Brick Lane Novels & Stories

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” I pulled away and shot back, “Yeah, well, I like to safeguard my fun times with a little thing called commitment.” “Gah.” He hissed at me and shied away even as he continued to hold my hand. “Alright, alright. Point made. I’m backing off now.” I grinned, feeling triumphant, and relaxed my grip in his. This was nice, I decided. I really liked hanging out with Brick. Even in scary neighborhoods. Glancing around me, I took in my surroundings. One side of the alley was lined with rick after rick of cut firewood that someone had piled along the outer wall of the building. The handwritten sign above the piles said each cord was for sale for three hundred apiece.

The address in the anonymous message led Emily to a quiet brownstone in the West Village—narrow streets lined with ivy-covered brick, gas lamps flickering like they belonged to another century. The building number matched exactly: 47 Bleecker Street. A discreet brass plaque beside the door read Private Residence – No Solicitors. She paid the cab driver in cash, told him not to wait, and stood on the sidewalk staring up at the fourth-floor windows. One light was on—warm, golden, spilling through half-drawn curtains.

This could get me the best of the best…I guess. As I'd stepped into the busy night, walking briskly like I was very much familiar with this place. I came to a halt in front of a wall that contained something of much interest. “City of Bronx NY. Avoid dark alleys at night.” I read the notice that was on a dirty brick wall. I looked to my left and behold, the wall led the way to the entrance to this alley

The two, Brianna and Jack, arrived at their destination only after fifteen minutes on the road. She lives in the suburb, but it was direct to the expressway with a yield lane on the side directing to the main road. They could avoid the busy streets and arrive at the business center directly towards the LM Realty Group Building.

I take a hard turn off the main street, and the buildings change from stone mansions and glass condos to brick warehouses tagged with old graffiti and rundown shacks. She shifts in her seat when I pull up outside a squat, grimy building wedged between a shuttered diner and a garage. The sign above the door is faded, but you can still make out the battered gloves painted next to the words “Hollow Ground Boxing.” Liana eyes the entrance like it’s a trap. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” her voice seeps with displeasure. I cut the engine and lean back, letting the silence stretch. “What, princess?”

She asked if it was Nahlela and I told her to mind her business and then stopped the call. I decided to take things slowly with Nahlela. If I tried going too fast, it could only push her away. I ordered for a cake to be made with the words “I am sorry” written on it. She told me before that her best type of cake was Plain cake, so I asked the baker to make it plain with butter icing. I knew that she usually closed from work around six so I placed it at her doorstep around six thirty with a bouquet of flowers which had roses, hydrangeas, baby’s breath, daisies and dahlia’s. fortunately for me, her apartment was on the top floor of the building and it was at the end of the hall. I wanted to st

People argued with those trying to jump the line and a fist fight nearly broke out between a couple of guys ahead of me. Through the din and the noise, I zoned out. I tried to picture what Brice looked like now, and how he would react to seeing me. We didn’t have a falling out or anything, we simply grew apart. But knowing what I did about him now, there would be no friendly reunion. That was for sure. Brice worked at a top class law firm in the financial district. One look at the high rise in front of me when I finally made it there, and I knew this was the kind of place that pulled in high end clients where the fights were about millions, if not billions, of dollars.

He texted on Saturday morning. I was at the Cobble Hill bakery. Six AM. The morning rush still an hour away, the kitchen warm and quiet, the specific productive silence of early work before the day required anything of anyone. My phone buzzed on the counter. An unknown number. *I'm at the Atlantic Avenue market. The fish stall on the east end. The man here is telling me the branzino came in this morning and I should absolutely buy it. Is he right or is he selling me something?*

Brick said frowning at me. "Party?" I asks "Yes. So stand there and get dressed because we're going to the grocery store today" "Where are we going to party?" I asked him again. "Just here in your house with your maids and guards?" He said so I nodded. "Okay!" I said happily and stood up. We walked to together to each other's room to get dressed. ********** We are already inside Brick’s BMW and he is driving now while I'm just looking out the window.

Her eyes held mine for a second, then turned to Morgana, “Are we sharing our territory with them?” Lilian is Isabelle’s sister. They came to Midwick five months ago seeking a refuge and hoping to start a life without the looking danger of their family. Morgana tried to assure the wariness spread by Isabelle’s words, meanwhile Tom moved his body closer to mine. We were standing in the corner, our shoulders touching softly. I felt his hand brushing by mine. I recalled a time when such a simple action would make my heart race in my chest, but now, it only skipped a beat.