Chapter 3: Over My Head

Jansen lifted the knife directly overhead, his knees half sunken in mud where he hovered before the body and brusied face of man who had taken everything from him, everything he had worked so hard to achieve and care for. He saw his wife's eyes in every blade wound from the near corpse's head to the ankles of his boots, and he saw every tear he had shed for his son, taken too soon and by the wrong cause. His son had died for Jansen's own mistakes.

But now he knew he could end the terror he slept with nightly and release the demons with just one raging blow of the knife's end into the heart of the machine that had ruined him slowly.

His hand shook and wavered in the pouring Lousisiana storm, his teeth clenched and his knuckles hardened around the handle of the weapon as he screamed out…

"Oh no you don't! Come back here with those scissors…"

My hands stopped moving over the keys, my fingers trembling with the thought that I would lose it. No, focus, stay on track, listen to the letters not the—

"Max, no. Not the wall!"

Every one of the joints in my hand seized over the keyboard, my head suddenly locked into another place outside of the door and down the hallway, trapped by the sound of demonic childish laughter and the Uncle who had promised to keep the minions occupied with Spongebob and his Christmas special. I knew just from the voices in the hall and the imagery of scissors scraping against painted walls, that Kate was never going to have kids with Sam. And I didn't particularly blame her.

But now I had lost complete focus, right here at the end of the goddamn chapter. Jansen was supposed to have killed Randall King four days ago, and now because I had a son who was as equally entertained with weapons as his old man, the criminal would get away from me for a whole day more. I couldn't go back to writing, especially when the door to the second floor office flew open with a rush of feather boas and glitter and Emily and Maddie storming toward me with a plate.

"Hey Uncle Rainman." Yes, I adored that she still called me that, but there were better times than now. "Grandma Jane told us to bring you cookies."

I smiled down at Maddie and then toward Emily at my seated eyelevel.

"She said it would help your concentration."

Her big words made me a little happier; I loved smart kids. But she was still wrong.

"Thanks, girls." I squeezed Maddie's nose as she worked to climb into my lap. "What's happening, Bug?"

"Here." She lifted a chocolate chip cookie from the plate and pressed it against my mouth while I laughed. "I'll feed you, daddy." I took a bite and caught a glimpse of the haunting half filled, open Word document on the screen behind her pink bows and purple eye makeup (courtesy of Emily's suitcase no doubt).

The chapter was done for the day, sadly, but that's just how it goes now I guess. I don't get interrupted by loud stereo systems from inherited farmhouses in the woods anymore. Now I get interrupted by the products of my giving into that temptation, that day, that Aerosmith tattoo and those green eyes.

So in the end, it's my own damn fault.

Madeline continues to feed me a second and third cookie, and eventually I hear my dad wandering in through the door behind me, and swivel with her in my lap to see him with the day's newspaper.

"It's all yours now." He smiles and tosses it onto my desk. "Of course…I solved your crossword."

I shook my head, not expecting anything less. It's where I got the habit from afterall.

"No big deal, I wanted to try to finish this chapter anyway."

He looked over my head to the screen and pushed his glasses on to read it.

"It's terrible, don't even bother."

With a laugh he glanced away again with a nod, understanding my personal critiscim. He saw Maddie in my arms finally, with melted chocolate on her face and a half bitten cookie in her hand and chuckled with a deep roar that made his gut jump. She liked that and standing her up on my legs she reached to smack his stomach a few times before he lifted her up and carried her off.

"I'll take this little spider monkey for ya."

She made wild monkey noises in response.

"Thanks." I replied, and watched them leave together laughing before shutting the door and allowing me to turn back around to the computer.

My fingers were over the keys, ready to strike, and the immediate sound of a crashing pan on the hardwood floors below me, caused another miss. I flew back into the rounded hold of the creaky old chair, my hands rubbing my face in exhaust and annoyance, and I just grumbled to myself, well aware that I was officially done for the day. But maybe a break after six straight hours was fair enough.

The screaming went on and on through the house, the jogging of feet on waxed wood, and the tumbling of bodies and toys and boxes down both the main and back staircases of the house. The noise that I had claimed to miss so badly when Roxanne and the kids were away, had now been multiplied by the force of Satan, amplified for even him to hear in stereo deep below and cackle at.

"Fuck."

I whispered quietly under my breath and pushed away from the chair, still grumbling all the way to the door of the office, then even further down the long jetting hallway, heading for any quiet corner I could find. There were five bedrooms, each of them occupied by someone or something. The bathroom in the second floor hall, and the one between the kids' rooms were prone to echoes of everything surrounding their walls, so I counted them out and kept stomping around, sensing the growth of grey hairs by the second.

I thought about hiding out in the towel closet and even examined it closely for a minute, but decided against it when something flew through the air above my head and hit the door. "Ew." I mumbled, crossing my brow just to figure out if it was a booger or play dough, before eventually turning away and stalking for privacy again as the boys charged down the hall at me.

Fumbling on the back staircase, I just missed the eye of my mom in the kitchen before escaping through the basement doorway. We had completely renovated this huge area when we moved in, with air conditioning and heat, carpet, a pool table and flat screen for game days with our friends from town, a pull out couch where Jake had been sleeping the last two days, and a redesigned bathroom, utility closet, and laundry room. It was noisy in the central room, but the back area I noticed as never before, down the hall where the laundry room was, seemed perfectly quaint, with only a whisper of tumbling clothes.

I slipped inside of the door and shut it behind me, flicking on the light, and as heavily as possible, slamming my body against the shelf of baskets and extra towels.

"Jesus…"

I breathed in deep and exhaled again, hearing not a soul in the earth. It was just me and a load of whites.

"Roxanne you really should sit down, and put some of this money you have sitting around into the market."

I was sitting down now, across from him at the dining room table (yes we cleaned it), and picking through a bowl of fruit Jane had fixed for me, per her silent, motherly, doctoral request. I wanted to enjoy every bit of it, the strawberries and blueberries and grapes she'd managed to find in season at the farmer's market, even in the middle of winter, but I couldn't, because I was too perturbed by my father's argument to invest, invest, and invest some more.

"It's about security. The two of you have a mountain of funds just going ignored in a bank account."

"We're saving."

"You're saving eighteen million dollars?"

I shot him a crude glare, the one I had consistently over the last four years, any time he mentioned the ever-increasing dollar amount between me and my husband. I hated money, almost as much as Mort did, and so we didn't spend unless we needed to. We used money for two decent cars, the single, beautiful and quaint home of our dreams, a few renovations here and there, and our children's college funds. We never spent great amounts of it for much else. We were content right here, with what we had when we got here, and the lifestyle like the one my parents and sister had wasn't interesting to us.

"Dad, we don't want to touch the money."

"But you keep earning more, every time one of you writes one of these books of yours. Hell, two of them have been made into films already. You continue to earn but refuse to spend? What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything, I just don't like having the money."

He shook his head with a growl while I contemplated getting up and going to put the twins down for their nap.

"If you don't like having the money…then do something with it. Invest and you'll never see it again until it doubles and gets divided between your children. Then they can live off of it."

I really didn't like that idea at all. I refused to allow my kids to be raised the same way I had, the same way my sister was still prying for with my parents' death. In my heart, I wanted to see my children find something they love to do, become good at it, and make a living for themselves. I wanted them to be independent with ease, instead of the way I had to fight for it all the time.

"No. We're not going to do that. But I appreciate the idea, Dad."

I could see the anger growing in his eyes, but didn't particularly care, and I got up a moment later to thank Jane for the fruit and walk out into the living room to find the twins. They were curled on the floor under where Mort's dad rested in the recliner, coloring all over a bunch of scattered paper.

"Max…Maddie, come on. Nap time."

They sighed with defiance and kept coloring, ignoring me as usual. I walked around the couch and knelt before them on the floor.

"Maxwell. Madeline. Let's go, now."

Max threw a crayon across the room, angered obviously, and Maddie stood up and stomped away toward the staircase. I had to pull Max from the ground, prying him off of Todd's recliner as he woke him. I apologized, to which Mort's dad only tried to help me corral Max and get him toward the stairs with bribes of funny stories about pirates. He knew how obsessed Max had gotten with that stuff, and I appreciated any help I could get.

Believe it or not, it was exactly the opposite of what I was getting from my own dad. He walked behind me, still jabbering about our conversation from before, refusing to give up so easily.

"Don't you want to leave these kids with anything, Roxanne? How can you be so selfish…didn't you learn anything from me and your mother?"

I had a million answers to that one for him, but digressed until I knew I couldn't any longer. I followed Todd while he held Max, and lifted Maddie up from the last of the steps to carry her the rest of the way to the her room.

"I'm only thinking of your best interests. Investing is the key in today's economy, you need to buy stocks wisely and quickly nowadays."

"I don't know anything about investing."

I was getting tired of listening to him ramble on and on about the same thing, the thing I really knew nothing about. Maddie struggled in my arms all the way down the hall, into her room and down onto the bed. My dad remained at the door, not even concerned with the fact that I needed to get her to sleep, and spoke defiantly to me, as if I were a child same as the one I was putting down for naptime. I felt like I should be lying in the bed right next to her, with my footie pajamas and stuffed bear.

"I can teach you all about investing, it's really quite easy. I just can't believe that husband of yours doesn't know the first thing about it. What sort of a man today doesn't know how to handle his family's funds?" I glanced back at him angrily, but ignored the rhetoric question long enough to get Maddie under the covers, at least until he spoke again. "And what I really can't believe, is that you let him sit up there in that office of his all day, writing about ax murders or whatever he does, while you manage the kids and the house alone."

Now I knew to stop him and with the fury I had held back for too long. I walked away, leaving Madeline wide awake and listening to stand between him and the bed.

"What are you saying, Dad? That I should just spend my money on a bunch of nannies and maids, and let them take care of my kids and my house?"

"I didn't say anything of the sort. Now, don't put words in my mouth."

"You already put them there yourself. You assume that I do everything around here and Mort does nothing but write. Did you forget, I'm a lazy, ignorant writer too?"

He only eyed me curiously, wondering same as me where this was all going. Especially when I raised my voice even higher.

"We write, we both take care of our kids every day, and no, we don't give a DAMN about investing our millions and millions of pointless dollars!"

I took a breath when I heard Maddie laughing behind me, probably at the subject of millions of dollars. She was fascinated with counting pennies at the moment.

I looked back up into my father's overpowering eyes and spoke again. "If Mort and I wanted to live the way you and mom have, then we would, but we don't. We happen to like our one house, and or mediocre cars and clothes. We don't want a private jet or chauffer every time we go somewhere, okay? I never wanted any of that Dad, and I've worked really hard to get away and not have any of it anymore."

I knew he understood me, because his brow always faded downward with his eyes glossed over when he did. My dad was a strong man when it came to topics like these, but it was a trait that he had granted me the same, and he knew this as well as I did. One of us always had to win, and today, I finally felt like it could be me.

"I really do appreciate the concern, I do. But it's just not necessary. The money is in the bank and it's going to stay there until we need it for something serious."

I quieted down a little as I saw my mom finally approach from down the hall, with her pearls and Eves Saint Laurent dress suit and intoxicatingly worthless Chanel no.5 perfume. She looked at me richly, as if she was going to finally allow me the floor in my own house for once, and I took it greedily as I concluded to the both of them.

"Please, let me and Mort worry about our own finances. We're adults, we can handle it alone."

My mother looked up at my father, who stayed focused on my eyes alone. I felt so confident that he would accept my pleading terms and lay low for the rest of the week, and hopefully the rest of his life. But, I often give my parents more credit than they're worth in the sentimental department. He parted his lips again, and I crossed my fingers mentally.

"I'm going to call Terry, my broker in New York, and look into some decent stocks for you today."

My jaw dropped, my eyes bulged, and before I could clench my teeth and bite my tongue to stop it, I screamed out as loudly as possible. No words at first, just tired, disgusted screaming as I pushed past the both of them and down the hall toward the stairs again. Before I stepped down though, I turned to them in the hall again and stated flatly, without emotion to waste on their lack of care anyway, and said:

"By the way, I'm having another baby." My dad's eyes became slits of shock while my mother gasped as if the world had completely ended and fallen through a black hole. I opened my mouth one last time before swinging back and shouting with a growl again down the stairs. "Congratulations!"

Sam and Kate jumped as they came in the front door from their walk, and asked if everything was alright, but I ignored them. Mort's mother came running out of the kitchen in fear for someone's life, and brushed my back and hair as I came to her, breathing heavily.

"Oh sweetheart, what's the matter?"

I didn't want to worry her about it too.

"I'm fine." I replied, lying. "I just need to find some quiet."

"I think that's a good idea."

She smiled and brushed my hair once more before I turned away and headed in the direction of the basement doorway at the back alcove of the kitchen. I was certain they all watched me until I disappeared behind the closed door, and I knew there would be discussions galore while I was away, but I didn't care. I needed quiet, some sanctuary to focus inside of for a while, and I needed to be as far away from James and Annie Hayden as possible for the rest of the day.

I slowly moved down the stairs, hearing the TV below running and the music blaring but as soon as I got to the bottom step, saw no one around; they were all either upstairs or out doing stuff in town. Jake had taken to the basement room as if it were his own, and this made me smile a little, to see teenage boy clothes scattered on the pull out couch, muddy shoes, his laptop and iPod and video games and cell phone and whatever else a thirteen year old could have to ruin his imagination with.

I prayed this wouldn't be Max in ten years, but knew better and giggled a little as I picked up a few of his loose shirts and socks and took them with me, heading toward the back hall of the basement, thinking of doing some laundry to calm myself, as usual. It was the one room in the entire house, where when the door was closed and the clothes were moving inside of the machines, any human's mind suddenly became untouchable. It was like the free peace zone, the one only I really knew about.

I was so angry, I didn't even notice the closed door and light on.

I stood there for twenty minutes at least, just reminding myself of what silence could sound like. Oh sure, I smacked my head in a few places on the door and shelves, hoping to get some of that good inspiration back that I had been granted at sunrise, but it wasn't happening. In fact, I was about three and half seconds away from opening the door and going back upstairs to see if Roxanne needed any help getting the kids down for a nap, when I saw the knob turn and the door swing open without me.

She looked up and jumped with a handful of clothes when she saw me.

"Oh my god, you scared me."

"Sorry."

Her hand over her heart made me laugh as I moved aside for the door to open wide and for her to come inside. I assumed by the pile of dirty clothes she was intending to do laundry, and never once did I think she might have been down there for the same reasons as me. She leaned against the closed door, sighing deeply, as if she were out of breath and energy.

I took the clothes from her and tossed them in the wash, glancing back at her every few articles, watching her eyes grow angrier the longer she stood there.

"You okay, slugger?"

She looked up into my eyes as I leaned on the moving machine again.

"If they knew I had already technically killed someone before…they might lay off me a while."

I was well aware where this one was going.

"What's the day call? Trying to convince you to get back your grandmother's house again?"

"No…" she sighed, sliding across the small room to wrap her arms around my waist and lean against me at the washer. I could feel the blood pumping fast through the veins in her neck as I massaged her shoulders. Sweetly, she said, "Stocks. Don't you know…" her eyes darting up to mine with a sarcastic glow, "They're all the rage…?"

"Oh is that right?" I replied, cynically the same, as I held her waist and pushed her towards the opposing dryer front. Her arms wound about my neck as she stepped back with me.

"It is according to my darling daddy. He wants us to do something with the money."

"Like what?" I asked, tracing over her lips, chin and neck until I reached an unwanted turtleneck sweater.

"He wants us to invest and double it for the kids. Or buy a yacht, or something else stupid and flashy. I don't know...he's just driving me insane…" Her hands left me when she pressed them into her temples roughly, as if she were planning on pushing the demons out.

"Easy…" I whispered, taking her hands away to hold them. "Take a breath."

She did, masterfully, and then held my eyes again for a moment before I leaned down to plant wild, spontaneous kisses under her chin and across her jaw to her ear. Her fingers were leaving prints even through my shirt as she clung on tighter, tensing the way I knew she would, the same way she always does when James and Annie are within a hundred yards.

I busied myself with just kissing her, sweetening what her parents had bruised again; her liveliness. They'd gotten even better at it since our small, backyard wedding and the twins being born, and in fact every holiday and important date or visit since then. They were few and far between, but it didn't stop the potency of them. Roxanne was a different person altogether when her parents were around; she was always on edge, as if the sky might fall on the both of us or something. And of course, it was my job to relieve this each and every time. Which I have to admit fully, is the great essence of my task as husband.

Her grip soothed into my neck and arms as she held me closer, and I heard her whisper in my ear.

"Make love to me…right here."

That, for anyone who wasn't already convinced enough, is why I married this woman and why I would be damned if she was ever getting away from me.

My entire body melted against hers, the dryer gently shaking beneath the both of us as I bent down to carefully lift her on top of it. She laughed a little as a shudder ran clear up my spine, grateful to hear at least that much amusement from the disappointment I'd seen on her face when she first came in.

"Have I ever mentioned that I love you when you're in distress?"

She made a mock contemplation with a twisted grin. "Once or twice."

Falling between her open jeans, I focused as quickly on the button and zipper as I could, not entirely sure whether Jake would come back down to his room during all of this, but knowing as well as she did, that our laundry room had no lock and that any screams, would radiate throughout the rest of the basement.

Her hand ran through my hair as she watched me do all the work of removing denim and cashmere and lace and whatever else she was hiding, and then swiftly moving to take off my jeans and boxers too. Realizing the height to be indifferent to a point that would be uncomfortable at best, I lifted her back down to stand on the floor again as she stared at me smiling.

"Turn around."

I growled at her, which made the smile widen as she followed directions and leaned over the top of the shifting dryer with a giggle. I held her soft, still perfectly shaped hips in my hands as I moved behind her, brushing across her backside with what she had already seen I had to offer up. Pressed heat to heat, I wound one arm around to take hold of her right breast, pinching the rough head of her nipple and squeezing the tender skin elsewhere as she gasped and I felt the muscles under her skin twitch and ripple on my stomach.

With a second hand, I slid my fingers down slowly to weave through the silky hair I could feel, moistened quickly with her obvious need. I dove inside of the tightened cavern as I felt her entire back arch towards me, begging for it with hushed breathing and sighs, and kissed her back and shoulders gently, as I eased deeper, letting her consume the single index finger as she pleased. And trust me, she did.

"…more."

She forced the single word out quietly as I let two remote fingers slide in alongside the other one, curling them against the velvety walls until I could feel the pressure point, throbbing for attention. Roxanne gasped loudly a second time and fell with her head rolling on the top of the dryer as I pressed inside hard. Her hips bucked and her body squeezed itself naturally around me, as I left the focus on her breast to run my free hand along the ridges of her spine in front of me in the light.

I wanted to ask her a million things or tell her to talk to me, but knew it would do no good. She was useless for conversation in this position, and I admired her for it. It made me feel like I was doing something right.

Her head rose from the dryer lid again, the mass of her wild, messy curls all draping across her neck and shoulders as she slightly turned her face toward me, whispering.

"You." I impelled hard once more inside of her wet body, just to test her limits. To which she fought back. "I want you…"

"Good enough for me."

I replied with a soft, simple kiss on her mid back as I pulled my fingers from her easily and moved that hand to her hip again instead. The tip of my desperate cock slid along her backside with every step I took to close in the space between us, locking her into the dryer again with kisses being preliminary to the length I found myself unable to hold from her. Her heat covered me as I slid inside, the count of her every shudder and spasm multiplying in the back of my head as I groaned to match her sudden moan.

"Mort…" she whimpered, holding onto an invisible force.

With one arm firm around her waist, I brought my other hand out to take possession of both of hers where she had them scraping against the white metal of the moving machine, foraging for control.

"Here, I've got you." I returned with a gentle whisper as her hips eased down a little to accept all of me within her. Her fingers gripped down around my single hand as I slithered back out of her damp folds.

I knew she wasn't half interested in the romance and brilliance of love making at the moment, and that her statement had been made only out of respect for herself. Roxanne would never say she wanted me to 'screw her brains out' or that she wanted to 'be fucked'. It wasn't her style, she was classy, which was why I was with her in the first place and why I didn't expect her to say those things.

But still, it didn't stop her from thinking them. Or from me picking up on the thoughts.

I used this as my device, sinking back within her as suddenly as could be managed, making her entire body shake against the humming dryer's edge as she yelped. Her skin was disturbingly soft, more than I'd ever known, and it caressed mine as I covered her, holding on just to get a clear breath. The swell around my thick shaft was different too, stronger, pulling me in like it was oxygen she needed or something.

And the thought crossed my mind of the proximity in which I was residing, somewhere deep beside where my child, our child lain newly growing. I'd been here before like this, countless times, close to Max and Maddie, and it always drove me mad with heavier passion for some reason. To feel the warmth and suppleness in which they rested; to be there too, all of us somehow like one. I loved that.

"Mort…harder…" she begged in revered silence beneath me.

I massaged her hips to bring her body higher, changing the direction and mode as I pumped faster, deeper, richer the way she wanted it. Her back arched against my stomach, mixing with the beads of sweat forming from the closed off heat of the corner room. Her head fell onto my shoulder as I leaned in, holding her up still, to bite tenderly on her neck with a wet kiss.

"God…" I growled out with a tighter press inside of her, touching the small, always hiding key that sent her eyes rolling behind closed lids and her fingers digging into my arms around her waist and palm. "…I need…you're…"

I couldn't get a damn word out, the difficulty of sexual throes I guess. She laughed at me, something I swear to this day, I've only ever known Roxanne to do on the bounds of an orgasm. It's my sign, always, convincing me to make haste with the speed and drive, and to focus on hitting the spot at the exact moment that her muscles go weak, just to force her to see those blinking white stars.

"I know you're close…" I teased, gripping her hips harder to my waist as I sunk upwards into her again.

She kept giggling as her arm came around behind her head to hold onto the back of my neck, pulling my lips down to the crook of hers.

"Yes…" she finally screamed out, in answer to my statement or just because I'd infiltrated the bud deep within, that one that sent her into a fit. "…ohh…" Her mouth gaped open with a crooked grin as I watched from the side of her face, seeing her pause mid air in my hands, accepting the consistent breach of hardened skin and moisture as I rivaled for my own equal desire. "Yes…Mort…"

I ground harder as requested beforehand, and almost worried myself into a moment of not being able to perform or release what I needed. She had me fixed in all she was capable of, as she often times did, fearful to go on or even move or breathe or think straight. A terrible time for it I know, but as I caught a whiff of the strawberry sweat rolling off of her lacy skin, I knew I was a goner. That did it for me.

I groaned deep in her ear with only her name to match, shifting the weight of my feet as one grew numb and thrust soundly back inside of her a final time, holding onto whatever piece of her flesh I could as I felt rocks tumble down from invisible mountains and I spilled everything dark and away inside of her. I trembled on the way back down from the insatiable high, and heard her giggle become my last call to reality again.

We pulled away from one another, only long enough for her to turn around and sink between me and the smoothly tumbling music of the dryer, same as before. The rush of white and gold and silver washed over my eyes as I opened them to see only Crayola based sea green, everywhere.

Her hands moved the hair out of my eyes silently as she leaned in toward my mouth, kissing with a tender, clammy peck.

"Thank you, for making me forget it all again." She whispered on my lips.

I was glad I could, and I knew I always would want to. Whatever she was going through, I had to be there. Not because it was my job necessarily, but because I couldn't imagine her losing control of a situation without me there to pick up all the pieces behind her, for her. Her dad's damage was easy to clear over with a few kisses and jolts of passionate energy in a laundry room. I just had to make sure things never got beyond that ease of repair.

I swore I'd never let her fall down like that again.