Criminal Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page A

school. His hair was jet black and shone with freshly applied hair gel. It was cut short at the sides and back, and spiked on top. Mamood stood side on to the mirror and breathed in, pushing his chest out and tensing his biceps. He was only fifteen, but he played most sports at school and kept his figure toned by lifting weights. His dad had been tough all his life, and he pushed Mamood to follow his lead. Mamood looked up to his father, and respected him for what he had achieved in his lifetime. He always wore designer clothes, holidayed abroad regularly, and changed his Porsche every year. One day Mamood would enter the family business, whatever it was they did, and he would have all the flash trappings of wealth that his father had. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure what his business entailed, only that it was an import/export company. Whatever he did, it paid a shitload of money.
    In a few years time he would be borrowing his father’s car to pick up his dates, and a few years after that he would have his own. The future was bright. Mamood was vain, to say the least, and he worked hard to keep his appearance manicured. He opened the wardrobe door and flicked through his favourite shirts. The white Armani was very cool, but it might become marked where he was going. He selected a navy blue Versace and slipped it on, fastening the buttons up to the neck, leaving his gold chains visible. A pair of faded Levis and his new Air-Walk trainers finished the ensemble. He picked up the letter and read it again. Perfume wafted up to him from the pastel-coloured paper.
    The letter was from Vicky Stanton, who was in the year above him. She was a very sexy chick with a growing reputation for putting out to her boyfriends. The letter had been posted the day before, and it had been waiting for him when he had got home from school. Vicky said that she had fancied him for ages but was too shy to approach him. If he was interested, then he had to meet her at the reservoir. She said that she would make it worth his while. She hadn’t included her mobile number; she said that her father didn’t like her getting text messages from boys. There were a couple of old lock-ups close to the reservoir where teenagers met to kiss and canoodle. Mamood was hoping for a bit more than that tonight, and he checked that his parents weren’t around before slipping a packet of condoms into his Levis. Vicky’s reputation promised a lot more than just kissing. He checked the mirror one more time and slid the letter into his back pocket. Three long squirts of Ralph Lauren’s
Polo
topped the grooming. Mamood walked down the stairs with a spring in his step, nervous but excited at the thought of a sexual encounter.
    “Where are you going, son?” his father asked.
    “Got a hot date, Dad,” Mamood smiled and winked at his father.
    “You be careful, and don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do,” his father went to touch his hair.
    “Hands off, Dad, don’t mess up the hair!” Mamood danced back on his toes and put up his hands like a boxer.
    “You’re still not big enough to take on your old dad,” his father followed suit, raising his guard.
    “Leave the boy alone, Ash.” His mother came walking out of the kitchen. “Where is this hot date then?” she asked, a little concerned. His mother was old-fashioned. Her religious values had been passed down from generations and were deeply engrained in her. She found it difficult to think of her son being in a casual relationship with a female; her husband was her one and only sexual partner. He was far more ‘westernised’, his Muslim background long forgotten. She knew that he didn’t share all her ideals, especially where their son was concerned.
    “None of your business, Mum.” Mamood skipped over to his mother and picked her up by the waist. He was tall and gangly like his father had been at that age. He kissed his mum on the cheek and spun her around. She was pretty for her age and always