Ralph Dombrowski, age eighteen, was not perfect, but he wasn't as bad as the guy behind him had said. Bright, ambitious he probably would have earned high marks at West Phoenix High if school hadn't been so boring. But school was history now and it was time to start making a living besides, he didn't know if his aunt could afford to send him to college.
All his young life Ralph had wanted to amount to something. His friends were average and Ralph wanted more than that. Sometimes in the cool of twilight he'd drive up Skyline Lane to the top of Camelback Mountain where, in the distance, the lights of Phoenix sparkled over the desert floor like a galaxy come home to rest. Below him, exquisite white-walled mansions decorated the feet of the steep mountain slopes and whispered alluringly of fortunes yet to be made in a flourishing young metropolis.
Ralph was a very good-looking young man. He had short, dark hair and a finely-chiseled face with a jaw that signaled authority. Girls often commented on his well-turned powerful arms, broad shoulders, and hard muscular stomach. But Ralph was more than just a physical specimen. His radiant blue eyes could look right through you, and there was something street-smart inside. Girls considered him more than handsome - he had frank sensuality. He was the solid example of youthful manhood a girl would like to take home to mother - after she'd had her way first. In spite of his startling appearance there was a hint of shyness too, a not-quite-grownup innocence that brought out the maternal instinct.
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