Consumed: A MMA Sports Romance by Claire Adams

clothes before steeling myself for what’s about to happen.
    Finding Chris passed out
in the front yard helped Ash get past her distrust, but I’m getting sick of his
crap.
    I open the door to find
Chris sitting on the couch in the living room, watching a DVD he made of his
favorite cartoons. Sometimes, I come out of that bedroom, and I honestly feel
like I’m five years old again, walking into my parents living room.
    Through countless
conversations with Chris, both before and after he formally became a con man,
I’ve found it best to keep in mind what Chris really means when he says certain
words. It’s easy enough if you keep on top of it, but let that guard down for a
minute and he’s already gotten what he wants.
    “Hey,” I say. “I think we
should talk.”
    “Can it wait?” he asks,
holding a spoonful of cereal between his bowl and his mouth. “I really want to
see how this ends.”
    He takes his bite and I
grab the remote, switching off the television.
    “Dude!” he says. “Now I’m
never going to find out if Snoopy made it home!”
    “Chris, what are your
plans?” I ask.
    “Oh jeez,” he says. “Do
we have to do this every day?”
    “We’ll do it until either
you move out or I get an answer I like,” I tell him.
    “I’m not going to be here
that long [1] ,” he says. “I don’t even
know if that guy’s still looking for me, but I ain’t going back there until I
feel safe.”
    “What did you even do?” I
ask. “Did you con a single mother out of groceries? Did you swipe a kid’s
cellphone? What?”
    “I don’t get why you
always gotta make me out to be some heartless guy,” Chris says. “I’ve got
feelings, too, you know.”
    “I don’t know what to do
here,” I tell him. “I’m just getting to where things are starting to go all
right in my life, and I can’t have you coming in here and screwing it up like
you always do.”
    “I don’t screw things
up,” he says. He cocks his head, thinks about the statement a moment and then
amends it, “I don’t always screw things up.”
    “Yeah, well we’re going
to have to come to some kind of understanding here,” I tell him. “Otherwise, I
think it’s best that you don’t come around for a while.”
    “Really dude?” he asks.
“I’m your brother. You’re really telling me that you want to just kick me out
and cut me off? Doesn’t seem very fraternal.”
    “Neither does expecting
me to go out of my way to fix all of the problems you create by being a
scumbag,” I tell him.
    “Scumbag?” he asks. “May
I remind you that when we were kids, I kept dad off your back for years.”
    “You didn’t keep him off
my back,” I retort, “you just pissed him off more than I did. Come on,” I tell
him, “what did you do?”
    “Well,” he sighs, “I fell
into some old, discarded jewelry and I was just trying to sell it at a fair
markup. I don’t know why the guy got so mad at me. I think he was one of those
sociopath guys. He totally seemed like the type that would give a cow beef
jerky.”
    “So you tried to pawn
some worthless crap onto someone after telling them it was pure gold and
diamonds or whatever, he found out you were trying to screw him and it blew up
in your face,” I say. “Is that about right?”
    “That’s not the way I see
it,” he says. “It does kinda sound like what that guy was saying when he was
chasing me to my car, though.”
    “Christ, Chris!” I exclaim.
“You’ve got to stop pulling this crap! Has it ever occurred to you that one of
your more jilted clients could follow you here and pull me into your mess even
more than you already have?” I ask. “What’s the matter with you?”
    “I’m just trying to get
back on my feet [2] ,”
Chris says. “What’s your deal?”
    “My deal is that you keep
doing the same things you’ve always done, and you still expect me to bail you
out when it goes wrong,” I tell him. “You’re my older brother. You’re supposed
to be the