Layers of Her

by Prescott Lane

  “Wait,” Campbell says, turning to me. “So you’re supposed to be training tonight?”

  “Yeah, but Jenny told me that you . . .”

  “You could’ve come by later or tomorrow or called me. You are going to . . .” Campbell keeps ripping me a new one as Jade folds her arms over her chest, a little smirk on her face. Think she might’ve just fallen in love with my woman. “I will not sit there next week and watch you die, you dumb fuck.”

  “It was one training session, baby,” I say.

  Jade busts out laughing. I better soak this in. She only laughs like once a year. “My God, she must have a magical pussy because you are whipped already. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  Jenny pops in, holding a sleeping Tate in her arms. “What’s with all the yelling?” She looks at Campbell then walks over, giving her a one-armed hug. “You look better.”

  Campbell smiles up at me before running a finger along Tate’s arm. “Guess I should get her home,” I say, taking her from Jenny.

  “Jade, we should give them some privacy,” Jenny says, heading for the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “You serious?” Jade asks but follows anyway, mumbling that Jenny is too nice and leaving me alone with the two most important people in my life.

  “Come home with us?” I ask Campbell.

  She looks down at Tate in my arms. “Will it confuse Tate to have me there?”

  “I’ve never brought anyone home before,” I say. “So there’s no way to know for sure, but I’m betting she’ll love having you there as much as I will.”

  “Never thought you’d be so sweet.”

  “Well, I never thought you’d be a virgin, so we’re even.” She blushes again, looking down. That’s her hesitation about coming over; it’s got nothing to do with Tate. But I’m not interested in having parent sex with her, at least not her first time. You know what I’m talking about—the two minutes of freedom during a nap where you’re praying the whole time they stay asleep, or hoping you don’t hear the pitter patter of feet heading towards your bedroom. “I think I’ll keep you that way a little longer.”

  The corner of her mouth curls up on one side. “A gentleman, too!”

  “I said a little longer.”

  “Long enough for you to get a STD screening,” she says, giving me a side-eye. “Mr. Legendary Stone.”

  “I was wondering how long it would take for us to get to that,” I say.

  “Not something easily forgotten.”

  “Tomorrow, we’ll talk,” I say, taking her hand and leading her toward the door.

  “Wait, I never said I was going.”

  “And I told you to stop fighting us. You won’t win. You’re coming home with me tonight.”

  *

  My gym is located in the Warehouse District of town, perfectly situated to catch clientele from the Central Business District to the French Quarter to Uptown and the Garden District—high real estate and deep pocket areas of town. There are only so many MMA fighters and military guys to train. To be successful, you’ve got to catch the businessmen and women with money to burn. My gym is perfect.

  But my house has never felt right. I bought it before Tate was born, hoping her mother and I would make a go of a relationship. Sometimes I can still hear the echo of our fights in these walls, but it’s not just that. Most of my money goes right back into the gym, so my two bedroom, two bath house with less than a thousand feet of living space will have to do. A good half hour drive from my gym, the little white cottage sits on a small lot in River Ridge. It’s safe and quiet, but it’s never felt like home.

  Until right now.

  Standing in the hallway, I have a clear view of both bedrooms. Tate’s asleep in her white crib, and Campbell’s curled up in the white sheets of my bed. And I am undeniably the luckiest man on the planet. But like anytime I enter a fight, I can’t go in half-cocked. I don’t know what I’m up against with her. She’s hurting, and I won’t hurt her anymore. It’s more important than ever I think with the two organs above my waist.

  Flicking off the light, I slip in behind Campbell, pulling her to me, her back to my front. I haven’t done this in a long time, slept beside a woman. I’m praying my daughter stays asleep. “Comfortable?” I ask in a whisper.

  She sweetly moans and wiggles a little, cuddling into my arms. I never realized how damn small she is until this moment. “What made you come for me?” she asks. I tell her my theory about men making decisions based on one of three body parts—head, heart, dick. “So which led you to my house tonight?” she asks.

  “Let’s just say two out of three ain’t bad.”

  Her giggle fills up the room. “Stone?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Don’t let me forget.”

  “Forget what?”

  “How good I feel right now,” she says.

  I know exactly what she’s feeling. She doesn’t think she deserves to be happy. It’s a constant waiting on the other shoe to drop so you can prove to yourself that all the bad shit you fill your head with is true. That you’re bad, and that’s why bad things happen around you, or to those you love. Dealt with that myself when Tate got her diagnosis. Who am I kidding? I still fight those demons, knowing she’s suffering because of my mistakes. Self-blame is a bitch. Self-hatred is even worse. Guess I’ll just have to teach Campbell to love herself as much as I love her.

  Yeah, yeah, it’s fast. But how long does it really take to fall in love with someone? A minute? An hour? A day? A year? For me, it took exactly one kiss. The moment her lips touched mine in that hospital room, I was gone.

  Besides, what do you really have to know about a person to love them? Not a damn thing other than how they make you feel when you close your eyes at the end of the day with them wrapped in your arms. I’m a tough guy, but in the end, that’s all that really matters.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CAMPBELL

  From that shitty morning when Maxi ran her mouth, it took twenty-nine days to show up. It felt more like 290 as I rushed home every day after school to check the mailbox, skipping my make-out sessions with my boyfriend, only to find it empty. Looking back, I guess twenty-nine days is pretty quick turnaround for the government.

  The whole thing was pretty simple, really—one form, a small fee, and then finally, the envelope from the Office of Vital Records showed up. I remember how excited I was holding it in my hand, knowing my future was inside. Who I really am! What would it reveal? To say I obsessed over this moment the past month would be the understatement of the year. It was better than winning homecoming queen, which was great, even though my boyfriend broke up with me the next day. Guess he missed the make-out sessions. It didn’t really bother me that he broke up with me. I had other things on my mind—like this moment. I mean, the usual teenage stuff of boys, clothes, and music all seemed pretty lame when I didn’t even know my father’s last name. But I was about to!

  Hurrying inside, I locked the bedroom door. Maxi had rehearsal and wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours, so I had plenty of time. I dropped my stuff to the floor and plopped down on my bed, goose bumps covering my arms. A moment of pause fell over me. Maybe it was best if I didn’t open it – or better yet, if I just burned the envelope. My family had gone to great lengths to keep this information from me. There had to be a reason.

  But I couldn’t help myself. I’d waited twenty-nine days! I lifted the seal just slightly and began to rip it open, my pink, chipped nail polish guiding my way. I finished ripping it open—like pulling off a Band-Aid—then closed my eyes and took one deep breath as I pulled out the form. I scanned it up and down, immediately feeling both sick to my stomach and like I’d been punched in the face. This couldn’t be right. I’d waited so long for this!

  It was blank where my father’s name would be!

  Tears rushing down my face, I ran to the kitchen to my Aunt Marcie, who was making dinner for the family. “Campbell, what’s wrong?” she asked.


  “This!” I shouted and slammed the paper to the counter.

  Her eyes wide, she put down her measuring cup. “Where did you get that?”

  “I ordered it in the mail. It came today. Why is it blank?”

  Grabbing it from me, she shredded it into little pieces. “Enough of this.”

  I stood frozen for a few seconds, watching in disbelief as my aunt destroyed my blank birth certificate. It hit me hard, a clear realization that she wasn’t on my side. Part of me always wondered where she stood with me, but now I knew for sure. It was final now. I pulled in my tears as a fire burned inside me. “I want to know who I am!” I barked.

  “You are Campbell May, daughter of Charlotte May. That’s it.”

  Wiping my face on my sleeve, I glared at her. “I want to see my mother. I’ll ask her.”

  Her hand whipped across my cheek, fast and hard. “You will do no such thing. You will not breathe one word of this to her.”

  I’d always known not to bring up my father to my mother, having been told how upsetting it was to her to remember losing the love of her life. But my aunt’s reaction wasn’t about that. There was something else going on. I could feel it deep in my bones. I narrowed my eyes at Aunt Marcie, rubbed my cheek with my hand, held my head up high, then calmly walked to the safety of my room.

  I crumbled as soon as the door closed behind me and proceeded to tear all the designer clothes out of my closet and dresser, cry and scream, and downright rage like a wounded animal—all the while formulating a plan in my mind with exact precision. I would just need to wait a bit to execute it.

  After Maxi was asleep and the clock struck midnight, I tiptoed toward the front door, dressed all in black. As I got close, I suddenly heard my aunt whispering in the living room. What was she still doing up? She was always asleep by ten, so I hadn’t planned on her being awake. I peeked inside the room, seeing her cradling the phone to her ear. I listened carefully, quickly realizing she was talking to her oldest sister, who lived out in California and who we hardly ever saw.

  “I’m afraid she’s becoming like her father,” my Aunt Marcie said. “Dark.”

  I covered my mouth to keep the gasp from escaping. Before I could hear any more, quiet like a mouse, I moved towards the front door and slipped outside into the darkness. Fitting, I thought. I lifted my hoodie over my head and walked two blocks to where my ride was waiting for me.

  Looking back, it was a bad idea to use my ex-boyfriend for a ride. Ex-boyfriends do not generally make good allies. Trust me, he wasn’t my first choice, but I had to act fast and didn’t have many options—my mom lived two hours away, and none of my friends were old enough to drive.

  My ex-boyfriend pushed the car door open from the inside, and I grabbed it. “Get in,” he said, and I slipped inside. His head cocked. “What’s with all the black? You going Goth?”

  “Something like that,” I said as he started driving. “Thanks for doing this. I don’t know how I’d get to my mom’s otherwise.”

  We drove in silence for a few minutes before he pulled off into the parking lot of a nasty strip mall and stopped under the one lone streetlight. There wasn’t another car in sight. He turned the car off. “Payment time,” he said.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Bet my mom didn’t realize when she sent me money last month that I’d use it to run away to her house.

  “I’m not looking for gas money,” he said, smirking.

  Crap!

  “I miss you,” he said. “Miss that hot little body up against mine.”

  “You broke up with me.”

  “Only because you cut me off,” he said, pulling at the zipper of my hoodie. “Come on.”

  I pushed him back. “Are you going to take me to my mom’s house or not?”

  “It didn’t have to be this way, Campbell. But the ride is going to cost you more than twenty bucks.”

  “Jerk.”

  “You’re free to go,” he said, motioning towards the door.

  I was only a few blocks from home. I could easily walk back and slip back in bed, but then I wouldn’t get to my mom. I wouldn’t get answers. And this discussion needed to happen face-to-face, not over the phone. I needed to see her. It had been so long. And I couldn’t go back to my aunt’s house, not after she hit me like that.

  “What do you want, exactly?” I asked.

  His finger outlined the top of my shirt. “Take your top off. Bra, too.”

  “You just want to see me? Then you’ll drive me?”

  “Half way,” he said. “That gets you halfway.”

  “Then what?”

  “We’ll talk about it when we get there.”

  I thought for a moment about whether this made me a whore, trading a ride for a flash of my boobs. Guess it made me a cheap one. I knew girls did this kind of thing for no reason all the time at Mardi Gras and parties. But I was going to make him wait a bit longer. “You drive me halfway first,” I countered.

  He nodded and gave me a smirk. “Okay, but you better not welch on me,” he said, starting the car back up.

  I didn’t answer except to give him a nervous nod that he’d soon get what he wanted. Part of me couldn’t believe I was going along with this. I was intent on getting to my mother, but what was I doing? Who was this girl? In addition to not knowing my father’s name, I didn’t know who I was anymore, dressed like a cat burglar, sitting in a dark parking lot, agreeing to sexual favors for a ride. Maybe my aunt was right about me.

  He drove out of the lot, and as I counted down the miles in my head, I was afraid to hear what he’d want for the rest of the drive. I needed to draw the line in my head—figure out how far I’d let him go. I knew I wouldn’t have sex with him. Definitely not! But would I let him kiss me? Yeah, I would—we’d done a bunch of that before, though not since we broke up. What if he wanted to touch my breasts? Maybe. Below the waist? Nope, not letting that happen. What if he tried to force me? He was way bigger than me. I regretted not bringing a knife or something. Next time, I’d be more prepared.

  Next time?

  We got about halfway, and he pulled off to the side of the road. “Time to pay up.”

  “You won’t hurt me?”

  It was stupid to ask—I mean, you can’t trust a guy who trades sexual favors for transportation—but the words just came out on their own. Thankfully, my ex-boyfriend shook his head that he wouldn’t hurt me, while his eyes were focused on my fingers. Slipping off my hoodie and tank top then clenching them in my hands, I silently reminded myself that a bra is just like a bikini top.

  His tongue glided across his bottom lip. “Bra,” he said.

  “What if . . .”

  “Let me see those perky little tits.”

  Those words! They made me feel really gross. He never talked to me like that when we were together. My heart beat into my head, each beat thundering the word dark over and over again in my mind.

  I reached behind me and unhooked the clasp, but used my other hand to cover my chest before dropping the bra to my lap. “Please,” I begged softly.

  “We made a deal,” he said. “Lower your hands.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek. No one had ever seen me bare chested, not even Maxi. She had really big, full boobs. Mine were tiny, and I was always self-conscious about that. But I had no choice now. Closing my eyes, I lowered my hands.

  “They’re so small,” he said, and my eyes flashed open as his hand landed on my left breast.

  “What’re you doing?” I cried out, slapping at his hand.

  “You owe me for the rest of the way.”

  He leaned over towards me, and that’s when panic really set in. “Please, please, please.”

  “Relax, you act like I’m going to rape you or something. Remember, you asked for this. You called me.”

  I wanted to close my eyes. I didn’t want to watch him fondling me, but if I closed my eyes, then I wouldn’t know what was coming.

  “Okay, well, you fel
t them,” I said, trying to sit up. “Now drive me the rest of the way.”

  Then he flashed me this weird, evil grin. It was equally scary and disgusting. I wanted to slap it off his smug little face.

  “We’ve got another problem,” he said and motioned down to the bulge in his pants. “I can’t drive like this.”

  “You drove me home like that plenty of times!” I barked, struggling to get my bra back on.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you decide how you pay me next.” He yanked my bra back down. “Either you let me touch and kiss you while I take care of things, or you can stay dressed and get in the back seat with me and let me push myself against you.”

  “I’m not letting you dry hump me!”

  “Your choice,” he said. “Either way, I’m not driving another mile until this is taken care of.”

  Why couldn’t he have just asked me to jerk him off? Then I could’ve ripped that sucker to shreds! I again thought about jumping out and walking home, but I was way too far away now. And who knows what would happen to me along the dark road, miles from home. Hitching a ride didn’t seem too safe, either.

  So I had a decision to make—and no guarantee he wouldn’t want something more. I wasn’t ready to decide. I tried to stall. “Drive me fifty more miles?” I asked, figuring I could hop out when I was ten to twenty miles from my mother. It wasn’t ideal, but maybe worth it.

  “Nope, and he’s starting to go limp. You’re wasting time. The softer he gets, the longer it will take.”

  Shit! I really didn’t want his mouth on me, but the thought of him rubbing between my legs, even clothed, was worse. I hated that I ever dated this asshole. What was I thinking? I guess it was cool to date a senior. How stupid. That was a terrible decision, one that led me to this place, scared out of my mind.

  I felt a sob coming, but I choked it back down. I wasn’t going to cry in front of this fucker. I just needed to get it over. Dropping my bra back down, I said, “Fine, hurry up.”

  He smiled and slipped his gym shorts and underwear down. I’d never had a penis staring me in the face before. He looked fully erect to me—I didn’t know what he was talking about when he said he was going soft. And I had no idea how in the hell he could get off with me sitting beside him like a limp noodle.