Addicted

Chapter 18

Marshall-

" Daddy why aren't Hailie and Laney coming too?" Whitney asks when I help buckle her seat belt in the car.

I sigh, " Because Hailie is sicky, and Laney doesn't want to come to the studio." I pull on her seat belt one more time to make sure it's in the socket thing, and close the door. I open my door and climb inside the car, and put on my own seat-belt.

" Why is Hailie sick?" 

How come kids ask so many questions goddammit? " Because she caught the flu from one of her other friends." Or so Kim tells me.

"Oh," She considers this, " Why doesn't Laney like the studio anymore?"

I start to pull out of the driveway, "Because she thinks it's boring." I tell her.

Whitney smacks her lips and frowns, probably feeling bad for me thinking Laney hates the studio. " Well Daddy," She says smiling, " I love the studio!"

I smile at her in the review mirror, " I'm glad baby-girl."

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When we pull in the studio's parking lot, I wonder how the hell am I going to get Whitney inside( and me) without causing a seen.

"Daddy, why didn't we just go use your studio at home?" Whitney asks, probably thinking of the same problem I'm thinking. 

Yeah, Marshall, why didn't we use the fucking studio in the fucking house?

Oh that's right, because I'm a RETARD.

I look at her, " You know what baby, that would have been a great idea."

"Do we run inside?" Whitney looks out the window.

Run? Is that even possible for a man my age? " Yeah, Whitney, that's a good idea." I tell her.

I open the door lighting fast, and rip open Whitney's door, and she climbs out, and I take her hand and jog/run to the door. We both run inside, without getting mauled/killed. 

Whitney lets go of my hand, "Daddy that was fun!" She beams at me, and then walks down the hallway.

"Where are you going Whit?" I ask

She looks at me like I'm crazy, " Duh, like the studio."

She knows the way? Just like that? Should I be proud that she payed attention, or disappointed  in myself that I take her here so much when I should be at home playing games with her?  

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"Weeeeeeeehhhhhhh" Whitney squeals while spinning my spinning chair in the studio. The only problem is is that she's been yelling and squealing for the last half an hour while I'm trying to concentrate on the song I'm writing. 

I stop the chair in mid-spin, " Whitney, you need to stop," I give her a stern look and take a sip of my soda and go back to working.

"But Daddyyyyyyyy!" She whines

"Whitney, I need to work." 

"But you always work."

I stop in mid-scribble, "What?"

She slumps in her chair a little, " You are always working when we come over, you never play games!" She eyes tear up and little, and she rubs her nose on her sleeve.

"Honey," I say, my heart breaking a bit, I mean who wants to hear there kid say that?," In 10 minutes we'll leave, and play some Candyland at home, okay?"

She gives me a smile, "Okay!"

Quiet lasts for about, let's see, 74 seconds.

" Daddy can I play in the hallway?"

"Uhhhh, yeah . . ." I say not really paying attention.

About 9 minutes later, I have all my stuff packed and ready to go.

"Whitney," I yell, "Let's go!"

No response.

"Whit, I'm going to leave without you." I call again.

No response.

"Whitney, baby?" I yell again, this time in terror, what is she was kidnapped, what if she's lost, omigod,omigod, holy shit.

I run to the door and look out, " Whitney?"

And there she is, hand in hand with someone no other than . . .

Camila

Fuck.