Layers of Her

by Prescott Lane

  Where is she?

  Finally, I catch a glimpse of her blonde hair, their seats blocked by rowdy fans. Tilting my head and dancing around a bit, I try to get a look at her, but I can’t. My idiot opponent is trashing talking me, the crowd is screaming, and my stone-cold look starts to slip a bit.

  I need to see you, baby.

  I’m toe-to-toe with The Guillotine, both of us ready to start killing each other. Suddenly, Campbell appears right over his left shoulder. It’s like she knew I couldn’t do this without seeing her. Crazy woman is standing on her chair, waving her arms, and yelling my name, although I can’t actually hear her over the crowd. God, I love that woman. She stops waving. Ours eyes lock for a fraction of a second, but that’s all I need.

  The bell rings.

  *

  Groaning in bed, one eye open, the other swollen shut, I acknowledge that I’m definitely too old for this shit. Every inch of my body is sore, aching, or just hurts too damn much to move. But it’s time to survey the damage in the light of day.

  Lifting my head from the pillow, the entire left side of my ribcage is one big, solid bruise. Asshole jabbed me over and over again. My plan to surprise him with a roundhouse kick to the head as soon as the bell rang took him to the ground, but only for a second.

  While I’d love to stay in bed all day, I know the best way for the body to heal is to move around. Forcing myself to sit up, I find some pain pills and water waiting on the nightstand. Nurse Campbell is in the house. And let me tell you, for a NICU nurse, she gives Nurse Ratched a run for her money. I learned that firsthand last night when I wanted to come straight home after the fight instead of letting the physicians check me out. A protective Campbell is a lot scarier than The Guillotine.

  Forcing my back straight, I manage to make my way to the bathroom and take care of the usual morning stuff—piss, brush teeth, and get a good look at my mug in the mirror. Aside from the shiner and the huge gash over it, it’s not so bad. I’ve definitely had worse. The set of butterfly stitches over my eye are Campbell’s handiwork. She refused to let anyone else do it.

  And while she held it together through the entire match, when she crawled in bed beside me last night, she bawled and bawled, making me promise I’d never go back into the cage again, no matter what. Assuring her those were the last three rounds of my career, she fell asleep cuddled into my good side.

  I don’t bother putting a shirt on; it hurts too damn much right now. Walking out of my bedroom and into the living room, I see the title belt slung over a chair. Yeah, I won. What did you expect? I’m The Legend.

  Hearing giggles, I walk to the sliding glass door that leads outside. Tate and Campbell are holding hands and picking daisies from under an old tree. Campbell sits down on the grass, fiddling with the flowers as Tate continues to pluck stem after stem until hardly any are left.

  Some moms give birth to you, and others are made. Campbell’s being made into Tate’s mom right before my eyes. She holds up a crown of daisies she’s made, slipping it onto Tate’s little head, and her smile makes the sun look dull in comparison. Then Tate picks up a bunch of flowers, some stem up, some not, and holds it out to Campbell, who smells them.

  They both turn, finding me staring. Campbell motions to Tate, and she runs as fast as her little legs will take her over to me, holding the flowers out.

  Squatting down to meet her, I straighten the crown of daisies on her head and say, “Thank you, baby girl.” Her fingers go right to the gash above my eye. But she’s not rough. Instead, her touch is soft, and her lip pops out. “Daddy’s alright,” I tell her, smiling. She leans in and kisses my head before running back over to the flowers.

  I get to my feet as Campbell starts my way, telling myself not to grimace at the soreness. She stops, frozen in the middle of the yard, her eyes fixed on my chest. The bruises always look worse the second day. I should’ve put on a shirt. “Thanks for the extra sleep,” I say.

  She only nods, her eyes welling up again. It’s a good thing I’m retired because she couldn’t handle being with a fighter. “We should put some warm compresses on your side,” she says, stepping closer, her fingers softly touching my ribcage.

  Using my thumb, I draw a path along her jaw, up her neck. A fistful of hair in my hand, I pull her to me, hard. “It’s been a long damn time since a woman took care of me.”

  She inches her mouth closer, her sweet breath daring me to take her right then and there. “That’s a damn shame,” she says. Chuckling, I lower my head to hers for a second, drinking her in—her silky hair, those pink lips, skin so soft. Then I turn her around, wrapping my arms around her from behind and watch Tate in the yard. “Need to be at your office for the furniture delivery in a couple hours,” she says. “I can handle it if you . . .”

  “I’m good,” I say.

  I can’t see her face but know she’s rolling her eyes at me. “I was thinking about Tate’s surgery. I’m going to take a few days off.” Kissing the top of her head in agreement, I give her a little squeeze. “And I was thinking about when they actually turn the implants on. That can be a big adjustment for some kids. I’m going to take a couple weeks off then. I’ve got the time, and I can help with Tate or at the gym. Whatever you need me to do.”

  I turn her around, but keep her in my arms. “You want to do all that?”

  “Yeah, that little girl has stolen my heart,” she says.

  “That’s disappointing,” I say, grinning. “I was hoping it belonged to me.”

  She smiles, staring down at her feet. “You’ll have to settle for my soul.”

  Grabbing her ass with both hands, I force her to my hips. “And your body.”

  “As long as yours belongs to me,” she says, grabbing my ass. “If I have to hear anymore MMA hussy talk about the size of your legendary pecker, I’m going to go crazy.” She giggles a little then puts on her best bimbo voice, mimicking what she heard last night. “Well, I heard it’s the length from your wrist to your elbow. And I heard his python . . .”

  Some chick actually referred to my cock as a snake? “That bad, huh?”

  She nods as Tate comes over, taking each of our hands, and we sit on the ground with her. She takes off her daisy crown and puts it right on top of my head. It’s official, my man card has now been revoked. Tate signs more, and Campbell gets to work making crowns for all of us. Fucking flower family—that’s what we are! And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  STONE

  Campbell was right about the office furniture. It looks great, like the boss’ office, and over the past week, she’s put some finishing touches on it. My title belts are displayed. Tate’s pictures are on my desk and walls. There’s even a damn plant in the corner. The only thing missing is a picture of her for my desk. She rolled her eyes when I asked for one, but I got it anyway. Hitting the space bar on my computer, her sleeping face pops right up. I took that a few mornings ago when she was all curled up in my bed.

  She looks so damn beautiful, and it doesn’t hurt that I know she was naked under those sheets. That’s my plan for tonight, as well. We’ve both been extremely busy with the fight and preparing to take time off after Tate’s surgery in a few days. Between that and me recovering, there hasn’t been time for much else. And while her hand job skills are superb, a man cannot live on hand jobs alone.

  It’s also way past time I take her out on a date, so I plan on surprising her when I pick her up tonight. She thinks we’re just having a quiet night at home with Tate, but I’ve got something else planned, and it has nothing to do with being quiet.

  Driving to my house in record time, my sister and Tate are already in the middle of snack time. “Thanks for doing this, Jade. I know you’ve already had her all afternoon. We won’t be too late.”

  Jade pours a few more Cheerios in front of Tate, who’s sitting in her highchair. “Where are you taking her?”

  “This little place close to her house.”

  “You goin
g like that?” Jade asks.

  Looking down at my shorts and tee shirt, I say, “Uh, no?” The truth is, I haven’t given one second of thought to my clothes. The plan is to be naked, so something with easy access is my only criteria.

  “Wear that gray V-neck I bought you for Christmas that you never wear and jeans,” Jade says. “Casual, but still nice.”

  “What’s with the new attitude? I thought you didn’t like Campbell very much?” I ask.

  “Blondie’s alright,” she says. “It wasn’t hell sitting next to her at the match. She can curse like a sailor, put a ho in her place, and she’s fiercely in love with you. I admire those traits.”

  “She said that?” Okay, my dick just officially turned into a vagina with that question.

  “No, twat! It’s just obvious.”

  Laughing, I kiss Tate on the head. “Any more advice?”

  “You should get her flowers. Girls like Blondie love flowers. That will get you some serious boyfriend credit. But not roses, that’s lame. Unless they’re black.”

  “Got it,” I say.

  “One more thing. I won’t feel like driving home late tonight, so I brought my stuff to sleep over. So there’s no need to hurry home,” Jade says, flashing me a Mona Lisa smile. “Or come home at all.”

  *

  Jade is the best sister in the world. A whole night uninterrupted with Campbell, I can’t believe it. Holding a bouquet of white daisies, I bound up the steps to her door. When the lady at the flower shop asked me what kind of bouquet I wanted, my instinct was to ask for flowers that say, “We are fucking tonight,” but instead I told her I needed flowers for my girlfriend. Then she asked me to describe Campbell.

  Pure.

  Innocent.

  Strong.

  Sexy.

  How do you describe a woman that is everything?

  Daisies were the florist’s first suggestion, and that seemed perfect. “Fresh as a daisy,” the old lady said, asking me if I knew the daisy petal game, “He loves me, he loves me not.” I don’t think they had daisies in the part of town where Jade and I grew up. “It’s about pure, sweet love,” the old lady said. “Make sure to ask your lady friend, she’ll know.”

  Even with the stop at the florist, I’m early to her house. Walking inside, I find Campbell sitting at her kitchen table with her back to me, watching something on the computer, headphones covering her ears. She’s got the stone I gave her in one hand, rubbing it gently. I don’t want to scare her, so I say her name, but she doesn’t respond. Getting a little closer, I see why. “Jesus Christ!”

  She flies out of her chair, slamming the laptop closed. “You’re early! You aren’t supposed to be here for another thirty minutes,” she cries.

  My description to the florist might have been wrong. My pure, innocent girlfriend was just watching porn—complete with the porn slam of the laptop. I look down at the computer, a notepad next to it. And she was taking notes! She follows my eyes, snatching it before I can. “Something you want to tell me?”

  “No,” she says, beet red.

  “You promised me I could be there for all your orgasms.”

  Her hand flies to her hip. “Did I look like I was having an orgasm?”

  “No, you looked more like you were . . .” I glance at the notepad she’s holding to her chest. “Studying.” She lets out a deep breath. “Campbell, I don’t want you to act like a porn star. I hate that shit. I just want you.”

  “I wasn’t watching for that reason,” she says, struggling for words. “I wanted to know, to be prepared . . .” She flips the notepad to me. “I didn’t want you to have to teach me. I wanted to surprise you with my, um, skills.”

  Steps to a mind-blowing blowjob is underlined at the top of the page.

  “And you think you can learn by watching skin flicks?”

  “Well,” she says, biting her bottom lip, “there’s also YouTube videos.”

  This situation is funny as shit, and I’m doing my best not to laugh. But as soon as she cracks an embarrassed smile, I lose it and so does she.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she says in between giggles. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “Completely. And I like it,” I laugh out. “Want to show me what you learned?”

  “Maybe later,” she says, flirting with me.

  And I hope she’s serious, because I’m pretty much walking around with a semi these days. Holding out the flowers, she smiles ear to ear. A kiss as a thank you confirms that I need to bring her flowers more often. She walks towards the kitchen, finding a vase and filling it with water before she places the flowers inside. “The lady at the shop said there’s some daisy petal . . .”

  “Oh, my cousin Maxi and I used to do that all the time,” she says, pulling a flower out and plucking off the petals one at a time. “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves . . .” She continues, until she gets to the last petal and her eyes lift to mine, holding me with her words. “He loves me.”

  “He does,” I say, low and deep in the back of my throat, like the words are caught there, begging to be freed.

  “She does, too,” she says.

  I expected my heart to be beating wildly like during a fight, but it’s not. I reach for her hand, placing it on my chest, wanting her to feel what’s in my heart. Its rhythm is slow, like I’m finally at peace. “I love you, Campbell,” I say for real this time, but her hand trembles slightly. What’s happening between us scares her.

  “Where’s Tate?” she asks, looking down at her feet.

  That’s not exactly what I thought she’d say when I dropped the “L” word on her, but I’ve got no doubts about how she feels about me. If I were a betting man, I’d say odds are she’s screaming she loves me by the end of the night. “Jade’s watching her all night. I wanted to surprise you and finally take you out, just the two of us. Might be our last chance for a little while.”

  Her eyes lift, and her whole body does this little wiggle. “I better get ready then.”

  She’s practically skipping as I follow her into her bedroom. She pulls a black dress from her closet. Unless she’s in her pink scrubs, she’s always in something black. Don’t get me wrong, she looks beautiful. Jade in black 24/7 makes sense, but not Campbell. I walk over and pull out the only non-black dress in her closet. “This one.”

  She takes it and puts it back. “It’s white.”

  “So?”

  “The only reason I have that dress is because I wore it to white linen night Jenny dragged me to a few years ago,” she says.

  I take it back out of the closet and place it on her bed. “Wear it for me.”

  She turns around, lifting her shirt over her head and pulling off her shorts. Her ass cheeks peeking out from her white silky panties, she bends down to pick up a pair of shoes. My hands on her hips, I pull her to me, my dick pressing up against her tight ass. “I need to have you like this.”

  She smiles over her shoulder then stands back up. “Too bad, I’ve been ordered to get dressed now.”

  She does a sassy little walk by me, picking up the dress and slipping it on. She really hates when I tell her what to do, but I can’t help it. I give orders all day long without giving a rat’s ass about the tone of my voice. It’s hard to switch gears, and besides, I want what I want. That’s why Jade has nicknamed me “man-child.”

  But in this case, I was right. Campbell turns to me, and I know it sounds lame, but she literally takes my breath away. “I’m taking you shopping,” I say. “No more wearing black every day.”

  “I don’t wear black every day,” she says. “I wear pink every day at work.”

  That earns her a smack on her butt. “I’m taking you shopping tomorrow afternoon. We’ll take Tate.”

  She slips on her shoes. “You shouldn’t spend your money . . .”

  “I’m not dirt poor anymore,” I snap.

  She reaches out for me. “I just meant Tate’s medical bills will be a lot, and until you know what
that entails, you shouldn’t waste your money on clothes I don’t need.”

  Okay, she hit a soft spot, and I overreacted. “I can take care of Tate and you. And before you say you can take care of yourself, I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that I want to be the man to take care of you.”

  “You do. And you don’t need to buy me things to show me that,” she says.

  “I need to do just that. Because there was a big chunk of my life when I couldn’t do that for Jade, for my mother, for myself. I can now, and I will.”

  She lets out a deep breath, and I know I’m going to win. “Alright, one shirt.”

  “Two shirts and two dresses,” I counter.

  “No dresses.”

  I pull her to me and kiss her sweetly. “Two dresses, and I get to pick one.”

  She just laughs at me, and I intertwine our fingers, leading her out the door. The restaurant is close enough that we decide to walk. I couldn’t have ordered up a more perfect night, not too hot or too cold, a breeze in the air slightly blowing through her blonde hair. “You mentioned a cousin Maxi earlier. You two close?”

  “No,” she says quickly.

  “Sounded like you were . . .”

  “Not anymore.”

  Her lack of openness with me is really starting to piss me off. I don’t get it. She should trust me by now. We walk another couple blocks in silence. Remember how I said I didn’t want a quiet night? Well, this is much worse. I step down off the curb to cross the street to the restaurant, and her hand slips out of mine. “Campbell?”

  “How did you know?” she snaps. “Have you followed me? Is this some kind of joke to you?”

  Stepping back on the curb, I reach out for her, but she steps away. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask.

  “It’s Thursday,” she screams, her whole body shaking. “And you bring me here!”

  Damn, I know exactly where I am now—her stalking ground. “I didn’t know, baby.” I reach out again, but she won’t let me touch her. “Campbell, I had no idea.” Her eyes finally lift to mine, and I know she believes me. “I can’t believe this. Sick bastard comes this close to where you live? How could you not tell me that?”