by Rob Hunter
Street Smarts & Stolen Hearts Copyright © 2017 by Rob Hunter
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For permission requests, email the author at: [email protected]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
A gentle breeze hugged Solomon’s body as he made his way home. He worked the third-shift and lived in a rough neighborhood. He had spent enough time over the last few years being pickpocketed, which is why he immediately tensed when he felt a faint brush against his back pocket, he was always alert and anticipating the worst.
He almost felt sorry for the would-be pickpocket, who let out an impressive squawk as Solomon grabbed his wrist and pushed the younger man against the alley wall with a grunt, struggling to keep his grip as the man continued to flail and yelp. He released the thief’s wrists and pinned him against the wall gripping his shoulders, securing him in place.
The pickpocket went limp in his grip, his lips slightly parted as his shaky breath ghosted in front of him. Solomon’s eyes narrowed as his gaze travelled down the stranger’s lanky body, noting the deep wrinkles marring his clothes alongside the general grime that accumulated along his thin coat and across his face that accentuated the overgrown stubble and darkened his shady blonde hair to a greasy brown.
“So, are you going to call the police or just stare at me all night?” Solomon raised an eyebrow at the British accent that laced the tone.
“Someone’s far from home,” he retorted, a slight question to his tone. The other man smiled even whilst his eyes darkened.
Quite suddenly the thief lashed out; his knee connected sharply with Solomon’s balls, and it was almost as if he could feel his testicles wither and crawl pitifully up inside of him as he doubled over with a gasp, his hands dropping to his crotch as he crumbled down to the ground, his eyes stinging.
“You piece of trash, I hope you choke on a dick!” he yelled, clambering up to his knees as he watched, thoroughly pissed off as the British man ran down the alley disappearing into the shadows, moving at a speed that Solomon could not hope to match, especially not in his current condition.
***
Solomon glowered, storming into his apartment and immediately heading towards the freezer in search of an ice pack which he unceremoniously plonked on his crotch as he crashed down on the couch with a heavy groan.
“Jesus, what’s up with you?” Edwin asked, leaning against the kitchen door as he raised an eyebrow at the ice pack. “Please throw that away after you’re done,” he added, brows furrowed in serious concern about the dick contaminated ice.
“I got kicked in the balls by some British guy,” he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest childishly.
Edwin scoffed.
“Oh, and what did you do to deserve that?”
“Shut the fuck up, I did nothing. The little dick tried to pickpocket me,” he retorted.
“You’re probably lucky that you just got kicked in the balls then.”
“Not really. He was a skinny little shit. No wonder he had to fight dirty,” he muttered.
Edwin hummed in thought, turning back towards the kitchen.
“Are you going to be fine to go in tonight then?” Edwin asked, raising his voice as he called from the kitchen.
Solomon grunted an affirmative, turning his attention instead to the faint aroma of heavily spiced curry, feeling saliva starting to collect in his mouth as he became aware of his own hunger.
“I saw Adam today…” Edwin started, a trace of hesitation lining his voice. Solomon twisted to face him, shifting the ice pack away from his crotch.
“Oh?” he prompted.
“I bought him lunch.”
“Was Roy with him?” Solomon prodded gently, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. He heard the clink of cutlery drift in from the kitchen as Edwin served up their meal.
“Not when I saw him,” Edwin replied carefully, trailing into the living room and passing a bowl towards Solomon. He ignored his hunger for the time being as he settled it on the arm of the couch as he assessed Edwin.
“Are they okay?”
“I didn’t get much out of Adam. You know how he is. But he said that Roy was fine. He seemed distracted though.” Edwin scrunched up his nose as he answered, pausing only to take a spoonful of his curry. “A bit, I don’t know, wary I suppose.”
“The news mentioned a severe storm tonight,” Solomon pointed out, chewing on his nails absentmindedly. Edwin blinked, nodding slowly. “I think maybe we should reserve a couple of beds.”
Edwin opened his mouth to respond, his eyes narrowing slightly, before evidently thinking better of it. Instead he sighed, turning back to his food. Solomon knew what he was thinking; they weren’t allowed to reserve beds. They weren’t meant to show favoritism. Not that he considered it favoritism, he was just helping out a friend.
“They didn’t come to the shelter yesterday. They might not come today,” Edwin said eventually, voice growing increasingly distant as he dwelled over his thoughts.
“The day before yesterday they came and we had to turn them away. They’ll need somewhere tonight in this weather,” Solomon argued, reluctantly spooning some of the curry into his mouth, barely noticing the taste.
“So will others,” Edwin murmured quietly, his expression conflicted. Solomon glanced at him but didn’t respond. Edwin let it drop, instead reaching for the remote and turning the television on. It made their silence slightly less awkward, but not by much.
Edwin finished his food quickly and went straight to the kitchen. Solomon lingered on the couch, stirring his food but not really making an attempt to eat it as he listened to Edwin moving around in the other room. He sighed, reaching for the remote so he could check the time, rubbing the bridge of his nose when he realized they would have to leave soon.
He loved his job. For the most part. But the hours were long and the pay was shit. As were most of the people. And the facilities. And actually, if he was honest, pretty much every aspect of it was shit. But at least it was satisfying. And there were the regulars, like Adam and Roy, who made it feel worthwhile.
And he supposed that working alongside Edwin was pretty great also.
He switched off the television and brought his half-empty bowl into the kitchen, setting it on the counter and ignoring Edwin’s dramatic eye-roll as he grabbed the
bowl and disposed of the remaining food in the trashcan before dumping the bowl into the sink alongside his own dish.
“You ready to leave?” he asked, leaning back against the counter as he watched Edwin frantically attempt to clean. At least one of them was responsible in their shared apartment. Edwin paused, running a weary hand down his face, while glancing at his watch. He chewed his lower lip before nodding.
“Seeing as you cooked, I’ll drive,” Solomon offered, retrieving the car keys. Edwin smiled in reply, shuffling into the hallway and struggling to get his coat on.
“You ought to get a bigger coat,” Solomon mocked gently. Edwin scowled at him.
“You ought to shut up,” Edwin retorted, ushering the both of them out of the front door and into the bitterly cold winter air.
“Oh, nice comeback. I wonder how long it took you to come up with that.”
“Shut up,” Edwin repeated with a huff, but the slight crinkle around his eyes betrayed his smile. Solomon laughed as he slipped into the car, rapidly seeking out the protection it offered him from the elements. His thoughts trailed back to the British pickpocket and his ridiculously thin coat, feeling some of his mirth melt away as he started the car.
They did not live far away, which he supposed was another perk of his job. Honestly, they could probably walk, but someone had already attempted to mug him today. It was hardly the safest of places. A mix of the serious homeless problem and the growing gang presence meant that it was growing increasingly dangerous.
He pulled up around the back of the shelter, which was reserved for staff and volunteers. Other than Laurel’s car, who volunteered in the kitchens, the car park was frustratingly empty. He put the handbrake on, frowning at the desolate car park. He knew Emerson could barely afford to keep them, let alone hire enough people to keep the shelter from being dangerously understaffed. As it was, Emerson was having enough trouble keeping the shelter up and running. They didn’t exactly live in a place where donations and volunteers were rife.
He stepped out into the cold air, rubbing his hands together futilely. An icy breeze licked his face making it sting as he made his way inside. It was evident that Jon had already left, not that Solomon blamed him. Emerson would be around somewhere to keep the shelter in somewhat running order, and Laurel had been volunteering long enough to have some understanding of how to keep the place under control.
Regardless, as soon as he entered he was jumped pretty much literally by a mob of frustrated, and haggard-faced people all shouting out various complaints and demands, which intensified to a crescendo of indiscriminate noise. Edwin noticed several new faces, these individuals hung back, almost clinging to the walls in an attempt to stay away from the chaotic crowd.
“Okay, Jesus, everyone take a step back and get into a line. If you just want food, go to Laurel, the woman over there waving at us. If you want to get a bed, go to Solomon here, and if you need any specific help, whether simply just advice or medical, then come to me. As usual if you push, create unrest or anything like that, we will have to remove you from the building. As for beds, it’s first come first serve,” Edwin explained, an authoritative tone to his voice as he managed to calm the rabble into silence.
The silence only lasted momentarily before the crowd quickly dispersed into a hurried scrabble and forming something resembling lines. Most of which came to him, desperate for shelter tonight. Solomon could tell already that they did not have enough beds for everyone.
He scanned the crowd for Adam or Roy, but they did not seem to be present. He frowned, debating mentally whether he should keep a couple of beds free just in case, even as he eyed the crowd in front of him that desperately needed those beds.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he offered beds to the people, advising everyone that if they had somewhere else they could possibly go then they should give their beds up to those who needed them more, especially with the storm coming. No one actually did give up a bed. They just stared at him, a glimmer of irritation in hard-set eyes at the implication that they would be here if they didn’t really need it.
Halfway through the line and with only a few more beds left, he spotted a familiar face. He straightened up, momentarily ignoring the chatter of the person at the front of the line. The red-haired man eyed the crowd speculatively, a degree of disappointment marring his face at the sheer size, before their eyes met. Adam looked up hopefully, subtly raising three fingers. Solomon nodded in response, crossing off three beds from his list, leaving him with only a couple more to spare.
As soon as he said there were no beds left, the crowd more or less ebbed away, their shoulders slumped and bitter curses whispered under their breath. Now that the beds were gone, the fight turned to finding whatever little shelter could be found in the street.
Adam hung back until the crowd left before he made his way towards him. Solomon resisted the urge to pull him into a hug, knowing that such a show of affection would suggest favoritism which would most definitely displease anyone watching. Nevertheless, Adam grinned at him, and Solomon felt his heart warm, distracting him from the guilt he felt at withholding the beds.
“Thanks for the beds.”
“No problem, buddy, although in the future, try to make my job easier and get here sooner,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why three beds, by the way? I thought it’d just be you and Roy…”
“Yeah, we met someone who needs as much help as he can get, to be honest. Roy took an immediate shine to him, so he’s been hanging around. He’s alright I guess, pretty funny if you don’t take him serious,” Adam explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Solomon raised an eyebrow. Adam and Roy tended to stick to themselves and avoid others.
“Oh? What’s his name?”
“Daveth. He’s with Roy; they went to get food so they’re probably sitting down now if you want to meet him,” Adam replied, shifting his weight, and sparing a glance over his shoulder towards a group of people who lingered near the doors. Solomon could see why Edwin said he seemed wary. He frowned and made a mental note to bring it up later.
“Yeah sure.” He glanced over towards Edwin, but his colleague was clearly busy. Adam nodded, his smile fading a bit as he led the way towards the rows of tables where people were noisily slurping their food.
His eyes found Roy immediately, and he smiled, feeling immense relief at seeing the younger man again after a few days of not being a hundred percent sure whether he was safe or not. Roy looked up, feeling his gaze and grinned, his elbow knocking pointedly into the person sitting next to him. Solomon looked at the person beside Roy, both of them stiffening as they recognized each other.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, almost growled, as he stalked towards the table, reaching it in a few swift strides before towering over the seated man, presumably Daveth, who squeaked dramatically and flung himself onto his feet and behind Roy. He felt Adam come and stand next to him, but ignored the quizzical expression on his face.
“You kicked me in the balls, you cocksucker,” he hissed, careful to keep the scene contained. As much as he was itching to return the favor, he probably didn’t want to create a fight and get fired.
Daveth blushed a dark shade of crimson red.
“What was I meant to do? You had me pinned to a wall…” the younger man argued, his voice high pitched, and loud enough to draw a few eyes. Solomon shifted, eyes trailing over the crowd, before deciding he had no choice but to be the bigger man.
“You pickpocketed me,” he huffed, forcing himself to relax his stance.
Daveth blinked, his hands still gripping onto Roy’s shoulders and eyes darting around nervously.
Next to him Adam laughed, which started Roy giggling. Solomon glowered at them.
“This skinny little twig tried to mug someone, really? You’re an idiot!” Adam sneered, wiping at the corners of his eyes.
Daveth made a strange sound of protest, looking betrayed.
“I didn’t! I tried to pickpo
cket him, it’s completely different…”
“Not that much different when you get caught, moron,” Roy piped up, smirking around the plastic fork as he shoveled food in his mouth, despite the scene going on around him.
“You guys are rubbish,” Daveth mumbled childishly, his exaggerated pout making the other two descend into fits of laughter again.
Solomon rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips despite himself.
A familiar weight brushed up against him, and he tilted his head, watching as Edwin assessed the situation with a slightly strained smile on his face. Adam slipped away, mumbling something about trying to sneak some food off of Laurel, patting Edwin on the back as he went past. Edwin sunk onto the bench wearily.
“Wow, you look like shit,” Roy commented wryly. Edwin grimaced, running a hand down his face.
“Lots of people wanting advice today,” Edwin explained.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of shit happening on the street at the moment,” Roy replied with a shrug, his fork clinking against his bowl as he scooped up what remained of his food.
“Like what?” Solomon piped up, slipping into the space next to Edwin. Roy shrugged again, his brows furrowing.
“Just usual gang bullshit,” he said.
Solomon frowned, his eyes were drawn to Daveth as he shifted awkwardly, still standing behind Roy.
“How’d you guys meet then?” Solomon asked, changing the topic abruptly when it was clear it wasn’t going anywhere.
Daveth blinked at him.
There was something startled, almost anxious in his look. Solomon wondered idly how old he was; at least a decade younger than himself. Around Roy’s age most likely.
“The usual. Shared a pizza, got talking, decided to hang around,” Roy replied, his face brightening despite his blasé tone.
Daveth shifted, eventually coming to sit down where he had been before.
“Who are you?” Edwin pressed, brows crinkling in confusion.
“Uh, my name’s Daveth,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. There was something awkward about the younger man; Solomon did not think he had spent much time on the streets. He was simply too jumpy.