My hands were coated in oil and grease. The symbols of a hard day’s work. I reached for a rag made from one of my torn-up old t-shirt and wiped the car grease off my hands as best as I could before I tossed the rag to Tommy.

“Sure is a nice ride,” Tommy said, catching the rag in mid-air.

“No doubt,” I agreed. “Could really use some body work, though.”

We stood underneath the elevated 1960 Ford Mustang. The owner of the car was a good friend of my adopted dad, Grover, who owned the shop. Tommy and I were fixing up some exhaust issues and admiring its beauty at the same time. The engine was in fine shape, but the exterior was slightly rusted and it could definitely use a paint job.

“I think he’s selling it you know?” I told Tommy, who was still gawking at the beat up car. “You could buy it, fix it up, and take it home as a wedding gift.”

He laughed at my suggestion. “Yeah, right. If I brought that rust bucket home the ol’ ball and chain would flip.”

“Already a ball and chain, eh? Didn’t you get married only a week ago?” I snorted at his remark. “What’s the point in marriage if they’re just going to tie you down?”

Tommy waved his hand at me, “No, no, it’s not like that. I’m just kidding around.”

I rolled my eyes. Tommy had a wedding just a couple weeks back. It had been classy and intimate. Both Dad and I had attended, and ever since then Tommy had been busting my chops about getting married and starting a family myself.

I walked over to the shop’s sink to wash the stubborn oil stains off my fingers and waited for Tommy to start in with his two cents. Newly married people couldn’t help themselves, I’d found. They thought they’d found the secret to happily ever after and wanted to thrust it on everyone else. Life wasn’t a fairy tale, though. And even if it was, some of us were destined to be the villains.

“It’s great having a companion you know?” There it was. I stayed silent.

“Honestly, Jeremy, you need a family to go along with that little house you got. You need a family you can share your life with.” He was really digging in to me today.

“Oh, come on, Tommy. I’d rather buy a car.” I gestured to the old Mustang. “I could fix it up, drive down the coast and cruise for good times along the way.” I dried my hands on my jeans. “What do you think about dark cherry red?” I eyed the car once again, trying to avoid his manipulative questioning.

He rested his hand on my shoulder. Nope, this conversation wasn’t over yet. The guy had only been married two weeks, now he was Mr. Pro-Family.

“I think cherry red would be nice.” His answer surprised me. “As long you have a partner and two kids in the back seat, any colour would be nice.”

I heaved a heavy sigh. “Would you just leave it alone?”

“I’m just trying to help. You know Grover and I just want to see you happy.”

“Well, I am. I’m fine being a bachelor. It’s a good life.” I stepped away from his heavy touch. “I’m going to have a smoke.” I couldn’t get away from that conversation fast enough.

Before turning the corner to light my cigarette, I looked back through the open garage doors and saw Tommy looking up at the old Mustang, smiling with dream-filled eyes. I huffed. Maybe Tommy deserved a family-filled vintage car, but not me.

I leaned up against the wall and inhaled the sweet taste of cigarette smoke, my body beginning to relax with the influx of nicotine. Tommy could talk to me about starting a family all he wanted, but in the end, I knew where I came from and I wouldn’t trust myself to care for a husband and child the way he would.

It just wasn’t in my blood.

My biological father had been a monster who thought nothing of taking his frustration out with “a little rough housing” with his wife and kid. He always had an excuse each time his love taps bruised, or sent us to the hospital. Who was to say I wouldn’t do the same to my kids? I had been in the system for so long, I hadn’t even known what a real family was until Dad adopted me and the boys. Well, he tried adopting Cam. The little shit wouldn’t let him. I mean, I got it. I’d been that little shit, too. But I grew out of it. Cam still had a way to go.

But he was still my brother, just the same as Darius, no matter what the legal records said. Dad boosted us out of the endless cycle of foster families and just wouldn’t let go. He was a bulldog, that man. Too bad he hadn’t been my bio dad instead of the crap-dad I’d been saddled with.

I inhaled the last precious drag of my cigarette, dreading going back inside to Tommy and his time to start a family lectures. I tossed the butt to the ground and stomped out the glowing red cherry.

Feeling instant remorse for not having put it out in the designated burn bin across the street, I picked it up and crossed the street to toss it in its rightful place. Halfway across the street, I heard the squeal of wheels. I turned to see a blue Ford Focus stopped sideways in the middle of the road. An overweight, balding, middle management type stepped out, and I shook my head at his fake leather motorcycle jacket. Definitely an overcompensating alpha type.

I frowned at his assholery, blocking the street like that. We didn’t exactly get a lot of traffic out this way, though, so he probably didn’t pose an actual danger. Just an annoyance. I finished crossing the street to toss my cigarette, but as I turned back toward the shop, I froze. I couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the car, but I could hear it. Raised voices, one in anger, the other in terror.

And then the sick thunk of a fist hitting flesh.

Not the Hollywood crack you heard in a fake movie fight. The sickeningly quiet sound of hard bone hitting soft flesh. My blood burned and my legs moved automatically towards the car. My ears filled with the sound of my heavy work boots hitting the pavement as I busted into a full sprint towards the commotion. The alpha held a small man in his grip, clearly terrorizing him, a red welt already rising on the smaller man’s face. There was a shout, and my step faltered as I saw a kid launch himself at the pair. My head became hazy with rage when I saw the man raise his hand and backhand the boy across the face before turning his blows on the smaller man.

I didn’t stop until I’d body slammed the asshole, locking the collar of his jacket in my fist, throwing him against his crappy car. My vision went red, but I felt nothing. My fists pistoned into the jackass’s face like a machine, his bones crunching with every blow. The sound around me faded, and my vision narrowed to what was in front of me. In him, I saw my dad. I saw my dad beating my mom while I cried and begged and pleaded for him to stop until he turned his fists on me. I’d never been able to give that piece of shit what he deserved, but at least I could make one piece of shit taste his own medicine.