Grayson turned around to talk to Alfred, but Alfred was already chatting with the blonde girl who'd been eyeballing him, and he was smiling like a smug asshole who knew he was a smug asshole, but also knew he was a smug asshole who could charm the pants off an ascetic. Grayson decided he'd leave Alfred to his chat, it wasn't like they were alone in the bar anyway. Besides, he thought, heading toward the stairs, Alfred hadn't killed anyone since Alexander. Even so, Grayson did worry about his precarious mental state; he'd been exhibiting some troubling signs...

He gently bumped his way through the upstairs bar, past smoky neon signs, and outside onto the tiki deck. It occurred to Grayson that Larry Malone's really had no cohesive theme: downstairs was Miami Vice, and upstairs was an uneasy mix of Roadhouse and Polynesian kitsch.

He found Clarence on the deck, sitting at a tiny round table patinaed in thumbprints and cigarette burns, on a peeling polyester stool. "Your friend," began Clarence, with a sagely air, "is a fucking dick, man."

"He gives me the creeps," said Katie, sipping her alcopop. Up close, she was pretty, and, Grayson decided, looked a bit like Dolores O'Riordan. "You have weird friends, Grayson."

Grayson dragged a stool over from another table and sat down. It was warm outside, and Grayson imagined he could feel rain on the air. "He's not so bad when you get to know him," he said, feeling like a protective older brother. Alfred was an asshole, sure, but Grayson liked him, and Alfred had been nothing but good to him. Alexander, he'd deserved what he'd gotten. "Just gotta get to know him, you know?"

"He's a stuck up asshole. Thinks he's better than everyone 'cause of his fancy suit, and his fucking money," said Clancy, and he sipped his beer. There was a profound bitterness in his tone, like bile. "Alexia was the same, man. Always parading around like she was better than people." Clancy paused. "I'm sorry, dude," he said. "I didn't—I'm an asshole."

"It's fine," he lied, managing to smile. It had been nine years since Alexia had died, but every single day since had felt like the day after her funeral. Time, Grayson had long ago decided, didn't heal all wounds. Sometimes, he thought, time only made them fester. "It was nine years ago," said Grayson gloomily. "Just, I don't know, it still feels fresh." He shrugged, and Katie put her hand on his arm, and she smiled sympathetically. "Thanks," he said to her.

"Man," said Clancy, lighting a cigarette, watching him across the battered expanse of the table, the cherry-glow catching in his eyes and hanging there like ruby pinpoints, "you really loved her, didn't you?" The smoke seemed to drift around Clancy in slow motion, gradually freezing in the air.

"Still do," said Grayson, arms on the table.

"It's romantic, I think," said Katie, smiling warmly. "You love her so much, even though she's gone now."

"But it's unhealthy, man," said Clancy, and his tone of voice implied he was gearing for one of his you-got-to-move-on spiels. Grayson braced himself, training his features into a look of patient attentiveness. He got up, because the stool was starting to hurt his ass, and he leaned back against the railing, listening. "Dude, it's been nine years, and every single girl you've dated since, you've just upped and left 'em. Grayson, it's rough, I know, and you got dealt a really shitty hand, man, but clinging to Alexia like this ain't gonna bring her back." He frowned around his cigarette. "She's dead, buddy," he said. "There's millions of chicks out there, but you gotta give 'em a fucking chance. I feel like you automatically compare them to Alexia, right from the get-go, and you kill the relationship before it has a chance to go anywhere." Clancy finished his cigarette and put it out on the table, then flicked the smoldering butt over the railing. "Hate to say it, man, but there's probably never gonna be a girl who's like Alexia. Gotta move on."

"Clarence, leave him alone," said Katie, frowning.

"I'm just saying, he can't grieve forever," said Clancy. "Else great opportunities are gonna pass him by."

Grayson shifted the subject, and said, "So how's Annette?"

"See? He just plays it off," said Clancy. "It's unhealthy."

"She's good. Her and William have been busy," said Katie. "Between their research, and a rambunctious four-year-old, they got their hands full."

"How's Sherry anyway?"

"As good as a four-year-old can be," said Katie, smiling. "She seems happy enough. If a little distant sometimes."

"Bill and my aunt Annette are always doing shit for Umbrella," explained Clancy, and he shook his shaggy red head. "So Katie and I'll babysit Sherry at our apartment. She's coming over tomorrow, if you wanna drop by and see her, Grayson. She'd probably like to see you. Sherry, she likes you."

Grayson saw Alfred below, walking away from Larry Malone's, and he was with the blonde girl from downstairs, who, from behind, looked a lot like Alexia. Grayson thought it was weird, Alfred going for girls who looked like his sister. Or maybe, Grayson thought, they didn't look like Alexia at all, and he was just superimposing his own desires. "Actually," he said, turning back to Clancy, "that sounds great. You think I could crash at your place tonight? Alfred, he's taking a girl back to our hotel." He smiled awkwardly.

Clancy raised his eyebrows. "Alfred likes girls?" he said, surprised. "Always thought he was gay."

"Occasionally," said Grayson, still smiling.

"Have you guys ever—"

"Clarence," hissed Katie.

"I'm just asking. I mean, Alfred's Alexia's twin."

Grayson shook his head, and said, "I like women. Besides, Alfred might be her twin, but he's not Alexia. Distinct lack of womanly parts. Though he's got a pretty nice ass for a dude, and I say that enviously."

"Seriously, man?" said Clancy, laughing.

Grayson grinned and said, "What can I say? I'm jealous."

They walked the four blocks to Clancy's apartment after Last Call, and though Grayson wasn't precisely drunk, he was feeling a comfortable buzz. Clancy's apartment was a one-bedroom, decorated with a mix of second-hand furniture that smelled like cigarettes and, Grayson decided, cat, and rock paraphernalia from all the concerts he'd attended, and he'd attended a lot, all across the States. The couch was made of some scratchy tweed material, but it was cushy, and would make a decent bed for the night. Katie brought out some spare blankets and pillows, and she handed them to Grayson and said good night, and then she went into the bedroom with Clancy. Grayson turned on the television, turned the volume low, watching the silent pantomime of an episode of Roseanne.

When he woke the next morning, the television was playing an episode of Goof Troop, and Sherry was there, watching the TV and eating a bowl of Lucky Charms. He heard voices in the kitchen, and recognized, immediately, William Birkin's voice, and he was talking to Clancy about Sherry. "Just make sure she gets a nap," William was saying, Annette idling beside him, arms folded across her breasts. They were both wearing suits and lab coats. "She gets fussy."

Sherry grinned when she saw he was awake, and she put her bowl down and hugged Grayson around the middle. "Uncle Grayson!" she said, and Grayson wanted to say he wasn't actually her uncle, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, ruffling her hair. She'd gotten bigger since he'd last seen her, and her blonde hair was longer now, cut around her jaw, bangs pushed back with the red Alice band he'd bought Sherry for her third birthday.

William looked back at him and said tersely, "Morning, Sleeping Beauty." His sandy hair was combed neatly, and for once, he was actually clean-shaven, and he looked well-rested. Grayson figured it was probably because of that promotion Spencer had given him; he was the chief researcher at the Raccoon City laboratory now, Alfred had told him. "Was wondering when you were going to stop slobbering on the couch."

"Hey, Bill. Go play in traffic," said Grayson, rubbing his eyes. He saw Clancy grin behind William, and sip his coffee.

Sherry looked between them, her small forehead creasing with unease.

"Not in front of Sherry," said Annette evenly. It always amazed Grayson how Clancy and Annette were related, but they looked nothing like each other. Clancy was red-haired and freckled, and Annette was blonde and had no freckles. Although their features were similarly thin and pale, and they shared the same long, thin nose, and the same blue eyes. "Please, both of you. You're both adults, for goodness sake."

"Sure," said Grayson, picking Sherry up and putting her in his lap. "I'll be nice." He didn't mind Annette. Unlike Bill, Annette was pretty reasonable, and she seemed to always have Sherry's best interests in mind. Sherry watched her parents with apprehension, as though she expected them to suddenly start yelling, and she was bracing for it. It hurt him, seeing that expression on a four-year-old's face. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head, and he said, "It's all right, Sherry. We're all gonna be nice." Grayson smiled as the apprehension leaked out of her, and Sherry started playing with a tiny stuffed rabbit she'd taken out of the pocket of her dungarees.

Annette smiled, and she said, "She really likes you, Grayson. You'd make a good father."

He thought about Alexia then, and how he would have liked to have had kids with her someday. "Thanks," he said, and smiled.

"Of course he's good with kids," said William, and he shook his head. "He had to deal with Ashford." Then William smiled hollowly, and he said, "Oh, right. I forgot."

Grayson glared at him, imagining William's head exploding in a sudden, gory shower. He wanted to kill him, right then, but willed himself to stay on the couch. Sherry shifted uneasily in his lap, concentrating intensely on the little rabbit toy in her hands.

"William," said Annette, through her teeth, "that's enough."

William scowled, said, "We're going to be late for work," and left without waiting.

Annette looked at him. "I'm sorry," she said, and she sounded sincere.

Grayson nodded. "You're gonna be late."

Annette frowned, and she left. Clarence came over and said, "You all right, man? Bill's an asshole."

"Where's Katie?" asked Grayson, deliberately avoiding the question.

"Work," said Clancy, and he finished his coffee. "I gotta go to the RPD and fill some paperwork. I hate to ask this, man, but—"

"Don't worry, I'll watch Sherry," said Grayson, and he smiled. "I don't mind. Really."

"Thanks, man. Appreciate it." He put his mug down and grabbed his keys from the glass table beside the couch, the surface covered in scratches, and crescents of old coffee. "I'd take Sherry with me, but she'd be bored. I'll toss you a couple of bucks for the trouble, Grayson."

"Wanna stay with Uncle Grayson," mumbled Sherry, and she squeezed her little rabbit, and the thing squeaked.

"No trouble, man. Besides, Sherry has spoken. She wants to hang out with me," said Grayson, grinning. Alfred was probably still with that girl anyway, and besides, Grayson liked Sherry, and it had been a while since he'd spent any time with her. "So keep your money. We'll be fine."

"I owe you, man," said Clancy, and then he was gone.

Grayson put Sherry down and went into the kitchen, digging through the cabinets for cleaning supplies. When he found them, he went back into the living-room and sprayed the table, wiping away the old coffee stains. "Don't know how he lives like this," he said to Sherry, who attempted to assist him. Grayson laughed. "You wanna help?"

Sherry nodded. "It's gross," she said, taking the rag from him and wiping the table. "And smelly."

"Surprised he doesn't have flies," said Grayson, finishing with the table. "Or spiders," he added, retrieving the vacuum from the closet in the hallway. He planned to clean the entire apartment, because the place was rough. Clancy was a good guy, but tidiness wasn't one of his strong suits.

"Spiders are icky," agreed Sherry, and she started picking up her toys and neatly stacking them beside the couch. "I saw a spider once, and I screamed. I scared mommy. She thought I'd hurt myself."

"Spiders don't bother me, but Alfred hates them."

"Alfred?" She looked at him with huge blue eyes, and blinked.

Grayson said, "He's basically my brother," and started vacuuming the apartment.

It took a few hours, and when they were done, Clancy's apartment was as close to spotless as it could possibly get, although a faint odor of cigarettes and cat lingered in the air. He showered, and when he came back out, he asked, "You want ice cream, Sherry?" When her face lit up, Grayson smiled and took her hand. Sherry excitedly skipped alongside him. "You did a good job today, kiddo. You were a huge help."

"Mommy makes me clean my room," said Sherry, as they walked downstairs, and out onto the street.

"That's good," he said, smiling. "Teaches you responsibility."