The Finale Read online

They had to physically remove him from the dumpster, and he and Scar were whisked away to the hospital for a medical clearance and then off to foster care, where they remained for over a year.

  With the mandatory expiration on parental rights, after eighteen months, they were put up for adoption. Every Wednesday, Derek and Scar went to the agency along with about twenty-five other kids for display for prospective parents. Derek would always hold Scar’s hand and secretly tell people that they were not going to be separated, and that if they wanted him, they would have to take Scar too.

  With one look at Scar’s disfigured face, the potential parents always turned away and found other kids to adopt. Derek’s plan had worked for weeks, and each week he and Scar would go back to their foster home.

  After a few weeks, the social workers couldn’t figure out why at least one of the boys couldn’t attract an adoptive family. The workers finally started sitting close to Derek and Scar and listening to what Derek was saying to the people shopping for children. When the workers got wind of what he was doing, the following Wednesday they put him and Scar in separate rooms, and Derek was picked immediately. He was seven, with the cutest dimples and the prettiest smile. Scar, on the other hand, had been overlooked again and again.

  The day Derek’s new family came to pick him up—a father who was a cop and a mother who was a teacher—he refused to leave without his brother. He had fought and cursed and even locked himself inside the bathroom.

  The social worker had lied to Derek to coax him out of the bathroom so his new parents could grab him and get him home. “Your brother will be coming along soon,” she said. “Go ahead. You’ll see him again.”

  Derek reluctantly went. He wouldn’t see his brother for another fifteen years, by which time they had both landed on opposite sides of the law.

  In Derek’s new adoptive home, everything seemed to be perfect. His father fought crime, and his mother taught him everything there was to know in any book imaginable. They were a real family. They ate dinner together and had fun movie nights on Fridays, his father’s day off.

  Derek lived like a kid that had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He wore the finest clothes, had every toy before it even became popular with other kids, and most of all, he had a real family life with both parents.

  But everything wasn’t as peachy as it seemed. Derek’s father worked the midnight shift, and when he left home at ten o’clock after tucking his son in and kissing his wife, things would take a dark turn in the house.

  Derek’s adoptive mother would creep into his bedroom at night and shake him awake, standing over him in a see-through nightgown. Longing for her husband’s touch and affection, Ms. Fuller was lonely and desperate. She would climb into bed with her adopted son and stroke his hair. Then she would tell Derek that she loved him more than anything in the world, and that if he wanted to see his brother again, he would have to touch her and she would help him find his brother.

  At first it started out as touching. She’d take his little hands and guide them around her body. She would make him touch her breasts and put his fingers in her vagina. And by the time Derek was eleven, she had begun to make him have full-blown intercourse with her. She would always perform fellatio on him first then make him perform cunnilingus on her. Then she would take his still growing penis and force him to put it in her sloppy, oversized pussy. Most of the time Derek felt disgusting and dirty; sometimes he wanted to vomit.

  But as the years went by, things changed and he felt differently. His body would betray him, and he started to experience sensations he didn’t quite understand. Derek had conditioned himself to fight the good feeling that he started to get as he got older. He told himself the faster he got to that feeling the better, because his turmoil would be over. Derek would ejaculate after a few minutes, so he wouldn’t feel so guilty. It was ingrained in him as a coping mechanism. “Come quickly, and it will be over,” he used to tell himself.

  Although at his adoptive home in the posh northern Maryland suburb of Bowie; Derek had every toy, private school education, went to church, and lived in a beautiful home, none of it was good enough. All he wanted was to see his biological mother and brother again.

  Meanwhile, Scar remained in the foster care system in the hood of Baltimore. After years of enduring teasing and beatings at the hands of other kids in group home after group home, Scar grew angry inside. On most days he felt ruthless and often had visions of killing the social workers and the other kids with his bare hands. It wasn’t long before Scar was on edge.

  “Hey, ugly,” a boy had called out to Scar one day, throwing a ping pong ball from the day room and hitting him in the head.

  Scar bit down into his cheek and ignored his tormentor.

  “You so ugly, we could probably win a world war just by showing your face to the enemies.” The boy continued garnering laughs from the other kids sitting around. “Look at that scar and those saggy lips. I bet your mother must have fucked a gorilla to get something as ugly as you.” The boy let out a shrill, grating laugh.

  That was it. Scar snapped. His ear seemed clogged, and the room started spinning around him. He’d never tolerated anyone talking about his mother or his brother.

  “Arrrggh!” Scar screamed out, suddenly lunging at the boy with a pocketknife he had stolen. Scar had buried the pocketknife deep into the boy’s neck, hitting his jugular vein.

  The boy’s eyes popped open in shock. He didn’t expect the “ugly monster kid” to ever fight back. Screams erupted in the room, and some of the other kids ran out into the hallway to get help, as the boy backed up from Scar’s contact, holding his throat and gagging.

  Scar stumbled backward at the sight of the boy’s thick burgundy blood spewing like a fountain from his neck. Before any of the group home administrators could help, the boy bled to death within minutes, right at Scar’s feet. And though Scar was scared to death, something inside of him felt powerful, almost invincible. The group home security quickly tackled Scar to the floor and held him there until the police arrived.

  Scar spent two months in a mental institution because of that incident. After the psychiatrist cleared him, he was placed in a juvenile detention center, where he stayed until he was eighteen years old. It was at the detention center that Scar learned all of his criminal ways, so by the time he was released onto the streets of Baltimore, instead of being rehabilitated, he had become a ruthless dude with a nothing-to-lose attitude.

  Derek went away to college and only returned to his adoptive home when his father was laid to rest after a long battle with cancer. When the funeral was over, he told his adoptive mother she would never see him again.

  He had never forgiven her for years of sexual abuse, which had followed him like a looming nightmare. He always felt like he had no control over his own body or his own sexuality. When he began having sex for pleasure with girls his age, his body would betray him. His body would overpower his will not to ejaculate quickly.

  Derek immediately moved back to Baltimore. Maybe, just maybe, he would run into his real mother or his brother.

  After a year of looking for corporate jobs, he joined the Maryland State Police, hoping to become a state trooper. He had long since given up the active search to find his mother and brother again. In fact, he didn’t know the first place to look. Checking the foster care system had turned up nothing on Scar. Those records were sealed on kids that aged out of foster care anyway.

  Then one day, as a highway patrol trooper, he walked into the squad room of the Narcotics Unit to get a white powder test done on a substance he had seized during a car stop, and right on the wall was a huge poster with his brother’s face and name plastered on it—WANTED: STEPHON “SCAR” JOHNSON, REWARD $10,000 He stared at the picture for what had to be ten minutes. When it had finally sunk in that the man in the picture was really Scar, Derek got so nauseated and weak, he almost threw up.

  “What’s the matter, Fuller?” one of his colleagues asked. “You look like yo
u saw a ghost in that mufucka, Scar Johnson.”

  “Nah, nah. Just looking around,” Derek said, quickly pulling himself together before anyone caught on to his interest in Scar. After seeing that picture, Derek was hopeful again, and he set out to find his brother.

  When he pulled Scar’s criminal history, he learned just what his brother had been doing since he had last seen him at five years old. Scar had a rap sheet as long as a city block. Derek learned that Scar had become the founder of the notorious Dirty Money Crew, a crew of killers that had murdered their way to the top of the Maryland drug trade. Though Scar was on the other side of the law, being his blood, Derek was still determined to find him one day.

  Derek worked hard to prove himself as the best trooper on the streets, just so he could get enough clout in the department to put in his application to join the drug team. He was a man on a mission. After six months, he made the Narcotics Unit, officially becoming a jump-out boy. Every time he went out on a jump-out operation to pick up the hand-to-hand street pharmacists, he was hopeful he would run into Scar or get some information on him.

  Finally, Derek and his team jumped out on a set of corner boys, and it just so happened the little dudes they picked up were down with the Dirty Money Crew, and low men on Scar’s payroll. It didn’t take long for Derek to get one of them alone and promise him freedom if he told him where to find Scar.

  At first, the little soldier was living by the street creed— No Snitching! But the longer the boy sat in a cell, unable to use the bathroom, get anything to eat, and with no phone calls, he finally gave in and provided Derek with the information he needed.

  Derek had sat undetected outside of all of Scar’s trap houses for weeks, but Scar never showed up. Being out there, he figured out every drop-off and pick-up time. He had numbered Scar’s workers and tried to figure out who was a higher-up, which meant he was probably closest to Scar. Derek noticed one particular dude as the most consistent player at all of the trap houses, and he never stuck around long. Derek reasoned he was the lieutenant, in charge of bringing the re-up and picking up the profits.

  Derek decided to tail him, and sure enough, one night he followed the dude right to his leader. His heart thumped wildly when he peeked out of his windshield and saw Scar in the flesh. There he was, his long-lost brother, all grown up and the leader of a crime syndicate. Derek could recognize that scarred face and huge head anywhere.

  Both proud and sad, he wondered what their lives would have been like, had their mother not abandoned them that fateful night. He figured the big-ass man that had beaten his mother unmercifully had probably returned and killed her, and he had long convinced himself that she was probably better off dead than running the streets chasing crack.

  Derek had watched Scar that first night without revealing himself, although he wanted to rush out of the car and embrace his brother with a big hug and a sincere apology. He didn’t know how his brother would react to him, or if he would even remember him. Conflicted, Derek went home to his then girlfriend, Tiphani, and confided in her: He was a cop and his brother was a wanted criminal. Tiphani told him to do whatever would make him happy.

  For two days Derek changed his car and disguise and watched his brother. Finally, he felt he had grown the balls to reveal himself to Scar. He walked up to Scar’s bar and lounge, Katrina’s (named after their mother), which also housed Scar’s office in a secret room in the back. He was stopped at the door and asked what his business was, since it was a bit early for patrons.

  “I just wanna get a drink, man,” Derek said to the goons protecting the front door. Long fuckin’ day.”

  The front door man surveyed Derek, trying to see if he could tell if this square was a cop or fed. Since he was dressed like a typical street dude, Derek was allowed entry.

  Derek ordered a few drinks to build up his courage. “He’s your little brother,” he whispered to himself, “li’l Scar head.”

  Walking to the back of the lounge, Derek encountered yet another layer of security, a tall, muscular dude.

  “Yo, man, I need to see Scar,” Derek said to the dude, trying to sound as street as he could. Derek had lost that edge a long time ago, so it was a stretch for him.

  “Who the fuck are you, nigga?” the goon asked.

  “Tell Scar I got information on his family.”

  The goon crinkled his face in confusion. Everybody on the street knew Scar always proclaimed he was a purebred street nigga born from the concrete. No mother, no father, no family.

  “Nah, Scar ain’t got no family,” the goon told Derek.

  “Everybody got family. Now tell him I got information on his family,” Derek said forcefully.

  Scar’s security guard reluctantly went behind the secret door, which was obscured with police grade double-sided glass. Two minutes later, the man returned and said to Derek, “Scar wants to know, if you got information on his family, where was his mother’s birthmark?”

  Derek swallowed hard as his mother’s face came flooding back to his mind’s eye. He could see her brown sugar–colored skin and straight white teeth so clearly smiling at him, but those memories were from a time when things were so good for them. The last time he’d laid eyes on his mother, though, she was a gaunt skeleton with missing teeth and riddled with bruises.

  Shaking his head left to right, Derek tried to get it together. “It–it was a heart-shaped, cherry-colored mark on her left cheek,” he said, barely able to get the words out, “and she used to call it ‘a mother’s love’ and tell us she got it from our kisses.”

  The man was really confused when Derek said “our kisses.” He looked at Derek wildly and then disappeared. Within minutes the man returned, and Derek was allowed to follow him back to the secret office.

  When Derek stepped into the room, it was like time stood still. Scar was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk like the CEO of a legitimate company, his face looking much improved. His scar actually made him look dangerous, instead of ugly and deformed like it did when he was a kid. Who would’ve thought an ugly birth defect could benefit him? Derek, thinking his eyes were deceiving him, was at a loss for words as he stared at Scar, and his legs grew weak, threatening to fail him.

  “Ain’t this a bitch! My big brother,” Scar said, standing up and stepping from behind the desk.

  Derek was still speechless. He didn’t know whether to cry, scream, or say sorry.

  “I know the cat ain’t got your tongue, nigga. You ain’t happy to see your little brother after a hundred years and shit?” Scar grabbed Derek for a manly hug.

  “I’m just so fuckin’ happy to see you, man,” Derek, shaking all over, finally managed to say. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep my promise at the time. I was a kid. They snatched me away from you. I had promised Mommy—”

  “C’mon, man, I don’t hold you responsible for nothin’. Them white people ain’t care nothing about two black little niggas tryin’a keep whatever piece of family they had together. I ain’t never blame you, my nig. Besides, if shit didn’t happen the way it did, I wouldn’t be the king I am today.” Scar offered his dumbfounded brother a seat.

  “I told Mommy I would always take care of you. I’m back and I will keep that promise,” Derek assured his brother.

  And he wasn’t lying. Although he had pledged to uphold the law of the State of Maryland, Derek had another chance to keep his promise to his mother and he vowed he would forever be his brother’s keeper—if his brother wanted to be kept. From that day forward he helped Scar stay one step ahead of the law. One step ahead of the jump-out boys and the narcs.

  But when the heat got turned up on Derek to make some big busts, he spoke with Scar, and they agreed to put on their little show. Scar agreed to take a fall to help his brother look good in the eyes of the department and the public. That’s why Derek Fuller would always be grateful to his brother and never forget the sacrifice he’d made for him.

  Chapter Five

  Halleigh sighed in relief when she sa
w the car diminishing in her rearview mirror. Her heart was still pounding in her chest. She peered in the backseat to check on her son and saw that he was sleeping in his car seat. He had no idea what had just gone down, and frankly, neither did Halleigh. She knew this was more than her being paranoid. Somebody had tried to follow her home. She didn’t know who it was, but she was sure she was in danger. She could feel it in her bones that something bad was lingering closely and she had to let Malek know.

  “Malek!” she yelled as she raced into the house. “Malek!” She went through their apartment, turning on every single light in her home. Her distressed yelling caused her baby to begin to cry, and his wails filled the house. Realizing that Malek was nowhere to be found, she tried him on his cell phone.

  “What’s up, Hal?” he asked, upon answering.

  “Malek, somebody tried to follow me home today!” she yelled, still in a panic.

  “Halleigh, ma, we’ve been over this. Nobody is going to touch you here. Nobody’s after you.”

  “Malek, I saw the car. I spun the block like you taught me. I’m sure—”

  “Hal, baby girl, we’ll talk about it when I make it home. You’re safe. I’ma keep you safe, a’ight. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.”

  Frustrated, Halleigh hung up the phone. She wasn’t as weak as Malek thought she was. Halleigh was hoping she could convince him to see things her way before things got bad and it was too late.

  She securely locked the front door and checked every window before she staked out on the couch with her son lying on her chest, and waited for her man to make it home.

  The next day Halleigh didn’t even mention what had happened because she knew no matter what she said, Malek would simply brush her comments under the rug. She could feel him watching her with worry in his eyes.

  “I’m fine, Malek,” she said.

  He stood and walked over to her, shirtless and sexy. “You’ve got to stop thinking that everyone is out to get you, ma. This is a new start for us, Hal. Nobody’s gon’ find us, and ain’t nobody gon’ touch you or my seed. I’ll die first. I know Mitch fucked up your head when he took you, but I handled that. The nigga’s a memory, but I can’t fight your ghosts for you, ma.”