Xavier and Melissa lay asleep in their bed together, his arm wrapped around her as she snuggled her head against his chest. Melissa wore a smile across her face, dreaming of something that must have been pleasurable to her, the facet that her face rested on the toned tissue of his chest. Xavier lay slumbering as well, holding her close, his face betraying no sign of emotion or feeling. Light from the large, glass double doors shown through their bedroom, falling short of them, the direct source of the light landing feet from Melissa's side of the bed.
Xavier felt her silken hair slide across his arm, Melissa turning her head to the red digital numbers blinking on the nightstand. The glow of the digits blurred through the haze of her vision, taking up the wire-rimmed glasses beside the clock and fitting them over her eyes. "Fucking God damn it," she cursed, the tone and volume of her voice along with the current motion her jumping from the bed had roused Xavier from his rest. "What's wrong? I miss something here?," he asked, rubbing both his eyes with his fingers trying to clear his web and shake out the cobwebs. "I have an early class this semester. You were supposed to wake me up, remember?," said Melissa pulling a white t-shirt over her head and down her chest and stomach. Xavier merely offered an apologetic shrug, not bothering to get up yet himself, "Sorry, Mel. Maybe you shouldn't tire me out all night."
Melissa took a pair of blue jeans with a black leather belt already looped through it, blushed at her brother as she slipped them on over her legs and waist. Yes, she was pissed off at him right now for not waking her up for her class at NYU, he could tell that much, but that feeling would vanish the second she walked out the door as it always did at such times. In the end, he would always get away with murder when it came to her and vice versa.
Xavier watched as she sat down on the upholstered chair in the bedroom in the nearby corner, slipping a pair of running sneakers, pulling back a bit of hair from her face to behind her ear. "My cell's on vibrate," she told him, "So you can call me while I'm there." "Vibrate huh?," said Xavier with a laugh, too tired in his early awakening to pay much attention to her body, "Bet you would like it if I did call." Melissa stood up blushing at him again, trying to appear angry with him but failing miserably.
She sat down on the bed next to him, hovering her body over his with an arm on each side of his, "Asshole. You'll be there to pick me up right?" "Of course," he said, "Just don't get pissed off at me if I check out some of the other college chicks." "You wouldn't dare. I'd so hurt you if you wouldn't get turned on by it," said Melissa before kissing him, "I have to go, I'm late as it is. Love you."
He watched as she walked from the bed and ran through the bedroom doorway, eyes catching her small ass and thinking he'd make another go at it with her before she left but she was already gone. Quiet thuds of her footsteps sounded up through the open doorway as she half ran down the stairs. The door to their midtown home slamming shut to signal her departure, leaving him there alone in the isolation of their bedroom.
He really did not want to wake up let alone get out of the bed, but he knew he could not just lay there and waste away the day. He had to at least make an appearance at the club, make sure people never forgot that he was the boss. Although, Brooke was doing a fairly good job at managing things from the safety of his office within the upper reaches of the building. Not bad for a kid straight out of high school, especially since he was not expecting much from her to begin with, having only given her a job because she refused to just take his money. A teenager that actually wanted to work to get where they are instead of shit just handed to them? There might just be a future for the youth of the world after all. Locking herself within the secure confines, no one there probably knew who she even was or why she was there. Besides the responsibilities of his business, if he was not at NYU's main campus waiting for Melissa's class to get out, it would be his ass. She had made it a point to tell him it was important to show how supportive he was in this, as if being a journalism major required anything more then just showing up and looking smart. And then there was the matter of getting ready for his return to the world of wrestling. How the fuck do you get yourself into all this shit, Xavier?
Xavier tossed the sheet aside and rolled off from the bed, the soles on his feet pressing down with his weight against the off-white carpeted floor. His right hand rubbed his around the back of his neck, grimacing as if in pain, wincing at the resistance of the tight muscles hardly giving with the pressure of his hand. He felt in exactly the opposite shape that would be required of someone physically competing in the modern day gladiator sport that was professional wrestling. Every single muscle of his body felt sore, screaming at him worse than the bitchiest of all women for having been awakened, demanding he ignore his responsibilities and go back to sleep. His head swam awash in a haze of mental confusion; he shook his head, trying to free it from the cobwebs that befuddled most complex thought.
He grabbed at the cylindrical red bottle sitting idly on the table next to his side of the bed, having a trouble with the damn childproof cap. He was still having trouble dealing with small things like this with his hand, the top finally coming off after much effort. Reading the label to make sure he was not taking the wrong thing by mistake, he saw the name clear as day with the black ink on the clean, white paper, "Cataflam." Tapping one capsule out into the palm of his hand, he closed the top and tossed it back over his shoulder on the bed that he was sitting.
Fucking migraines. Making me take this shit whenever the fuckers started up again. How the fuck am I supposed to beat the piss out of these people when my head's killing me? He popped the capsules into his mouth as a child would with Skittles, taking the half-filled glass of water that was there as it was every morning when he took the medication, washing it down with a cascade of water held within the glass container. He gulped to swallow the pills along with his pride.
Standing up, he pulled up the waist of the sweat pants back to his waist as they began drooping down. Fucking gravity. One thing that was weighing on his mind this past week was just why he was getting back into wrestling when he had gotten to the point financially where he no longer had to anymore. And why WA? Because Kameron was there? Possibly. If Xavier was anything, he was a creature of habit and sticking to what was familiar to him.
That was true to the core of his nature, stay close to familiarity. It was probably also how he was open to the possibility of the relationship with Melissa when they first started over a year ago. The divorce had almost killed him, and she was there when he needed her the most. Still though, love? Touching her the way he was now with the evolution of their relationship. It took looking past all the taboo shit and following his heart. He loved her, and whether or not he wanted to admit it, he always had.
He could hear Kelsey crying, her piercing wails of his and Melissa's infant daughter coming from down the hall and the position of the nursery. He sighed heavily with a grunt, wiping at his eyes drearily, finally feeling his head starting to clear. Christ, I'm gonna have to make a list for all this shit. Take care of Kelsey 'til that Russian... fuck I can't remember her name right now... gets up and can handle taking care of her. Check in with things at the club. Pick up Mel from school. And in between all of this, I'm supposed to try to get back into ring shape again in a week. Fucking great.
He damn near walked sleepily into the door's frame. Dammit. Need coffee. Caffeine is my friend. Almost a year since he had stepped into a wrestling ring to actively compete, he felt extremely uneasy about doing it. Of course Melissa had vocalized her concerns, worried about what the physicality of it would do to him, breaking him down eventually. But in a way, it was a matter of pride for him, his continuing quest to go back to where the successful part of his life began and retread the path of personal glory and fame.
His first match back looked to be nothing more than the typical opener that rookies got thrown into to "entertain." Xavier Michaels did not entertain. If someone wanted entertainment, to laugh and smile at a show, he advised them take in a Broadway show with the rest of Starbucks-sipping fruits because they would not going to get what they wanted from watching him compete. Not a show to take the kids to, Xavier was fully prepared to do what he had to on Retribution. And it would be for the "Suicide" title. How very ironic considering he tried to off himself in the fallout from the failure of his first marriage.
But all those thoughts were going to have to stop now, fade away into the lavender-scented air of his daughter's room and blow easily out of the door to leave her innocence in peace. He did not want her purity tainted by his own problems, the thoughts constantly plaguing him day by day. At first, he could not smell it, the scent of the baby friendly perfumes wafting through the air to his nose, but sensed it easily as he neared her crib. God, I hate baby shit. Staring down at her from the wooden and plastic crib, her crying had calmed down mostly to a soft mewl while she smiled back up at him. There was no more need for her to draw his attention to her and the disgusting mess filling the diaper as he was already there to take care of it. Even in her young age and mind, she knew it. Thank God she's got Mel's brains. "Hey Pumpkin. Daddy's here," he said in a whisper as he reached down to take her up and out of the crib.