Antonio's concern for me is touching but it’s cost me long seconds. As I emerge, blinking against the sunlight, Wonder Boy has vanished.

Fuck!

Have I lost him?

I spin, scanning all around, seeking my quarry, ignoring the curious stares of passers-by…

… The line of parked cars…

Doorways…

… along the block…

… the other side of the street…

Zip. Nada…

Then, sprinting across the street, dodging the traffic, I make it to the corner: the clothes store I used as my lurking spot when I first came here.

How long did he hold me up?

Twenty seconds?

Thirty?

How far can the bastard have gone?

Then, I see him again, tall against the crowd.

He emerges from the next door along from Antonio’s, a small hair-salon-cum-barber-shop. Shoving something into his pocket, he turns my way…

The clothing store?

It appears Santa Claus is doing his rounds, collecting his gifts from all the little boys and girls on his list, regardless of whether they’re naughty or nice.

merge with the hubbub of people, then double-back on myself to wait, watching

the people… Own the

looking through the plate glass windows, I see him inside, looming

An arm to either side of her, smirking, he has her trapped, enclosed between his chest and arms, and the wall. Even from here, I can see the way her

his height, looking down on her, moving in on her space as he cages her with his

…and accept…

… the rules.

is the real

If that were Jenny…

My gut tightens…

Then, inwardly, I chuckle.

his throat. The only time anyone ever took my daughter down, she was nine months pregnant. Even then, it took two strong men and a hypo of tranquilizer to pull

the till,

love to take him

intimidate someone who

smirk from your

It’s not the time…

I tuck it away for future reference, adding it to my list of To-Dos: Teach Asshole

re-emerges, again

Always the pocket…

Never the

sauntering to his next stop: a tobacconist

serving fall silent as I point to the first brand I recognise… “Vinte, por favor.

out then, as I’m

a few seconds, letting him get a little distance as I slip the cigarette back into the pack, when I

flickering in the breeze. The beggar inhales deeply, smoke drifting from his nostrils, then gives me a small bow

forehead… “My pleasure...”

Shit!

Where is he?

Boy’s nowhere in sight, lost

Have I lost him?

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