I just saw the film about two weeks ago, and I LOVE IT!! I love these characters, I love the idea, and I love Jack the most. Anyways, this is going to be about the four boys coming into Evelyn's care. I am thinking of putting an additional chapter to each boy for bonding, either with Evelyn or with the other brothers.
Read and review. The more review, the faster I will update.
"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!" strong hands grabbed at the boy who was screaming. It took the effort of three police officers to hold the boy from attacking a prone figure on the floor. This was a bizarre scene, an intimidating large man who was obviously beaten into a stupor and a boy no more then thirteen, whose knuckles were busted open. Speckles of blood colored the boy's skin as wild eyes bore holes into the prone figure.
A single, time worn woman stared at the scene with a sigh, "Robert, you have to calm down," she had said it without any notion of being listened too. It was not the first time that she had seen such a display, especially from Bobby McCall.
The man on the floor grunted as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, just enough to see the boy. Even with his face a bloody mess, he managed to glare at the boy with a feral gleam. "I want that lil' shit locked up. That fucker tried to kill me!"
This was all it took to send the boy into another fit of rage, adrenaline and sheer spite making Bobby tear away from his restraints. Within moments, Bobby was on top of the large man. Fists struck with destructive efficiency, filling the shocked silence with the sound of flesh meeting flesh. The man let out a scream when a blow broke his nose, sending blood cascading down his red face.
Finally shaken out of their shock, the cops moved quickly toward the boy. "Come ere," one of the officers grunted, as once again the three men hauled Bobby off of his victim. Instead of hanging around, and giving the kid more time to try and finish his work, they started to drag the swearing pre-teen out of the room.
The social worker watched as Bobby disappeared around the corner. Shaking her head, she turned to the mess left in the living room before her. A broken coffee table lay discarded around the room, along with the remnants of porcelain plaits and broken beer bottles. Blood appeared across the couch and the carpet, contrasting roughly with the far too clean look of the well cared for white apparel. Out of the corner of her eye, the social worker saw the wife slink into view from the kitchen entrance. She was a scrawny woman wearing a sundress and a large welt across half of her face, along with the look of a rabbit staring down a hungry fox. There was also a hastily concealed hand print on her arm, one that would likely match the man bleeding on the floor.
"We will be in touch about charges for the assault once we have talked to Robert," the social worker promised. She left the house with a shake of her head. "I'm too old for this shit."
It was a few hours before Bobby had calmed down enough to be considered safe. A fresh hole in the office's plaster was a testimony to the boy's rage. If the boy had not been stuffed into one of the cemented interview rooms, the office would have needed more costly work done then filling in the hole and a touch of spackle.
When Bobby had finally stopped rampaging through the interview room, he sat on the bolted down chair while leaning his elbows on the matching table. He knew this side show all too well. Pretty soon, one of those falsely chipper freaks would come in; acting like they gave a damn and try to get him to confess that he was at fault for this whole incident.
As if he had planned any of this. If I had, Bobby thought, that piece of shit wouldn't be breathing.
Despite the feeling of leaving work undone, Bobby studied his knuckles in satisfaction. He had only been in that foster home for two weeks, but he had wanted so much to pound this foster father into oblivion. Putting aside his notoriously short temper, Bobby had always been overly protective of anyone who gained his trust. A short list, yes, because it took a lot to gain a spot on Bobby's good side. And this foster mother had managed to worm her way onto the lowest rung of that list.
Maybe it was just the fact that Bobby hated guys who hit women, or little kids who could not defend themselves. He had seen enough of it, growing up in the system; one would think that he would grow accustomed to it. But Bobby had not, though he managed to hide it well under his anger and cocky attitude. Bobby knew he was a screwed up piece of work, bound for prison sooner or later, but he did have the consolation that his future in the joint would not be for abusing someone who did not deserve to be knocked around.
Probably arson, Bobby thought as he pulled his lighter out of his sneaker and began playing with it, smirking at the two way mirror. No one got the better of Bobby for long.
The door swung open, allowing a short young woman to enter followed by an older man. The guy Bobby knew, Sam Jefferson, had been his social worker for the past seven years. Bobby only saw the guy when the boy was being pulled out of a home or stuffed into the next, usually with some smart ass comment about being one step closer to juvy.
The woman though, she he had never seen before. She was dressed like all the other socials he had met, her golden hair tied up into a bun. But she carried herself different; something about her Bobby could not place a finger on.
"Hello, I'm Evelyn Mercer. And you are?" the young woman offered her hand to Bobby with a warm smile.
Jefferson pushed into the conversation, placing Bobby's heavy record on the table, "His name's Robert McCall."
Bobby grunted angrily at the male social worker. He hated being called 'Robert', Robert sounded like some useless pansy from uptown. Robert was someone who did not know how to handle himself, someone who was not like Bobby. Bobby had the sound of someone everyone knew, and could respect, down to earth.
Evelyn shuffled the folder slightly, a movement of nervousness which Bobby had seen before many times. His smirk grew bigger, "Who gives a flying shit blonde? You're new; let me give you some advice." Bobby leaned forward, adding in an exaggerated snooty voice, "Kids like me are way out of your league, better to just turn around and get out while ya can."
Jefferson looked ready to smack that smirk off of Bobby's face, "Listen up you little-"
Evelyn waved off Jefferson's defense as she too leaned forward, "Well that is awfully nice of you to worry about me, but I think I can take whatever you throw at me. I have been in this job for a few years now." That smile became brighter as she said sweetly, "I ain't no country daisy, son."
Shocked, Bobby could only stare at the woman. He had never had a social worker talk to him like that.
Evelyn turned her smile to her coworker, "Sam, could you get something for us to eat? I'm sure that Bobby is hungry." Bobby was again surprised by Evelyn; she had obviously noticed his dislike of his full name. Or she read a note in the file, he thought, trying to see ways to dislike the woman.
"I really don't think that's a good idea," Jefferson stated as he glared at Bobby. But he conceded, leaving the room after another look at the woman.
"So," Evelyn started, lifting the heavy folder off the table and quickly lowering it again, "I see you have some difficulties fitting into homes."
Bobby blew out some air as he sat back into his chair, "Why bother?" never stay long anyways, Bobby thought but did not voice.
Evelyn suddenly bent sideways, reaching under the table. Bobby watched, mildly curious at the sudden change. This woman was proving to be more entertaining then he had expected. She straitened up, holding out a can of Coke and a sandwich.
Bobby felt his eyebrow lift in surprise; "You really do look hungry," the woman chuckled. "Though I would suggest you put the can on your eye for a little bit. That is going to be a nasty bruise."
"Had worse," Bobby shrugged, though he had actually forgotten about it. It had been a quick punch Bobby had not seen coming. Bobby smirked again, "Returned the favor with interest."
"So I heard," Evelyn's comment was light, without judgment. "I also heard that Mrs. Harver left that house soon after the police returned from dragging you out."
Bobby fought down the smile that he felt forming, "Yeah, guess that she was smarter then she looked."
Evelyn was watching him all the while, "She also said that her husband threw the first punch, which means they'll go easier on you."
Bobby shrugged, not really caring about what would happen to him. As long as I can get out of here, he thought.
Only when the door opened behind her did Evelyn turn her eyes away from Bobby's face. Without her compassionate eyes on him, Bobby was able to feel his mind returning to its normal state.
"Well, I think that is about it for now." Evelyn smiled at Bobby when Jefferson gapped at them, noting the amused look on the boy. "We already have a new placement for you. They will take care of whatever punishment the court decides for you."
Bobby watched with growing anger as Evelyn pulled a paper from the file, handing it to Jefferson. This woman was no different from all the other socials.
The car ride from the office was a silent one, neither passenger wishing to be in the other's company longer then necessary. Bobby stared out of the passenger listlessly, nothing new to see. Bobby rested his foot on the plastic bag which held most of his worldly possessions, with the exception of the hockey stick sitting in the back seat.
"Listen up kid," Jefferson finally stated as he parked the car in front of a plain brick house, with an enclosed porch. "This is your last shot. No one else is going to take you; I don't even know why she's taking you at all. After this, you are going to go straight to the group home till you're eighteen. I'm sure you'll be their anyways."
Rolling his eyes, Bobby waited till the jackass was out of the car before hauling his stick out of the back and climbed out. To him, this was just another stop on his way to prison anyways.
Bobby strolled up to the house with a swagger, bag and stick resting on his shoulder. He nearly dropped both when he saw the door open and his new foster mother step out into the night air.
"Welcome to your new home Bobby," Evelyn Mercer smiled at the dazed boy. She laughed a little as she walked pass Jefferson and put a hand on Bobby's shoulder. "How about we show you your new home?"
"Evelyn, there are a few things we should discuss first. You need to know what to watch for," Jefferson followed as Evelyn gently directed Bobby up the stairs.
Evelyn stopped and turned on the man, surprising both Bobby and Jefferson with the fire in her eyes, "I think we will do fine Mr. Jefferson."
And with that Evelyn shut the door in Jefferson's face.
Bobby stared at Evelyn in awe; he had not thought the little woman was capable of something so ballsy. Watching Evelyn pat imaginary dust off her hands with a satisfied look on her face, Bobby could not help but smile.
"I have wanted to do that since I met that man," Evelyn explained.
Bobby had to hold onto the door jam in order to keep from falling over as his laughter filled the house. Evelyn Mercer definitely had balls, and Bobby found he admired this little woman.
Next up is how Evelyn earned the love of the hardest hard ass in Detroit.