by Monica James
Each breath I take, I take for my brother because not a moment goes by that I don’t think of him. So many years have passed and it’s hard to remember him, but for the first time in my life, I see him staring back at me when I look in the mirror.
The night I killed Jaws, something changed—not just physically, but emotionally as well.
I didn’t know what would happen, but Franca proved to be an ally I didn’t even know I needed. The tale she spun was so convincing, even I believed it. The story was almost true—almost. Jaws killed Bianca in a jealous rage.
He kidnapped Jordy, knowing I would do whatever he wanted because of Tiger.
So far, the truth.
I was forced to snitch, afraid of telling Franca because I didn’t want any harm to come to Jordy. During my role as a double agent, I was able to get an inside scoop on the illegal dealings of two major drug lords in Detroit.
Tiger made a deal, knowing I couldn’t. Franca knew she couldn’t omit that truth because she’d already gotten the paperwork in order. Franca was waiting for everything to be aboveboard before she arrested Jaws, but Jaws got wind of what was going on and fled, taking me with him as a hostage.
This is where we stray toward fiction.
He roughed me up and broke my hand, angered that his plan had failed. Tiger found us. Turns out there is some app where you can find a phone, which is how she uncovered where we were. She begged Jaws to tell her where Jordy was. When he didn’t, she snapped.
Stevie was technically the one who killed Jaws. He was out for revenge, which is true, and when his confrontation with Jaws came to a head, well, Jaws came in second best. Jaws’s violent, premeditated death was Stevie’s doing. As for Stevie’s demise—Franca took the bullet for that.
She came to Blue Bloods just in time. Stevie was about to kill both me and Tiger, furious I betrayed him. She had no other choice but to shoot to kill. But not before he shot her in the leg.
We found Jordy thanks to the information on Jaws’s phone.
The corpses of Stevie, Jaws, and Bianca confirmed her story. So did my retelling of everything I knew about the illegal dealings of two drug lords the police have been after for years. They never had enough proof, but now they did.
Did the story stick?
Hell yes, it did.
They didn’t care about the discrepancies. Franca just took down two of Detroit’s most wanted.
I ended up being what I promised never to be—a fucking snitch. I told the cops everything. Well, my version of course. The dead don’t talk, remember?
Kong’s family was notified of his death—murdered by Jaws. His remains have never been found. The money they received was from a “friend.” Kong put a plan in place for his family if anything were to happen to him.
Scrooge is officially listed as missing. That asshole doesn’t deserve a resting place. His wife sure as shit knew who she was married to, so she knows missing means dead. Besides, last I heard, she was doing just fine taking over the matriarchal role of the Da Silva family.
Paul’s body was unearthed and laid to rest properly. His death was blamed on Stevie, as I recounted the evening. The DNA match in Stevie’s home corroborated my story.
There was one side to the story I left out, and that was José’s role. I was a snitch, but I wasn’t a fucking snitch. Besides, José is the lesser of two evils. When the cops asked about where the drugs came from, I gave up José’s rival.
He is now truly the kingpin of this town. He is unrivaled, which is what he always wanted. And maybe the reason he decided to call me his friend.
With all of this information on hand, Franca brought down an empire. Twenty-two members involved with Stevie’s fighting syndicate were arrested, and their involvement uncovered more drugs, more illegal dealings, and more bodies.
Detroit’s seedy underbelly was brought to justice on the testimony of me, and because of that, I was given a full pardon of my crimes. The cops weren’t happy with the route I took, but it seems just like José, acquitting me of any wrongdoings was the lesser of two evils.
But when I told them why I was involved with Jaws in the first place, all of this began to make sense. Bringing down Jaws didn’t just save Detroit, it saved me as well. I achieved what I wanted—Damian’s murderer was finally brought to justice because Jaws was officially linked to the crime.
We had the recorded confession from the wire as proof. Yes, the quality was a little poor in some parts, which was thanks to Franca tampering with the evidence, but the cops heard loud and clear that this was about revenge. Jaws killed my brother, which is why I agreed to play both sides.
There were bodies everywhere, which kept the cops busy. If they sensed something was amiss, they didn’t care. According to them, the good guys won. And I was happy to run with this story because I was finally, finally a free man.
Tiger really did save me in every sense of the word. If she hadn’t gone to Franca, I hate to think how this would have ended. Me dead, no doubt. And once upon a time, I would have been okay with that outcome, but when I look into the distance and see my entire world, that’s something I no longer want.
Kissing two fingers, I press them to Damian’s headstone, then stand and bid my brother farewell. I don’t feel guilt when I come here any longer. Maybe one day I’ll forgive myself—one day.
I wait for Tiger to approach me because I just fucking love to look at her. Love, a word I never thought I’d use again. But with Tiger, I’ve experienced so many firsts.
She bought Everland’s as a tribute to Avery. She changed it a little and allowed anyone, from all walks of life, to join. The pretentious moms and dads didn’t like the change, but Tiger won’t allow anyone to make her feel lesser ever again.
It’s been an utter success, and she is looking into opening a second studio here in Detroit.
Although she didn’t want anything to do with Jaws’s money, she knew what I said was warranted. The cops took all of the “legal” dealings, but the illegal stuff was handed over to her by his lawyer. He refused at first, but soon changed his mind when I threatened to expose his role to the cops.
It seems being a snitch does have some perks.
There is a lot of money. Like millions.
Having this at one’s disposal can be dangerous, but not to Tiger. She gave to Lotus, to Venus, to Erika, even to Tawny. She gave to anyone who needed it because that’s the type of person she is. She knows what it’s like to struggle, and although she’ll never be in that position again, she’ll never forget her roots.
The Pink Oyster is now the hottest gentlemen’s club in Detroit. With all the shit that went down at Blue Bloods, Carlos went back to Puerto Rico, not interested in taking the fall for Jaws. Andre got his job back. Lotus is too fucking nice for her own good.
But I guess she takes in all the strays. Didn’t she do the same to me?
She doesn’t know the full story, but she knows enough. My plan before shit hit the fan was to quit The Pink Oyster as I didn’t want Lotus involved in crap. But the truth is, I would miss the place. With the overhaul Lotus was able to afford, the club is double the size.
She said she needed me. But in fact, we need one another.
I’m still a work in progress, but I can finally admit that I can’t do this on my own. I tried, and I almost fucked things up beyond repair.
So maybe things really do happen for a reason. A chain reaction of events led me here, and although our past isn’t ideal, it’s ours, and Tiger, well, she is mine.
The moment I’m hit with cherry blossoms, I smile. I can’t help it. Jordy checks me back in line, however, when he scowls. He is slowly coming to terms with the fact I ain’t going anywhere. But I like that he busts my balls.
The kid’s got game.
“Yo,” I say to him.
He replies by placing his earbuds into his ears.
Tiger giggles, which does all sorts of shit it shouldn’t. How can it be she gets even more beautiful each time I see her? It
could be because she fucking saved me, saved me from myself.
She never gave up on me. Fuck, she should have. But I’m glad she didn’t.
“What?” she asks, rubbing her nose. “Do I have something on my face?”
I don’t reply. I just look at her because I will never have my fill of her.
“Don’t judge me,” she says with a grin. “But I ate a bag of Twizzlers on the walk over here.”
I never would. She is fucking perfect. And she is mine.
The walk from Hero’s resting place to Damian’s isn’t far, but she could eat a whole fucking cow for all I care. Nothing but the best for her, for her and…my baby.
Let’s once again circle around the everything happens for a reason concept. I never in my goddamned existence thought I would want to be a father. The notion was so foreign, I would have laughed if someone told me that I would be.
But here I am, looking at the love of my life who carries our baby.
Stepping forward, I place a kiss on Tiger’s nose before cupping her rounded belly. Jordy is disgusted, and I would be too if I wasn’t so fucking smitten, by the very PDA and walks off toward the car.
“I never would. You ready?”
She nods, looking at Damian’s headstone with a genuine smile. “See you, Damian. Judging by the strong little legs of your nephew, I’d say he’ll grow up to be a quarterback just like his uncle.”
I know it’s not conventional, but this is our story. I like to channel my inner Mufasa and think that maybe this is the circle of life. Don’t judge, Tiger has been on a Disney binge since finding out she was pregnant. She said it was the pregnancy hormones, whatever the fuck that means.
I still have so much to learn, and that’s okay because for once in my life, I want to experience it all. Which is the reason I’ve done something I never thought I would.
I called my parents.
When Jaws told me I was now an older brother, something inside me shifted. I’d forgotten other people were affected by Damian’s death. At first, it was awkward as all fuck, but the phone calls eventually became longer and less strained, until my mom and dad asked if I wanted to meet them for coffee.
Tiger told me this was them offering an olive branch, so I said yes.
My parents are happily married to other people, but they will always be connected by Damian and by me. I don’t have any expectations, but I’m fucking nervous to see them after so long. And meeting my siblings is fucking insane.
So much has changed. But some things are still very much the same.
“Bye, bro. I love you. It’s now my turn to be the older brother. Good thing I have the best role model, right?”
Tiger gives me the time I need.
Arranging the flowers one last time, I loop my fingers through Tiger’s, and we commence a slow walk toward the car.
She is fucking adorable—yes, I used the word adorable—as she waddles. Our baby boy is big, strong, the doctors say, but with a mother like Tiger, I never expected anything less.
“So, I was thinking about baby names,” she reveals.
“As long as he doesn’t have a weird ass name like Fidel or Jovian, then I’m good.”
Tiger stops walking and turns to me with a smirk. “I don’t even think they’re real names.”
I widen my eyes with a nod. “Oh, trust me, they are. I googled that shit.”
She bursts into laughter. “No, I was thinking of something a little more traditional. Something personal.” She works her bottom lip, which usually means something is up.
Gently prying it free with my thumb, I arch a brow, waiting for her to speak. And when she does…
“What about…Damian?”
My response is dead silence. I need a minute. Or maybe two.
She takes my silence as a bad thing and quickly backtracks. “Or we cannot. I just thought—”
Pressing my lips to her, I quickly silence her. She moans into me, leaning her body into mine. The kiss was meant to be chaste, but another thing I learned about pregnancy hormones is that they make women really, really horny.
As much as I’d like to fuck her senseless, this isn’t what this kiss is about. Breaking apart, I chuckle as I thumb over Tiger’s pouty bottom lip.
“Damian is fucking perfect.” The medallion around my neck feels heavy with sentiment.
Tiger’s lips lift into a relieved grin. “Perfect.”
We make our way to the car in silence because my head and heart are full. I know it’s messed up. I took from Hero, and now I’m living the life he could have lived. I know I should feel some sort of remorse, but I don’t.
I don’t regret my decisions because they brought me to Tiger.
One common theme linked us together, every single one of us, and that’s revenge. The faces of revenge varied for every player, but it was the one common denominator that decided our fates. I’m one of the lucky ones as I’m still standing.
My cell chimes in my back pocket, and I suddenly wonder if my parents have cold feet. When I retrieve it, however, I sigh in relief, which is ironic, considering who the caller is.
“Colmillo, I haven’t caught you at a bad time?”
“Nope, all good. What’s up, José?”
“Got half an hour to spare?”
When I meet Tiger’s eyes, she shakes her head, but it’s noncommittal. She knows José only calls when something is wrong.
“Sure. What’s the deal?”
He sighs, hinting I’m going to like what he’s about to say. “Some asshole just jumped one of my kids. He was minding his business on his corner like usual. I have his address.”
“Enough said,” I cut him off. He’s already sealed the deal.
“I’ll text you the address.”
We say our goodbyes while Tiger rolls her eyes.
“I gotta make a pit stop.”
We stop a few feet away from the car because even though Jordy has in his earbuds, we don’t want him to know what “work” I do on the side.
“This is fucking stupid. And dangerous,” she adds, folding her arms around her.
“I know, baby, but some asshole jumped one of José’s kids.” She knows I’m talking about one of the teenagers he has working for him and not his actual offspring.
“Well, maybe he should be in school and not”—she lowers her voice—“dealing drugs.”
She’s right. And I love her even more that we have this conversation every time José calls.
“Sometimes school isn’t an option for these kids. Look at Paul.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” she argues with a huff.
“I know. So, what do you want me to do? Let the fucker think it’s okay to beat up a kid?”
She mulls over my question and sighs. “No. But why you?”
And that’s the question I ask myself daily.
I know what you’re thinking, and I wish I could say I’d be satisfied living a normal life, but I wouldn’t. I’ve never been “normal” because what the fuck is normal anyway? My life has been far from conventional, and yes, the monsters have subdued, but they still roar, late at night, desperate to stretch their legs.
And I’m okay with that.
I meant it when I said José is the lesser of two evils. If he wasn’t dealing, then some other gluttonous asshole would be. I wish this were a world where drugs and violence didn’t exist, but we don’t live in a Disney fairy tale.
José ensures his drugs are clean and not cut with shit. An addict will find their high anywhere—at least José sells to his clients in moderation. A drug dealer with a conscience? Now that’s something new.
I don’t condone what he does, but I would be a hypocrite if I thought I was somehow better than him. Didn’t I use Paul for my own gain? And look where that got him.
Every job I do is me trying to save someone like Paul. I give them my two cents to do with what they will. But I’m not here to lecture them; I’m here to protect them from the assholes in this world.
&nb
sp; Why is this my problem?
Because it seems I actually give two fucks about good and bad. Yes, I do bad things, but I do them to bad people, so surely, that cancels something out, right? José isn’t a hero, but neither am I. I can live with that because I’ve come to finally accept that my darkness is occasionally eclipsed by good.
I’ve come to realize this by the people I’ve met in my life. They saw something in me that I didn’t, and those people, they’re good. So if they can see my worth, then I can, too. My lone wolf tattoo now seems a little obsolete. But it’s a reminder of what I will never be again.
Yes, I killed four men without remorse, but the world is a better fucking place for it. And that’s why I help José.
The darkness inside me can only be appeased when I eliminate the pieces of shit in this world—one by fucking one. I won’t get them all, but to each kid who feels safer because of me, that makes all the difference.
Even though we have more than enough money, José pays me for each job I do for him. He knows my terms—I act as muscle only when an injustice is involved. I don’t hit up people who owe him money, or anyone who looked at him sideways.
I keep the streets clean of filth who would pollute it given half the chance. José once called me Detroit’s own Robin Hood. Once being the operative word because he knew not to call me that again when I broke his nose.
Our mutual respect runs both ways; it always has. He allows me to feed my demons, and I ensure he stays on top of the food chain. Are you supposed to like José? No. But you weren’t supposed to like me either.
I’m pretty certain Franca knows what I’m up to, but being police captain has kept her busy. Besides, I’m practically doing her job for her.
“Tiger”—I draw her to me—“I’m not one to sit on the sidelines. I can’t. I wish this world was perfect for you, for Jordy, and…Damian. But ugliness exists, and the only way to make it less ugly…is to break people’s noses.”
She laughs, but I know she worries. And I love her for it.
“You’re a vigilante with a moral compass,” she says, cupping my cheek.
“No. I’m just…Cody Bishop. The man who loves you more than anything in this entire world.”
I’m still grappling with this whole new identity because Bullseye isn’t riding shotgun anymore. But maybe like Superman did with Clark Kent, I can be both.
