Page 140 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

“Your mom’s got dark skin, yeah?”

Shrugging, not understanding where he’s going with this, I tell him, “Yeah. I inherited it from her.”

“Same as Cyn,” he agrees. “Unlike her younger sisters, who resemble their dad, and are lighter.” I raise an eyebrow but keep listening. “Cyn got into a lot of trouble growing up. She was picked up for shoplifting a few times, when she was totally innocent because her skin was so dark. One time,” his eyes glaze slightly, showing he’s relating a memory of hers, “she was in a mall with a mix of White friends and a couple of Blacks who were lighter skinned than her. One of the White kids stole a lipstick, it was Cyn who was pulled up for it. Cops didn’t even search in their bags, only hers. They didn’t find anything, but they still took her in and made her parents pick her up.”

I grimace, knowing there’s always bias, and not in a positive way. “What’s this got to do with Mom?”

“Your mom lives for her kids. You, she counts as a success, but Cyn? She impressed on her from an early age that her problems were down to her skin. And if she had kids, she should make sure they were different. When she hooked up with Hester, your mom encouraged it. When Cyn wanted to walk away, she was pressured to stay with him.”

My brow creases as I try to work it out. Mom’s prejudiced? I didn’t expect that. She’d told me Cyn was trouble, but from what Sharp is saying, trouble seemed to come to her, when she was innocent.

Not totally though. Sure, the cops might have made her life difficult, while never stopping her White friends, but that’s not an excuse for the other things she’s been up to.

“So she made up a lie to get out? You think that excuses her?”

Sharpshooter shakes his head. “There’s no excuse for a man getting a beating he didn’t deserve, nor for all the other untruths she’s told. But Cyn grew up feeling she had to apologise for being what she was. It’s complicated as fuck, Brother, and perhaps you and I are the only ones in this club who’d understand.”

I glance around at my brothers, all of whom I’d love and would die for, confident in the knowledge they’d give their lives for me in return, as had been proven only recently. White Privilege isn’t something they’d fully understand, not having been subjected to what it’s like to be Black. To be the one always looked on with suspicion, to be the one most at risk when picked up by the cops.

Even less comprehensible would be the prejudice that’s still inherent in some of the Black community, a spectrum where the darkest skin comes out at the bottom, and the lightest at the top. Where having the colour that could pass for a tanned White was the most valued.

I cast my mind back to when Cyn had gotten off the plane all those weeks back, my initial thought of how she’d disguised her natural hair with a wig. Not down to her boyfriend as I’d assumed at the time, but more likely down to her mother.

“Your mom wanted grandkids who’d fit in,” Sharpshooter confirms.

“So Cyn’s fucked up?”

“Six ways to Sunday,” he agrees. “Can you imagine what it was like to grow up, never thinking you were good enough, and not being able to do anything about it? She’s admitted she bought cheap skin lightening products, but they only fucked her complexion up.”

“How did Grover treat her?” Why didn’t he step up?

“He encouraged her to embrace her heritage, but it was her mom who had more influence.”

I recall the phone call with Grover, how he endorsed sending her to me. Maybe I could have helped more if I’d known the background, or maybe not. If Cyn’s grown up with the knowledge she was born into a world where she’d never fit in, maybe that was enough to send her off the rails.

Sharpshooter breaks into my thoughts. “Susie took advantage without knowing any of that.”

My eyes snap to him. “What do you mean?”

“She represents everything that Cyn is not—proud and confident in her own skin. Susie was into you before Cyn came along, you know that. When she found out you had a sister, she manipulated her. Cyn found a confidant who’d listen to everything. The more attention Susie gave her, the more she craved. Susie allowed her to feel she fit in, so Cyn gave her everything she wanted.”

I’m silent as I try to process what he’s saying. It makes some kind of warped sense, but doesn’t get Cyn off the hook. “She hates Saffie.”

“She’s White, Brother. You’re the man she looks up to, the man who, disregarding the age gap, could, on looks, be her twin. You hooking up with a White woman just reinforced everything. You abandoned her for the very thing she’d grown up accused of not being.”

“Susie’s White. Yet she encouraged me to have a relationship with her.” I point out the holes in his explanation.

“Because Susie made out that she valued her. Cyn doesn’t know Saffie. All she could see was her taking you away.”

“So where do you come in, Sharp? Come now, you can’t want my sister. Not with the baggage she’s carrying around.”

He gives an uneasy grin. “Can’t say I don’t want her either. As for fixing her? I’m not sure where to begin, but I’m trying.”

Well, I’ll be fucked. I didn’t expect that. I narrow my eyes. “You intend on her sticking around? That might be a problem for me, Brother. And for the club.”

He snorts. “Well, I’m nowhere close to asking for a vote to give her my patch, but I’m up to giving her a chance. She sure appreciates a Black dick.”

My eyes go wide and my nostrils flare. My hands fist, and I try to calm myself, but still it comes out as a growl, “That’s my fuckin’ sister we’re talking about.”

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