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“Technically,” Samuelson says, “Magic Kingdom Park.” He leads the way over to a table that looks like something out of an undersea cartoon. “Let’s see here… Just a few details…”
He produces a gold box studded with pastel-color jewels, each the size of my thumb. It opens easily, revealing a pair of shiny metallic bracelets. “Your MagicBands,” he says.
Alix looks a little stunned as she extends her arm. Samuelson makes short work out of fastening the gold circlet around her wrist. After Alix’s is secure, he attaches mine. The Beast growls, but Samuelson is wearing gloves, so I tell the fucker lurking in my brain to go to hell.
“Those bands are your tickets to the entire park,” he says. “You’ll use them at any of the restaurants or shops. Per your request, Mr. Prince, we’ve given you backstage access to a wide variety of our attractions. And, of course, your bands will unlock the door to your accommodations.”
I’ve got to give Samuelson credit. He’s discreet, not giving away my biggest surprise. In fact, he turns to me with a flourish guaranteed to distract Alix if she’s inclined to ask questions I’m not ready to answer yet. “As you requested, Mr. Prince, the front gates are already open to your special guests for the evening. Twelve buses have arrived out of an expected fifty-one.”
“Fifty-one…” Alix repeats before she turns to me. “Who are your guests?”
I clear my throat. I’m surprised to feel heat in my cheeks. There’s no reason I should be embarrassed.
Once again, Samuelson swoops to the rescue. “Mr. Prince has reserved the entire Magic Kingdom for your event tonight. But he has generously invited families currently residing in homeless shelters throughout Florida to attend the park as his guests.”
“Trap,” Alix says, her fingers closing on my forearm. Her eyes are shiny, and her grip makes me feel like I’m king of the fucking world.
Samuelson passes me a phone that’s not much bigger than a matchbook. “I’m at your disposal for your entire stay at the Magic Kingdom. If you need anything at all, you can reach me at 222 on this device. Now, if you’d like, we can provide you with an accessibility vehicle while you’re here. Or a private guide?” He barely pauses, clearly reading the room. “Or an open door, and the chance to get outside and enjoy your stay?”
And just like that, we’re wandering through the park.
“Where do you want to go first?” I ask Alix as we wander down a perfectly groomed path. Someone watered the tropical flowers recently. Their petals glisten in the early evening Florida heat.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she says.
“I figure we’ve both had a lot on our plates lately.”
“But you bought out the park!”
A group of kids runs past us, squealing for first dibs on the front car at Space Mountain. “Not exactly,” I say. “We’ve got some company.”
She stops in the middle of the path. When I turn to ask what’s wrong, her arms go around my neck. She presses herself against me and kisses me, hard.
There’s an urgency on her lips, a drive. But there’s a sweetness, too. A softness. Something that reminds me of the woman I met outside Debasement a lifetime ago, the woman I thought might be too good to drag into my life. For better or worse, though, she’s here. In my life. And I love her, even if I haven’t figured out the right time, the right way, to say that out loud.
“Thank you,” she says.
“For what?” I answer gruffly. “We haven’t even done anything yet.”
“For bringing me here. For making this night special. For giving us both…” She loses her nerve, then tries again. “Before the video gets out…”
“The video’s not getting out,” I say.
“I know we don’t want it to. And right now, right here, we can both pretend it won’t. We don’t have to think about it until we’re back in Delaware.”
I lay a finger across her lips. “I’m telling you,” I say, like I’m teaching her the ABCs or how to count to ten. “The video won’t be a problem.”
She doesn’t believe me. And I can’t tell her the truth. I don’t ever want her burdened with the knowledge of what Best’s men are doing. But she laces her fingers between mine. She holds our hands over her heart. She meets my gaze, her eyes unblinking. “Thank you,” she says again. “I mean it.”
I brush a kiss against her knuckles. “Then you’re welcome. Where are we going first?”
She chooses Pirates of the Caribbean. The Jungle Cruise after that, and TRON, and our own front-car trip on Space Mountain, even though she told me once she didn’t like roller coasters.
Between rides, we eat our body weight in Dole Whip and mouse-shaped pretzels and cheeseburger spring rolls that are so good we go back for seconds.
We huddle close in the Haunted House, laughing at the screaming kids in front of us until a jump scare makes Alix bury her face against my neck. I keep her safe in the dark, nibbling her throat until she blushes.
The sun sets. The Florida air cools. The park, already close to empty, feels a little more deserted as some of the families with younger kids head back to their buses. We’re walking down Main Street, debating the merits of sweatshirts or T-shirts with Disney designs when a burst of gold lights up the sky.
