The rain pounds the ground of Belamie Road with its obstinate manner. Still Frankie did not move from his spot on the sidewalk. Now was the best time for him.
His gray eyes cover the space in front of him but he does not take in the site. He is cold, hardened. The look on his face is dark and intriguing, the look that brought the storm.
He leans against the street lamp allowing it’s dim glow to catch his youthful features among the rain and the cold. He lets a smirk dance playfully onto his face as his keen ears pick up the sound of a car.
The smirk is a lie but he knows it helps, and he knows he needs all the help he can get.
The car drives by at the speed limit, something Frankie is used to but not something he likes. He sighs and fidgets impatiently under the lamp, his black wet hair flopping in his eyes.
He is half glad the car drove by though he would much rather be out of the cold. He was getting out of the howling night no other way.
His gaze shot up as another car approached. This time it slowed and pulled over to the curb. Frank peered in before sliding onto the seat as the door popped open quietly. He knew he would crawl back to Belamie Street in the morning a beaten and bruised puppy still starved but if he was lucky there would be a few bills in his pocket.
Davey sat motionless. His sharp brown eyes followed the storm soaked boy as Frankie leaned against the gum-stained lamppost in imitative concealed subtlety. Davey resisted turning his car on to pick the boy up.
He had seen the boy stand at the corner at night not leaving till he had picked up at least one job or the night was bare minutes afore light.
He had seen the boy leave his spot in the ally under the queer willow to go to school, the porous bag slung over his shoulder.
He had studied the boy as he had studied for tests or finished homework when he had been in college.
He felt enticed by the seventeen year old.
Frank left the jobs bed once the dreary sun bit obnoxiously at his eyes. In his jeans pocket was a couple bills. His naked body was a mixture of red, blue purple and black.
Gingerly he pulled the long sleeve white shirt across his scratched shoulders and over the cuts whipped vilely into the pallor flesh. He buttoned the cuffs around blue toned wrists before securing his tie around his red, bite ridden neck.
Pulling on his tight black jeans Frankie fled the premises remembering fully the growl of the man to be gone before he woke.
Frankie jogged the way to his willow tree were he picked up his bag for school, pausing only to check and see if it was the ominous mans car parked on the curb in front of the queer willow.
Davey awoke looking at his guilty alarm clock. Slowly he moved from his bed before turning on his computer. He worked a short while before becoming bored with the monotone drear of his life as an online stockbroker.
His accounts filled up though the man only rented the dank one room apartment and...