"Hey, babe, what's a nice chick like you doin' down here?"

"Ignore him," Julie Watkins whispered, leaning toward her friend. She kept her eyes on the three shabbily dressed studs standing in front of them on the boardwalk.

"I told you we should have come down here to Venice," Janet Dennis whispered back, rubbing her fingers briskly over her upper arms. The young blonde teenager felt, a little nervous as she studied the men who had approached her and her girlfriend in front of the recreational pavilion. They looked as if they might be members of some biker club, perhaps one of those involved in all that terrible violence going on down here in this beach community. She remembered reading about the shootings, the rapes, the reports of all sorts of crimes taking place in Venice. Why had she agreed, then, to come down here with her girlfriend?

"Hey, man, don'tcha like us? Man, you're sure fine, really fine," the tall bearded stud said, his voice becoming thick. There was something in his eyes, something that both attracted and repulsed Janet. She couldn't stare at him. Her fingers were trembling, turning icy while her flesh started to crawl. Why didn't they leave, turn their backs and just walk away from these horrible men?

"No, it's not that," Julie countered, smiling bravely after casting a glance at her friend. "It's just that… well, you surprised us by coming up so fast."

What was her friend doing? Janet looked at the attractive tall brunette with rounded eyes. It was getting dark. The wind was picking up from the southwest, blowing long bands of reddening clouds over the rolling surf and over the wide stretch of white sand. The small crowd that had been down here this cool September day was already thinning, few of them glancing at this group in front of the pavilion.