I was so interested, last update, in people's perceptions of whether Tim would be vain about the scar or not. I was also smiling, because I knew this was coming. Agree or disagree, I'd like to know... :)


You ever see a cat, finds itself in another cat's territory? The way they walk real careful, sideways like a crab, not turning their back on the one who owns the turf? Watching, waiting for it to lash out.

That's how I want people to walk around me. How I want them to think about me. Never quite sure if I'm going to lash out.

You don't got to be the biggest cat. Don't gotta be the oldest. Just the one with the quickest, sharpest claws.

Only, I'm thinking about guys when I say 'people'.

Guys in the outfit, I need them to toe the line. Random guys, who might want a piece of our turf, I need them to be shit scared and keep clear. Brumly, the Kings, any other bunch of lousy hoods on this side of town – I need them to pay real close attention to me.

Chicks though, I ain't so sure if I want them walking that careful.

I had one or two who put out only because of who I was. I've been top dog of this outfit since I was fifteen. Right after I took control – which was easy enough, a surprising number of guys just want to be told what to do – I reinforced my position by having this chick that I knew Morris wanted.

Morris was always the biggest threat, so to really set him in his place, I took this chick out from under his nose. He'd been putting the moves on her all evening, trying to get her blitzed, trying to get down her top. I had her up in the office when he went for a piss.

Only she wasn't as into it as I'd thought. She wanted to do it, right enough, I ain't no kind of rapist. But she thought she was getting something out of it, like she'd be someone special if she was my girl. It was more like a business contract or some shit like that.

And I discovered that I didn't like it so much. She got me off, but there was no real excitement.

I remember thinking it was cool, that chicks would go with Dom just because of who he was, because he was gang leader. But when it happened to me, I wasn't so sure.

I ain't looking for 'em to fall madly in love with me. But it's better if they at least like me. Same as it's better if I actually like them. I mean, I ain't gonna turn it down, if some ugly broad wants to put it out there, but I know what I like and if she's hot, it's better. If she thinks I'm hot, it's better still.

No matter how hot, they ain't worth making regular though. I mean, that's what Dom always said. He was right about a helluva lot. And, if you think about it, he was right about this too. Because when he broke his own rule, it took him all the way to Big Mac. And whatever he thought about the married chick, however much he thought she was 'the one', hadn't the sap she married thought that too? Right up to the point he came home and found her in bed with Dom. Ain't she just more proof that they all two-time you in the end?

So, casual, that's better. It ain't like it's difficult to pick 'em up.

At least it wasn't. Before. Between the greasy broads who want an 'in' with the gang and the good girls who want a walk on the wild side, there's enough going around. I heard enough of 'em tell me I was hot, in one way or another. They like my hair, they like my jacket, they like my moves. Apparently I have fucking tuff eyes, for Chrissakes. Whatever.

That chick in the diner today though, she wasn't seeing the leather jacket. Wasn't seeing the eyes neither. She wasn't seeing nothing but my stitches.

I've got a real bad feeling this fucking scar might mean I only got the one option left; I might only be attractive to broads who want to be associated with 'Tim Shepard, gang leader.' I might not be hot, not to any of them. Not now.

When I run into Winston down at Buck's, he says that the scar looks tuff enough, he says that chicks'll get wet for it, they like a real bad boy. I say that he sounds like a fucking pansy and I ain't interested in him going down on me, thanks all the same, but if he wants to jack off while he thinks about my face, he's welcome.

We scuffle, but neither of us are real into it and I buy the beers, after.

I hope he's right.