Breakneck

Chapter 3: Balance

Two weeks later, Cal had still not returned. Sara had been buried and Luke had stopped crying every morning when it was me, not his mother, who lifted him out of his crib. My father was nothing short of incensed about the whole situation, and I therefore hadn't left the house for anything but school since Luke had arrived. I was ridiculously horny, but I couldn't leave the house because my father kept making noises about adoption and wringing Cal Anderson's neck for saddling him with a baby, so I resigned myself to jerking off during Luke's naps. It was a poor substitute.

This is the only reasonable excuse I can come up with for why I did what I did when Brian showed up at my school, almost three weeks after we'd fucked in the bathroom at the hospital.

I caught sight of him as soon as I pushed open the doors to leave, leaning against his jeep with his sunglasses. I stopped in my tracks, blinking.

"Justin?" Daphne asked, turning around to look at me.

"Brian's here," I said, staring. He hadn't yet noticed me.

"Oh my God." Daphne's mouth fell open into an astonished grin. "Oh my God, Justin, what do you think he wants?"

A shiver ran down my spine, unbidden, and when I looked up Brian was looking in my direction. The sunglasses made it impossible to see what he was looking at, but I knew that his eyes were focused on me.

"Wait for me, okay?" I asked, and I pressed a kiss to her cheek and took off before she could deny me. Excitement was thrumming in my veins—Brian was here! At my school!

I bounded down the stairs and across the lawn, stopping just short of running into Brian.

"Hey!" I said breathlessly, unable to contain the huge grin that had broken out on my face.

"So," Brian drawled, tipping his head forward so that his sunglasses slid down his nose slightly. "You are alive."

"Duh," I said happily, tugging at the lapel on his jacket. "What else would I be?"

"Well, we haven't seen you in three weeks," Brian told me with a casual shrug. "Debbie and Emmett were having a collective queen out. They were afraid you'd been sent to Jesus camp or something."

I couldn't stop grinning. Brian had been worried about me.

"Nope, no Jesus camp. Just family stuff. You know how it is. Anyway, they'd probably send me to military school, not Jesus camp."

"Uh-huh."

I nodded enthusiastically. Somewhere in the back of my head, a voice was telling me that I was acting like a puppy on crack, but after three weeks with no Brian, I couldn't control myself. I was just so goddamned happy.

"And you, uh..." Brian cleared his throat. "You healed okay?"

"Of course. I used some cream and it was fine," I said, rolling my eyes. It was true. I hadn't had any lingering pain since I'd returned to school. But then I stopped, sobering a bit. "Anyway, I told you, I wanted it like that. I needed it. You really helped me."

"Aren't you a little young to be self-medicating with sex?" Brian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing you haven't done before."

"I do so enjoy being a role model for gay younglings everywhere."

I was smug. "You know you do. The idea of plunging into a tight little virgin ass, corrupting today's youth..." I glanced up at him and licked my lips. "It totally makes you hard. I would know."

"Yeah, whatever," Brian said impatiently, shifting.

I glanced down at his pants, and my grin widened. "Oops. Sorry about that."

Brian cleared his throat. "Sorry's bullshit."

"Then let me make it up to you in another way," I said, closing the distance between us and fingering the top button of his jeans.

Brian stared down at me, somewhere between amused and disbelieving. "We're in your school parking lot. Surrounded by the straight, impressionable, virginal youth of upper class Pittsburgh."

I popped the button and slid my hand down his pants, leaning forward so that I was flush against him. "Should be even more of a turn-on, then."

The height difference between us worked in my favor, here, and I didn't have to lean down at all. His cock was ramrod straight when my hand closed around it, and I gave it two strokes before reaching down and running the base of my palm of the underside. Brian let out a choked noise and put his hands on my shoulders, clenching painfully. I grinned into his chest and did it once more, and then closed my hand around his cock again and, gripping from the base, corkscrewed my hand down his length. Brian's hips bucked against mine in response, and his fingers dug into my shoulders painfully.

He grunted something in my ear, but I didn't catch it and didn't really care what it was anyway. Pre-come was leaking down his cock, giving me a little lubricant to work with, and I pulled harder, tightening my hand as I went down his shaft. His breathing was hot in my ear, hips jerking in time with my hand, thrusting into my first, head tilted back.

I ran my fingers up the underside of his cock, and with a shudder and a stilted gasp, Brian came.

He fell back against the Jeep, panting, and I went with him, carefully sliding my hand out of his pants.

"You little shit," Brian said breathlessly, releasing my shoulders. "Do you know how much that pair of underwear cost?"

I pushed myself back and glanced down. "Probably less than your jeans." And then I wiped my hand on his thigh.

"What the fuck?" Brian all but yelped, leaping out of reach and then staring in horror at his pants.

I shrugged. "They're already ruined. And I needed to wipe my hand off on something."

"The next time I want a three hundred dollar hand job, I'll fucking pay for it in cash," Brian snarled, attempting to brush the wet stain off of his jeans. "Christ."

Like I was gonna apologize.

"Hey, Justin?"

I turned my head and saw Daphne coming down the sidewalk.

"If you want to be home before your dad, we've got to leave now," she said, jerking her thumb in the direction of her car.

"Brian, this is Daphne."

Brian gave me his extra special And I Care Why? expression, and I glared before turning back to Daphne.

"Daph, can you give me, like, two minutes?"

She shrugged. "I'm not the one who'll get yelled at."

I felt my face flush. Um, hello? Brian was standing right here, and raging fathers were so not cool.

"That's all right, Daphne," Brian said sweetly, swinging into his Jeep. "I was just leaving."

"But—"

"And I want to see your ass out on Liberty Avenue this week," Brian declared, leveling a finger at me. "A young boy such as yourself needs a balanced diet of sucking, fucking and rimming in order to succeed in life."

"Uh. I'll try," I said, and then I kicked myself for sounding so lame. "I mean, yeah, definitely!"

Brian didn't reply, and I watched as he started the Jeep and then reversed out of the parking lot and into the street.

"Come on," Daphne said, seizing my arm and pulling me away from where I'd been standing on the sidewalk, grinning like an idiot.

Now that Brian was gone, my brain was slowly coming back up to speed. Holy shit. I'd given Brian a hand job in my school parking lot—with, like, hundreds of breeders roaming around—and gotten away with it. Holy shit. I was getting hard just thinking about it.

I blinked and shook my head; Brian's parting statement came back to me.

"Hey, Daph?" I said slowly.

"What?"

"You don't have plans Friday night, right?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Is this a babysitting proposition?"

"Um. Maybe?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll give you all the juicy details," I offered, giving her a winning smile.

Daphne snorted. "Yeah, except you'd give me those anyway."

I racked my brain. "Um. I'll write you up a Cliff's Notes version of As I Lay Dying, chapter by chapter. By Monday."

Daphne's eyebrows shot up. "Deal."

"And you have to drive me to Liberty Avenue," I added in quickly.

"Still deal. If you measure my plants for that stupid AP bio project next week, I'll watch him next Friday, too."

I grinned. "I love you."

*

Luke had mastered the art of crawling last week, and with his newfound mobility he was dead set on the fact that he didn't want to be carried anywhere. Ever. I managed to get him into Dad's study, but as soon as we were in I had to put him down because he was already well past whimpering.

"I'm going out tomorrow night," I announced, my eyes on Luke as he start crawling across the white carpeting.

"Excuse me?" Dad said, setting down his pen.

"I'm paying Daphne to babysit Luke while I go out tomorrow night," I said evenly. "I wanted you to know. And I wanted to ask if I could borrow your cell phone, in case Daphne needs to contact me."

"And where are you going to go?" Dad asked, raising an eyebrow. "You can't just take a break from being a parent whenever you're feeling too stressed, Justin—you signed up to be in it for the long haul, and that's what you've got to give."

"I'm going out," I repeated. Inwardly, I was seething, but I didn't want to yell. Not with Luke in the room. "I'm using a babysitter, just like you and Mom used to use when you went to the country club once a week."

Dad stared at me with a mixture of anger and surprise, but he didn't say anything. He seemed to be expecting me to take my words back.

"Can I please borrow your phone tomorrow night?" I asked again, struggling to keep my voice level.

"No, you may not," Dad said. "If you want a cell phone, you can get a job and pay for one."

I inhaled and exhaled three times before I managed a curt, "Thanks anyway."

I bent down and scooped up Luke, who burst into tears.

"Shut the door on your way out, please," Dad requested, and it took everything in me not to slam it as I did.

*

"He shouldn't give you any trouble tonight," I told Daphne, my eyes on Luke, who was strapped in his car seat with his pacifier, looking around with wide eyes. I'd read in a baby book that it was at the end of eight months that a baby's vision really sharpened to adult standards, and from the way Luke had been watching everything with a new attentiveness, I was willing to bet that he was seeing a lot clearer now. "He'll get cranky about twenty minutes before bed time, but he'll settle down really fast once you get him in the crib. And read to him for at least ten minutes before he goes to bed. He shouldn't wake up once he's down. Well, sometimes he wakes up around three, but he's been doing that less lately."

"Justin, I have babysat before," Daphne said. "Do we really have to do this stereotypical, overprotective father bit?"

I bit my lip. "No. It's just—I wish I had a phone with me so that you could get in contact with me if anything goes wrong."

"Do you know Brian's number?" Daphne asked. "I could call him if something comes up."

I didn't know if I'd end up with Brian tonight, although I was definitely planning on it. And anyway, even if I didn't end up with him, he'd find a way to track me down if it was an emergency. I knew he would.

"He didn't exactly give it to me," I said haltingly. "So, um... He might not be happy about that. And don't mention Luke, if you have to call—just say it's a family emergency."

"Whatever. There's pen and paper in the glove box."

I scribbled the number down and jammed it into Daphne's purse, which sat between the two front seats of the car.

"Drop me off on the next block," I told her, straightening. "I want to stop by the diner and talk to Debbie, if she's working tonight."

"Are you going to Babylon tonight?" Daphne asked.

I shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Whatever happens, I'll be home before six. That's when Dad gets up to go golfing."

I felt a burst of righteous anger at the thought of my father—again. I'd been stewing over this since last night. I was all but paying for room and board at home, shunned to my room, and he thought that he could tell me what to do? Why did I have to sneak around, pretending to obey his rules, when he barely acknowledged me? Where did he get off, ordering me around?

A gurgle from the backseat pulled me out of my thoughts. Luke had spit out his pacifier, and though he'd managed to pick it up again, he couldn't work out how to put it back in his mouth. His arm swung around and he was making distressed sounds that were only increasing in volume.

"Are you being a drama queen?" I asked, reaching back and helping him guide the pacifier back into his mouth. "Look at you, making a big deal out of nothing. You just like the attention, don't you? See that? All better."

Luke sucked at his pacifier contentedly, eyes fixed on my face.

I felt a rise of guilt, all of a sudden.

"We're here," Daphne said as the car pulled to a stop.

I turned away from Luke to look at her, and then I looked back at him. "Maybe..."

"Justin," Daphne interrupted. "You deserve some free time. You haven't been out in three weeks! Just because you have Luke doesn't mean that you have to give up on Brian."

I exhaled. "Yeah."

She shoved me. "Go! Go get laid. Luke and I will be fine."

I hesitated, but then I remembered jerking Brian off in public the other day, in my school parking lot of all places, and then I knew Daphne was right. I loved Brian. I loved Luke. There was room for two men in my life, even if I had to claw out a space for them with my bare hands.

"Bye, Luke," I said, twisting around to face him one last time. I kissed two of my fingers, and then pressed them to Luke's cheek. "Daddy loves you."

"Do I get a kiss?" Daphne asked.

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you. I mean it, Daph—you're the best friend a gay single teenage father could ask for."

She beamed.

I got out of the car and was tempted to watch her drive away, but I forced myself to keep walking down the block toward the diner. No guilt. Not tonight. Tonight was about me.

*

Debbie was working at the diner. I hadn't taken three steps inside the diner before I heard an excited "Sunshine!", and I couldn't stop the grin that broke on my face. It was nice to be greeted so enthusiastically by someone who wasn't Luke, for a change.

"Hi," I said, waving a little.

Debbie bustled over, tray balanced on one hand, and smacked me on the back of the head. "And where the hell have you been? I was worried sick about you!"

"Sorry?" I tried.

"Damn right you are," she declared, before steering me into a booth. "I told that asshole to check up on you last week, and I'd have done it myself if I didn't have to work all the fuckin' time."

It took me a moment to realize 'that asshole' actually meant Brian Kinney.

"I didn't mean to worry anyone," I said. "I was just busy with family stuff."

Debbie's eyes narrowed. "You come out to your parents, Sunshine?"

I shook my head. "No. Well. My mom knows, but she's pretending she doesn't. And there's no way I'm coming out to my dad—he'd shit a brick."

"Fuckin' asshole," Debbie said, while fondly patting my cheek. "Sunshine, don't you ever let anyone get in the way of what you want. You deserve to get your brains fucked out of you like any other horny kid your age—hell, with that ass, you were fuckin' made for it. Now, what'll it be?"

I flushed. "Thanks, Deb. But I can't really stay—I want to get to Woody's..."

She raised an eyebrow. "Looking for a certain someone?"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?" I asked brightly.

Debbie clucked at me. "Honey, in Brian's case, I think the only thing he's ever going to be fond of is your absence. Get a different hang up. You deserve better."

"I can't think of anything better than Brian Kinney," I told her, and then I raised my eyebrows. "And half of Liberty Avenue agrees."

"Yeah, the half that he hasn't fucked," Debbie said, rolling her eyes.

But I was confident. Brian Kinney didn't do repeats—except he'd repeated me twice in the last month, and let me give him a hand job in the school parking lot. I was special.

I said goodbye to Debbie (who slapped my ass, shoved a lemon bar in my hand before I got out the door, and made me promise to call her if I ever needed to talk) and then headed down to Woody's. It was nearing Luke's bedtime, and he was probably giving Daphne a hard time with things right now. He was probably even more cranky than usual, because I wasn't there. He'd just gotten used to having me tuck him in at night instead of Sara, and now I'd gone and dumped him with someone he'd barely spent more than a few hours with.

"Stop it," I muttered, shaking my head. "He's fine. He'll see you in the morning."

I pushed all thoughts of Luke out of my head as I stepped into Woody's. Tonight was about me.

And I was in luck—I immediately spotted Emmett sitting at a table by himself, though there was a coat slung over the chair next to him, so he was probably with Ted or Michael. I bounded over, plunking down in the chair with the coat on it.

"Hey!"

"Justin!" Emmett practically squealed. He dove over the table to give me a huge hug, squeezing me tightly. "Oh, I was so worried about you, baby! Where did you go?"

"I had family stuff," I said dismissively. "Don't worry, I'm back now. What did I miss?"

Emmett snorted. "Absolutely nothing."

"Nuh-uh," I said, playfully hitting him on the shoulder. "I was gone for three weeks—something must have happened."

Emmett's eyes cast around the room for a moment, but I knew he'd given in. "Well... you didn't hear it from me, but—"

"Gossiping already?" a familiar voice asked from behind me. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and your self control is self-destructing already?"

I turned around to see Brian standing there, looking simultaneously well-fucked and amused.

"Who, me?" Emmett asked innocently.

Brian rolled his eyes, and upon making a complete circle they landed on me.

I grinned. "I'm here!"

"And sitting in my seat."

"What are you gonna do about it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Brian smirked. Then he snagged my ear, pinching it hard, and dragged me up and out of the seat, ignoring my yelps of pain. Upon reclaiming his seat, I was released.

I glared, rubbing at my ear. "That hurt."

"Then don't write checks your tush can't cash," Brian said, unaffected.

"My tush," I said, "is my most valuable asset."

And then I sat down on his lap.

"Kiss it better," I demanded, angling my ear to his mouth while wriggling in his lap.

I felt his cock twitch under my ass, and he tried to shove me off but I managed to keep my position. With more wiggling. Brian was clearly not used to having to say no to his dick, and that was working in my favor.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" I asked, when Brian finally gave up on trying to toss me off. "Where's the rest of the gang?"

"Teddy doesn't do Liberty Avenue anymore," Emmett said wistfully. "He's still a little freaked about what happened. And Michael—"

"Michael is on a date," Brian said disgustedly.

"That's, um, terrible?" I said hesitantly.

"Fucking hell, of course it is! They haven't even fucked yet."

"Oh." Well. That was terrible.

"Breeders and dykes go on dates," Brian said distastefully. "Fags fuck. Dr. Dave and Mikey are kidding themselves with this fucking dog-and-pony show."

"Fucking is more fun than dating, anyway," I agreed, while privately thinking that without Michael standing around, breathing down Brian's neck and shooting me dirty looks, I had a much better shot at convincing Brian to fuck me tonight.

Brian, clearly pleased with me, bit down on my ear and tugged.

I grinned and shifted on his lap, which made his cock jump again.

Oh, yeah.

This was gonna be easy.

*

"You know what I think I'd be good at?" I asked, staring up at the ceiling.

There was no response from Brian, who was sprawled face-down over the mattress. I knew he was awake. Brian never went to sleep with cum stains on his chest.

I ignored his lack of response and went on. "Road head."

"Mm." Brian's head didn't come up, so the noise was muffled. "Probably."

"Let's go test that theory," I suggested.

Brian slowly rolled over so that he was on his back. Eyes closed, he gestured down with two fingers. "Go for it."

Laughing, I leaned over and kissed him. "No, I mean in the car. While you're driving. That's what road head is, jerk."

Brian did not look thrilled with me, and I quickly leaned in for another kiss.

"It would be hot," I promised, kissing him twice more and then letting my tongue trail down his neck to his chest. I started licking at the dried cum that was spattered across it. "You on the beltway doing 75, wind roaring in your ears, my throat swallowing your cock..."

"Yeah. Until I crash the car."

"You wouldn't," I said confidently.

Brian snorted, looking down at me with vaguely incredulous expression. "Is that right?"

"Unless you want to tell me that my ability to give head renders you that senseless."

"It might," Brian said, after a moment of consideration.

"But that's what would make it hot," I insisted, ignoring the burst of glee I felt at Brian's admission. I moved my tongue in circles around his right nipple, the cum long gone. "The risk. The thrill of not knowing."

"Except there would be no 'not knowing'." Brian sounded vaguely irritated now. "Because I know that if you blow me while I drive, it isn't going to end well."

But I was determined. "I need to try it sometime. And you're the best driver I know—you wouldn't let us crash. Would you rather I tried it on Emmett?"

"I'd rather you didn't give Emmett any kind of head."

I rolled my eyes. "That's not what I—"

"Christ! Will you drop it already?" Brian snapped, jerking away. He started pushing himself out of bed. "The answer is no. It might be a new concept, and I'm sure your parents never say it to you, but when I say no? It means I'm not fucking doing it!"

I gave him a sullen look. My plan to be sneaky down the drain, I tried blunt honesty instead.

"I need a ride home."

"In the morning," Brian said shortly, heading for the bathroom.

"It can't wait until then!" I clambered out after him. "I have to be home before my father gets up at six."

And for the record, I was not whining.

"What's Daddy gonna do if you're not home? Take away your trust fund? Be really disappointed in you?" Brian mocked. He was wetting a washcloth, and in the mirror, I could see his smirk.

That pissed me off.

"Fine. I'll just walk home," I decided. I marched back over to the bed and plucked my jeans off the ground.

"It's almost four in the morning."

"Well, you won't give me a ride." I shimmied into my jeans, thankful for the eighth time that night that I hadn't worn underwear, and then went for my shirt, which was on the complete opposite side of the bed. "And I've got to be home by six."

"Or what?" Brian asked.

"Or there'll be consequences," I snapped, thoughts of Luke suddenly springing up in my mind. Luke being taken away. Luke going up for adoption.

Shit, I really did have to get home.

I left the bedroom and walked over to the couch, where my jacket had been tossed when we'd first come into the loft. It would be a long walk home, but if I was fast, I could probably make it home on time. It was only a fifteen minute drive from the loft to the house, and that was with traffic, so if you figured an average speed of thirty-five miles per hour, that meant 8.75 miles, and if the average pedestrian walking speed was 4.25 miles per hour—

So I could probably make it. Under the assumption that the average walking speed was 4.25 miles per hour, because I was pulling that from a practice SAT problem I'd done a few days ago.

I was putting on my shoes when Brian suddenly spoke.

"For fuck's sake," he said loudly, stalking past me. He'd put on jeans. "You're not walking home."

I tried to suppress a tentative grin. "You're giving me a ride?"

"No." Brian plucked his wallet off the counter and pulled out two twenty dollar bills.

I frowned.

He handed me the money. "Here. Go hail a cab."

"But—"

"It's a five minute walk to Babylon. There're always cabs waiting outside the club around this time."

"Or you could give me a ride," I said hopefully, flashing him a Sunshine smile. "I live, like, fifteen minutes away. And then you'll know where I live, so you can stalk me whenever you want."

"If I wanted to stalk you—which, for the record, I don't—I could look you up in the phone book."

"You don't know my father's name," I pointed out.

"Go hail a cab, little boy," Brian said patiently. "Go on. Get home before Daddy wakes up."

"You'll save thirty-nine dollars," I said, waving the money in his face.

"It only costs me a dollar to take you home?" Brian asked doubtfully, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded. "Provided that your Jeep gets seventeen miles to the gallon, and the price of gas is..."

I trailed off at the expression on his face.

Right. Math was not cool.

"And I'll blow you at a stop sign," I threw in. "I'll blow you at every stop sign."

Brian stared at me.

I held my breath.

And then he grabbed me by my hair and forced my down to me knees. "Suddenly, I'm seeing stop signs," he growled.

I bent my head down so that he wouldn't see my grin.

*

When Luke woke me up around eight, I found myself squished into my twin bed with Daphne, who was power-snoring in a way that made me pity her future husband. And children. And immediate neighbors. She was sleeping like the dead so I let her be and, after changing into a pair of cargo pants and a long-sleeved shirt, took Luke to get him breakfast.

"I think Daddy's gonna take a morning nap, too," I told him as we descended the staircase. I'd slipped into the house around five. "Daddy didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Mom was, of course, already awake and doing the crossword puzzle. She offered morning pleasantries as I got Luke set up in his high chair. He got a handful of Cheerios while I started on his formula; Luke's coordination had been improving, and he was pretty good at feeding himself.

"So, where were you last night?" Mom asked.

I knew by her passive, would-be-casual tone that she was not happy with me. It was precisely why I had told Dad and not her.

"Out with some friends," I said lightly.

With the swipe of his hand, Luke sent half his Cheerios to the ground. He giggled.

I sighed. "See if I don't starve you to death, kid."

"Justin. You can't expect me to believe that, after twelve years, you've finally made a friend who isn't Daphne?"

Ouch.

"Does it matter what I was doing?" I asked, standing up and depositing the Cheerios into the trash can. The microwave dinged, and I went to get the formula.

"Were you with someone?" Mom pressed.

"Yes. Friends. I just told you that." I sat down next to Luke and offered the bottle.

Luke grabbed the bottle and started banging it vigorously. I quickly took it back and directed it to his mouth.

"I'm worried about you, Justin," Mom sighed, setting down her pen. "Even if you didn't have Luke, I'd be asking these questions. We used to be so close, and now I feel like I hardly know you!"

"It doesn't help that I'm shunned to my room whenever I'm home, does it?" I said moodily, watching Luke suck down his bottle. I wondered if giving head was a heritable trait, or if it was Mendelian. Or hell, maybe it wasn't genetic at all.

"I know your father hasn't made things easy for you..." Mom said haltingly.

I was silent, not taking my eyes off of Luke.

"I was thinking that maybe, if you talked to someone, it would help."

"A shrink?" I said disbelievingly.

"You've got to talk to someone, honey. It isn't healthy for you to be dealing with all this on your own."

"What, being a faggot?" I snapped. "Having a bastard child? Or having a total asshole for a father?"

Mom looked at me coolly. "Justin, I don't appreciate your attitude or your language. I'm only trying to help."

Luke, always aware of the emotional hue of the room, let the bottle fall and began to cry.

Then suddenly, Mom's eyes went behind me, and she pasted a smile on her face. "Good morning, Daphne."

"Morning, Mrs. Taylor," Daphne said politely, wandering into the kitchen in a sweater and shorts. She then, predictably, started cooing over the crying baby—trying to diffuse tension, no doubt. "What's the matter, Lukester? What's the matter with my Lukie Luke?"

"He's never going to learn his name if you keep mutating it," I said, for possibly the thousandth time.

"Is Daddy not feeding you right?" Daphne asked, taking the bottle from me. "Move over, Justin. The Lukinator wants his Auntie Daphne. Isn't that right? Yes, yes it is!"

Jesus Christ.

My son, ever the attention whore, was giggling and squealing at her words and happily took the bottle. I rolled my eyes and went to find the Lucky Charms.

But by the look on my mother's face, I knew that our conversation was far from over.