Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos 5)

“It’s simple to decide, but complicated to maintain and balance. You see both of you come with stipulations, needs, and challenges. Because it’s not easy to keep you or them happy all the time. It takes hard work and dedication and sacrifice.”

“Why?” she whispers.

“I do it because you belong to me. You’re mine, B. And them? They’re the family I’ve chosen for myself. My life revolves around those two things. Everything I do can be tied to that because it’s where my loyalty and what’s left of my heart lies.” It’s not an I love you. Her lips tremble, and her eyes dilate. She hears me just the same. “So I’ll go to Disneyland, I’ll play nice with the locals, and get to know Whitney better because she’s yours which make her my kid too.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “You’re not going to cry. You’re going to accept everything you should’ve been getting from the start. Nod if you understand me.”

She bobs her head, and I lean in and brush her lips against mine. “We’re already a family, B. It’s just figuring out what that’s going to look and feel like for us. When I told you I wasn’t going to let you go, I meant that. Every day we take another step making it official. I know you got a big brain, B, don’t get lost in it.”

At any given time her brain is jammed full of crap, like a computer with too many windows open at once. Then she gets caught on one thought, and the panic floods in. I’ve watched her tackle her panic attacks little by little over the months, with sheer will, and counseling. I’ve never thought much of counselors. Mostly because they could affect placement. I spent my youth learning how to pretend to give them what they wanted so I could stay at my home. Because you never knew if the next one would end up being even worse.

“I hear you.”

“Good, now how about we go to the room, and I help you relax?” I wink as she smiles.

“No, she’ll hear us.”

“Guess you’d better be quiet then.” I stand and toss her over my shoulder. I smack her ass. She buries her face in my back to muffle her squeal, and I chuckle as I turn off the television and carry her to our room.

***

I feel like I’ve stepped onto an alien planet. Everything is clean. The air smells sweet. Not like regular fresh air, but literally as if cotton candy has been added to the atmosphere. Everywhere I look, I see smiling faces and families. I’m not sure if I’m impressed, or creeped the hell out. I glance over at the girls, and they’re all but glowing as they grin at one another. I can endure this for them.

“Where to first?” I ask.

“Disneyland Railroad. That way you can get an overview,” Whitney says.

“You’re our tour guide for the day, so I’ll let you lead the way.” I’m amused by her excitement. The minute we stepped foot in the park that cool act vanished.

“Oh no, first we have to get your button at guest services.”

“A button for what?” I ask.

“Your first time at DL button.”

I glance down at B. “Is the kid serious right now?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s tradition.” She winks.

“Well hell, don’t let me stop tradition.” It feels weird to be out without my cut, but colors don’t fly here. So I’m in a black Metallica shirt and jeans. Whitney beams up at me, and I find the space in my heart expanding to fit her in beside her mother. The kid lost life as she knew it and her father in one day. I can never replace him, but I can be a substitute eventually.

Twenty-minutes, a button, and a sticker later, I’m sitting on the train and getting a run down from an incredibly bubbly mini me of B. She moves her hands as she explains when things were built and hidden Easter eggs or should I say Mickeys? I can feel the pride rolling off B. She’s raised a good kid. Not an easy feat in this day and age.

We exit the train, and she makes a beeline for the Indiana Jones Adventure.

“Kid, you don’t have to cater to me on this trip.”

“Oh, I’ve been tons of times. My favorite is showing new people around. I like experiencing it for the first time through their eyes.” She shrugs.

I’ll never let it show, but the ten-year-old boy inside of me is kind of stoked. Who didn’t want to be Indiana Jones growing up? It’s unreal. One minute I was at an amusement park, and the next I’m walking into a jungle via a rope bridge as I enter the environment. Suddenly I’m beginning to understand the appeal and why so many people of all ages go gaga over it. We make our way into a mock temple that looks real as hell with its sandstone look and bamboo support poles. We weave our way deeper into caverns, and Whitney smiles at me.

“Isn’t this awesome? When I was little, I had the hat and a fake whip. I’d pretend I was Indiana Jones Jr. Cause you know, Indiana is a unisex name.”

“Oh yeah, totally is,” I agree.

She giggles. “It was so much fun. I played out so many adventures here. My dad always sort of smiled, but Mom would pretend with me. Do you remember that?”

“Of course I do, baby. I had as much fun as you. I always imagined having a little girl to make

believe with. It made adventures so easy to have.”