#team eric

This random note or letter that I found inside was typed and short, but its message sounded nothing close to sweet: 

Wanna know who shot Underwood? I’m calling your phone soon. - Moretti  

“Watch the clock.” I lifted my phone while eyeing Drew out of habit. “If Moretti doesn’t call in the next five minutes, he’s bluffing.” 

“Jesus.” Drew sighed, rubbing down his face with one hand. “Life would be so much easier if he still rotted in prison.” 

“Rocking suits doesn’t mean shit if you don’t know what you’re doing. Eric’s been a fraud for as long as I can remember.” I sat in the chair and talked to Drew, but listened out for my phone to start ringing. 

“Didn’t he serve in the military, Bro?” Drew narrowed his eyes while asking that reasonable question. 

“Yeah, not discounting his service. I just…” I glanced between Drew and my phone, still anxious despite giving out a stone face right now. 

“What? We can’t take him down for good this time if you don’t tell me more.” Drew tried his best and I knew that he was. 

“We’ll talk another time. Right now, wait for Eric.” I shook my head, knowing that another deep conversation wouldn’t be important now.  

“Got you.” Drew took the note away from me and folded it, setting down in one drawer placed behind us. Out of sight. Out of mind. For now at least. 

Just when I believed that it was all another stupid joke tonight, my phone lit up almost immediately. 

“Cy.” I picked up the call, of course waiting to hear Eric’s voice. 

“Nice place.” Eric spoke up on the other line. His accent muffled out loud right away, telling me the truth of this phone call. He wasn’t bluffing tonight. 

“Hold up, what the hell are you doing out of prison on my turf?” I answered Eric, shouldering the phone. Across this room, Drew watched in silence, but never left my side. 

“Last I checked, Shadow was open to everybody, Cyrus. Thought I’d walk through to see if the place was still standing.” Eric still taunted and acted like I hadn’t loved this in its heyday, back when we were all twenty-somethings wanting to have fun. 

“Who killed Underwood? If it was you, believe me when I say that you’ll never wake up again.” Fed up, I went for the jugular and tried to end this phone call as quickly as possible. If Underwood’s murder was finally solved, our city could heal the wound that surrounded this club 

“That’d be too easy.” Eric replied back, scoffing on the other line as if my threat wasn’t serious. 

“Who was it?” I barked, gripping the phone even tighter. 

“Get off your high horse and talk to me in person like a man this time. I’m downstairs.” Eric stopped the phone call, cutting me off. 

“D, round up some of the guards and come with me as soon as you can. Eric wants to talk downstairs.” I lowered my voice, but Drew already left his chair and made calls to my guys from all around the club. 

______

We found him smoking a cigarette in one of the back rooms located downstairs.  

“Get the hell off of that chair before I whoop your ass!” Even Drew clenched his teeth while facing Eric and standing in the doorway. Guards of the club settled in near us just in case. 

“Fine. A deal is a deal.” Eric stood up and I closed the door behind all of us.“Want to hear the truth, Cyrus?” 

“That’s what I came here for, Eric. Tell me the truth and get out of here.” I put my foot down, no longer as patient of course. “I’ll ask you one more time: Who killed Underwood?”  

“How are things going with Cyrus?” The therapist asked, nodding through silence before scribbling in that journal again. 

“As well as you can get. I wasn’t invited to the wedding, but we’re a lot better off now. He moved in with his wife, too.” I attempted, sitting up in the chair and clearing my throat. 

“And your mother?” The therapy went, not scribbling much this time. Another round of silence reached the room. 

“Okay, I guess. No major fights.” I kept the answer vague, but knew that Toby and Cyrus would always be Mom’s golden boys. 

“What about you and Troy?” Another question, this time probing my childhood best friend. 

“To be honest, I’m probably the most solid with Troy than anyone else that you just mentioned.” I almost scoffed. “He’s more like family to me than Russ at this point.” 

“That’s good.” The therapist understood, but wrote down more details. I could only imagine what had been summed up. 

“Look, I’ve booked an hour with you ever since the court mandated this shit after my service. If you can’t crack the code, I might as well leave. Feels like we’re wasting time.” I simmered within, hoping to speed up the process quickly instead. 

“I move at your pace, Eric. The more you’re willing to tell me, the more likely you can heal. Help me move along the process with you.” The therapist finally offered insight, giving clarity. 

“Where do I start, Doc? If we even look at my old notes, you’ve probably seen hundreds of foster kid tales and armed service backstories anyway. What’s the point of me speaking up again?” I shook my head, but didn’t overreact. 

“You still have a voice, Eric. Know that speaking up matters, even when other people describe similar things.” The therapist went on, advising me once more. “Are you jealous of your brothers?” 

“Yeah. I’ve always wondered why Mom favored them over me. Hell, Cyrus is only the middle child between all three of us and she acts as if he’s the First Born.” I lowered my voice, trying not to lose composure. “Now, it’s like Mom treats me as a stranger. We act kind to each other, but she doesn’t feel like my parent.” 

“Have you ever asked your mother why the dynamics could be so different?” My therapist questioned. 

“Everyone loves people in different ways, but I feel left alone, always have been. It’s difficult to talk with her because we don’t even see each other very often.” I offered the truth. 

“Maybe you could try reaching out more often.” Doc continued, but handed over this brief smile. “Take small steps.” 

“Even a phone call from me might spook her. My mother’s more likely to pick up when Bianca sends out text messages, y’know?” I cringed, knowing that her daughter-in-law bonded more than me, her own biological son.  

“Do you believe that your mother is still afraid to connect with you on a deeper level because of your father’s passing?” Doc finally reached for the jugular and hit one benchmark. 

“Yes.” I affirmed. 

________

“Russ?” I dialed a few days later, taking small steps with my brother before even attempting to reach Mom right away. 

“Hey. I’m at the grocery store with B. What’s going on?” Cyrus beamed on the other line and I could only imagine how his smile looked in person since the wedding. 

“Don’t wanna take up too much of your time, but I was wondering if you two wanted to join me and a few friends for dinner this weekend.” I offered that genuine question and tried to smile on my own despite sitting in the living room by myself. 

“Thanks for the offer, but Drew’s birthday is coming up and we’re all going out for dinner then. Maybe next time, E.” Russ declined, but at least sounded grateful. 

“Oh, no problem.” I stayed cordial. “Sending birthday wishes for Drew. Bye.” I hung up this phone call, feeling slightly defeated. 

_______

With no other choice but to brush off that call with Cyrus, I found out that Drew earned quite the birthday celebration based on social media posts. Russ offered access due to our small steps, which allowed me to “follow” his friends in return. 

In videos or photos, glasses clinked while everyone grinned, proving just how much Cyrus and Drew were linked. The Butler family and friends join in, beaming as if Cyrus was actually born with Drew in the same ward. Even Bianca laughed along. 

All I ever wanted was to feel openly included with him like that, accepted near him instead of dodged. Friends would come and go, but family meant something to me, especially when Russ and Tobias were still alive. Happy, too. 

While cooking dinner alone, I noticed that subtle turns of my front door had echoed from behind. 

I didn’t know what to think, but cut off the stove and picked up my nearest firearm, secretly permitted to carry as long as no one called out my criminal past. 

I’d only given one spare apartment key to Troy, so someone else must've tried to pick the lock this time around. 

“You should really get that door fixed, Eric. Put the gun down.” Ray Hugo showed the audacity to stand in the middle of my living room and lift up one bobby pin. 

“What are you doing here?” I lowered my voice, but unloaded the gun as he requested. There was no need to fight back and risk getting killed for good. 

“Wanted to talk, especially since you didn’t help me out last weekend.” 

“Told you before Ray, I wasn’t going to ruin the best day of their lives. Russ deserves to be happy. Why don’t you understand that?” I defended my brother, trying to reason with the monster who stood in front of me. This same monster hurt Mom and killed my father.

“Look, your mother only coddled him because of where we lived. To be honest with you kid, I never really liked our city anyway.” Ray dared to scoff, pacing back and forth. 

“Coddled?” I furrowed my brow. “Russ is one of the toughest men I’ve ever met, with or without family ties.” 

“He only turned into this wannabe thug because it’s the only way folks didn’t kill you on sight.” Ray uttered bullshit, completely skipping over how much people bullied him growing up.

“Are you saying that he appropriated culture?” I questioned. 

“Of course. Without the tattoos, a Black wife, and so-called mafia power in the city, he’s just another White Boy, no different than you.” Ray lowered his voice, still giving out nonsense. 

“Sounds like you're insecure, Ray. My therapist says that folks start projecting onto other people when they don’t like reality.” I folded both arms, admitting the truth. 

“Don’t give me that psychological bullshit. No amount of time with some bookworm shrink could excuse your sins. Deal with God like everyone else, kid.” Ray shook his head. 

“You have no idea what I’ve been through. Now, I know exactly why Mom left your ass.” I backpedaled from him, still feeling pissed off. “Only think about yourself.” 

“No. If it wasn’t for you being born, I’d have my family back.” Ray was almost delusional now and blamed me for Mom’s happiness after their divorce. 

“You’ve lost your mind.” I said. 

“Not yet.” Out of nowhere, Ray took out his cell phone and slid it towards me across the coffee table. 

At that moment, I lifted the phone and realized that there was a picture of Cyrus cuddling a puppy with the biggest smile on his face. Even his wedding band gleamed while his knuckle showed. 

“What did you do to my brother?” I nearly growled. Enough was enough. “What the hell do you even want from us?” 

Just when I believed that Ray would finally give me an answer, one piercing gunshot ran out. 

His dying body almost immediately fell backward and thudded right onto my carpeted floor. 

“Shit!” I shouted, already pacing and completely ignoring everyone else who stood in the room with me, including Drew for once. 

“Cy…” Drew mumbled behind me. 

“You and the fellas can go, man.” I answered without facing him. 

“Come on. Everybody out and back on watch.” Behind me, Drew aimed for everyone else to walk out to leave me alone. 

_____

“Cy, you good?” A few minutes before closing, Drew ended up knocking on the door again. 

“How the fuck is this possible?” I rubbed down my face, still pissed off because of what we just learned from Eric. 

“Remember those news reports from back in the day? That gunman wasn’t out in the open and we never saw pictures of an actual face. Could’ve been anyone, so your father might’ve been slick enough to get away with it.” Drew cut on the brightest service lights, sending us into reality rather than partying like before.

“Damn, you’re right. We could search for him now, but I don’t even know his name. Mom raised me alone, remember?” I answered, trying not to remember how lonely life was in the house if I wasn’t already hanging out with Drew as a kid. 

“You two weren’t alone. We invited you around all the time.” Drew mentioned his family and tried to smile. His own parents were still happily married now and even his siblings lived all over the place. 

“I know.” I sniffled without tears, choosing to look away from him again. 

“I won’t let you do this by yourself, man. When have I ever let you down?” Drew patted my shoulder and I soon turned to face him out of respect. 

“Never. Now what?” I said, knowing that it was true. 

“I can make a few more calls if you want to start now.” Drew offered his advice to help without needing Eric to intervene right away. 

“Not until next week. A lot happened tonight, so let’s rest up and start everything on a blank slate. Enjoy your weekend, D.” I really wanted to slow down and try to sleep on it. Too many questions still raced in my head. 

“All right. You know how to find me.” Drew opened and closed the door, leaving as quickly as he had walked through to help me deal with Eric.

_____

Coming back to this apartment alone was probably the worst part. Not that actually I’d want more people to risk their lives around me, but even silence in the living room felt strange. Solitude was one thing, but this was another monster altogether. 

No amount of material shit eased what I felt when the lights went down. It was a miracle to even sit here in one piece, but if I wasn’t entirely pissed off, my thoughts creeped right through. I was soon haunted with memories. 

_____

I tossed and turned in bed, hardly able to stop thinking of how much Mom struggled to raise while I grew up years ago. 

Of course, Drew and his family might have helped Mom and me time and time again, but nothing changed the fact that my father was never there. Even before his supposed lockup, he was never around and not once cared about us. 

To make matters worse, I didn’t even know what he looked like. 

Mom kept green eyes and dark hair because of my grandmother, but was I blond because of Dad? What did his voice even sound like? What was the dream before death crossed his mind?

But most of all: why did this man give up on me, his own son?

____

Morning reached the blinds before I could have actually fallen asleep. There was no other choice but for me to keep moving, even if it was something as simple as getting out of bed now. 

Make the bed. Brush my teeth. Pick out clothes. Try to find breakfast here or visit a coffee shop in an effort to leave this place.  

Take one day at a time. 

Just when I planned to walk out for groceries, my cell phone buzzed out of nowhere. It was Drew sending out a text message: 

DREW: You’re not gonna believe who just walked into the coffee shop. 

CYRUS: Who, Santa Claus? While texting him back, I tried my best to joke around as a sign for Drew that things felt somewhat better than last night. 

DREW: Better. Drew handed out another joke to upgrade our guesses. 

CYRUS: If they’re better than Santa, tell me. Who is it? I quickly rolled my eyes, but answered back with a question this time around. 

DREW: Bianca.