Flint, MI was home. Within the perimeter of the city, Ethic was the crowned king. It wasn’t a title he boasted proudly. e He didn’t, particularly, like the reputation at all. Claims like that are what led to the downfall of a lot of men before him, so he let the hood whisper, without ever verifying anything. His younger years of mobbing through the city as Benjamin Atkins’ lieutenant had earned him a reputation. No one knew that he was, actually, Benjamin’s connect. He made the streets freeze with the snow he brought to town, but that was a long time ago. He never liked the limelight that came with the game. He preferred to get money quietly, which is why he allowed people to think that Benny Atkins had been the man on top. Even now, when he was trying to walk a straight line and keep his hands clean, his exit from the game was never acknowledged. He had turned in his walking papers, but still, the game wouldn’t leave him alone. His breed of hustler was rare, and the young ones admired him. Often, doing whatever it took just to be in Ethic’s good graces. Ethic disguised the wealth he made in a distribution trucking company, several, automotive repair shops, and other real estate investments throughout the Midwest, but he hadn’t been able to truly rid himself of the reputation he had rightfully earned. At 34 years old, his priorities had changed and the risks that came with the lifestyle were no longer worth it to him. As Ethic’s strong hand gripped the expensive leather of his Range Rover, he studied the streets he used to rule. They had changed over the years. Businesses had tanked, causing the former gold mine to become a ghost town where there was no code of conduct. The rules had evolved, and the players had revolved to what was now an all-out war zone. Flint wasn’t the same and he did 80 miles per hour to get his children out of the city limits and back to the suburbs where he could keep them safe. Flint was where the lawless reigned. He wanted his children to know nothing of that part of his life. Ethic peered into his backseat, as Bella read her book and Eazy transitioned to his hand-held video game. His children didn’t have a care in the world. They were his reasons for flying straight and the smiles on their faces reminded him that they were the only constants that mattered. He tucked his turmoil away, as if it was an old piece of clothing that he could put in the back of his closet and forget about. He couldn’t dwell in his feelings. That was what women did. Sulking about what he couldn’t have wouldn’t do anything but keep him stagnant. As he pulled into the driveway to his home, he noticed the C-Class Benz that was parked curbside. He sighed, as he threw his Range Rover in park. He almost didn’t want to get out. He didn’t have the energy to put up the charade with the beautiful woman, waiting faithfully for him in her car. She was always there, waiting, hoping that he would choose her; and although they had been on and off for years, he never settled down. She was never his pick. Dolce was just someone warm to lay next to – sometimes - on the cold, Michigan nights. As he processed the empty feeling that weighed on him, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt over the way he handled her. Do I give her this feeling? Is her loneliness caused by me? He thought. What torture the world would be if hurt was just one, big cycle. Were men and women going around loving the ones they could never have and neglecting the ones right in front of them? Damn, Ethic thought. His mind was complex. The smallest notion could leave him reeling, as he dissected the possibilities of its merit. Love was one of those puzzles that left him exhausted and frustrated. He just could not solve it.