"Can you all do me a huge favor? Clear the room. Let me talk to this monster, alone. Please."

"That's not wise, Harry. We don't need you two trying to kill each other."

"I'm good, Marcus," said Bob. "Even if he attacks me I'm man enough to take it. I deserve that, truly. It's hard to move on with my life being haunted for taking an innocent man's life."

"Who are you and where is that heartless scum bag Bob Grimes. This is a bit much, your sudden compassion for what I'm going through when you're the cause of it."

I glared at everyone. "Can we please talk alone? I'm not going to rip his balls off and shove them in his mama's ass, you have my word."

Tenderly, Marcus Johnson put his hand on the small of my back the way Jonathan used to, with the same warmth in his palm.

I shuddered.

"We'll stay with you and Bob. This is your dedicated group. We're in this together. What we do in here stays in here."

I picked up a pen from my desk and scribbled a note. I put it in Bob's hand and closed it.

I leaned up to his ear. "Meet me at that address in twenty minutes if you want to talk. I don't buy this fake act, nigga."

I walked past my true friends and rushed to my car. Unlocking it, I hopped inside, closing the door.

I was too weak to cry any longer. I didn't have any tears left. Crying has become familiar. It does nothing for me when I'm a zombie learning how to be human again.

Marcus was knocking on my window.

"Stop running from your past errors, Harry. Face them! Harry!′

"Fuck off, Marcus. You're not my husband! He's dead! Are you happy now?"

I drove off, nearly running his ass over.

I lit a Newport, heading for the location I scribbled on the paper I handed Bob.

Bob Grimes apologized for ruining Harry's first night back in his group of individuals with anger issues.

Everyone ignored him.

Maria said, "I never thought I'd be this crude but can you get the fuck outta here? Like, for real, for real. When Harry hurts, we hurt."

Jim faced Marcus, questioning his judgement for the first time since he took over. The crack in his facade shined brighter than a diamond.

"Bro, why would you bring two of his enemies to group? What judge approved this?"

"Judge Harper Hills. He specifically wanted them here. When he summoned me he was very specific. I suggested another group, but he said he wanted Harry to learn how to pick and choose his battles wisely, so I suggested that Lynn and Bob attend group, since she's facing twenty years in prison. She's only attending group because of the strict condition imposed on her when she bailed out of jail pending trial."

"That's a load of crap, Marcus. You were trying to play God and it blew up in your face. What were you thinking bringing Jonathan's murderer around friends that are still grieving his death?"

"I need some air."

Deeply upset, Marcus stormed outside. Leaving Jim to interrogate him damn self.

Spotting Bob getting into a Nissan, Rogue, Marcus sprinted across the parking lot, catching the door as it was closing.

"Nigga, have you lost your mind"? Bob quipped.

Marcus snatched him out of his SUV, throwing him on the ground.

"Where are you going to meet Harry?"

"None of your damn business, scrub." Bob was on his feet, all six feet seven inches of him.

Marcus was six feet seven inches tall as well.

"I'm not going to let you hurt him again, dude. I'm not playing with your drunk ass. I've been off the streets for months. Nigga I may tally accounts but ah nigga bout dat click, click, bang, bang, square ass nigga."

"Awww, I get it," Bob joked, finding Harry's puppy dog cute as a button. "You're in love with Harry. You want him all to yourself. Well you'll never have him or know what that tight ass feels like on your dick. Have a seat, fuck boi! You're a mark ass nigga. My swollen mushroom head still controls the pulse in Harry's sweet ass."

"Maybe Harry was right. You haven't changed. You're putting up a front, blowing smoke in the judge's ass I see right through you. I can certainly see why Harry dumped your crazy ass."

"At least I can say that I had him. You can only hop, wish and dream of tapping booty of that caliber"

Taking the address from his grasp, Marcus read it over, tossing it on the ground.

"Thank you."

Marcus hopped in his Mustang and drove past Bob, splashing water on him from the rain swept parking lot.

Throwing a closed fist in the air, Bob Grimes picked up the address and put it into his GPS on his cell phone.