“You’ve been gone almost a year!” My wife Lily’s voice rose to a level that made me cringe. “You just got home! And now you’re leaving again?”

“You know I have to train, I can’t take breaks,” I lied.

“It’s almost midnight, Luke,” she said, throwing her hands on her hips. She looked like a petulant child and it was pushing all my buttons. Yeah, I'd just gotten home, after training in Barcelona for ten months and winning my latest fight. Yeah, I’d only been home for one short weekend in all that time, but who did she think she married?

She knew what she was getting into.

She knew who I was.

Maybe she didn’t see me as often as she would have liked, but she certainly benefited from all of my hard work. With her Louboutin stilettos that she was currently stomping on our expensive Italian marble floor with, and the white Bugatti I’d handed down to her waiting in the garage, the way I saw it, this bitch had nothing to complain about.

That didn’t stop her, though.

You’d think I was the fucking devil in the flesh the way she was looking at me. Hell, I’d even thrown her a bone as soon as I got home, burying myself deep inside of her from behind, just the way she liked it. Not to mention, she’d be asleep in half an hour anyway, snoring with her mouth open like a goddamned pug.

Why should I stick around for that shit show?

I was stoked to be back in Portland, my home town, and I wanted to get out and enjoy myself a little, without the constant whining of my annoying wife.

I never should have married this bitch, I thought as she tried to stare me down, thinking that her death glare was going to get me to stay in. She was sorely mistaken if she thought she could tell me what to do.

I’m fucking Lucifer, I do whatever the hell I want, on — or off — the canvas. I watched her lips move, not registering a word she was saying, until it was just too much to bear anymore. Her incessant bellyaching was gnawing on my last fucking nerve.

“That’s enough,” I said, standing up. I towered over her, looking down and raising an eyebrow, a silent warning for her to shut the hell up.

She kept going, rambling on and on about quality time and re-establishing our connection and I was pretty sure she said something about conscious coupling, but I don’t know what the hell that is.

It took all I had not to roll my eyes.

Lily’s a hippy.

She’s all long, flowing dresses and sparkling scarves and loose hair, and she’s usually holding a joint between her fingers at all times. When I’d first met her, tripping balls at a fucking Phish concert in the Gorge that my best friend drug me to years ago, I thought her whole hippy thing was cute and charming. She was a college student, studying biology or chemistry or something ridiculous like that, all about peace and love, man. She had that tight yoga ass and good vibes. Once I convinced her to raise that long skirt for me, I found the tightest little pussy I’d ever encountered.

I was hooked.

Or, rather, at that point, my cock was hooked.

The rest of me came later.

We got married fast — barefoot in the sand at Cannon Beach within six months, and after that, things were pretty fun for a while. I was just starting my career and when I wasn’t training, we fucked like bunnies, holed up in this house I bought her as a wedding present.

And now here we were, ten years and eight professional wins later, and that pussy didn’t seem to be made of gold anymore. My petite bride had aged, in more places than one, and I guess you could say that I wasn’t quite as enchanted as I used to be.

I preferred my pussy a little younger these days.

So, like any man, I found it elsewhere.

I did what a lot of men in my position did. I made sure I had somewhere else to go to get my needs met, no matter the cost.

Which is exactly where I wanted to go now. I’d been gone a long time, but I kept a chick on retainer for when I was home. I had money to burn and it made me feel good to know that I was helping out a woman that would probably be giving it away for twenty bucks a pop under the Burnside bridge if it wasn’t for me.

What can I say? I like to give back to the community.

“I’m leaving,” I said to Lily, my cock stirring as I thought about the wild redhead that I hadn’t seen in a while.

“No, you aren’t,” Lily screamed, running to the table by the front door and grabbing my keys and shoving them down the front of her panties.

“Don’t be stupid,” I said, sighing with exasperation.

“You’re not going anywhere! I know you aren’t going to the gym, Luke. You can’t lie to me.”

I snapped. Enough was enough. This bitch has lost her mind if she thinks she can stop me from walking out the front door. I lowered my voice, learning a long time ago that raising it didn’t get my point across as effectively. I tried to save my rage for the ring.

“Lily,” I began, calm as summer breeze. “If you don’t give my keys back, I’m going to slap the shit out of you so hard that you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

Her eyes widened and she scoffed. She fucking scoffed!

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

I took a deep breath. One more try.

“Lily, darling,” I said. “I’m going to walk out that door. There’s nothing you can do to stop me. Now, once more, give me the fucking keys. I really don’t want to hurt you, but you know I will. You know what happened last time. Don’t make me do it again.”

Her eyes darkened and filled with tears. She shook her head slowly as she reached down into her panties and pulled out the keys. She looked back up at me, tears falling down her face.

I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, as I grabbed the keys from her.

“Good girl,” I said, smiling down at her. I reached down, gently caressing her cheek. She leaned into me, closing her eyes.

I pulled my hand away and slapped her as hard as I could across the face. She crumpled to the ground, screaming like an injured animal as she clutched her face. I pulled my foot back, slamming my boot into her soft stomach, just to ensure I got my point across properly. She screamed again, collapsing into a puddle on the beautiful marble floor.

I leaned down, grabbing a fistful of frosted blonde hair and forcing her to look into my eyes.

“Don’t ever even think about doing that again,” I growled, shoving her back to the floor before stepping over her writhing body and walking out the door.

I jumped into my new, sleek, black Bugatti and couldn’t help but smile. I quickly forgot about Lily, crying like a helpless broken bird back there. I didn’t need her, or her drama. If it wasn’t for that goddamned prenup, I’d have left her high and dry a long time ago. I work hard for my money, I’m not about to give half of it, or more, to her.

And I certainly wasn’t going to let her bring me down.

Not tonight.

I’d just won one of the biggest fights of my life and I was flying high.

I had everything I ever wanted.

I had this car. My money. My career. Hell, I was high up on my mountain and getting higher everyday.

I drove down the smooth winding roads of the West Hills, the car purring in my hands. Perfectly manicured lawns lined the roads, lush landscaping hugging the elaborate mansions that dotted one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Portland. I wound my way down and around, driving slowly and drinking it all in.

Even after ten years, I was relatively new to all this luxury.

I certainly didn’t fit in.

No, this was old money up here. White-hairs that retired many, many years ago from their high powered jobs, safely tucked into their antique four-poster beds as I sped past them, a result of the young, fast money that they simultaneously despised and envied. They’d slaved away nine-to-five for thirty years, sitting behind the same desk, watching the same faces grow old around them, a big miserable cuddle-pile of regret.

They looked at a man like me and their lips curled up in disgust.

Power. Youth. Strength.

All the things they’d lost and would never be able to get back.

To them, I smelled like a cheater. To them, I was just a poor boy from North Portland that won the lottery. They were wrong, of course. I worked my fucking ass off, day and night, training, fighting, learning, creating muscle and muscle memory, not to mention the strain it took on my body, mentally and physically. I spent days away from my family, although I counted that as a blessing in disguise.

You saw what I had to go through back there with Lily, didn’t you?

Anyway…

I couldn’t help but smirk as I passed by all these rich fucker’s houses. I might be rich now, too, but I would never be one of them. I’d never stop living, just because I didn’t need to work for a living. These assholes? All they did was mow their fucking lawns and golf. There was no adventure, no variety.

And isn’t that what life was all about?

If you didn’t have those things, how would you grow? How would you learn about yourself? And don’t give me that age excuse either. You can learn and grow until the day you die.

That’s what I’m going to do and I’m not about to let anyone stop me. Not Lily. Not these rich fuckers, sleeping soundly in their beds, completely unaware of just how close they were to a tiger that would gladly rip their heads off.

The International Rose Test Garden, or the ‘rose garden’ as locals called it, was at the bottom of the hill. I turned down Vista, winding around to the deserted parking lot and parking in the handicapped parking right up front. I turned off the car, rolling down the window and listening to the incessant chirping of the crickets.

The scent of roses hung heavy on the breeze, sweet and light and inviting.

I got out of the car, strolling down the stone stairs to the immense five acre garden below. I stopped half-way down, raking my eyes over the perfumed panorama. Even in the dark, the blooms were shimmering vibrantly, showing off their colors like a peacock displays his feathers. There were seven thousand different varieties of roses down there, fully in bloom in all their glory. I turned my head, my gaze lingering on a stone bench along the wall.

Just as I always did, I saw my mom. Or her ghost. Or whatever you wanna call the way she just appears in my mind, every time I come here.

I don’t see her - see her. But she’s there.

I feel her, I imagine her…I remember her.

Or, maybe the thing is that when I’m here, I can’t forget her. I’m pretty fucking good at it most of the time, but here, it’s impossible.

Coming here allows it.

Coming here demands it.

I know this, and I do it anyway.

Call it torture, whatever. I try not to call it much of anything.

It is what it is. This place, the memories, that’s all I have of her anymore.

I guess it’s all I need.

I sat on the bench for a moment, letting the memories run through my head. Letting her recite them to me as she sat beside me.

“Remember, Luke?” She says, her voice a low, slow velvet. “We had your eighth birthday party under that tree.”

“I remember, Mama,” I say, whispering to the roses.

“It was a picnic. With a pinata.”

“I know, I was there,” I say, looking up at the moon. The moon was there, too, I think. Later, after everyone else had left, the park deserted, hundreds and hundreds of rose bushes blooming just for the two of us, this same moon shone down on us and saw everything.

I got up quickly, leaving Mama’s ghost behind on the bench.

“Stay there,” I murmured, wanting time by myself. For years, she’d followed me, but I’d learned recently that telling her to stay put actually worked.

I strolled slowly, up and down the little pathways between the roses, reading the names from the labels sticking up from the ground in front of each of them.

There were hundreds, as wildly named as racehorses.

“Lady Sadie, Lasting Peace, Her Royal Highness,” I whispered, stopping to smell each one. They were every color under the sun, and at one time I’d memorized the names of all the regulars. There wasn’t much else to do when you’re left alone up here, the way Mama used to leave me. Mama always came back eventually, but the hours could spread out like days, if you let them.

“Eternal Flame, Cherry Sunblaze, In The Mood, Heaven on Earth,” I whispered, my steps slow and quiet.

After a few more minutes, I happened upon my very favorite rose of all.

“Scarlet’s Secret,” I whispered, reaching out and gently caressing its velvety petals. She was the deepest red I’d ever seen and under the pale moonlight, she was damn near black. She shimmered with light, and as I leaned down, inhaling her sweet scent as deep into my lungs that I could manage, I felt my cock twitch in my jeans.

This was heaven.

I straightened up, smiling, thinking about my final destination of the night. Another little slice of heaven that I made sure was waiting for me at all times, was waiting on the other side of town, tucked away in a little jewel box, just waiting for me to pluck her out of bed.

I reached down, tearing one of Scarlet’s blooms from her vine.

Heading for my car, I saw Mama sitting on the bench again, watching me, her eyes sad and pleading for me to stay.

“It’s illegal to pick the roses, Luke,” she said.

“Bye, Mama,” I said, smiling at her over my shoulder.

The rose sat quietly on the seat as I drove away, staring up at me accusingly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t waste you,” I said. “You’re going to make a beautiful girl very happy.”

I picked it up and inhaled again, relishing the sweet perfume, as I thought about my other Scarlet, the one waiting just where I’d left her.

All mine.

Always there.

Always ready.

A real firecracker, too.

A natural redhead that would make some of the strongest men fall to their knees…

Good thing I’m the strongest motherfucker in the whole world and I’ve never fallen to my fucking knees for anyone.