were talking to her. She feigned ignorance and continued walking. Surely they wouldn't try something in front of all these people. Shit. My car's by the pier. How am I going to get to around them? How am I going to turn around?

Not expecting it, a guy jumped out in front of her, keeping her from moving on. He was tall, taller than her at least. Her eyes were level with his chin. His look alone screamed mischievous. He wore a broad grin, huge blonde hair and coattails with a mesh shirt. An interesting combination. But Detta kept her face stoic.

"Hey movie mama. Get anything good?"

He grinned at her, waiting for her to answer. Detta merely looked at him and tried to step around him but he stepped in front of her. She tried going the other way but he followed. He laughed, thinking it amusing. Detta stepped again and this time, when he stepped, she pivoted around him, leaving him behind her and kept walking.

"Ooooooooo. Pretty ballerina with her fancy footwork," he laughed and called after her.

Detta continued walking but saw she was nearing the end of the Boardwalk. She had to turn around. She didn't have a choice.

"Shit," she whispered to herself.

She rolled her eyes and turned around only to come nose to nose with another boy. This one was shorter than the last, only a couple inches taller than her. He, like the wild-haired one, had been outside of Max's store while she was there. If she recognized them, they must recognize her. That's probably why they're following her. But why? Boredom?

Detta stared straight into eyes the color of the ocean as he placed a hand on her arm to steady her. Detta tensed, not liking being touched by a stranger, and he lifted his hand immediately.

"Need a guide?" he asked.

Detta stepped back, still staring as him. His hair was curly, a blonde that she couldn't tell if it was naturally dirty or an unwashed dirty. He wore a patchwork jacket and leather chaps. He didn't look the equestrian type, nor the cowboy. More than likely just a fashion statement.

"No," she said softly before stepping around him and walking back the way she came. He, unlike his friend, allowed her to move on.

"How about a ride?"

Detta looked to her side and saw him keeping step with her. "I've got my own," and she carried on.

This boy didn't frighten her as much as the other but she still wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw him. Just because he looked innocent didn't mean he was.

She fully expected to run into the other boy but he was nowhere to be found. And she didn't want to seek him out. About halfway down the Boardwalk she spotted a third boy, another one of the group, leaning against the banister glaring at her. He didn't confront her like the other two, just watched but that, Detta thought, was scarier. She stared him down as she walked past and was the first to look away. She didn't look back to see his reaction but felt defeated, dominated almost. But he, like the others, was gone when she moved on.

She was closing in on the pier and thought she was out of danger. She didn't dare look back but looked from side to side, trying to get a glimpse behind her with her peripheral but saw nothing. From here she could see the video store and they were closing down. Maria was just walking out.

Her eyes focused on Maria, Detta walked faster but slammed into a black shrouded body in front of her. She looked up at the fourth guy out o that pack of boys at Max's. He was looming over her, leering down at her with a smirk on his face. All she saw was his black clothing, pale skin and platinum hair, his eyes piercing her own.

"Welcome to Santa Carla."

It was that voice, the one filled with malicious intent that called after her earlier. He looked like he could tear her up like a piece of paper. But Detta said nothing, just stared chills through him in the eye before moving around him and leaving him behind. He didn't try to stop her, didn't play games but his voice was enough. It sent her body. She pictured a murderer having the same presence and remembered the next time she came down here at night, she was going to arm herself.

She saw Maria up ahead, walking away from the pier.

"Hey Maria!" Detta called after her, trotting to catch up.

"Hey girl. You still here?"

"Yeah. Thought I'd give myself a tour."

Maria smiled. "Nice huh? I could show you a couple places to hang out whenever you get bored."

"Sounds good."

"Just let me know, girl, and we're there."

"Awesome. Say, you need a ride home?"

Maria smiled and looked as if this were a rarity. "Sure. Thanks."

Detta walked close to Maria towards her car, chancing a look behind her only once but no one was there. Detta unlocked the door for Maria and walked over to the other side of her car to let herself in. Before she got in, she thought she heard that squealing sound again, like bats, that she heard her first night. She hurried into her car and locked the door after her. It now seemed like her imagination was scarier than anything that the New York streets could throw at her. She needed to learn to control it.

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