Beneath Layers Book Three of the Layers Series

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015

TL Alexander

Published by Crazy Writer Books/TL Alexander

Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

Editing by Hot Tree Editing

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews—without the permission in writing from its publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. We are not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

The Layers series is written for adults, by an adult (this is questionable). It contains adult language (lots of f-age) and adults doing adult stuff (like hot sex and drinking scotch). It’s also written for those who have a sense of humor and like to laugh. (This is optional, but highly recommended.)

Table of Contents

Title Page

Books by TL Alexander

About Beneath Layers

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Happily-Ever-After…After

About The Author

Copyright Notice

The Layers Series

Layers

More Layers

Beneath Layers

Beyond Layers

Life’s a Bitchwad - a Layers Novelette

Other Books By TL Alexander

Law Inc. Cassandra Marcella Mystery a Continuing Series

Life on Top

Between a Rocker and a Hard Place

Girlfriends Goddesses & Barflies

One More Shot

Bottoms Up

Last Call

Alexia Grant was so close to finding her happily-ever-after, all she had to do is reach out a grab it...

Jaxson Ryan was so close to having the woman, the life, he’s always wanted. But that was before...

Alexia

The broken part of me--is me. It’s my blood, my flesh, and my bones. It’s cancer in remission, not to be disturbed. If it is, it will metastasize, it will kill me.

Jaxson Ryan

We’d gone beyond, over the hurdle that had pushed us apart so many times before. I was close to touching that place she hides from everyone, even herself, but now...

Will Alexia find her inner Cinderella?

Will Jaxson find that elusive glass slipper?

Will Alexia come out of her dungeon and put that glass slipper on?

Will they find their happily-ever-after?

They just might. But...like everything in their complicated crazy-assed lives it won’t be easy.

Charge up that e-reader, pour yourself a drab, or three-fingers of scotch, pull up those granny panties, get comfy, and enjoy the ride.

I’d like to dedicate this to you, girlfriends and guyfriends. Thank you for reading and loving Alexia and Jaxson’s story as much as I loved writing it.

TL

I was that kind of girl. You know, the one. I used my imagination to escape, not to create. I dreamt in black, lived in white. I wore days-of-the-week undies, changing them precisely at one minute past midnight. I read Exploring Microbiology and The Fundamentals of Finance, for fun.

Everyday things captivated me. Like adding, multiplying, and dividing the polka dots on my tights.

No one saw that girl, the real me. Never went past the façade, under the layers. I wasn’t the princess they’d made me out to be. Peas under my mattress—bring them on. Sure, I had the things, the fluff, and the stuff. None of it mattered. None of it was real.

I craved the real—the truth. I searched, I waited, but it never came. Sadness and anger came; leaving this life I called bitch. She was a hard one; we didn’t get along, at first. She set countless rules, limitations, and boundaries. But I learned them well; we made progress, then peace.

We were good; I had a plan, a direction. I was surviving, making my way, minding my own business. But she wasn’t satisfied—blowing it all to hell. She wanted more, the whole chimichanga. Greedy, interfering bitch!

Bitch had a new plan, a new game for me to play. It had no rules, no directions, no board with lined or checkered paths. I was playing blind, but the more I played, the better I got. It was setting me free, loosening my tethered mind, waking me up to colored dreams, and the possibilities of a happily-ever-after. All I had to do was reach out and grab it…

I pick up my newborn daughter. She’s small and wrinkled, looking a little like Yoda, but in a good way. Cradling her, I count ten fingers, ten toes, and one half-button nose. I run my finger down her cheek; lids flutter open, big blue eyes look up at me. I whisper, Hey, little Yoda. It’s Daddy. She smiles as five tiny fingers wrap around my thumb.

She looks like you.

She yawns and her nose crinkles up as if getting a whiff of foul air. I study her face. I see nothing of me in her. I look over at her mother and debate voicing my opinion. I decide on neutrality and silence.

She has your mouth and nose.

I don’t see it. Does it matter? No. She’s whole and healthy; that’s what matters.

Hearing soft knocking on the opened door, I look up.

Nick peeks in. Am I interrupting?

This is family time, she says. We’ve asked for no visitors.

Family time? Who’s she kidding?

He looks between us. I can come back.

I wave him in.

Are you sure?

I look at Mia, propped up on pillows, lying on her side. The Cleopatra of new mothers—bring on the palm fronds.

I’m sure.

He steps into the room and speed-walks past the Egyptian. Reaching my window perch, he impersonates a smile. He’s lost, as we all are. Looking at my daughter, his mouth opens then shuts. What does he want to say, but can’t? Congratulations would be the normal greeting to a new dad. But nothing is normal. Nothing is…right.

He looks beyond me, out the window, speaking in a near whisper. Lizbet asked everyone to leave the hospital for a while. I’m taking Jules home. She needs a shower and sleep. If I’m lucky, maybe I can get her to eat something. She’s…a mess, and Marco… I’ve never seen a man cry like that.

I nod, words failing me.

Sam said she would stay with the boys tonight. She’d like you to check in, when you can.

I don’t…know what to say to them. They’re confused—lost. They can’t process any of this. Hell, I can’t process it. They want to see her; Sam and Lizbet think I should let them. I disagree, but if she never…? Closing my eyes, I force that thought out of my head.

You can’t go there.

I know. Remember how messed up I was, when my mom was in a coma?

He nods.

I was twenty-two, and seeing her… It’s not something I want my three-year-old sons to experience. Every day, they ask me, ‘why doesn’t Mom wake up?’ ‘Will Mom live in heaven, with Grandma and Grandpa Ryan?’ God, Nick, what do I tell them?

He shakes his head. Wish I could help, Jax. When it comes to parenting and kids, I’m clueless under the best of circumstances. Go home and get some rest. Don’t worry about answers right now. Just be with them, love them.

You’re right. I need rest; I just can’t… I look away, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to spill.

He grips my shoulder. Jax, Lex is a fighter. She’s a Grant, for hell sakes. She’s going to be all right. Go home; take care of yourself and your sons. The hospital will call if there’s any change.

I’ll go home for a few hours.

He turns and peeks over my shoulder, looking at Mia. She’s lying on her side, flipping through a magazine. She’s acting the part of a disinterested bystander. Nick and I both know better.

He gestures toward the window and we step closer.

Lee has new information about the accident, he whispers. He’s called for a meeting tomorrow afternoon at Grant.

What kind of information? Jim said Cleo got spooked. Lex lost control. The state police verified his statement. So did the student…?

Max.

Yeah. He said Cleo snapped.

Lee and Lizbet have been tight-lipped. But Jules overheard them talking about a tape, Mia, and threats.

A tape?

That’s all she overheard. They picked up on her eavesdropping and…

Went silent?

Something like that.

Why would Lee and Lizbet withhold information from me? If they have new information, I should be the first to know.

I agree. Jules and I think…

Think what?

Well…it’s more a feeling.

Feeling?

Guy lingo.

Okay.

There are two baseball teams. Team Ryan and Team Grant. Jules and I don’t want to play baseball, we want to golf. I do, anyway; who knows what she wants to do. Well…that’s not true, she always—

I get it.

They’re not telling us anything because they think we’re playing on Team Ryan.

That’s ridiculous; there are no teams. They don’t trust me?

No, that’s not what I’m saying. You’re the MLB’s top homerun hitter. Your biceps are freakin’ tree-trunks. Everyone knows you’re on steroids, but they can’t prove it.

What?

You’re the elephant in the room. Everyone knows you’re two floors down, but no one brings it up. It’s… He looks at his feet.

Just tell me.

Last night Lizbet asked me where you were. I told her, with your daughter. Her mask, the one she’s been wearing for days…crumbled. Jax, it was awful. I’ve never seen her cry; don’t want to, ever again. It’s not natural, unsettling.

Fuck.

Everyone lost it, even yours truly.

Fuck.

A half-smile catches him. "I don’t think fuck is the first word you want your daughter to say."

She’s only hours old.

Shows you what I know about parenting.

What was I supposed to do? I wanted—needed to be there when she came into the world. I’m only holding my daughter. It’s not a crime.

No one’s judging or criticizing you for wanting to be with your daughter. The timing, it’s…

Bad.

Incredibly.

Looking at my innocent daughter, daddy hackles rise. It’s happened; she’s here. It’s not like I could tell her to hold off for a few days, or push her back in.

Hey, man. I’m on your side. I’m trying to clue you in on who’s at bat, so you know how to pitch your next ball.

The baseball allegory has run its bases.

Sorry, man. You know I suck at this. My wife’s been crying for days. My best friend is turned inside out. I’m stuck somewhere in the middle and… Jax, if Mia had anything to do with the accident, your association with her gets uglier.

You don’t know Mia’s involved. Jules overheard her name, that’s all.

He leans closer. Come on, Jax. The air in here smells foul. Mia looks like the cougar who ate the elephant.

Mia’s done bad things, but she would never…

Nick lifts a brow.

She’d…never…

Turning, I take her in. Am I wrong? Is she capable of murder? Could the mother of the baby I’m holding, the woman I cried and held hands with as our daughter made her appearance, could she take the life of an innocent? When I cut the cord and held my daughter for the first time, I thought…now everything is going to be all right. Have I let myself believe holding an innocent in my arms would make up for all the wrong? I have. This realization makes me feel like a lowlife, a traitor. The damage done to the woman and family, who are my heart and soul, can’t be undone. One life can’t replace…one lost.

Then I remember… My God. Lizbet called me this morning, asking how I was holding up, how her boys were? I was so tired… I told her Mia and the baby were okay, resting.

Fuck. Maybe she didn’t pick up on it.

You know she did. If Mia is behind any of this…I’ll lose her. I’m going to lose Lex and my sons. Lizbet will never forgive me for bringing Mia into their lives.

You’re not going to lose them.

For an attorney, you’re a terrible liar.

I’m not lying.

He is, but I let it go. This is so fucked up. I’ve only left her side for the birth of my daughter and to check in on JB and Chase; that’s it. Everyone knows how I feel about Lex. She’s my…everything.

Jaxson, no one doubts your love for her, or your sons. But she’s Lizbet’s granddaughter, a Grant; they’re a different breed.

Please…no dog metaphors.

I wasn’t… Okay, I was.

I need to call Lizbet, apologize.

He shakes his head. No, it will make things worse. With Lex in the hospital, and the shareholders…

Shareholders?

Sam didn’t tell you?

No.

A trash-the-Grants article was released this morning by some rag in London. It paints an unflattering picture of their history and accuses Lizbet of lying about Lex’s use of an alias, and her time in Wales. It infers Lizbet is using her accident as a cover for another breakdown. Grant shares took a nose-dive and now the shareholders want Lizbet to fly to London to clarify things.

That explains the increase of reporters and paparazzi out front.

Now they’re in front of Grant, causing security problems.

Fucking vultures.

The doctor walks in. Good morning…oh, sorry, you’re busy. I’ll come back.

No, it’s a perfect time, Mia says.

Nick clears his throat. Yes…I was just leaving. He places a hand on my back. Call me later, if you get a chance.

Text or call me if you find out anything.

He nods and heads toward the door. Steps away he freezes, then backtracks. FYI…the good Dr. Calvin Lucas is on his way to New York. Lizbet said he plans to stick around for a while.

Fuck! When it rains… Thanks for the heads up.

He pats my shoulder. Hang in there.

He nods to Mia and the doctor before closing the door behind him.

How is everyone today? Dr. Hall asks.

Mia fools around with the bed controls. Sitting, she says, We’re great.

Dr. Hall looks between us. Have you come up with a name?

I was thinking Katelyn Anne—after my grandmother.

We never discussed names. We’ve been fighting over visitation, financial support and whatever else she could dream up.

Extracting my thumb from tiny fingers, I lay my daughter in her bassinet. What do you think, Yoda?

She yawns.

She doesn’t seem to object. Katelyn Anne, it is.

Dr. Hall chuckles. I don’t know. I kind of like Yoda.

Mia shoots her a dirty look.

Or not, she says under her breath, as she picks up Katelyn’s chart.

How is she doing? I ask.

All her labs look good. Her electrolytes are a little low. I’d like her better hydrated before she’s released. I’ll check in tomorrow morning; if everything looks good, you can take her home.

Mia’s right eye starts twitching. Are you sure…I mean…isn’t it too soon?

You’ll be more comfortable at home.

Katelyn will be fine, I add.

What about me? I’m exhausted.

The first forty-eight hours are usually the worst. Tomorrow, you’ll be more yourself.

Mia frowns.

Do you have any other questions or concerns?

No.

How about you, Jaxson?

No, I’m good. I’ll be leaving for a few hours. If anything comes up…

Don’t worry. The nurses’ station has your contact information, and so do I.

How long? Mia asks me.

I don’t know…a few hours.

I know where you’ll be, two floors up. If I need you, I’ll have someone come and get you.

If there’s a concern about Katelyn, my orders are to be called or texted.

Jaxson, things happen for a reason. Our daughter was meant to be, we’re meant to be.

I blow out a breath.

God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes he blesses the deserving and punishes those who are not.

What the hell? I can’t… I bite my tongue. If Dr. Hall weren’t in the room, I’d tell her to fuck off.

I look at Dr. Hall; she’s as taken aback as I am. Thank you, doctor, for everything.

Of course, she says, smiling weakly.

I walk to the door.

You never answered me. When will you be coming back?

I’m vibrating, shaking from her wicked words. I grip the door handle in an effort to ground myself. Tomorrow morning.

Make it today, at two. A nurse will be in to instruct us on bathing.

I’ll manage.

If you have any questions, you can call my office, Dr. Hall adds.

I’m talking to my husband, if you don’t mind.

I’m…sorry. I was…

Interfering.

Mia…don’t!

Jaxson, I need your help. I’m not doing all the work.

I should let it go, but I can’t. Mia, you’ve hired two nannies and a housekeeper.

There’s nothing wrong with hiring help.

I ignore her and push down the handle.

Tell Alexia hello, for me. I’ve heard, even in a coma, you hear things.

Wishing the handle were her throat, I squeeze it, close my eyes, and count to ten. It’s the first time since the accident she’s mentioned Lex by name. Hearing her utter the name of the woman I love, with every fiber of my being, makes my skin crawl. I wanted to believe Mia would never, could never, take a life. What was I thinking? She’s Tinker Hell.

Keeping my eyes on Tinker Hell, I talk to Dr. Hall. Doctor, could I speak to you in private?

Yes…of course.

I push open the door and step into the hall. She joins me a few minutes later.

I’m sorry about… I don’t want to put you in a difficult position. But I can’t be around her, she just…

She rests her hand on my upper arm. You don’t have to say it, I get it. I’m aware of your…situation. You must be in hell right now. I’m truly sorry. I plan on releasing Katelyn sometime tomorrow. If you want to visit her while she’s in the hospital, I’ll make arrangements for you to see her in the nursery. Call ahead, she says, handing me a card, and pointing to a number, At this number and it will be arranged.

I take the card. Thank you, doctor, and again, I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.

You haven’t, and don’t worry about Katelyn. She’ll be well cared for.

Alexia, can you hear me? It’s Dr. Peterson.

Yeah, I hear you. Can’t you see I’m…busy? I’m floating; face down, in a pool of Jell-O. It’s flooding my ear canals, making my drums hum, my hearing muffled. It’s stuffed up my nose, each breath, a near drowning. It’s a Jell-O bong, funneling down my throat, sinking my vocal cords. It’s packed around my eyes, hugging my corneas. It’s clogging every pore, suffocating my skin. It’s seeping into my brain, turning matter into jellified mush. But the worst thing about Jell-O floating: it’s mummifying. I can’t friggin’ move. It’s stuck to me; I’ve become its mold.

Alexia, can you open your eyes?

Hello! I’m trying! Stuck in FUCKING LEAD-O!

Princess, come back to me.

I know that voice. I love that voice. Fuck you, Lead-O. I want to look at the man who owns that voice. But I can’t friggin’ move. My heart, the only organ or body part not jellified, beats at a panicked pace. The thought of my heart becoming mummified terrifies me. Fear is an awesome motivator. My eyes flutter; first came the shadows, then…

Princess.

Lead-O, I croak.

Don’t try to talk.

A straw touches my lips.

Take a sip.

The simple task of sucking is not so simple when your brain is in a fart. The first sip burns like Hades. I take in more, each sip flushing out a bit of Lead-O.

No more, I tell him.

I scan his beautiful face; he looks like…crap. He never looks like crap. Sunken cheeks, shadowed bloodshot eyes, damn near swollen shut. He’s been crying—for days. The last time he looked like this he…

What the hell did he do?

His eyes cloud over.

Marco…what happened?

The last time he looked all puffy eyed and undone, he and Henry broke up over a misinterpreted phone message. Marco