The truck driver wasn't lying when he told Corbin that Lake Tahoe was swarming with people. As soon as he reached the welcome sign, guards at a security gate scanned his body for weapons and searched his bag for drugs. When satisfied, they signaled to another set of guards observing in a tower before rolling open the gate.

As he stepped into the city, it overwhelmed him.

Crowds of people moved past each other on the main road, like cattle at an auction. The congested street had tents on each side, separated by clothing lines of laundry swaying in the breeze and fire pits. Music filled his ears, with each camp playing their taste in genres.

His lungs inhaled the smokey scent of barbeque, causing his dry mouth to water and awaken his hungry belly. Spotting a group of people sitting under a tree as they chewed on ribs, he asked them where they got it. A blonde girl with long dreadlocks was the first to glance up, and she pointed her BBQ sauce coated finger down the road.

"Just keep going straight, and you'll run into the brewery. The owner serves one free meal a week, but it's first-come, first-serve, and once he runs out of the special, then that's it."

"Yeah, man, so you better hurry 'cause food runs out fast!" her male friend wearing a Che Guevara t-shirt said.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." Corbin nodded, and the group held up peace signs before continuing with their meals.

It took twenty minutes for him to push through the crowd, while the brewery's neon sign blinked at him like a lighthouse guiding him to shore. His stomach gurgled when he walked through the door and into the dim setting. As his eyes adjusted, he stood there taking in his surroundings—the smell of cigarette smoke and beer wafting his way. On his right, customers played poker at various card tables, but women danced farther back on tiny stages. Corbin furrowed his brows at that and headed left towards the bar.

Patrons corralled like horses hitched to a water trough, while others ate at tables. Thankfully, there was an opening he could squeeze into at the bar, so he marched over. Except, his heart plummeted as he scooted out a stool and saw the chalkboard on the wall with giant letters saying: Meal of The Week - SOLD OUT.

"What'll it be, mate?" asked the bartender.

Corbin sighed and pointed his index finger with dirt caked under the nail. "I was hoping to get some food, but it looks like you're out."

"Oh yeah, that..." the bartender rubbed his chin. "The free stuff sold out, but you can still buy off the regular menu."

"I'm afraid I have don't have much money."

"Were you robbed? Is that what happened to your face?"

"This is a long story I prefer not talking about."

"Suit yourself." The bartender studied him and rapped his knuckles on the bar top. "I tell you what, mate, I'll give you some food on the house. Look at the menu, and I'll give you anything under ten dollars."

Corbin shook his head in surprise. "Why?"

"Why not?" The bartender shrugged and walked away.

Forty minutes later, with a full belly, Corbin pushed away from the empty plate of food and leaned back to rub his stomach. Now all he needed was a place to rest his head, and once his drink was empty, he planned on finding such a place.

Except life had other plans.

While sitting there minding his business, a woman slid in beside him with a gentle glide of her hand down his arm.

"Hi," she said seductively.

"Hi."

"Looking for a little company, Sugar?"

"Not really."

"Oh? Well, maybe I can change your mind," she giggled, running a finger up his arm. Corbin inhaled a deep breath and plucked her finger away.

"No, thank you."

"Aw come on, Sugar..."

"Get LOST, Chantelle," ordered a Spanish accent, drawing Corbin's attention. He felt his abdomen tighten as he faced a young woman with irises so light green they almost looked yellow. She was stunning with chestnut-colored hair that fell in waves around her creamy, tan shoulders.

"This isn't fair, Luna!" the woman whined, stomping her high heel.

"I said, get lost." Luna arched a brow, warning her.

"I hate you sometimes!"

"Aw, of course, you do." Luna pouted, and as the woman stormed off, Corbin gulped down his beer.

He would not stick around for whatever game this Luna woman felt like playing. Especially after what happened on the road with the beggar-woman. He slung his bag over his shoulder and stood.

"Hey, where are you going so fast?"

"I don't believe that's your business." He brushed past her.

"How about I buy you another drink?"

Corbin paused mid-stride but pushed the temptation away. "No, thank you. I'm not interested in whatever you're selling."

"You sure?" Luna circled him, dragging her palm across his back and down his arm until they were both face to face. She batted her long lashes and bit her bottom lip. "I think you'd like getting to know me."

Corbin's abdomen tightened again, and he swallowed down the saliva filling his mouth as if his taste buds picked up on something savory. He cleared his throat. "I prefer keeping to myself, but thanks for... whatever this was."

Turning on his heels, he sprinted for the door like a scared boy running from his shadow. As soon as he made it back to the cool mountain air, he took a deep breath, and his shoulders relaxed. Luna was beautiful. Maybe too beautiful. Someone who looked like her couldn't possibly want to sell herself to a man with big purple bruises covering his face. Plus, she didn't look like the other prostitutes in the brewery. Her clothing looked clean, and she smelled fresh with a hint of soap. It just didn't add up.

Wanting to put the odd encounter behind him, he weaved his way through the main road, searching for a hotel. It was getting dark, and he wanted nothing more than to sink his head in a pillow and sleep for several hours. However, a construction area in the distance caught his attention as a throng of people in hard-hats and reflective vests cashed in for the day. The city was thriving with opportunity, and finding temporary work could earn him a few extra bucks for the rest of his journey!

"Hey," he said, stopping a man wearing a tool belt. "What's all of that construction about?"

"We're building a factory that filters the lake water so we can distribute it throughout the area."

"Do you think whoever is running the operation would hire me for a few days? I'm looking to earn some extra cash."

The man took in Corbin's clothes, which needed washing, and the bag slung over his shoulder. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Just passing through."

"Need a place to stay? My old man rents out the studio behind his house. It has washing machines too..."

"Is it expensive?"

The man chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought it over. "Twenty-five a night seem fair to you?"

"I think I can swing it."

"Sounds like we have a deal then. I'm Charlie." He stuck out his hand, and Corbin accepted. "Follow me."

While walking with the man through back streets, it occurred to Corbin he could be getting conned for his money. After all, how convenient was it that he needed a place to stay, and this stranger had the solution? The hairs on his neck spiked, along with his heart rate. The worst part about it was that he only had an empty gun to protect himself. They turned onto a narrow street with sparse streetlights, and rows of homes amongst trees that stood like skyscrapers.

"And here we are." Charlie motioned to a cottage with a lit porch and he walked through the squeaky wooden gate. "Pop, you home?"

Silence ticked by as Corbin waited curbside while remaining vigilant for any ambushes. The pulse in his neck throbbed while his palms filled with sweat as he thought of ways to defend himself. The door screeched open, revealing an elderly man who poked his head out.

"Oh... It's just you," he said with a voice that rattled from years of smoking.

"I got a renter." Charlie pointed behind him and waved Corbin forward. "Pop, this is..."

"Corbin," he answered, walking through the gate.

"Alright, well, take him out back. I'm fixing dinner and don't want it to burn." He started closing the door, but paused. "And Corbin, I don't want any trouble, so the moment I decide I don't like you, I want you gone. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir. And thank you, Sir."

"Uh, huh."

When the old man shut the door on both of them, Charlie gave Corbin a sympathetic smile. "He doesn't like disruption while cooking dinner. He's passionate about his recipes."

"I can see that."

"Don't worry. My old man is harmless," he said, guiding Corbin around the cottage towards the studio. "He owns the gas station at the end of the main strip, so he's gone most of the day, but likes it quiet once he's home. So please, promise me you won't get too rowdy back here."

"I won't. I'm used to keeping to myself."

"And here we are." Charlie motioned to the red door with a welcome sign made of deer antlers. He dug into his pocket, removing a keyring that jingled in his palm. "We keep the place clean, so each new tenant has fresh linens and towels, but the pantry and fridge are empty."

"That's ok. I ate at the brewery."

"Alright, if you need anything, knock on the front door." Charlie handed him the key.

"Would you like the money now?"

"Nah. I trust you. Just slip it under the front door in the morning. Anyway, you have a good night."

"Hey, wait, what about the temporary work I asked you about?"

"I'll talk to the boss about it and let you know by tomorrow evening," Charlie replied as he made his way down the path. "Goodnight."

Feeling the weight of the last couple of days, Corbin stepped inside, and spun about, relieved that it was a legit rental and not a robbery scam. The studio didn't have much, other than a bed with a nightstand in one corner and a kitchenette in another. Next to the kitchen was a curtain, which revealed a toilet, a bathtub, and a window.

The place was perfect.

After taking a bath, he melted into the bed with enough energy to pull the heavy blanket over himself. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep and dreaming.

Later in the night, faint knocking woke him, so he groaned when he glanced at the clock on the nightstand, which read midnight. Figuring it was the old man or Charlie, he shuffled to the door while rubbing his eyes, but then hesitated. Why would either of them come knocking at such a late hour? He slid the chain-lock in place for safety and opened the door, but reeled back at the sight of Luna.

"Can I come in?"

"Did you follow me here?"

"What can I say." She smiled. "When I see something I like, I go after it."

"I told you, I'm not interested in whatever you're offering."

Luna dropped the smile, and Corbin found himself with a gun barrel jamming into his belly. "How about now?"

"Do what she says," a voice behind him said, and Corbin flinched before spinning slowly to face the man standing inside the studio.

"Jesus. What do you want?!"

"You shouldn't have left your window open after taking a dump, now unchain the door."

As he removed the chain, he cursed himself for thinking his troubles were behind him. Luna pushed past him and closed the door while the mysterious man flicked on the bedside lamp. Corbin squinted against the brightness but could see his other guest more clearly. He was tall and appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties, but his Southeast Asian features surprised him considering his British sounding accent.

"Listen, I don't have a lot of money, so you will not collect much from me."

"We're not after your money," Luna replied as she circled him. "We're after your gems."

"What? I don't have any gems!"

"We'll see about that," the man said, dumping out the contents of Corbin's bag.

"Could you not do that!"

"You match the description of a man who's supposed to pass through Lake Tahoe with them." Luna stopped circling and looked him in the eyes. But then something strange happened. Her light green irises darkened to a rich emerald as she gasped. "Oh, my god..."

"What?" the man asked.

"Jasper, he has the gift."

To be continued...

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