Synergy

Synergy

Copyright 2015 Georgia Payne

Published by Georgia Payne at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you would like to share this book with another person, please
purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading
this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your
enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your
favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.

Prologue

It was a cold, bitter
night in the streets of Detroit, Michigan. Although they had seen
the worst of their winter, there was still a chill in the air.
People were still wearing coats but had mostly abandoned their hats
and gloves in anticipation of the spring months. Although the
daytime had showed a glimmer of hope of the sunshine to come, the
night had turned frosty unexpectedly. The sidewalk glistened with
frost and as people walked over it, it crunched under their feet.
It was Friday night and though it was usual for the streets to be
busy, tonight there was an extra atmosphere. This Friday fell upon
payday for those that worked, and they were ready to let their hair
down after a busy working week. Most were let out of work an hour
early on Friday’s and the streets were quick to fill up with people
rushing home. The roads were full with cars closely following the
one in front, eager to make every green light. Music blared from
open car windows, cigarette smoke billowing from the crevice.

Weekends were always
eventful in this city. Most partied till the early hours, in clubs
or people’s homes and they always made a lasting impression on
their neighbours. The emergency room in the nearest hospital would
be full to the brim by Friday night and would stay that way right
through till Sunday. Injuries ranged from broken bones, a domestic
gone wrong, or in more serious - though not uncommon - situations,
stabbings or shootings. On this particular Friday night, some
revellers had started their evening early, going out straight from
work. They would be the ones who later staggered back early and
spewed on the street before they made it to their homes. Some would
pass out in the club and have to be escorted out. In a lot of
cases, they would find themselves in someone else’s bed in the
morning with no recollection of the night before or the identity of
the person they left sleeping.

For the unemployed,
Friday was just another night. They were gathering in large groups
round friend’s houses, loading up on cheap vodka and rosé before
plans for the rest of the night unveiled themselves. Rap music
could be heard pounding from most houses in a mile radius, some
with their windows open, despite the cold weather. Of course, for
most, it would be to let out the fumes of their weed smoke.

For the teenagers in
the neighbourhood who couldn't go to each other’s houses or out to
a club, the streets were one big adventure. They'd stand in crowds
outside the convenience store, being generally loud and abusive to
anyone who would comment on their rowdy behaviour. Some of these
kids had never had a good role model in their lives; they didn't
fear anyone. Most people wouldn't challenge them through fear of
being their next victim. In the past, kids were just kids, but now,
in a country where guns and knives were the norm, kids no longer
fought with their fists. You didn't have to be 'hard' to succeed in
a fight, as long as you were quick and armed.

As the night
progressed, girls ventured out of their houses dressed in sparkly
dresses, their six inch heels staggering down the street despite
the frost beneath their feet. In Diamond Street, one of the nosiest
streets in Detroit, babies cried while their mothers argued with
their boyfriends, drug pushers hammered on doors looking for their
money, and a little further down the street, a woman who was
cheating on her husband could be seen waving out a lover. For some,
Diamond Street would be somewhere shocking, a place they would
avoid. For Dee Thompson, this was her life.

Chapter 1 –
Trap

Dee

It was
around 20:30 and the latest rap songs could be heard from a top
bedroom window. Inside, Dee Thompson was sitting at a dressing
table, applying her lipstick in the mirror as she sang along to the
songs quietly. Her dark brown eyes were covered in heavy black
makeup, creating a smoky look, whilst her plump lips were being
covered in a vibrant pink. The contrast with her dark cocoa
skin complimented her complexion. Behind the over the top makeup
was a beautiful woman, one who didn't need much makeup to look
good, but in a job like hers, appearance was everything. Most
importantly, it was money. Dee stood up and looked at herself in
the mirror. She studied her face for a few seconds, checking the
makeup she had just applied was perfect. She gave her hair one last
scrunch, her long black curls spilling over her shoulders. Picking
up a beer bottle from the dressing table, she knocked back the last
sip and placed the bottle back down before moving from the mirror.
Her mini skirt barely covered her behind and her cropped top showed
off her flawless cleavage. Her large breasts were all hers,
something a lot of the girls she worked with couldn't claim. Her
22-year-old body was slim and toned, and she wore a sparkly belly
bar in her navel. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she
grabbed her trench coat and began to button it up before taking one
last look in the mirror. She pulled her curls from inside of her
coat, letting them flow down her back.

As she moved to the other side of the bedroom, she turned off
her music, placing her music player in her pocket for the journey
ahead. The sudden silence highlighted shouting in the near
distance. Though it sounded like it was coming from outside, it
didn’t sound too far from her home. For many, shouting may provoke
alarm, but Dee barely batted an eyelid. Shouting was the norm on
Diamond Street and with the walls of the houses so thin, you could
often hear the neighbours rowing. However, as the shouts turned to
screams a startled Dee headed for the bedroom window. Janet
Houston, a larger lady in her 40s who lived across from Dee,
hovered over a body lying on the ground. She was screaming,
pleading for someone to help as tears gushed down her face. Dee saw
utter devastation in her features, but before she could place the
identity of the person on the floor, someone shouted
'
DARREN
.' He was
Janet's husband.

The couple had moved in around five years ago. Dee and her
family often heard the two of them shouting and arguing. Sometimes
the fights would end up on the streets but again, this was nothing
out of the ordinary for Diamond Street. Most of the time, nobody
got involved. It wasn't until the family saw strange men arriving
and leaving throughout the day while Darren was at work that
Janet's secret was revealed to everybody; she was cheating on him.
Some women had tried to make Janet see sense. Darren wasn’t
somebody you wanted to mess with; they had all seen how angry and
heated he could get during their arguments, and rumours were afloat
that he’d done time before for beating her. Nevertheless, Janet
carried on doing what she wanted to do.

As she watched the scene from her bedroom window, Dee became
more concerned at the lack of movement from the body that lay on
the floor. She closed her curtain behind her as she turned from the
window, left the room and went downstairs. As she did, she heard
commotion from downstairs and knew her family must be watching the
same scene. As she entered the living room she saw her mother
peering out of the window. Without looking up, she gestured for Dee
to join her. With no beating around the bush, her mother
exclaimed, 
“I think Darren Houston
just got stabbed
!”

Her
mother was short in stature, around five feet, and a chubby lady.
She wasn’t always chubby; it was more a recent thing. Presumably
since she gave up drugs a few years ago, she used food as a
substitute. Dee joined her mother at the window, towering over her
in her heels. By now, Janet was hysterical and as someone pulled
her from the floor, blood covered her hands.

“You don't think
...?” Dee started
but her mother cut her off.

“Girl, Janet ain't even like that. No. She
wouldn't
.”

Although
her mother had her opinion, Dee wasn't so sure. After all, she'd
learnt not to trust people a long time ago; she found they were
often unpredictable. Plus, she knew if a man had put his hands on
her like Darren had to Janet, she sure as hell wouldn't think twice
about slicing that motherfucker.

Gathering her thoughts for a moment, Dee moved from the
window and headed back up the stairs, this time to the bedroom at
the end of the corridor. She opened the door slowly and poked her
head in. She could see a little face peeping out from the covers,
eyes tight shut. As she watched the little person breathe, she was
sure he was asleep and made her way into the room quietly. As she
approached the bed, she saw the little boy in his Spiderman pyjamas
fast asleep. She squatted down next to the bed and rubbed her hand
over his head. His dark skin was smooth and soft and underneath his
closed eyelids were the most beautiful brown eyes, just like his
father’s.

Sometimes she had to reality check herself that he was hers,
her perfect little son. He was the only constant in her life, the
only man she could ever trust. Not wanting to wake him up, she
thanked her lucky stars that he was a deep sleeper and oblivious to
the commotion outside. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead
before making her way back down the stairs. As she reached the
bottom, she picked up her bag from the banister and announced her
departure to her mom.

Dee
moved as quickly as possible out of the street, not wanting to get
caught up in the commotion. She had a job to get to, and standing
around gawping at something wasn’t considered help, though many
would use it to get the gossip. As she turned the corner into
Emerald Street, she heard the loud sirens of police and ambulance
heading towards her street. She sighed and picked up her walking
pace. Just another night.

As Dee
turned the corner she saw the usual group of teen boys hanging
outside Tina Bryant’s house. Tina was a single mom, and despite her
best efforts to keep her teenage son on the straight and narrow, he
had already been thrown out of school. God only knew who or where
his father was. Though Tina had been seen with a lot of men over
the years, no one was too sure whether any of them were the boy’s
father. That was the problem with most kids in Dee’s neighbourhood;
most of them had never had or known a father. They learnt
everything from their mothers, and with the lack of a male figure
they tended to latch onto older, more experienced boys and take
note of their behaviour. This led to half the neighbourhood ending
up in jail or a coffin.

Tina’s
14-year-old son was in the middle of the group, wearing his hood up
over his cap and smoking from a large blunt. Rashaad was a nice
boy, he always hollered at Dee as she passed and although he had
the bravado, she knew he was harmless. That kid even had some
potential; he got straight As in school before he was kicked out
for his unruly behaviour. Just as she walked a few steps closer
Rashaad turned around and saw her coming. He wolf whistled down the
street and the group of boys with him laughed and nudged each
other.

“
Yo
baby
!” he shouted, watching her walk
closer.

“
When you gon’
stop frontin’ and give me a chance
?” He
smiled her way waiting for her reply, knowing she would laugh him
off. Dee kept a straight face as she walked toward him, never
feeling intimidated in their presence.

“I
n ya’ dreams lil
boy
!” she replied, and that sent his
friends roaring into laughter.

As Dee
drew level with Tina Bryant’s house, she smiled at
Rashaad.

“
Stay outta
trouble, ya heard
?” she told him. He
nodded before he passed his blunt to another boy, who Dee knew as
Dean Rowland. He was  17 and had just been released from
prison a few months ago. Dee worried about Rashaad’s future knowing
he was hanging around with the likes of Dean Rowland; that boy had
been trouble from the minute he was born. She knew if Rashaad
continued to hang out with him, he would end up the same
way.