The ‘hood

If you are a regular follower of my blog, I wonder if I could ask for your assistance? At the end of the story are a few questions and it would be really appreciated if you would leave a comment answering them. Thanks so much.  grafitti alley cropped 25.11.18 girl-1209561_1280

‘Hey, girl. What’s a classy chick like you doing on my manor? Ya looking for a bit of rough, maybe?’

The tall, elegant blonde threw a derisive glance in Rocky’s direction as he lounged in the alley smoking a spiff. Disrespect. This was his patch and she needed to know it. Pulling himself up, he cut through the adjoining passageway and appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

‘Ya hear me babe?’ he asked, taking out his knife to nonchalantly pick at his grubby fingernails. Although she stopped walking, she didn’t answer the punk whose head barely reached up to her shoulder. ‘I asked you a question.’

The look she gave him was curious rather than scared, but he needed to show her he was too important to be ignored. Even if he didn’t have his gang supporting him, she was just an older woman on her own in a tough area, and should be nervous. He intended to teach her a lesson, but was momentarily distracted by the wailing of a police siren heading in his direction.

As he moved into the shadows of a doorway she stepped past him, and by the time he glanced back was nowhere in sight. She couldn’t have gone far.  He knew these streets like the back of his hand but it was time to call for reinforcements. He had a reputation to uphold and his street cred would nose-dive if the story got out he had been outwitted by a mere woman.

‘Yo, bro. Get your arse down here. I got some business needs sorting. The alley at the back of the Chinkie. Five minutes. Full force. Round ‘em up.’

The broad’s reaction had been different from that of the owner of the mobile he had used. The guy had been petrified and only too pleased to escape unharmed. The phone had state-of-the-art technology, but Rocky had used up most of the available credit so it was time to replace it. Even if Jimmy the tech had removed the blocking, there were too many tracking devices available.  Not a problem. There were enough stupid people, oblivious to their surroundings while they read their messages, willing to provide a substitute.

Three hours later his good mood had evaporated. The bitch had disappeared without trace. His gang had spread out with the promise of whoever found her would have first dibs, well second after him, naturally, but she had disappeared into thin air. She’d only had a few minutes start, so no way could she have escaped unless she had a car waiting, probably complete with a cap-wearing chauffeur if her expensive clothes were anything to go by.

Maybe she had a rich sugar daddy who kept her in jewels in exchange for services rendered. His hormones sprang into action as he imagined her paying for her keep. He was tired of the local slags who spread to keep in his good books; a piece of upmarket booty would make a nice change. All he had to do was find her.

Selena pulled the hood of her mink coat up as the snow came down faster, threatening a full-blown blizzard. The streets were deserted so she decided to give up and try again another time. Her husband, Sebastian had been supportive when she had first admitted her obsession, and had employed several expensive private detectives, but none had produced results.

‘Promise me you won’t do anything so dangerous, ever again,’ he had said. ‘It’s not worth putting your own life at risk to find him.’

Although she felt guilty at deceiving him she had to know the truth. Her own  investigations had come up with better leads, and now she had an address. She knew she was taking a chance, but in this neighbourhood court injunctions and subpoenas would have little effect. The individual she was seeking would go underground and her tentative link would be lost forever.

Checking the details on the scrap of paper in her hand, Selena glanced at the crumbling building in front of her. No uniformed reception or entry regulations here. If you managed to navigate through the rusting cars, discarded mattresses and rat ridden junk, a sharp push on the rotted front door gave you entry. With no names on doorbells to give her a clue, she climbed two flights before banging on the nearest door showing signs of civilisation. The smell of urine was hidden under the unmistakable aroma of gunga as the door opened and an old woman glared at her.

‘Watchoo want? This ain’t no place for you girl. Better run while ya got the chance.’

‘I’m sorry to bother you. I was told a Mrs Chaver lived here. Do you know her?’

‘Might do, might not. Why ya wanna know? You gotta learn to mind your own business, lady, if you know what’s good for you. Now, git outta here before ya cause more trouble.’

Selena tried to put her foot in the door to stop it closing but was too late. She knocked again and even tried pleading through the closed woodwork, with no response. Defeated, she turned to find herself face to face with the hooligan who had tried to accost her on her last visit to the ‘hood.

‘Wo, sweet cheeks. You couldn’t stay away? Pay my mama no mind. You come with me and we have a good time.’

‘That’s not your mama,’ Selena glared at him. ‘It’s been twenty years since you were adopted but I’m ashamed of what you’ve become. You went to a good home but you’ve wasted all the opportunities. Look at you. A two-bit hoodlum living in a slum.’

‘Hey, who you to disrespect me? I is Rocky. I the bizz round here.’

‘I’m the one who gave you birth. Your name is Richard, not Rocky and stop trying to talk like a gangster.  Now get your sorry arse down to the car. I’m taking you home and you’re going to learn the meaning of respect. Move!’

© Voinks August 2018

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My ‘voice’ is normally very British English so I’m intrigued how it translates to other English speakers, and where my followers are based.

Question time. 

In which country do you live?

If you regularly enjoy my weekly stories, does it encourage you to buy my published books, and if so,  are they readily available? 

Have you read any of my books?

If yes, 
Which one(s)? 
Where did you hear about them? 
Did you leave a review?

If not was it because,
You only read free material

You didn’t know there were any published
Other reasons – please explain.

Thanks for your responses, and I hope you will stick around to enjoy more stories.

Amazon US author page

Amazon UK author page

 

2 thoughts on “The ‘hood

  1. Charani

    UK based. That piece sounded very American.

    I like your weekly tales but I don’t buy fiction books when I’m wriitng fiction myself. The reason being I don’t want to inadvertently copy or include another author’s work in my own. It’s almost happened once already!

    Like

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