Here’s as snippet from my WIP Chicago Circle, in which Aiden pays a visit to Marco’s father–it’s time for payback. Marco came out to him and it didn’t end well. (don’t worry, Marco’s not dead 🙂 )
Here it is. It’s almost full dark now, and I know I’m out of place here. The run-down buildings and houses, the boarded up storefronts remind me of the tenement blocks in old time Chicago, back when I was still human. Young kids with pants around their knees give me the stinkeye, but I don’t really care. What can they do to me, after all? If the police ask questions, they won’t even remember my race, let alone what I look like. There’s Latin rap blasting from inside, and I hope the police aren’t called for the noise. On second thought, that’s not very likely in this neighborhood; I’m sure Mr. Ruiz has a reputation that precedes him.
I bang on the bleached out, peeling door with my fist, but nothing happens.
All right, if that’s the way you want to play it…
I put my hand flat on the door and close my eyes, concentrating, and the door flies open, rattling in its frame and hitting the wall behind it with a booming thud. I walk through, and the door swings back shut on its own as the music suddenly cuts off.
“Who the fuck are you?” some pumped up macho man asks. This must be the vaunted Spider Ruiz.
I give a good look at the scene in front of me; loads of brew bottles with half-drowned cigarettes in the dregs, rolling papers, trays with ground up pot, crack pipes black with carbon.
It also looks like Mr. Ruiz has guests. All the available seats are taken up with punks that resemble their host. That’s all right; I’m not going to be staying long enough to sit. A few of the braver souls stand, hands at their sides like a group of modern day gunslingers.
As if that would do a bit of good.
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Photo courtesy of thegrio.com