Only a couple of weeks after telling the family, I confronted the first visible change. The dress pants from my favorite Prada suit no longer fit. No matter how much I tried keeping them buttoned, they snapped open.

Of course, I left in a sour mood, after digging up the clothes Justin had insisted I keep. The twat had an ulterior motive. He’d secretly planned for this moment.

As if my morning being ruined wasn’t enough, I got one phone call from my favorite loafers store in New York, which I’d started helping with ad campaigns a few years ago, telling me the latest ad hadn’t helped them at all. No one seemed to like what my stupid Art Department had done.

And to make my morning even better, Travis from Babylon called with fabulous news. Nigel, the DJ, quit after fighting with Chuck, the bartender.

While I set the artists to work, I tried to convince Nigel to come back. He told me he couldn’t, and that he was sorry.

That left me DJ-less on the most important night at Babylon—Twink Tuesdays. He knew what twinks liked listening to these days.

Ted heard me bitching about my newest problem, and he had Blake call me, telling me his boyfriend knew people. Blake had a long list of names for me.

I was halfway through the list, seriously doubting that Blake had any normal friends. All the guys I talked to in the past couple of hours sounded like ex-Crystal queens, or seriously fucked in the head people.

I was currently on the phone with another sorry specimen who hadn’t even heard of Babylon.

“Ba-by-lon. It’s a nightclub. On Liberty Avenue,” I explained slowly, tired of repeating myself.

“What exactly do you want me to do? Dance?”

Fuck. Me. “I asked if you’d like to be a DJ.”

“Uh, what?”

“Disk Jockey. You know…fuck with the music.”

“Oh, I could try. I never did that.”

Not another one who’d like to experience new shit. “Why don’t you take your fucking experiencing to Poppers?” I slammed the receiver down. “Fucking pieces of shit.”

“Is it a bad time?” Justin was hovering in the doorway with his hands on Munchkin’s ears.

I pushed away from my desk, opening my arms.

Patrick squirmed out of Justin’s arms until he was on the floor, then rushed to me. “Daddy!”

“Hey, Munchkin.” I placed him on my lap, relaxing instantly. “Don’t I get a kiss?” I raised an eyebrow at Sunshine.

Patrick took my words as if addressed to him. He cupped my face, plating two wet ones on each of my cheeks.

His gesture made both Justin and me laugh, but his little hands grabbed my attention. I lifted one of them in front of my eyes, and groaned loudly.

“The fuck, Sunshine?” I gaped in horror at the dark blue nails on our kid.

“It was your idea for him to have a sleepover at Emmett’s. This happened.” Justin shrugged. “And you made me late this morning with your queening over clothes. I didn’t have time to take the nail polish off.”

“They’re pretty! They match my eyes.” Patrick fluttered his lashes.

Jesus Christ. “You’re forbidden to spend any more time around Auntie Em, are we clear?”

“Why?” Tears spilled from his eyes.

My usual strong front to the sight of his tears had dissolved no thanks to my rampant hormones.

Justin came to our aid with tissues. “I’ll go find some nail polish remover. Do you think Cynthia has any?”

“You can ask.” I sniffed, wiping my eyes. “Stop crying, Munchkin. We talked about this. If you cry, I cry too.”

“But I want to see Auntie Em again!!!”

“Okay, but I need to have a talk to him about painting your nails. Boys don’t get their nails painted.”

“They do. Auntie Em painted his black.”

Fuck you, Honeycutt!

Justin chose that moment to return with nail paint remover, and took Munchkin to my bathroom.

I grabbed my phone, sending Emmett a text message he’d never forget.

If you dare mess with my child, I’ll fucking run you over with my car! I don’t give a fuck if you’re effeminate and love pink and glitter and NAIL POLISH!! I dare you to put any girly shit anywhere near my son!

The phone buzzed in my hand, and I answered without checking the caller ID.

“Don’t fucking grovel at me. I might never forgive you,” I barked.

There was a long pause on the other line. It made me check my phone’s screen.

Shit. It wasn’t Honeycutt. It was some unknown number.

“Hello?” I inquired.

“Uh, Mr. Kinney?”

“Yes. It’s me. Who is this?”

“I’m Greg Walsh. I heard you’re looking for a DJ at Babylon.”

“Yes, I am. Do you have experience?” I was ready to hang up if he told me he was looking for something new to try.

“I worked for seven years at Hot Boyz in New York. I don’t know if you know—”

“I do. I’ve been there. The music was great,” I answered. “What made you quit?”

“My boyfriend.” He chuckled nervously. “I mean, he didn’t make me quit. He’s a player. A piano player, and he’s been offered a spot at the Pittsburgh Opera. It’s only normal I follow him, right?”

“I suppose.”

“I’ve been in town for a few days. I just passed by Babylon and saw the sign on the door. Do you still need a DJ?”

“Yes, actually I do. You’re lucky I’ve been to Hot Boyz and know you have decent taste. Come by later this evening. Say, around six? Tell the bouncer your name. I’ll call and let him know to expect you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kinney. I’ll be there at six.”

“All right.”

We hung up and I shot Nick a text message to expect this Greg later.

“What was that?” Justin returned with Munchkin in his arms.

“I found a new DJ for Babylon. Nigel left after fighting with Chuck. Should I make a policy about employees being forbidden to hook up?” I picked Munchkin, depositing him on my lap. Thankfully, his nails were once again a natural pink. “You’re much prettier this way.” I kissed his little fingers.

“Spin, Daddy!”

Ugh. I’d made the mistake to spin on the chair with him, not that long ago, and now he demanded it all the time.

I obliged, because I couldn’t possibly say no to him. “So to what do I owe the special visit?” I caught Justin’s eye.

“Someone insisted we pay you a visit.”

“Is that so, Munchkin?” I lifted him above my head. He immediately took the airplane position, squealing. I continued to spin until I got dizzy, but his giggles and squeals were worth it.

Justin watched us amused from the couch. He still couldn’t believe how I’ve changed over the years, and truthfully, I couldn’t either. Munchkin brought out the child in me.

I was in the middle of kissing his stomach, when Cynthia came into my office, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I know you’re busy, but you wouldn’t believe who came.”

“The President?” I didn’t turn to her, keeping my whole attention to Munchkin.

“You wish. It’s Gardner. I have no clue what he wants. He just demanded to talk to you.”

I hid my smile in Munchkin’s stomach. I knew what Gardner wanted. I’d managed to steal one of his greatest accounts, the other day. It didn’t even take much effort on my side.

Gardner had Baby Clothes & Toys store ever since he bought Ryder out. I never thought anything of it. Until the other day when I browsed their website and couldn’t find shit, especially when some links were even broken. In a spur of a moment decision, I picked the phone and called.

While I talked to their marketing director, I remembered Gardner had them, and like that, I propositioned them a new ad campaign and a website that actually worked, better organized and more accessible.

“Do I let him in?” Cynthia inquired.

She barely got the words out, when Gardner breezed past her into my office.

Holding Munchkin securely against my chest with one arm, I sat up. “Vance, long time, no see.”

His eyes stayed on Patrick for a long time, before he finally looked at me. “Cut the crap, Brian.”

I turned to Justin, jerking my head, communicating without words that he should take Munchkin. “I’ll see you at home.” I kissed his forehead, before placing him in his dada’s arms and giving dada a big kiss.

Then I was alone with my former boss.

“I see you’re still with that…”

“Surprises never cease,” I sneered, slumping in my chair. “Why are you here?”

“You know very well why I’m here! I accepted you stealing all the best clients, under the pretext you brought them to Vanguard.”

“I did,” I reminded him.

“Not BCT.”

“Even the name is stupid. No one would buy their things. What kind of ad man are you? I already thought a new name for them, along with a wonderful campaign.”

”Why do you even care about this store?” He sat across from me, glaring daggers.

“Did you somehow not see Munchkin? I’m interested. Besides, this store has potential on the local market. It’s much cheaper than Babies R Us or Toys R Us. They are two in one. They have clothes and toys for children all ages, from newborn until pre-teens.”

“I see you’ve done your research,” he grumbled. “As for that little boy? I thought your son was older.”

I was impressed he remembered about Gus. “Yes, Gus is nine. Patrick is five.” I smiled widely when he frowned in confusion. “Look, Gardner, you had this account for over a decade. What did you do for them? Nothing. I looked over their factsheet. They barely survive. These are hard times.”

“If you play the daddy card and having more insight, I’ll let you know my wife—”

“I’ve heard. Congratulations. It has nothing to do with being a father or not.” Maybe a little, but he didn’t have to know. “How about I make you a deal. I’ll talk to…James, I think the marketing director’s name was. I’ll proposition to him to allow Kinnetik to work on their next campaign. If they don’t like the outcome, they can continue with you.”

“So they terminate their contract with me, come to you…then how pray tell they’d return to me?”

I wanted them so badly, I didn’t think much before talking. “I’ll do this one for free—a test. To see if they like mine or yours. I challenge you to make a new ad for them, something different. Let’s see who wins.”

“You’re on.” He leaned forward to shake my hand. “We both know they’ll continue with me.” Then he left.

Fuck. This meant a lot of time spent at the office to work on my newest challenge.

I stormed into the Art Department. Everyone stopped what they were doing, eyeing me apprehensively.

After scrutinizing them, I decided who I wanted on the team for the new account. “Mark, Layla, Steven, Allan—follow me.” As I passed my new intern, I remembered him having good ideas for the last ad we created. “You too,” I muttered his way. I should learn his name.

In the conference room, I showed them the website.

“So what do you think of it?”

They shrugged, mumbling that it was nice, unsure what they should answer.

“Seriously? You like this crap? You’d actually spend more than ten seconds on this website, Layla?” I knew she had recently returned from her maternity leave. She blushed, looking down. I pushed the laptop toward her. “Find the pacifiers.”

With shaky fingers, she tried finding what I asked, but soon forgot about being uncertain and got aggravated.

“They’re called Suckies,” I explained, turning the laptop to Steven. “Find me the strollers.”

After a few minutes, he raised an eyebrow at me. “There are none.”

“Actually there are. Type ‘stroller’ into the search bar.”

“But then…the button doesn’t work.”

“What we’re going to do is make a new website. From scratch. Also, I want a kick-ass ad campaign—something new, hip, something to attract not only parents, but relatives as well. Okay? You’d be surprised how seldom a parent actually buys these things. It’s the grandparents, the aunts and uncles, who buy clothes and toys for the baby.”

They eyed me impressed. I had no idea why, though.

“Can we do this? You have one month.”

“I’m not sure how I can help…” The young intern mumbled.

“You’re responsible with creating the website. Now, get to work. All of you! I want to see every day something new.”

I was going to win this account. Vance had no idea who he was picking a fight with. If he hadn’t learned his lesson with Stockwell, he’d learn now to never step on my toes.