The Ten Lives of Talbert — Barbara Collins

Excerpt
At eight a.m. on Rodeo Drive, the immaculate street was devoid of its native Jaguars, Rolls-Royces and Ferraris. The only vehicles, prowling or parked, were of the dreary domes-tic variety--Ford, Chevrolet, Dodge--but for the occasional Japanese, which were only a marginal step up.
The sidewalks, too, were deserted, except for a few shoppers hovering near the fashionable storefronts, waiting for the doors to open.
Tourists...He hated them.