“You aren’t staying here. You’re moving in.”
“Just like that,” she snaps her fingers. “No discussion, no asking. I’m just supposed to drop my life and move in here because we . . .”
“I’m not doing the back and forth thing. I can’t stay at your place because of Tate, and I’m not going to confuse her by having you here some mornings and not others.”
“You’re delusional. I’m not moving in.”
“Yes, you are,” I say.
“This isn’t the way this works.” She bites her lip. “I mean, I wouldn’t really know how it works, but I know this is not it.”
“I want you to stay, Campbell,” I say. My head, my heart, and my dick are all in agreement on this one. “It’s that simple. Either you will or you won’t.”
“And if I won’t?”
“Haven’t considered that,” I say, smiling at her. “Because you will.”
“How can you be so sure?”
I walk over, handing Tate her sippy cup and Campbell some juice. “Because now you are mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”
“Mine?” she snaps. “You think you can give me one little orgasm and that makes me your property?”
“It wasn’t little,” I say, locking eyes with her.
“I don’t belong to you.”
“Maybe not, but I belong to you.”
Her lips press together in a tight line, her eyes crinkling up. “You’re really good, but you know that already.” She shakes her head a little. “And stop smirking at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“You know, all brooding and sexy and full of yourself.”
Placing my fingers on her chin, I tilt her head up and kiss her softly. “Think I won that round.”
*
The shower water turns on, and I know the moment Campbell steps inside. The sound of the water hitting the tile changes, now running down the curves of her body. She’s naked in my shower, just steps away, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
I’m with Tate, otherwise I’d be all over that. But Tate likes a schedule, so it’s best to stick to it. And pretty much every morning I work out. It’s not an easy task with a baby around, but we’ve figured it out. And like a good little trainer, Tate knows the drill. She lays flat on her back as I do pushups, giving her a little kiss with each rep I do. First two-handed push-ups, then one-handed. She sits on my feet for sit-ups. Then I use her as a weight, lifting her up and down over my head.
Jade walks in right in the middle of the second set. Clearly, I’m running late this morning and completely forgot to tell my sister not to come at all. “Thought you were training today?” Jade says, picking up Tate for some love.
“I am later. Forgot to tell you.”
“You know, your house isn’t exactly around the corner,” she bites. “Takes me twenty damn minutes to get here.”
“I forgot.”
“Whoever’s in the shower distract you?” Jade asks.
“Not your business.”
“Okay, then I’m done. I told you from the beginning I would help you, but I’m not going to babysit so you can get your rocks off. This doesn’t work that way.”
“Look, Campbell needed me last night, so I went to her. I’m not going to apologize for that.”
“You should,” Campbell says from the doorway, her hair still wet from the shower. “You can’t take her for granted just because she’s your sister.”
“I don’t need your help,” Jade snaps.
“I know,” Campbell says simply. “You’re worried about him and Tate. It comes off all angry, but it’s worry and fear.”
Holy shit, Jade’s eyes shift down. Campbell actually penetrated that hard-ass shell she walks around with. Throwing one arm around my sister, I noogie her head like I used to when we were kids. “Couldn’t do this without you,” I say, giving her a little squeeze.
She looks at Campbell. There’s no big hug or declaration. Just two kick-ass women with an understanding, both caring about me and Tate. “What time are you training?” Jade asks. “I’ll come back.”
“This afternoon.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Campbell says. “I can watch Tate.”
Jade laughs. “You don’t know Tate. She can be . . .”
“She frustrates easily,” I finish my sister’s sentence, which I’m sure was more colorful. “She can’t communicate what she wants, so sometimes it can get rough.”
“Okay,” Campbell says softly. “I understand.”
It’s sweet that she wants to help, to be with my daughter, and I want Tate to have a woman like Campbell in her life. “How about you watch her at the gym while I’m training? That way if she freaks, I’m right there.”
“Won’t you be distracted if we’re there?” Campbell asks. “I’m worried you’re not preparing the right way for this fight.”
“Me, too,” Jade says. “You used to go into the ring ready to kill. This time, it’s like you don’t care if you win or not.”
“Of course I want to win. But they’re paying me a shitload of money to return for this one exhibition match, enough that I don’t have to win to get Tate what she needs. That’s the only reason I’m doing this.”
“That’s a good way to get your head knocked off,” Jade says before turning to Campbell. “You ever been to a MMA fight?”
“No, I’ve only seen a few clips on television.”
“Christ, where did you find this one?” Jade asks.
“I’m the best girl fighter in his gym,” Campbell says. “Think I can handle watching . . .”
“Watching your boyfriend’s blood splatter across the cage? Hearing his bones crack under the weight of another man’s fist? Seeing the agony on his face when he takes a dozen punches to his ribs? Or how about having to wake him up every half hour because he’s got a concussion and you’re scared to death he’s going to slip into a coma?” Campbell’s eyes turn to me. “Because all that shit has and could happen. You up for that?”
“I’m a nurse, so yeah, I think I can handle that.”
“Then I guess you can handle one little girl, too.” Jade says, turning to me. “Guess you don’t need me.”
“Come on, Jade,” I say. Campbell doesn’t need a baptism by fire into MMA or parenthood.
“Then train!” Jade yells. “Stop getting distracted by her blonde cunt and get your ass in the gym, for fuck’s sake.” Campbell busts out laughing. “Something funny?”
She giggles a little more. “Just remembering the first time a boy asked me if the carpet matched the drapes. I had no clue what he was talking about.”
“He better not have found out the answer to that question, either,” I say.
“You know he didn’t,” she says, blushing.
Jade punches me hard in the shoulder. “See what I mean? You’re not focused.”
“Look, you’re right that Campbell and I have some things we need to work out. But . . .”
“Then do it,” Jade barks.
“It’s a little damn difficult between you barging in every two seconds and Tate’s schedule.”
“Fine,” Jade throws up her hand. “I’ll take Tate to the park for a little bit. Talk out your shit. But don’t you dare screw her. You don’t pay me enough for that.”
“I don’t pay you at all.”
“Exactly,” she says, picking up Tate before pointing her finger in Campbell’s face. “No screwing.”
When the door slams shut, I turn to Campbell. “You have to ignore fifty percent of what comes out of her mouth.”
“What’s her story, anyway?” she asks. “You guys don’t exactly have a typical brother/sister relationship.”
Guess it’s time to tell her the E! True Hollywood Story version of my life. Jade used to love watching that damn show. I hated it, but it seems fitting now.
Jade and I grew up poor, and poor in New Orleans is particularly tortuous. Because the city is below sea level, land is
at a premium. That means everyone lives in close quarters, so the projects are only a couple blocks over from the mansions of St. Charles Avenue. The homeless sit outside five-star restaurants and playhouses. As a poor kid growing up, I walked by wealth every day. It was all within arm’s reach, but still so damn far away.
Our childhood story is a common one. Deadbeat, abusive father left our mother and never paid child support. He’d pop in and out, bang our mother, and leave again. In between, a parade of men went through the house. Some were alright; others were not. Some beat the hell out of our mother, some beat the hell out of us.
Despite our mother’s terrible taste in men, we loved her. Looking back, I guess she just wanted someone to love and take care of her, no matter who it was. She worked hard at jobs that no one else would take to keep us afloat, which meant we weren’t supervised after school like the rich kids two streets over. There were no tennis or piano lessons, no sweet sixteens, no karate classes.
No, I learned to fight on the streets, and I was good at it. By the time I was eighteen, I was in deep with underground fight clubs in New Orleans and making a name for myself. I was determined to fight my family’s way out of poverty.
But that reputation did me no good when one of my mom’s boyfriends beat the shit out of her and left her for dead. Jade was only fifteen when she walked in from school and found our mother’s bloody body on the floor.
“Jade saw that?” Campbell asks.
Nodding, I walk to the mantle over my fireplace and pick up a smooth green and red stone, rubbing it between my fingers. I feel her softness behind me, her arms slipping around my waist. Holding the rock out in my palm to show her, I say, “This belonged to my mom.”
“It’s beautiful,” Campbell says.
“It was her birthstone. March.”
“I thought March’s birthstone is aquamarine?”
“March has two,” I say. “This one is less well-known. It’s called a bloodstone.”
She slowly reaches out to touch it. “Blood?”
“Yeah. She actually named me after this rock,” I say. “That’s how important it was to her. And well, Jade is named after the rock, Jade.” I place the stone in Campbell’s hand. “My mom liked to study crystals. She believed they held powers. She used to tell us the stories of our stones. The tale is that the bloodstone was formed when Christ’s blood spilled down on some green jasper stone at the crucifixion. That’s why it’s red and green blended together.”
“I guess that would make it a pretty special stone.”
“Bloodstone is supposed to protect those who possess it from threats and give the owner the wisdom to know when to retreat and the courage to fight when needed.” I close her fingers around the stone.
“Stone, I can’t take this,” she says softly.
“So you’ll remember not to fight us, but for us.”
She brings it to her chest, holding it close to her heart. “I will.”
Kissing her on the forehead, I continue telling her my whole damn life story. She’d have it no other way. After my mom died, it was just me and Jade against the Big Easy. But let me tell you, there’s nothing easy about being eighteen, broke, and responsible for your little sister. It was rough. We went to bed hungry a lot, and Jade seldom left my side. When I fought, she was there. When I trained, she was there. She traveled all around with me—fight to fight. It’s a rough life for anyone, much less a young girl. She toughened up real quick, and my singular focus became getting us a better life—one punch at a time. A few good wins, and I got in with the right guys, and my professional MMA career began.
I’d like to say I rose to the top quick and stayed there, but that’s not the way it happened. I paid for every win with more blood, broken bones, and bruises than I can even remember. But I saved every penny along the way, because the gym was always the goal. I took a few business courses at night so I’d know what the hell I was doing when it came time to quit fighting. The thing is, my entire life was a fight, and I wanted it to stop. Some guys dread the day their bodies or an injury force them out of the sport, but not me. I couldn’t wait to get out. It took over ten years of fights, but I finally made it happen. Now I’ve got to go in one more time.
Campbell reaches for my hand, intertwining our fingers. As far as I’m concerned, this is the only way to hold a woman’s hand. The other way is reserved for my daughter. This signifies being in the fight together. “So I guess Tate isn’t the only girl you raised.”
Shrugging, I said, “Jade and I raised each other.”
“What’s her story?” Campbell asks. “I mean, I don’t know much about her. Not even what she does for a living.”
“She’s a violinist in the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra. Does weddings and stuff on the side.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” I say. “For her sixteenth birthday, I took her to a thrift shop and told her to pick something out, thinking she’d pick out clothes, but she saw this old violin. I bought it, and she taught herself to play. It was a few years before I could afford to get her lessons, but she was a natural. She loves it.” Campbell looks like she’s trying to make sense of the contradiction that is my sister. It rubs me the wrong way when people judge Jade based on her appearance. Campbell doesn’t seem the type, but she’s being so quiet. “What’re you thinking?”
“Just that,” her voice gives a little, “when Tate gets her implants and has them adjusted, one of the first things we should do is have Jade play for her.”
“Damn, do you have any idea how sweet you are?”
“I’m not,” she says firmly, her way of reminding me of her gun-carrying, murder-plotting ways.
“Then be bad with me and only me,” I say, pulling her into a straddle on my lap.
She moves off my lap, curling her legs underneath her on the sofa, and slipping the bloodstone in her pocket. “Tell me about the women. You left that part out of the story. Tate’s mom.”
This could be the end of us. The old me wouldn’t care. She’s just a woman, and there’s always another one waiting. I shouldn’t give a shit, but I do. Tate changed that. My daughter was the one girl I couldn’t ever walk away from. Guess now I’ve found another. “MMA has a lot of female groupies. I don’t need to say more.”
“How many?” she asks.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
“I don’t. How many?”
No way in hell am I answering that question. For one, I’m not quite sure. For two, she’d run screaming out the door.
“Wow,” she says.
That word is the kiss of death. When a woman says fine or wow, cover your balls, cause she’s looking to rip them off. “Tate’s mom was one of those women.”
Complete silence.
“We tried to make it work once she got pregnant. I didn’t grow up with an intact family and wanted more for my kid. I quit fighting and opened the gym, bought this house.”
“Were you faithful to her?”
“Yes, but she was a real wild one—drinking, drugs.” Her mouth opens up. “And I don’t mess with that shit. Beer during a game is about it.”
“Did you love her?” she asks.
“No, we had a really sick, dysfunctional relationship.” Campbell is just staring at me, waiting for more. “We fought all the time. She’d throw things at me, slam doors. I’d swear I was through with her crazy ass, but she was the mother of my child.”
“Where is she now?”
“She overdosed a couple weeks after Tate was born.” Campbell’s hand flies to her mouth. “I got her clean when I found out she was pregnant. Kept her that way most of the pregnancy, but she bolted once Tate was born. They found her body a few weeks later.” Campbell gets to her feet and walks over to the window. She needs a minute, and I understand. It’s a lot to process. I lived it, and I still don’t fucking understand it. “Tate wasn’t even out of the hospital, and I was burying her mother.”
Campbell’s blue
eyes turn to me, whispering, “Tate won’t ever know her mom.”
Honestly, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing, but that thought seems to hit Campbell hard. “Having Tate to raise all alone really changed me.”
“Didn’t seem to change the women, from what I saw the other day,” she says.
“Angel and I have an understanding. It’s the standard nail and bail. Nothing more. Casual.”
“Is she the only woman you see? Or are there more?”
“Babe, none of that is important. I . . .”
“It’s important to me!”
I can see it in her eyes; she’s not going to let this go. “There’s been a hook up or two since Tate was born. Angel’s been pretty regular, though.” She looks crushed, like I just broke her heart, but also like she’d shoot me if she still had her gun.
“I’m going to want to wait a little bit,” she says firmly. “That doesn’t give you license for side pieces of ass, either. From now on, you are a recovering man-slut. Consider yourself in rehab!”
Her choice of words is kind of funny, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about the tone of her voice. “Okay, and just so you know, they do all kinds of testing before a fight. I’m healthy.” And I’m not even going to ask how long a little bit is. She’s teetering on the edge of ripping my head off, so it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. Besides, I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be. “Come here,” I say, holding out my hand. “You’re too far away.”
Mentally and physically, she’s distant. Can’t really blame her after all my shit just got dumped in her lap. She turns back to me, a fire in her eyes. “Tate’s hearing? Was that because of the drugs?”
My entire body hangs, my head, my shoulders, but mostly my heart. “I did everything I could. I really thought I had her cleaned up. Maybe the damage was already done. Maybe she was sneaking shit. I don’t know. But Tate was born twelve weeks premature. It was a rough time those first few months. Tate wasn’t born addicted to anything, but she was always real sick. I was doing my best. It seemed like Tate would get sick at the drop of a hat, so I took her out of daycare. That’s when Jade started watching her. Then she caught meningitis.”
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