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Apicem Rapax	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 2155 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
November 10^th, 2014
I don’t know what happened. One minute I was sure that I was going to kiss him and the next I was lost in a conversation I was unaware that we were even having. Had my nightmares progressed into something worse? Why had I gone to his house if I had resolved to bring up the subject of our relationship if I wasn’t ready to either make a move or set some ground rules?
One minute I was walking through the door, and the next I was being told I was all right. Did I black out? No, he would've told me if I had. So what had happened in there? Before I caused an accident I pulled over at a liquor store parking lot that was empty for now, and I leaned in to set my forehead against the top of the steering wheel. Severe side effects of my meds were blackouts but could that really have been what happened?
I picked up my phone from the cup holder and unlocked it, going to my favorites list to dial Amanda.
On the third ring she answered. “Oh my fuck, what could you want at this ungodly hour?”
I took a few deep breaths before whispering into the speaker, “I think I’m losing my mind.” I don’t know how I expected Amanda to react to this, but I didn’t care. I just needed to tell someone other than the shrink or my mom or my dad. Chris was out of the question of course; he didn’t agree with me making these visits to Al’s house in the first place, and at least with Amanda maybe she’d make some kind of joke about the whole thing affecting my memory. “Amanda I went to talk to someone and I don’t know what happened?”
Now serious, she asked firmly, “Claire, what did you do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me you didn’t kill someone?!” she yelled, giving me the Amanda that I needed right now.
With a small laugh to myself I said, “No, I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Oh thank God. I told you to never tell me if you did something like that.” I could imagine her now with her hand over her heart dramatically. Her brand of humor was much appreciated at times like this. “So what did you do then, fuck someone?”
“No,” I laughed. I wasn’t trying to get specific with her since she didn’t know about my visits to Al. “I’m sorry. I think my meds are fucking with me.”
With genuine concern she said, “Claire, you gotta stop taking that shit.”
If I’d truly lost track of time and forgotten a recent occurrence like that then she was right. Tonight before I went to bed I’d skip taking the pills. It was only four days in but it was obvious already that this wasn’t going to work. “I will. Hey, I’ll call you later. There’s some stuff I should probably tell you.” There was only so long that I could go without telling my best friend about current events. I needed to tell someone this, and obviously that someone was not going to be Doctor Hartman.
When I was sure that Claire had made it out of the neighborhood I bolted for my keys, heading for the front door, never in such a rush to get to the lab than now. Just as I was prepared to rush down the front steps I was stopped by an eerily familiar face blocking my path. It was a face that looked all too much like my own, and it belonged to someone that I hadn’t seen in years. Faint smile lines were just one of the few, distinct differences present, the other being a rugged goatee, but the most evident difference between the person before me and me was a head of black hair.
The older gentleman gave a lopsided grin, giving me a possible preview of myself in twenty years. “Hello, little brother.” Dramatic as always, his expression changed rather quickly, becoming confused as he inquired, “Were you going somewhere?” It seemed he never would perfect the art of attaining perfect timing. My brother showed up at the most inopportune of moments. From birthday parties, to trying to go all the way with a girl, he always wedged himself into my schedule no matter the event. I’d of course made a mistake in the past six years: thinking that he was never going to show his face again as he’d screwed up as much as he possibly could have already in his life. When he didn’t show up to see me pinned as the new captain of STARS, I was certain that I’d finally broken the cycle. Here he was though, as determined as ever to ruin something in my life, no matter the circumstance.
Teeth clenched, I felt one of my hands ball up into a fist, fighting the urge to take out my confusion and frustration all on him. I couldn’t take another second of not knowing what was happening to me, and right now he was in my path. “Alex, now is not the time.”
“So your big brother comes to Raccoon City and doesn’t even get a proper hello? I’m sure that father taught you better than that.” Invoking thoughts of our father should have been the final straw, yet something about him possibly being the reason that this was happening to me caused me to falter in any attempt of aggression. Just where was I going to go to get answers? I had refused Will’s offers to take a blood test, and that only left me with going to see Spencer who would more than likely once more dismiss me and my inquiries.
Now in defeat after thinking of my options, I backed away from the door, knowing that his resolve knew no bounds when his mind was made up.
Slowly, he stepped inside, taking in the feel and look of the foyer that was the size of a small den. He eyed the white, decorative chaise lounge near the entryway to the kitchen, probably wondering if he could in some way use it to annoy me. Instead he threw up his arms in what passed for him as excitement and pulled me into a hug that I uneasily reciprocated. “Little brother!” When he pulled back he affectionately patted my cheek a few times, inhaling deeply as he finally took me in. In six years he’d expect some changes. “You seem different,” he mused proudly, still looking me up and down.
Almost forgetting about my own brush with death I finally recalled the reason he could have had for coming to Raccoon City. “I assume Father told you about the mansion incident.”
With a frown that seemed too much due to bewilderment he nodded his head quickly. Had that not been his reason for coming then I certainly had something to add to the list of why I somewhat despised my elder brother. “Fucking psychopath, right?” His first question would of course relate to Ashford and not myself. This needed to be a quick visit for my own sake. “How are you feeling?” he finally asked, probably after reminding himself that his own brother had almost died.
Defensively I replied, “Fine.” My tone was more because of his apparent forgetfulness to ask how I was after remarking on the quite obvious state of mind of Ashford.
Conversationally he mentioned, “What’s worse is that even though you almost died, that lunatic is still running around his little island like nothing happened. How do you shoot a guy and run free?”
I’d suspected that Ashford was still in control of the Rockfort installation but I just needed to hear it from someone else. Obviously my father would not reveal such information to me as he knew my reaction until recently would have been to fly out there and get my own justice. Though I didn’t expect Alex to be the bearer of the news I knew that it was only a matter of time until someone in the know had divulged the whereabouts of my shooter. “How indeed?” I’d asked absentmindedly, attempting to keep any empty bubbles from our conversation. It either signaled the death of any desire I’d had to speak to him or the birth of awkward topics that he wanted to grill me about.
Ignoring the rules of our usual format he asked, “You finally settling down?” In an odd move he walked over to the table beneath the mirror, resting a hand on the wood. Ironically, it was the same place that I had been with Claire before.
“You’re outdoing yourself Alex.” I folded my arms over my chest as he turned back to face me, his unsettling gaze producing that twinkle that would mysteriously appear in his pale, blue eyes. “Six years and you ask more about everyone else but me?”
Taking my question as admission he said eagerly, “So there is someone.”
“As if I’d tell you,” I countered, leaning back against the wall to take him in the same way he’d done me. Alex and I dressed the same in style, and I felt as though he was more like me than I like him. My earliest memories of him were as a child, and by then he’d already hit adulthood. My family history was a mystery to many, myself included, as made evident by my confusion over my sibling’s last name. Alex used the surname Wesker, but it was not believable to anyone present that he was the son of my mother. Alex was not much younger than my mother in fact, and so there was no way that they were mother and son. For a period of time I tinkered with the idea that he was perhaps an uncle that was informally adopted by Spencer, but he’d been called nothing but my brother this entire time. Also, if Alex was my uncle then that would have meant that there was a chance that Spencer had watched my mother grow up. Something that would have been disgusting to say the least, but I put nothing past men like my father.
Men like my father persistently and regularly invaded others’ lives in an attempt to earn an artificial form of immortality. Had he not so cruelly forced my mother to have the DNA run himself I would have caught myself questioning my own paternity, but alas, I was indeed his son. Right now I felt a creeping desire to ask Alex if we were in fact siblings, but when I once more let my gaze settle on that nearly identical face I knew that we had to have been. Sure, he could have still been my uncle but it was best to let that rest for now with everything else going on. Damn his bad timing and the inevitability that I would become side-tracked.
Now, more calm than I’d been before he showed up I stood up from the wall, grabbing a leather jacket from the coat rack next to the door. “Alex… I’ll be back.”
Knowing I’d been frightened out of saying more and delving into something profound with him he gave a wide grin. “You live here.”
Without having to tell him to make himself at home (like I didn’t want him to), I knew that he would, and I set off with the intention of getting answers from Spencer.

Surveying the club was the most important part of the purchase. She needed to know every possibility, every scenario planned in her head before she gave me the green light. This place needed to become hers, and she needed to feel a level of comfort that one would at home. This would be her den, her dwelling, and a most un-level playing field to her unsuspecting prey. Moths were drawn to flames, and no other establishment shone so brightly during the afterhours as at Live. From here she’d rule in secret, for now. As she walked along the railing she allowed her hand to trail along it, her black dress flowing behind her as she eyed the rafters. Never had a predator been so gifted intellectually, and for the humans that was for the best –until now of course-. She stopped, letting her hand fall from the metal support, staring down at me. "This will do."
The tool behind me clapped enthusiastically, proud that he'd be getting a handsome sum of money -more than asking price- for this factory of human shame. In the long run it was an investment that would repay us with more worth than the money we’d receive. "That's wonderful! I had no intention of sellin' but if Dr. Ozwell E. Spencer himself is buyin'-"
Turning on my heel I said gently, "And you will tell no one that he is personally interested in this building." The last thing anyone needed to know was that I was the one who'd bought out the beloved hangout. Of course Mr. Tazio had no idea that I was in fact the buyer. I had many aliases, and I would use Spencer Osmund to manage this club. Simple it may have been, but no one would tie the two names together. I’d found long ago that Americans hated reading and tying things together. Those that did either worked for the IRS or were the mentally ill with that no one could take seriously.
"Hey, Mr. Osmund, for the money he's paying me I won't tell my mom she's on fire if he asks me not to!"
I gave an obligatory laugh and stuffed my hands into my pockets. Of course he’d let those he claimed to love burn. His love of money had now become a detriment to human society, and a great help to us. It was long ago foretold by their own kind that the end of humans would be by their own hands. “Very good.” I heard Isabella coming down the stairs from behind me, slowly, still learning every step of the layout.
Mr. Tazio pulled off a pair of brown, Versace shades, sticking them in the pocket of his blue jacket of the same brand. Obviously brands meant a lot to him as well, but it wasn’t because he could afford it, rather because he wanted the world to know that he could and felt a pathetic pressure to live up to the expectations of those whose opinions should not have mattered to a made man. Slicking back his medium, blond hair he tilted his head in Isabella’s direction, eying her as she continued to check the building. “Eh, your friend there?”
Knowing what he was hinting at, I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Men would prove to be the worst business partners with her around, and of course they’d always hope that she’d be introduced as part of an arrangement. Perhaps he’d hoped that she was single, but even though she was he was unaware that she had a very strict taste (no pun intended) in her significant others. He in no way would fit her criteria.
Before I could unleash a verbal lashing upon him Isabella’s hand clamped down into my shoulder, her much smaller form suddenly appearing next to me. “Mr. Tazio, how nice to meet you.” She stuck out a hand and I watched warily as they both shook in salutation. My friend was always aware of me and my reactions, and thankfully she’d moved in to divert a possible situation. “I am Lord Spencer’s liaison.” I admired her unwavering confidence, something that I needed to reign in lest I become nothing more than a depraved fan in her eyes.
With a disgusting sound of approval he said, “You look a little young for such a title.”
In her thick, harsh accent she said assertively, “I am well worth my price.” It appeared that she understood where his mind was traveling as well. One mistake she never allowed anyone to make was to assume that she was not formidable. Isabella knew when men wanted her, as many women knew when a creep was coming onto them.
Taken aback by her willingness to go toe to toe with him, he held up his hands in a rather rapid surrender. “Oh so am I lady.” I figured strong women weren’t his thing; men like him loved having control over every aspect of their lives, and Isabella was never the average woman. After all, if a man dared pump up his chest at her, she’d merely crush it. He had no way of knowing such severe ramifications were possible, but any surprise over such a thing would merely add to the entertainment value of it all for me.
Now overtly predatory in her actions, she made a half circle around the brunet, inhaling, but stopping abruptly. She was as picky as ever. “Pay the man,” she ordered, sparing him as she twisted off to the other side of the club, more than likely to continue surveying the property. “And call the doctor!” she added from afar. From the moment she arrived in Raccoon City she’d been on a strict timeline, and it had been no problem to remain on schedule as no distractions had yet presented themselves. I hoped it stayed that way.
Ignorant to what was going on, Mr. Tazio leaned in. “So, looks like you’re the new owners of Live.” Thoughtfully and quite sentimentally he whispered, “Don’t run it into the ground okay? It took a lot to get it to number one.” His words surprised me; no matter the price, usually people did not sell their pride and joy. Money was of course important in the business world, but if this place meant so much to him then he certainly was a stain of a human being to accept cash to give it up. Yes, I was paying him a very large sum, but did his pride mean nothing to him?
I nodded. Of course we’d keep Live in its number one position. Isabella demanded it. Just because the owner was an unsuitable meal, that didn’t mean his clientele would be. In other words, Cynthia’s circles didn’t frequent clean places like this. Also, being an 18 and up club meant a greater pool of healthy prey. It was a factory without the work of harvesting. In the past it was almost impossible to get so many mice to come dancing to the cat, but now it would quite literally happen.
From across the room I could hear Isabella say only to me, “Figure out a way to steal your money back. Mr. Tazio’s liver is failing.”
So that’s what I’m getting, I thought to myself. I wonder if he knew he was losing his battle. I gave him seven months. Externally he looked fine, but internally… death and defeat were escaping through his pores. His demeanor told me that he may not have even known. In a moment of inexplicable kindness I said, “You should probably see a doctor yourself. Your eyes… “I trialed off, not feeling benevolent enough for hints.
“Pussy,” she muttered. She made sure to pick up those terms I see.
“Nah, I’m good brother,” he assured me. “I just sleep in my contacts.”
Arms folded, she stared at me from across the floor, shaking her head at my failed warning. Perhaps one day I’d listen to her, and it was coming fast.
After wasting gas to reach the mansion I received a message from Spencer to meet him at a condominium somewhere near the edge of town. It was upscale of course, but I couldn’t imagine him wanting one for himself. I followed his instructions to reach the top of the tower, entering apprehensively; I didn’t quite understand why he wasn’t at the mansion. My father’s age was becoming a major factor in every decision that he made, and I always expected him to be close to home and near his doctors. This in no way fit his norm, but I knew I wasn’t in any danger from him just yet, so I’d bite. Upon my entrance I was met with a sweet fragrance that smelled like women’s perfume, expensive and unbelievably prevalent in the air. No one could be living here with such an impersonal scent permeating the condo.
I adjusted my shades as I passed through the entry, opting not to disturb whatever mood was present by calling out to my father. Instead I made my way to the main room, met with the sight of him sitting comfortably on a black, leather couch in one of his “specially-made robes” with his initials on the pocket. Tonight he opted for a turquoise color, the abandonment of his usual, royal purple an indicator of an exceptional mood. He wore matching slippers on his feet, which were planted firmly on the white rug beneath him as though he’d been eagerly awaiting my arrival. To set a serious tone I said, “I assume you know Alex is in town.” That should have been enough to let him know that I was in no mood for any games he may have had planned; Alex soured my mood quite easily, and his presence was usually problematic for me.
In a stronger voice than he’d been demonstrating lately he confirmed my suspicion that he knew my brother’s every move and never felt the need to tell me. “I have seen him.”
Hands on my hips I stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Of course you have.” They behaved like twins at times, and my father was determined to be attached to my sibling at the hip it seemed. Even when Alex was overseas he seemed to know what he was thinking and what he wanted for dinner. It was all a bit vexing that he put so much effort into this connection with him, and it may have been in part due to the fact that I knew that Alex was being groomed to take over after Father had left. Despite all of my hard work to become something on my own it seemed that the bootlickers of society would always be the ones to win. That was fine by me, because when Alex took over, hopefully I would have had the chance to be long gone. As soon as Spencer stopped toying with stepping foot in the grave I’d begin distancing myself from Umbrella, and they’d both be too preoccupied to notice.
I decided to jump to my questions now before he began talking about unity and family and whatever else drivel he’d conjure up to fill space. “Father something is happening to me. Ever since the shooting I’ve been… changing.”
Nonchalantly he said, “You almost died. Of course your body is going through changes. It’s called healing!” That last addition was insulting, but before I could expound upon my concerns he interrupted. “I have something very important going on now.” My alarm was quite evident, yet he seemed preoccupied with other things at the moment. What could have been more important than figuring out what had been done to me in this moment? “There’s someone I’d like you to meet Albert,” he said as he adjusted his position on the sofa.
From above there came a clicking sound, the noise reminiscent of high heels against a hard surface, and as I turned to catch a glimpse of the cause I saw that I was spot on in my assumption. A tiny woman came gracefully down the staircase, a small hand gently running along the railing until she came to a stop. Her petite frame was wrapped in a nude colored bandage dress, the tight material giving a display of her cleavage. Waist-length, black hair fell in soft curls over her torso, complementing the deep, olive tone of her skin. Her eyes were an icy blue that did not at all match her specific exoticism, and more importantly they seemed to betray her perceived age. Those eyes told a story that she could in no way be old enough to have witnessed. Despite making it obvious that she was a subject of distraction from my original purpose behind coming to see my father, she continued down the staircase, her pair of black Louboutin’s once more clicking against the surface beneath her.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs she made her way around the loveseat that my father occupied, allowing him to grab her hand as she passed in front of him. Rather than stand and await an introduction, she boldly neared me, reaching out a small hand for me to grab. “I am Isabella. It is an honor to meet you.” Her thick accent gave me an idea of her purpose here, and I almost let out a chortle of amusement at my father’s intentions with this woman.
Ignoring her gesture of salutation I peeked around her to my father. “Step mother?”
Rather than reply, Spencer gave a small smile and let his eyes drift shut.
Extending her hand even farther she managed to catch my attention. “I am a dear friend of your father’s from years ago. It is very nice to meet a son of Ozwell’s.”
A son, I asked myself, suspecting that she was well aware of Alex’s existence. I wish that I wasn’t. Not wanting to come off as rude, and simultaneously making up for my crude assumption, I finally took her hand into my own, receiving a firm shake. Her skin was pleasantly soft, but a bit cool which gave the feeling an oddly contrasting sensation. Bedroom eyes watched me the entire time we greeted one another, and finally a knowing smile presented itself. It was warm, inviting, and dare I say that it communicated an unsubstantiated fondness of my presence.
“Albert Wesker.” I slowed the shake until she finally released my hand, but she did not retreat to my father’s side. No, she was not his at all. Usually when someone worked for him they’d heel like a dog, returning to the owner’s side as they awaited commands or privileges, but Isabella seemed to belong in the forefront. His face told me that he wasn’t allowing her to be so assertive, but that he had no choice.
“Wesker?” she asked my father, and for a moment I felt offended that she had temporarily removed me from the conversation.
Dismissively, Spencer muttered, “His mother’s name.” Seeming to understand the disrespect that came with such apathy he elaborated with, “Albert Ozwell Wesker-Spencer.”
As I managed to curb my newfound, snarky disposition I offered, “Albert Wesker sounded better.”
She looked back to me, reintroducing me to the conversation as easily as she’d cast me out. With an unnatural curiosity guiding her eyes over me she took a step back, resizing me after I dared to let my opinion on my own name be known. “Your father’s name is a proud one.”
Harboring little more patience, I cleared my throat. “My own name is proud.” Who was this little girl that displayed such unadorned gall in the face of her elders? Though I towered over her she appeared to be looking down upon me, reigning the entire room with such a small presence that did not demand to be acknowledged, but simply was.
As I dared to test the extent of this perceived rule of the room, her smile faded, her gaze unyielding. Then, as if she remembered something she perked back up. “Your mother must be proud as well.”
My father coughed conspicuously, failing at covert even far into his old age when he should have known the proper way to attempt deviation. He did not like me talking about my mother for some reason, and it was not as though he didn’t get his wish; I barely knew her to illuminate further upon anyone’s curiosity.
Initially I was unsure of who I disliked the most in the room, but when my father made a point of reminding me to suppress any information about my mother I realized that it was indeed him. “My mother died when I was very young.”
Appearing uncertain of whether to smile anymore or not, she waited until she could present a more neutral face. “I am sorry. I am sure that she was wonderful.”
Unable to keep up a somewhat, pleasant demeanor I finally asked, “Who are you?”
Not at all taken aback, she immediately answered with, “A business partner to your father.”
“Then why do you care about me?”
“Because you are a top, contributing scientist at Umbrella Incorporated.” Not missing a beat she turned her head slightly to let my father know that she was now addressing him, “You should really tell him Ozwell.” Turning her body to the side in preparation to walk away she said softly, “I am becoming bored.” With the sound of her heels accompanying her as she retreated back upstairs, she called back without looking, “It was nice to meet you Albert Wesker!”
When the sound of her heels became inaudible I turned my attention back to the wasting man before me, prepared to give him all that I’d held back for the sake of manners. “Who the fuck was that?”
“A business partner,” he echoed.
Since I’d get no answers about what had just happened I figured it was best, and I became even more determined to instead get answers for what had been happening since the incident at the mansion. “The doctor that came to my house just disappeared?” I asked, the sudden change in topic catching him off guard. Good; he’d be forced to answer then.
With a more serious expression he asked, “What doctor?”
“You know exactly which one. Today something happened that I cannot explain, but I’m sure that you can.”
Slowly, he hit back with, “Albert, stop asking questions and appreciate life. Soon you will understand, but not right now.”
This visit was over. Absolutely nothing would come of talking to him, and from the start I should’ve expected as much. This left me with an option that I wouldn’t have been willing to take had the events of earlier not occurred. I would be forced to call in help from my only friend. God I hoped William wouldn’t suffer because of me.
As Amanda chewed on the straw of her iced coffee I toyed with how to break it to her that I was crushing hard on my brother’s boss. She didn’t let things go and so I knew that once she was informed, there would be no escaping her hounding. It seemed like a good idea to keep it to myself at first, but then when I had no one to talk to about it things got built up and no one was there to help me unload. Nothing had happened anyway so it wasn’t like she was going to find out something that she could constantly tease me about. Maybe I was more worried about her throwing hints to Ty who I’d been ignoring successfully for the past few days. That would be drama all on its own to handle if he found out that I had a newfound interest. We were never exclusive, but he seemed hell-bent on reaching that.
As I rotated my Starbucks’ cup before me I inhaled deeply, catching the invigorating scent of the white, chocolate coffee that awaited me. Nothing fancy like her double-shot-skinny- whatever-the-fuck. I held off on taking my first sip; as soon as my lips touched the lid she’d just come out with guns blazing, scaring me into taking down too much of the hot coffee. “So, I’ve been seeing Captain Wesker.”
Her mouth fell open as arched eyebrows raised even higher on her forehead. “‘Seeing?’” she repeated, making me immediately regret my verbiage.
Quick to make the correction, I leaned in. “Not that kind of seeing.”
Her face immediately fell in disappointment, but she had no idea that that look would be replaced with intrigue.
“I’ve been spending time at him place ever since the shooting. I’ve been having nightmares Amanda.” I didn’t expect her to understand why I’d rather go to his house than show up at her place and share her bed with her but I needed her to listen to the whole thing before she jumped again. “We talk and I sleep there. I feel safer.” My confession was probably not going to be understood, or maybe I was underestimating Amanda’s critical, thinking skills. It shouldn’t have taken my shrink to see that I was basing my safety on the fact that he had taken a bullet to protect me at the mansion. Of course, even when Amanda understood she chose to take the hard way of saying things to me.
She took a sip of her drink. “Okay, so instead of talking to your BFF about these things you’ve been turning to a guy you barely know. Sounds like the beginning of a romance to me.”
“Well it’s not. All we’ve done is talk and the most contact we have is hugging.”
“And you want it to become more?” Her question sounded an awful lot like an accusation, and maybe it was. “Claire this isn’t a movie,” she added seriously, but in true Amanda fashion I swear the entire mood changed and she perked up. “But I saw his picture on the news and OMFG, I think you should go for it! He’s so fucking hot!”
At the sight of an older woman throwing a disapproving glare at us I hissed, “Amanda!”
Immediately spotting the source of my sudden desire for her to calm down she looked right back at the elderly lady. “Hi! How are you today?!” With a huge smile she stared right back, causing the woman some discomfort, forcing her to gather her things and leave her table. “Fucking bitch,” my friend muttered.
For a moment I almost laughed, but I don’t think that my friend would take very kindly to me changing the subject. “Amanda I seriously don’t know what to do here. It’s bad enough that today I totally spaced. I went to see him to get some clarity on the situation and next thing I knew I’m leaving. These meds are just fucking me up and I don’t even remember what I did.”
Taking another sip she rolled her eyes. “Claire, the meds are one thing but he’s a whole different situation. Is he single?”
“Yes.”
“Are you single?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then, what’s the problem?” She seemed to miss the memo that he worked with my brother who was a raging psychopath on a good day. Chris would flip if he even found out that I was “friends” with his captain.
After finally taking a sip of my coffee I confessed, “Chris is my problem.”
Waving a hand she said, “Oh, fuck Chris! Give this a shot Claire.”
It was hard to ignore the wishes of my brother but perhaps she was right. I was an adult and so was he. We obviously had a connection and I was sick of dancing around it. So I’d try again, and this time something would come of it. I promised myself this.
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Apicem Rapax