My man has family

My man isn't a particularly big guy, but he has no fear. Whether it's the alcohol or the drugs I don't know. He walks the streets with confidence. But trouble inevitably finds him. He wont back down. he wont look the other way, if someone gives him shit he'll deal it straight back at them and damn the consequences. He will disappear for a week or two and come back announcing his return from yet another hospital visit where they've patched him up again.
I once asked him why he keeps insisting on getting into fights. He gave me a hard stare as if I'd insulted him "You think I can't look after myself?" he snarled.
"Well you keep getting hurt."
"It's the other four you should worry about, this is nothing to what they got."
I then find out back in the day he was a semi pro boxer. He hasn't boxed in a ring in many years, not since the drugs and alcohol took over his life. So he has no worries about losing his licence, he lost that years ago. He lost a lot.
But despite living in a world of violent drug abusers and drunks, he is a gentle soul, very polite and well spoken, if you ignore the torrent of bad language that inhabits his mouth. He will hold open a door for a lady. He says "please" and "thank you", he will ask after your health despite himself looking like he's on his way to the crem with a made to measure cut price coffin crafted from old pallets. He will offer directions and advice to anyone, even offer me a can of his strong lager. I refuse equally politely, saying "It's a bit early for me."
I often wonder how he came to this. In one of our in depth conversations it transpired his brother is a millionaire living in a loft apartment just off Central Park in New York. He couldn't afford the apartment that actually overlooked Central Park, much to my mans amusement.
I ask him if his brother could help him out financially at all."My brother wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire.... wait... turn that round... I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. We don't speak. Never will again I don't suppose."
Well what's he doing in New York?"
"That's where the money is and his trophy wife. " then under his breath almost silently "bitch!" he looks about as if suddenly embarrassed, not wanting to look me in the eye "she fucked me over. The money grabbing gold digging cow. She's the one who turned my brother against me and took all the money for themselves, leaving me with nothing."
"What did they do?"
"It's not important I might tell you one day, I might not.  I'm going to the offy. You want me to get you anything?"
"No thanks I'm good."
He opens my door looks up and down the street and staggers out. He doesn't look back. He doesn't wave. He's already seen someone he needs to catch up with.