I raised a brow in surprise, genuinely wondering how a ‘good, law-abiding citizen’ could have raised a cunning criminal such as Ethan.
“I wanted to be just like him. Then one day, a man came by. Dressed like a seventies pimp with gaudy gold jewelry and sunglasses that took up half his face. He shot my father that day and then he knelt down and told me, ‘Only the good die young, son. Don’t forget that.’”
“Oh my god,” I whispered. The urge to comfort him sprung up so fast that it felt like it was trying to suffocate me. I reached a hand for him, laying it on his arm, but he shook it off. He wasn’t done yet.
“I thought he was a liar. That the police would take care of it and I’d get justice for my father.” He glanced at me quickly, then jerked his eyes back to the road. “But all they did was tell me things happen. That I’d better learn to accept it and move on.”
I felt horrible for him. But it didn’t quite add up for me. “If all of that really happened to you, then why would you become a…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to say gangster, because that sounded too harsh, though it was pretty close to the truth.
He offered a lopsided smirk. “Drug dealer?”
I shrugged. “For lack of a better term, yes.”
He shrugged. “At first, I tried to do it my dad’s way. Work hard, save money, do the right thing. I worked as a delivery boy here in town. All through high school and the summer after. It wasn’t very glamorous, but it got me started saving money. One day, I’m delivering a package to some big shot in a high-rise building. But before I even make it up the first flight of stairs, the police are there arresting me.”
My brow furrowed in confusion. “What for?”
“Distribution of cocaine.”
“But I thought you said—?”
“I did. I was one hundred percent above board, but the cops had fettered out a drug deal going down. I went to prison. I’m sure you’ve noticed the products of that.”
When I shook my head slightly, not sure what he meant, he motioned across his chest right where the long scar was. He’d received it in prison. I closed my eyes briefly against images of how that might have come about. When he began to speak again, I opened them.
“I spent four years there. And why? Because a cop was on that drug dealer’s payroll.”
It was horrible to think of. The Ethan I knew was a jerk, manipulative, and sometimes even cruel. But the thought that he was a product of things that had been beyond his control was new to me. “That still doesn’t explain why you would get into the business that had thrown you in jail in the first place.”
“It was easy. Being a good kid had gotten me in trouble, but the drug dealer? He was safe. Protected. I decided then and there that I would be him, this untouchable man. Not my father who died young. Not a good kid that would always take the blame. I’d be the devil and it’s done me just fine.”
I didn’t say anything for a long time. In some ways, his story made me reconsider a lot of things. Was this really the sort of man I wanted around me and my son? Someone who had been in prison and believed that being an upstanding citizen only caused problems? But as I thought about it, I realized none of this changed the Ethan I knew and in the end, it didn’t affect my feelings for him.
“Cody can never know about any of this.”
Ethan nodded his head in agreement and we drove the last few minutes in silence.
Chapter 16
We arrived at The Cut to find Louis’s car parked across the street in the lot outside the empty building. Other than that car, the whole street looked pretty empty. Although this wasn’t a horrible neighborhood, it wasn’t really a good one either so people tended to be elsewhere at this hour. Especially since the businesses in the area had hours like mine.
Ethan made a quick lap around the block to check for any other cars, maybe ones he recognized or looked out of place, then parked in the alley next to the shop. I figured he didn’t want to park right next to Louis just in case someone passed by and thought it looked odd.
Turning off the engine, he popped his door and stepped out. I lingered in the car for a moment, thinking on all Ethan had confided in me. Did I believe his story? Yes, I did. I wasn’t sure if it made me like him any more or less than I did, but it did leave me with a feeling of understanding. I had been screwed for being the “good girl,” too. At least we had that much in common.