was the hard part.
Chapter Four
Mary Lou and I had just finished our weekly round of drinks at Hero’s. Yes, I still frequented Hero’s. Yes, I still IM’d Fang. Yes, I knew he was a killer.
Aaron Parker, aka Fang, raised serious moral issues with me, moral issues that I often struggled with. That he was a headcase, there was no doubt. Anyone who grew up in the environment in which he had grown up, in the circumstances in which he had grown up, would have had similar issues. Or not. Perhaps it was a perfect storm of craziness and circumstance.
Either way, at age seventeen, a very delusional Aaron Parker had killed his girlfriend, sucking her dry. His story had been a sensational one. Even more sensational, was that the young man had escaped a high-security psychiatry ward, killing two more men in the process.
That had been almost two decades ago. Aaron Parker, of course, now went by an assumed name, and as far as I could tell, he had had some facial reconstruction surgery. He was still a wanted man, and he just so happened to be our bartender and my confidant.
No, I hadn’t known about his past. I didn’t know who the hell he was, truth be known, until six months ago, when we had met for the first time. Or, rather, when he had re-introduced himself. Turns out that he had stalked me and found out who I was and where I lived.
And this is where I struggle. Fang had proven time and again, to have my best interests at heart. That he was obsessed with vampires was another thing entirely. Another thing that I chose to ignore. In fact, I chose to see only his good side, a side that had been touching and human and endlessly informative.
Therein lies my quandary.
I had grown close to him over the years—very close. It wasn’t until six years had passed that the truth came out. I should have been pissed. I should have felt violated. To be sure, I had flirted with both emotions. Mostly, in the end, I saw him as a deeply troubled man.
Not to mention, we had a psychic connection that I couldn’t quite place my finger on. No doubt the connection was rooted in our close friendship. Indeed, the closer I got to people, the more I could read their minds. The interesting thing about Fang was this: he could also read my mind.
I hadn’t been ready for that.
He liked to remind me that we are both flawed. That we had both killed. That we are both victims of circumstance. He liked to remind me that he never intended to kill his girlfriend. It had been an accident. Two people had gone too far in the throes of lovemaking. And one of them had ended up dead.
Yes, Fang and I were friends. Yes, he had wanted much more, but I had questioned his motives. It seemed to me that he loved me for my gifts. Like a star-crossed fan. I questioned his motives, especially when he asked me to turn him into a vampire.
No, I hadn’t turned him, but we remained friends, even while I continued to date Kingsley.
So, when we left the bar on this quiet evening, with Fang and I having made small talk both audibly and inaudibly, I saw something that surprised the hell out of me. Something made me turn back and pause, and as I did so, I spotted CS Dipstick working his way through the bar. I stood there with my sister and tried not to stare as the older baker worked his way out of the bar, passed us, and headed outside. A strong plume of vaporous alcohol trailed behind him.
The man certainly didn’t look like an adulterer. He looked tired, worn down, and at his wits’ end.
Maybe because of all the extramarital sex, I thought. The thought really didn’t stick. Frowning after him, I excused myself from my sister and followed him out.
Chapter Five
CS Numbnuts was walking down a fairly busy sidewalk.
I trailed behind him a dozen feet, keeping my head down and my hands in my pockets. I passed a half dozen well-dressed couples, ranging from old to young. Some of the younger couples veered off into Hero’s. I slid
Chapter Four
Mary Lou and I had just finished our weekly round of drinks at Hero’s. Yes, I still frequented Hero’s. Yes, I still IM’d Fang. Yes, I knew he was a killer.
Aaron Parker, aka Fang, raised serious moral issues with me, moral issues that I often struggled with. That he was a headcase, there was no doubt. Anyone who grew up in the environment in which he had grown up, in the circumstances in which he had grown up, would have had similar issues. Or not. Perhaps it was a perfect storm of craziness and circumstance.
Either way, at age seventeen, a very delusional Aaron Parker had killed his girlfriend, sucking her dry. His story had been a sensational one. Even more sensational, was that the young man had escaped a high-security psychiatry ward, killing two more men in the process.
That had been almost two decades ago. Aaron Parker, of course, now went by an assumed name, and as far as I could tell, he had had some facial reconstruction surgery. He was still a wanted man, and he just so happened to be our bartender and my confidant.
No, I hadn’t known about his past. I didn’t know who the hell he was, truth be known, until six months ago, when we had met for the first time. Or, rather, when he had re-introduced himself. Turns out that he had stalked me and found out who I was and where I lived.
And this is where I struggle. Fang had proven time and again, to have my best interests at heart. That he was obsessed with vampires was another thing entirely. Another thing that I chose to ignore. In fact, I chose to see only his good side, a side that had been touching and human and endlessly informative.
Therein lies my quandary.
I had grown close to him over the years—very close. It wasn’t until six years had passed that the truth came out. I should have been pissed. I should have felt violated. To be sure, I had flirted with both emotions. Mostly, in the end, I saw him as a deeply troubled man.
Not to mention, we had a psychic connection that I couldn’t quite place my finger on. No doubt the connection was rooted in our close friendship. Indeed, the closer I got to people, the more I could read their minds. The interesting thing about Fang was this: he could also read my mind.
I hadn’t been ready for that.
He liked to remind me that we are both flawed. That we had both killed. That we are both victims of circumstance. He liked to remind me that he never intended to kill his girlfriend. It had been an accident. Two people had gone too far in the throes of lovemaking. And one of them had ended up dead.
Yes, Fang and I were friends. Yes, he had wanted much more, but I had questioned his motives. It seemed to me that he loved me for my gifts. Like a star-crossed fan. I questioned his motives, especially when he asked me to turn him into a vampire.
No, I hadn’t turned him, but we remained friends, even while I continued to date Kingsley.
So, when we left the bar on this quiet evening, with Fang and I having made small talk both audibly and inaudibly, I saw something that surprised the hell out of me. Something made me turn back and pause, and as I did so, I spotted CS Dipstick working his way through the bar. I stood there with my sister and tried not to stare as the older baker worked his way out of the bar, passed us, and headed outside. A strong plume of vaporous alcohol trailed behind him.
The man certainly didn’t look like an adulterer. He looked tired, worn down, and at his wits’ end.
Maybe because of all the extramarital sex, I thought. The thought really didn’t stick. Frowning after him, I excused myself from my sister and followed him out.
Chapter Five
CS Numbnuts was walking down a fairly busy sidewalk.
I trailed behind him a dozen feet, keeping my head down and my hands in my pockets. I passed a half dozen well-dressed couples, ranging from old to young. Some of the younger couples veered off into Hero’s. I slid
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