Here's the new chapter, sorry I didn't get it posted when I planned to. This weekend was a real bitch. Ugh, family. Sometimes you really wish you were an orphan after they tell you things.

Disclaimer: Fuck you. Everyone knows I don't own this stuff.

Enjoy! I made it longer just as an apology for not updating on time (((flogs self)))

Beer. Vast and terrible quantities of beer. That's what it was going to take to keep Jack from committing a murder or two of his own while he was in Detroit. Maybe pot too, possibly cocaine. He missed Evy and the life that he had in LA. Shit here in Detroit was starting to make him wish that he'd taken a bullet years ago.

Aside from Bobby's constant fag jokes and Angel's constant fights and loud dickings with Sofi, there was the ever present reminder that Evelyn would no longer be there to help them.

Thanksgiving dinner had been hell. Cooking turkey and making the salad was normal, Jack had always helped Evelyn in the kitchen, but he'd never done it all alone. There were so many times that he almost asked Evelyn to hand him something or that he had reached out, expecting her to hand him some ingredient or plate. When the turkey was finished, Jack had said, "Mom, where's the platter?" before he realized that she wasn't there. He's stood there helplessly, a little boy looking for his Mommy as words from his favorite Mudvayne song swirled through his head.

Still feel you on the inside

Biting through and stinging

Will I ever forget to remember?

When they sat down and started to eat, Jack couldn't keep himself from looking at the chair his Mom had always sat in. Yet another gaping void had appeared in their lives, another pain they would never discuss. How Jack wished they could talk. Though he loved his brothers and trusted them with his life, he couldn't trust them with other things.

So many secrets had died with Evelyn. The truth of what all of her boys had been through. The fact that Jack had been used as a sextoy for his stepfather and his friends, that he had been forced to attend a Christian camp that beat and raped the boys all in the name of God . . . that Jack was the father of a beautiful 3 year old girl named for the very woman who was now missing. All of those things were too hard to explain, to tell the three people who sat around him, the ones he trusted and relied on more than anyone else. Talking had never really been something they did. They had been close, sharing advice and stories about girls, drugs, and the other shit they dealt with after they came to Evelyn, but nothing of before.

"The past don't exist anymore," Bobby had said once when Jack had asked about his real parents. Bobby had moved out, but he was visiting. Jack would have been about sixteen or so at the time. "Whatever the fuck happened before, it's over. No use thinking about the shit you can't change."

Jack didn't know about Bobby, but there were millions of things he wished he could change.

"Jackie."

Wow, he must have been drinking more than he thought. He had just heard Evelyn say his name and as he looked up, he saw her sitting at the table, looking just as she had when he first came to her so many years away. She held out her hands on the table, hands he hadn't been able to reach out for.

"I know bad things happened before you came to me," she said. Jack looked away as memories washed over him. "Hey look at me," she said sternly. He forced himself to look up, meet her eyes again as he had then. "You're safe now."

Jack fought back tears, his entire body quivering in silent agony, missing her more and more with every breath. God how he missed her. Evelyn had always been there for him, always willing to give a smile, a kiss, and perfect advice no matter what the problem was. What would her advice be now? How would she feel about her sons' anger, their fear? What would she say to Jack about leaving Evy?

"Fuck this man," Bobby said, getting to him feet. "Let's go get a pick up game. I wanna see some quick sticks and tight passes."

"S'to cold man," Angel said. "I didn't come all the way out here to play no hockey."

"C'mon ladies, let's show these guys some fucking skills," Bobby shouted, taking his plate to the kitchen.

Jack wiped his mouth and looked at Evelyn's chair again as his brothers grumbled and got to their feet. Shit Mom, he thought. This is all so hard. We can't even eat a meal without you.

- - - - - - -

Hockey turned out to be the best thing for the brothers. Nothing helped clear your head like a fast and brutal game. As always, the Mercers won. The other team grumbled ruefully about how they were almost dead and the brothers were still going strong. A 35-0 game put the guys in a good mood for what they were facing the next day.

Robert Bradford seemed like a nice enough guy. Quiet, polite, complimented Evelyn, but Jack was too wrung out to listen to him ramble on. Cutting right through the bullshit was his specialty and he'd be damned if he was going to waste anymore time in the fucking bank.

"How much do we get?" he asked. Bobby hauled back and smacked him hard in the back of the head while Mr. Bradford cleared his throat and decided to give up on pretending to be sincere.

"What's wrong with you?" Jerry demanded while Jack rubbed his very sore skull.

When Bradford left the room, Bobby opened their mother's safety deposit box and started shifting through the things in it. Jack wished they didn't have to do this, that someone, anyone else could be sitting there running their fingers over the memories and mementos of such a wonderful life.

Bobby handed him a packet of papers, tossing one to Jeremiah as well. "Birth certificate," Jerry said.

"The adoption papers," Jack said quietly, scanning the first page.

"Henry Ford Hospital, so I am from Detroit," Jerry said, smiling slightly.

"Lansing, Michigan," Jack said, a small grin tugging at his face for no reason.

"My mom was sixteen?" Jerry said incredulously.

"I got any papers in there?" Angel asked. Bobby shook his head. "You got any papers in there?"

"No," Bobby said quietly.

"Woah!" Jack said, grabbing a ticket from Bobby, desperate to change the subject from the two files that were obviously missing. "Mom went to Woodstock." Three day pass, damn Mom.

Bobby chuckled. "You didn't know Mom was a hippie?" he said. "Oh here we go." His voice lit up and Jack looked over at the wad of cash he'd just pulled out of the box. Counting out the bills, Bobby handed some to Angel.

"I ain't got no papers in there, man?" Angel asked almost desperately.

"There's your paper right there," Bobby retorted, handing a few bills to Jerry before folding the last of them and slipping them into his own pocket.

"What about me?" Jack demanded, holding out his hand.

"Hm-um," Bobby said. He reached into the box and dropped a diamond necklace into Jack's palm. "There you go, that'll look good on you."

"Whatever man," Jack snapped as Jerry and Angel started to laugh. "Fuck you."

"Quit cryin'," Jerry said. "I got something to show y'all."

- - - - - - - -

Jerry drove them to a rundown part of town. Not that there's any part of Detroit that isn't rundown, Jack thought with a snicker. This place was the old factory district though. A graveyard of gutted, useless buildings that had once turned out all the cars in America.

"This is it," Jerry said, spreading his arms as the four of them entered the biggest shell in the lot.

"So this is your dream Jerry?" Jack said. "You gonna build some automobiles?"

"No, luxury lofts," Jerry said, his eyes and voice bright and excited. "This whole first floor here is going to be lavish offices and storefronts. Gonna put stained glass in here," he said, gesturing to the wall of grimy glass to the wall.

When they got upstairs, the beers he'd had caught up with Jack. While his brothers were occupied, he stepped over to a corner to take a piss.

"You got insurance?" Bobby asked Jerry.

"Why?" Jerry asked.

"We could burn this bitch down."

"No, we ain't burning shit, Bobby," Jerry snapped. "Always wanting to destroy something."

"Look at your little brother," Bobby said suddenly.

"Jack!" Jerry shouted, exasperation in his voice.

"Oh I'm sorry," Jack said sarcastically. "This the master sweet? Am I making your property values go down?"

They all laughed. "This shithole gives Motor City Breakdown a whole new meaning," Bobby joked. "How you gonna pay for all this?"

"Government redevelopment loans," Jerry said. "Easy to qualify, low interest rates. Stick around, maybe I'll give y'all asses a job."

Jack gave Jerry a "yeah-right" look and finished his beer. Angel laughed suddenly, and the other three turned to look at him.

"They look like nipples," Angel laughed, pointing to a rack of old lights.

Dead silence greeted this before the other three looked away. Always thinking with your cock Angel, Jack thought. Mom would be so proud. Jesus, even the voice in his head was sarcastic.

"Let's go get a real drink," Bobby said, gulping the last of his beer and tossing the bottle away.

- - - - - - - - -

Jack was drunk. Sloshed, blitzed, smashed. Any and all of the above. That was probably the only reason he didn't agree with Jerry about letting the cops handle the murderers.

Deep down, Jack had no lust for violence or revenge. Somehow he'd escaped his youth with some semblance of innocence and bloodshed wigged him more than he ever wanted his brothers to know. When he was this drunk, someone could suggest cutting off his dick and he might agree . . . hell, he might even do it himself.

And now he was standing in front of a gang hangout, willingly about to go inside with only his two brothers. Stupid, but strangely logical to his drunk ass.

"You got a burner?" Bobby asked Angel as he opened the trunk.

"I flew in," Angel said, duh written all over his face.

"Man, be careful with my baby," Bobby said, pulling a gun out from under a blanket.

"Woo," Angel said, looking the pistol over. "Ammo?"

"Yeah, it's loaded little brother, careful," Bobby said. He reached into the trunk again. "You carry the gas can," he told Jack, shoving one into his hands.

"We're gonna do that gas thing?" Jack asked, almost laughing as he thought about all the times they'd done it in the past.

"Yeah, we're gonna do that gas thing," Bobby mocked in a nasal voice. "Only thing that scares people more than being burnt to death is being eaten alive," he added as he pulled out a shotgun and started to close the trunk.

"Woah, what do I get?" Jack said, shoving the can under the trunk lid so it couldn't close.

"Oh, you coming with us?" Bobby said sweetly. "There you go sweetheart," he said, shoving a tire iron into Jack's free hand. "Poke 'em with that."

"Thanks," Jack said sarcastically.

Bobby and Angel blew into the building waving guns and screaming, "Five-oh!" Kids scattered, running to every exit there was. When they reached the end of the main hall and found one guy standing alone, Jack knew they'd found the guy in charge. Angel shoved everyone down on the couches and sprayed gas on them while Bobby shoved the leader into a chair and started the process. Shoving a rag into the guy's mouth, he dumped gas on him.

"I know you're not gonna tell me what I wanna know, so I'm gonna light your little bitch ass on fire," Bobby said, grabbing Jack's cigarette and holding it in the guy's face. "Then I'm gonna watch you run around here lighting all your little friends on fire." The guy screamed through the rag. "Hey, tough guy, hey!" Bobby shouted. "Now's the talking part. You better start telling me what the fuck I wanna hear." He pulled the rag out of the gangsta's mouth. "Speak."

"That shit was counterfeit as a motherfucker, man," the guy said. "Ain't no one playing no basketball when that shit went down. Why you think the police ain't arrest nobody?"

Bobby smacked him hard. "How you know no one was playing basketball if you weren't there?"

"Cause, bitch," the guy hollered. "Police said those people wasn't shot til eleven o'clock."

"So what?" Bobby demanded.

"They turn the court lights out at ten," the guy snapped.

Bobby looked at his watch and grabbed the kid from the chair. "Let's go."

"Where the fuck y'all taken me," he demanded. No one answered, but Angel hauled back and hit the guy hard in the head.

"That's what you get for callin' my brother a bitch," he growled.

Jack fought the mad desire to laugh. "I hope you all have a very nice evening," he called, twirling the tire iron in his hand. God being drunk was great.

- - - - - - - - -

Jack could tell that Bobby was getting anxious. He'd watched his big brother during enough jobs to be able to see the warning signs. Sure enough, Bobby jumped into action.

"Ten-oh-two and these fuckin' lights are still on," Bobby snapped. "I say we pop this motherfucker right now."

"Bobby, take it easy," Jack said, knowing his part well. This good-fucker, bad-fucker game was one he'd played with all his brothers at one time or another.

"Shut up, Jack," Bobby snarled, walking over and grabbing the gangsta's arm.

"Yo, they're gonna shut off man," the guy screamed. "They gonna shut off!"

"The only lights going off are yours," Bobby snapped.

A loud lick echoed in the street and Bobby looked around. "Look, look," the gangsta said, almost sobbing in relief.

"You're fuckin' lucky," Bobby said, walking toward the darkened courts.

"Y'all don't know who you was messin' with," the kid shouted. "Y'all fools been played, now get off me, man."

Jack rolled his eyes. This shit got old real fast.

"Didn't know who you was messin' with," the guy continued. "Questioning me about the lights being off and shit."

Angel belted him hard in the jaw. "Why don't you shut the fuck up," he snarled. "Talk too much."

So diplomatic, Jack thought, sarcasm filling his brain again. He was tired; he was feeling the effects of too much alcohol and nicotine on an empty stomach. Right now, Jack just wanted this shit over so he could go home to his kid.

- - - - - - - -

"Jackie, this is a questionable kill," Bobby said as they walked back into the house later.

Groaning inside, Jack said, "What makes you think that?"

"Gee, it's sad, you growin' up without a father," Bobby said, his voice sweetly mocking his brother. "I shoulda stayed around longer and held your little hand.

God, when is he going to stop with this shit? Jack wondered. "Whatever man."

"Look, sometimes pros cover up their hits with another crime, a robbery or something," Bobby explained as they walked toward the kitchen. "Then they pay a witness to throw the cops on the wrong suspects."

Great theory, but not probable. "Who would wanna kill the sweetest woman in the goddamn world?" Jack asked.

Shaking his head, Bobby said, "I dunno Jackie."

- - - - - - - - -

Jack sat on the porch roof again, smoking a cigarette. It was late at home, way too late to call Evy. Almost one in the morning here, it was almost eleven in LA. Oh well, Grace made better conversation than all his brothers combined.

"Hello Jack," Grace said after one ring.

"Hey, baby," Jack replied. "How's everything."

Grace sighed into the phone. "Okay I guess," she said quietly. "Evy misses you. Every day she prays that you'll be here when she gets home. I miss you too, hottie," she added, quietly. Jack laughed. "How's everything there?" Grace asked.

Jack groaned. "These people are crazy," he moaned. "Ever have those days where you really wonder about your family? Like, where you wonder if maybe they've been exposed to some kind of monster radiation and you're the only one who didn't get caught in it?"

Grace laughed. "Babe, sometimes you just kill me," she chuckled.

Jack felt a strange chill suddenly. For a moment he felt doomed, as if he was being warned that there wasn't a lot of time left. Recovering quickly, he focused on Grace who was telling him all about what Evy had been doing and how she'd been doing at work.

When she finally finished, Jack felt much more relaxed. "I miss you guys," he said quietly. "I'm really tired though, Gracie. All my love to you and Evy. Give her a hug and a kiss for me."

"I will Jack," Grace said. After a moment, she added, "You're not a killer, Jack. Don't let Bobby make you into one."

Jack sighed. "I wish I had a choice babe. I really wish I had a fucking choice."

As he lay in bed that night, Jack wondered about his daughter. Evy was perfect in his opinion. Smart, beautiful, talented. What would she think of her beloved father doing the things that Bobby made him do? Would love be so guaranteed and unconditional if Evy's green eyes had to see the blood on his hands?

Jesus, Jack thought, burying his face in a pillow. No one's died yet, maybe no one will. Take this one day, one fucked up step, at a time.

He fell asleep thinking about his daughter. Little did he know that across the U.S., a little girl with his green eyes smiled and settled into her bed. A small smile lightened her face and she fell asleep, glad that at last her daddy was asleep.

Yes, so please review. I'll love you forever, I swear.

New chapter coming soon I hope.