Opening a bottle of Scotch, he sat in his window and watched the night fall
upon the city. London wore the cloak of darkness like a beautiful woman wore a
black dress. She called to him and he couldn’t resist her. He might not ever love a
woman, but he loved London. He walked over to his stereo and loaded his favorite
Underground music and began his ritual.
First he showered. Then he carefully picked out the right leathers to wear
for the night. He slid his boots on, then stood in the mirror for one appraising look
of confidence.
His black leather boots were polished. His black leather pants fit like a
second skin, soft and supple. He adjusted the collar on his red velvet oversized
shirt. His hair was tousled; some hairs stuck up, others hung in his eyes. He glared
at himself with hatred for a moment before drinking the last of the Scotch and
putting on his floor length black leather duster.
The dark figure shot out the door and onto the street. People moved out of
his way. Night was full of life in London. Some people lived for the night, some
were lost, some searching. Some with a destination in mind. Erick walked toward
the entrance of The Place.
He was greeted by the familiar elf named Tucker Tripp. Before entering
the passage to The Skunk’s Den he felt as if someone was watching him and turned.He only noticed a small group of kids waiting in line to get into the dance club. One of the young men stood with confidence, leaning against the building. His
black jeans fit tight over strong legs. He pulled his black leather jacket against the night chill. Blonde hair fell onto his shoulders and into his green eyes.
Erick went over to Tucker and pointed them out.
“The blonde kid with the black leather. Get him and his friends inside.” He
palmed some money into Tucker’s hand. “Give them their first drinks on me.”
“Yes, sir. So good of you.” Tucker corralled the kids inside.
The green-eyed boy watched Erick and nodded his head in his direction
before entering The Place.
Pleased, Erick continued to The Skunk’s Den, not noticing a dark shadow
watching him.
“Your playboy days are numbered my little friend,” the deep Italian voice
said. “It is time for you to pay for your game.”
Excerpt from Tormented Soul - book Two of the Soul Series.
