Write Your Own Song

Chapter 25

Growing up in Detroit, you learned two things pretty quick: You don't have to go looking for trouble because trouble sure as hell was gonna find you whether you wanted it to or not; and no matter what, anytime you're part of a pickup hockey game, you wanted to be on the side Bobby Mercer was playing on. On average, that would help cut your emergency room bill in half unless things went downhill pretty fast and the other side got in some lucky hits.

The Green brothers knew these things but tended to ignore them. The eldest Green, Terrence, was a cop, a fact that cracked Bobby up on a regular basis. He'd known Green for years, and they'd always been friends – not the kind of friend Bobby ran with when he was doing stuff he shouldn't be doing – but the kind of friend he'd shoot the shit with on weekends and grab a beer with at Johnny G's.

Jerry liked Terrence, liked the fact that someone from their neighborhood chose the high road for a change. He liked to think he could be something like a cop one day. If not a cop, then at least someone who could make some changes around there, clean up the streets a bit. Make his mom proud.

Green's younger brother, Marcus, was in Jerry's class. They were both graduating that year and Marcus was headed to college on a full scholarship and Terrence bragged about it constantly. His little brother was smart and was going to make something of himself. It was nice to beat the odds every once in a while.

Jerry already had a job working construction on the weekends and his boss had decided to take him under his wing, seeing potential there that Jerry had trouble seeing himself. His mom told him time and time again that he was going places, but that meeting last week with his boss was the first time he could see a path for himself.

So the Green brothers didn't like playing by the rules, and at that moment their stubbornness wasn't exactly working in their favor. Bobby was pummeling them out on the ice. It was brutal. Jerry couldn't help but wince every time Marcus took an elbow to his side or a stick to his shin. Bobby played dirty. Everyone knew that.

Jerry glided by, taking up the puck and heading for the goal. Terrence came into view out of the corner of his eye. Blood was running down his face from a cut above his eyebrow and he was grinning like mad. Jerry decided to add a new rule to the previous two rules you learned while growing up in Detroit: Bobby Mercer's little brothers would go through life with giant targets painted on their backs and suffer the payback for any crap Bobby pulled.

He couldn't get out of the way fast enough and the impact was jarring, throwing both guys off their feet and onto the ice, hard. He heard Bobby yell something and then all hell broke loose.

The familiar flash of blue and red light, accompanied by a quick chirp of a siren, broke things up pretty quick. Jerry had no idea whose side won, just that he had to hightail it back home or risk having to call his mom from the police station to come and pick him up. The cops gave them three minutes to grab their stuff and scram - Jerry was out of there with twenty seconds to spare.

He was out of breath with a stitch in his side when he finally slowed to a stop. Angel was right behind him and the fourteen-year-old was laughing. "Jerry, man, I didn't know you could run so fast." He dropped a pair of skates on the ground at Jerry's feet. "Left these behind. Ma woulda been pissed if she had to buy you a new pair."

Holding onto his ribs, Jerry slumped onto the steps of his house, deciding catching his breath was more important than answering his kid brother.

Bobby sauntered up a few minutes later. Jerry was surprised to see him, certain he was going to get grabbed by the cops. "Jeez, you two ran like a couple of little girls." He shook his head. "Little embarrassing, to tell the truth. You two need to toughen up a bit, grow some balls. I'll have a talk with Ma, make sure she isn't turning you soft since I ain't around to act as a positive influence on your upbringing."