It needed to be done, but that didn’t make it easy. Emma had taken the step to make amends with her mother, and now it was my turn to confront my own.

Emma sat beside me in the passenger seat as we drove down the street leading to Perryland. I had a plan, and she’d agreed. After all, the decisions we made now had to be joint. We’d learned the hard way what it meant to act alone.

“When are the dumpsters coming?” she asked.

“Soon.”

“How do you think Gigi will react?”

“She’ll be pissed, but I’m not going to give her the option. This has to be done.”

Emma leaned over and kissed me. “Yes. For all the future Indiana-Joneses out there.”

“You ready for the fireworks?” I asked, taking her hand in mine as we pulled up the driveway.

In a few hours time, Perryland would be getting a makeover, whether the adult occupants wanted it or not. I’d secretly been saving for years for this, and with the sudden influx of money from my first acting gigs in years, I finally had the cash necessary to make life better for the kids who lived here.

First and foremost, the garbage had to go. Dumpsters and tractors were on the way. So were roofers and carpenters. Emma had insisted on pitching in some of her own money, and after the trash was removed, a playground would be erected in its place. This was my amends. Maybe I couldn’t save them all, but at least I wouldn’t leave them wallowing in filth as I had Rocky all those years ago.

Part of being a pleaser was also being a fixer. The problem was that some people – my family, for instance – only knew how to be ‘fixed.’ And by me always coming to the rescue, I was doing them no favors. I knew I needed to cut the cord… with a little upfront capital first, of course.

My decision to dig Perryland out from a pile of trash, to buy Shelby a mechanically sound car, and to fix Gigi’s crumbling walls was not to perpetuate the neediness but to give my relatives a fighting chance. I had my own little family now, growing by one in only a month’s time, to protect and support. It was no longer feasible or wise to drag the leeches with me. Don’t get me wrong, I still wanted them in my life, I just no longer wanted to pay for the privilege.

Emma and I stepped out of the car. She was eight months pregnant now and looking every inch of it.

“You okay?” I asked, upon witnessing her arched back and awkward exit from the vehicle.

“Do I look all right?”

I froze, instantly understanding that she was setting a trap for me to tumble into. Any answer I gave would be the wrong one.

“Discombobulated,” I answered, hastily.

Her eyes narrowed in on me as her hands went to the spot where her hips used to be. “You can’t evoke the ‘safe word’ every time I ask you a question, Finn.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Whenever I get to be a scary bitch, call out the safe word.’ And you, my friend, are teetering on the edge.”

“Well, it’s a stupid safe word, if you ask me.”

In an effort to thwart her protest, I paused my hand in front of her face. “My safe word, my choice.”

“My idea was way better.”

“No offense, Emma, but if I’m running for my life, I hardly think butterscotch will save it.”

“Indy! Indy!”

At least a dozen half-naked kids came rushing toward us. They were glistening in the sunlight, and something told me it wasn’t sweat. I caught sight of the slick substance on their chests and instantly pushed the crowds back before they could rub it off on Emma. As much as she was trying to be less phobic, Emma was still in the baby stages of recovery, and a group of slimy rugrats would be enough to set her back decades.

“What is this?” I asked gesturing to their soiled skin.

“Oil,” a boy replied, without further explanation.

My eyes narrowed in on several empty canola oil bottles lying in the dirt and a blue tarp.

“A slip ‘n slide,” Nike said, confirming my suspicions. “I’ve been practicing my back handspring, Indy – watch.” He then tried his luck at one and landed firmly on his behind.

I helped him up. “Looking good. You’re getting closer.”

“I’m going to be a stuntman like Indy when I grow up,” he said proudly.

“Aww, that’s so nice.” I ruffled his hair. “But you know, I stopped doing that. I’m acting again.”

“Do you know what I want to be when I grow up?” another young boy asked.

“No. What?” Emma bent down to the boy’s level with a smile on her face.

“I want to be a professional nerf gun builder.”

“Oh, that’s….” She and I exchanged an amused glance. “Great. I’m not sure what you’d major in, but awesome.”

“I want to be a doctor,” one called out.

“I want to be a pizza man.”

Posy peered up at us with wide, innocent eyes then said proudly, “When I grow up, I want to be an adult actress.”

Emma and I both choked out a laugh.

“That’s great,” I said, “but, sweetie, next time someone asks you what you want to be when you grow up, just say actress.”

Then trucks started rumbling down the driveway, carrying giant trash containers. Every little kid eye in the place quadrupled in size as three large bins were dropped off. Emerging from their dens, adults flooded into the driveway, squinting in the daylight sun. Shelby broke through the crowd and stomped over to me.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Indiana-Jones?” Spit from her irate mouth flew at me from all different directions, and I ducked to stymie the flow. She stopped screaming at me the second she laid eyes on Emma.

“Oh, Emma. I didn’t see you there. How are you? So gorgeous, as always.”

Awhile back I’d broken the news to Shelby about who Emma’s brother was, and since then, my mother acted like my fiancée was some otherworldly saint. After a few moments fussing over Emma’s belly, Shelby narrowed in on me once more. “What the hell is this crap?”

“This is your trash-free future. Say goodbye to the junkyard.”

“Oh no, Gigi won’t go for that.”

“I highly doubt she wants to keep three thousand pounds of junk. Besides, she’ll never know because she hasn’t been outside in ten years.”

“She was at the doctor’s yesterday. And yes, she’ll definitely notice this shit.”

I turned around to look at the bins, and something struck me as weird. The kids had all just mysteriously disappeared, and their oily bodies were not skirting down the slip and slide. Oh crap!

“Posy? Nike?”

“Here,” Nike answered, like I’d been calling roll. His voice sounded deep and hollow. Awareness slapped me in the face. He was in the garbage bin.

“Dammit.”

I scaled the side of the bin and peered down to find at least twelve greasy kids gliding along the bottom of the container, like a bunch of seals sliding around on a slippery surface.

“Are they in there?” Emma asked.

“Yeah, like every single one of them. How did they get in there so fast?”

“See, I told you this was a bad idea,” Shelby said, as if I should have anticipated them using the bins as a frying pan.

“Guys, no. There could be glass in there. Bucky? Help me out.”

Together my cousin and I lifted every one of the kids out of the bin. Of course, the grease complicated the job, making it exceedingly difficult to get a proper hold. Exhausted by our efforts, Bucky and I were climbing back down when I looked up to see one of the Crisco kids that I’d just rescued disappear into another bin further down the driveway. Worse yet, Posy, in all her buttery wonder, was scaling up the side.

“Posy!” I yelled out. “Don’t you dare!”

With a smile and a wave, my niece disappeared over the side.

Emma and Shelby were struggling to contain the giggles that had overtaken them.

“They’re wild. I can’t stop them. The tractors are going to be dumping junk on top of their heads… and they’re going to like it.”

“I told you it was a bad idea,” Shelby repeated. “They don’t need luxury. Look at you, you turned out fine.”

“Fine for who? You?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Shelby, you’ve hit your credit limit. No more bailing you out. No more manipulation. No more money. No more swapping cars. I’m not going to be your parent anymore. I have a kid of my own coming soon, and that helpless little baby will take priority over my forty-one-year-old, perfectly capable mother.”

Shelby sighed and rolled her eyes at me. “Fine, pick up the trash if you want. Just stop with all this crazy talk.”

“Oh, it’s not crazy talk, Shelby. The Bank of Indiana-Jones is now closed.”

* * *

Since I seemed to be on such a closure kick, it was obvious where my next stop would need to be. By the time I’d made it through the security checks and screenings, I was nervous and on edge. Rocky had been in prison for over a year now, and I hadn’t come to visit him once. I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but I was bracing myself for the fallout.

When he finally entered the room, I had to blink back my shock. He was huge, muscles piggy-backing on top of each other stretching out over his wide shoulders. And where the hell was all his hair? He’d always worn it down to his shoulders but now it was closely cropped to the scalp.

As he drew near, I reached my hand out to shake his, and he shook his head, coming in for a hug instead. He’d always been somewhat of a teddy bear with me when we were young, but that all ended when I’d left him behind. As he slapped my back, his big body shuddered. Was he crying?

“Are you okay?” I asked, suddenly worried.

Rocky pulled back, grinning as he wiped away a few stray tears. “Yeah, of course. I’m just so happy you came. When I saw your name on the guest list, I almost passed out.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t come sooner, I’ve just been…”

What could I say? Busy? Preoccupied? Angry? Guilty?

“I don’t care, Indiana-Jones, I’m just glad you’re here now.”

“Me too. And stop calling me that, Rocky-Balboa. You know I go by Finn now.”

“Oh, right – Hollywood Finn.”

“No, Embarrassed that Shelby Named Me a Stupid-ass Name Finn.”

“At least you got something cool – an archeologist explorer. I got named after ‘The Italian Stallion.’ And look at me! Do I look Italian?”

“No,” I laughed. Rocky, with his fair hair and blue-eyed Scandinavian looks, was anything but. “Yeah, you really did get the shit end of the stick.”

“Well, at least I wasn’t born in a toilet.” The smirk on his face was wide and taunting.

“Right, because the backseat of a Pinto was so much more dignified.”

We grinned at each other. God, I missed him. Why had I waited so long?

“What happened to your hair?”

“You think I was going to step foot in prison with girly hair? I may be a lot of things, Finn, but I’m no damn fool.”

I shrugged, not really knowing how to respond to that. Our lives were so different, and I had no idea what it took for his day-to-day survival in here.

“Speaking of that, you wouldn’t last a day in here with those shiny locks, Finny, and that pretty face of yours – woo-ee, your date card would be filled daily.”

“And yours isn’t?”

Rocky shot me his fiercest scowl, and honestly I was sufficiently awed. At six foot five with a mass of solid muscle, he was a force to be reckoned with. “Gotta look tough, brother. If they sense weakness, they pounce. I’ve got everyone in here thinking I’m the goddamn Viking prince, Regnar. They know to either worship the ground I walk on or get scooped up off it after I’m finished with them.”

“Always the bully.”

“I’m only a bully if need be. In here, hell, it need be.”

“Just don’t get yourself in more trouble. You want out of here on good behavior.”

“I know. I know.” Rocky leaned in with a wicked grin. “I heard a little rumor that my big brother knocked up some rich girl… and not just any rich girl, but Jake McKallister’s sister.”

“She’s my fiancée, so be careful how you refer to her.”

His eyes widened, no doubt trying to assess if I was being real or not, then he slapped his hands down on the table. “Well, look at you, moving on up.”

That was Rocky – always trying to make me feel like some spoiled trust fund brat for wanting to have a better life.

“It’s not like that.”

“You’re telling me you actually love this chick… that it’s not just her bank account and famous brother that’s got you all worked up?”

Years of pent up anger began to bubble over. This was how he’d been with me since I’d left at fifteen.

“Just stop. I get it, Rocky. You think I’m some privileged prick. Whatever. But I’m warning you now – leave Emma out of this, or you and I will never be brothers.”

Rocky studied me for a long while before his features softened and his shoulders drooped forward. “Look, I’m sorry. I was being a dick. I know I don’t always show it, but I’m actually really happy for you, man. And good for you. I’m glad you found someone.”

The tension faded as I relaxed once more. “Thank you.”

“And a baby too, huh? Is it a boy or girl?”

“We don’t know. We’re waiting to find out.”

“Oh, how upper class of you,” he said, smirking. The twinkle in his eye told me he was just kidding, though, so I shook off the offense.

“You suck.” I smiled back.

“I’m just jealous. You’re banging a debutante, and I’m surrounded by a bunch of hairy asses. It’s been a while for me, if you know what I mean. I guess you heard that Tori and me split. She just up and left.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“I mean I could see her leaving my sorry ass, but to abandon the kids?” Rocky shook his head, looking away in disgust. “I just, I wish I could be there for them, you know? I mean, Shelby is their goddamn guardian. How scary is that?”

I laughed. “Horror-movie-level scary. Anyway, if you don’t beat anyone to a bloody pulp in the next six months, you should get out of here on good behavior.”

“How likely is that?” he asked, with a glint in his eye.

“What, the bloody pulp part or the good behavior?”

“Either.”

“Rocky. Just keep it together. If not for yourself, then for the kids.”

“I know,” he sighed. “How are they, anyway?”

“Wild. Both of them. Nike’s jumping all over the place; he says he wants to be like me. And Posy, oh man, she gives me a run for my money.”

“Well, shit, that must be a whole damn lot then.”

“Rocky. This is why,” I said shaking my head in amusement. I realized there was no point in being offended by his ‘privileged life’ digs. If being ‘rich’ was all he had to hold against me, I’d be damn lucky.

My brother smiled, a far-off expression on his face. “I know you probably won’t believe me, Finn, but I really am trying to be better. I earned my GED, and I’m learning a trade. When I get out of here, I’m done with all stupid, illegal shit. I want to be a father to my kids, like you’re going to be to yours. In fact, I plan to find me some nice, rich girl too. Does Miss McKallister have any sisters?”

“None for you.”

Although it was meant to be a joke, Rocky took immediate offense. “Okay, I get it. Not good enough. Story of my fucking life.”

The mood shifted. This had always been Rocky’s downfall – he was too sensitive to criticism, even if it was only perceived. Although he’d be the first to make jokes about someone else, he couldn’t take the same in return. Under all that blustery bravado, the real Regnar the Viking was not the badass he pretended to be. In many ways, Rocky was still that aimless little kid running wild and trying to find his place in a chaotic world. And I, at least, shouldered some of the blame.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And I’m sorry I left you behind all those years ago. Maybe if I’d stayed, you wouldn’t be behind bars now.”

“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. If you want the truth, Finn, I spent a good bit of time being jealous as hell of you. You got everything, and I got shit. But I’ve come to realize something: no one handed you anything more than they handed me. You were just smarter and nicer and more diplomatic in your approach. You weren’t afraid to take the chances offered to you, and you made a better life for yourself. Nothing wrong with that. When it comes right down to it, I have no one to blame but myself. I had the same opportunities you did, I just was too stupid to take advantage of them. And now, I’m here and there you are. You can blame yourself all you want; but trust me, Indiana-Jones, you didn’t put me here, my piss-poor decision-making did.”

* * *

Emma gripped my hand, screaming as another contraction swept through her. Nine hours and counting. As a stuntman, I’d been shot by terrorists and hit by cars and chucked off roofs, but nothing compared to watching the woman I loved suffer. After the newest round of cramping eased, I locked eyes with Michelle, who was looking as flushed and helpless as I was. I think I spoke for all of us when I said this couldn’t be over quickly enough.

Watching Emma, the determination and pain in her eyes, made me reflect back to my own mother and the day of my messy birth. As much as we poked at and made fun of her dubious decisions that day, the fact remained she’d been barely more than a kid, scared and alone, trying to deal with the secret that had just tumbled out of her. I couldn’t imagine her going through such a thing without the loving support Emma and I were enveloped in now.

Shelby was there in the waiting room, along with the entire McKallister clan. Although I’m sure she was eager to meet the new addition, she was even more excited to meet Jake. On a piss break, I’d caught her huddled in a corner with several members of Emma’s family, including Jake and Casey who were both laughing their asses off at something she’d said. Instinctively I knew whatever it was had something embarrassing to do with me.

Listening from behind a wall, I only caught the last part of her story.

“So then Indiana-Jones…”

Enough with the action figure name, Mom!

“Comes up to me with the computer…”

No, she’s not! She wouldn’t!

“And it’s just filled with pop up after pop up of vanilla porn, right?”

No. No. No.

“And right smack dab in the middle of the screen was that damn fake FBI notice. The virus locked his computer, and there was this flashing warning box, promising to send a team of federal agents over to arrest him if he didn’t immediately submit a credit card payment for $500.”

SHELBY!

“I mean, the poor kid had no choice but to show me, thinking he was going to the slammer and all.”

How was I supposed to know it was a scam? I was fourteen!

“And the best part was, not only did he get caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but he embarrassed the hell out of himself… for nothing. Classic.”

And just like that, the goodwill I’d been feeling toward Shelby was gone.

* * *

“This is it, Emma, the final push.”

Emma looked at me with both fear and excitement. In a few seconds, our lives were going to change. We’d prepared for this moment, but now that it was finally here, I wasn’t sure I was ready. Emma shocked me from my doubt by strangling my hand with such force that I was actually forced to call out my safe word. “Discombobulated. Discombobulated.”

Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that safe words didn’t exist during childbirth. Right in the middle of the push, Emma looked over at me and I swear she smirked just before saying, “You should have said butterscotch.”

And with that, Emma made her final stand, bearing down with a guttural scream. I wasn’t sure, but it was entirely possible that several small bones snapped in my swollen hand.

A few seconds passed before we heard the first shrill cries.

“Emma? Finn? Meet your baby girl.”