It took all Brian's control not to burn rubber on the way to the girls' house, but he didn't want to have to replace Ted's tires before he could return the Benz and reclaim his Vette. 

He turned into the driveway, the Mercedes jouncing a little, but didn't have to tap the horn before Melanie came out of the house with a howling JR in her arms, a large bag looped over one shoulder. Shit, thought Brian, who could hear the tyke's howls from inside the car. Jenny must be having more teething troubles.

The glaringly hot pink teething ring he noted Mel clenching in one hand as she neared the Benz confirmed his suspicion. Brian looked over his shoulder as Melanie opened the back door, vaguely worried that the kid was going to snot and slobber all over. Not that he'd have any trouble placing blame where it belong-

"Sorry," the frazzled bulldyke muttered, cutting into his thoughts. The apologetic shrug of one shoulder was abbreviated by her daughter's squirming.

"Doesn't help that I'm in a state over Gus," she observed. "I must be giving off bad vibes."

Maybe. Or it could just be JR taking after her father. According to Debbie, Michael had also started teething late, took forever for his teeth to grow in and was a ‘handful.' It was a strange thing to boast about, but Debbie and Mikey wouldn't shut up about it.

With a dismissive "Whatever," Brian turned his head back around to look out the windshield, a wary eye on the rearview mirror, through which he watched Melanie contend with the bawling, red-faced toddler.

He couldn't help - thank fuck - nor did he want to.

Brian was jonesing for a cigarette, but it wasn't worth the shit fit Theodore would throw to light up in the Mercedes.

"Fuck, I could use a fag," Melanie groused, wrestling with JR, who now had both feet firmly planted on the seat and refused to sit down.

Brian choked on nonexistent nicotine.

"Fug!" Jenny Rebecca screeched in imitation of her mom before emitting another wordless wail.

Lifting an eyebrow, Brian locked eyes with Mel in the rearview mirror.

Melanie's lips twisted in a wry smile. "I'm not even sure which F-word that's supposed to be."

"F-a-g isn't a curse word - it's who you call when the going gets tough."

That earned Brian an eye-roll from the bulldyke.

"But I'll put ten dollars in the ‘vakey fun' for you," Brian offered. "It'll make Sonnyboy happy."

"It will," Melanie agreed. "I'll have to ask the newbie at JKL to stop calling cigarettes f-a-g-s. I'm picking up bad habits."

Sweeping JR's legs out from under her, Mel at last got the toddler to sit down, and with one last hiccupping cry, Jenny went blessedly silent. She then gave Brian a gummy smile - startlingly similar to Gus' smile, if a bit toothier - and scooted over to sit behind him.

Mel looked at him in question, but Brian wasn't bothered. He didn't care where the junior she-wolf sat as long as the earsplitting wails stopped.

His untroubled attitude didn't even last till Brian had backed out of the girls' driveway. Right as the rear tires rolled over the edge of the cement apron and onto the pavement, something made Brian lurch.

Brian had just been thinking that the girls needed to have the driveway graded to decrease the drop, and for a split second, he was concerned that there was something wrong with the shock absorbers. Fuck, Ted was going to subject him to the mother of all tirades for dinging his car.

Then, right before the front wheels bumped over the curb, another kick banged into the seat and Brian recognized the cause of the first jolt. The kick didn't hurt, of course - Jenny wasn't even four yet - but it was annoying.

"JR!" Melanie remonstrated, placing an arm over the girl's legs.

Fat lot of good that did. The demon child just kept kicking. All the way to the fucking diner. 

An interminable, agonizingly long time later, Brian parked the Benz and turned off the engine. He almost slumped against the steering wheel, never so relieved to reach the familiar eatery. Not only would Gus be inside, but he'd be rid of Jenny. So to say. At least she wouldn't be sitting behind him anymore.

"Let's go see Gus, Jenny Rebecca," Melanie chirped, plainly trying to cajole JR into cooperating. Mel undid both their seat belts and started sliding across the back seat so they could get out on the side closest to the sidewalk.

"Noooo!" Jenny treated them to one of her Herculean wails when her mother tugged gently on her arm.

"Shit," Mel cursed under her breath. Brian blocked it out. In the last day and a half, he'd already underwritten the vacation fund to the tune of a couple hundred dollars; enough was enough.

"Uh, Brian, could you-"

Against his better judgment, Brian glanced in the rearview mirror again. Looking totally put out to have to ask for his assistance, the bulldyke gestured at the passenger door behind Brian.

"If you push and I pull?" Melanie suggested as she got out of the car.

Brian sighed and cast a weather eye at the traffic on Liberty Avenue. It was getting close to rush hour, and he didn't want some yahoo to remove the back door while he had it open. Taking advantage of a brief break in traffic, he got out of the car and shut the door behind him before opening the rear door.

Jenny glared at him and shot a foot into his midriff, leaving a footprint on his designer wear. "Noooo!" she shrieked again. "Noooo!"

Gritting his teeth, Brian shoved the ungrateful brat toward Mel, who grabbed hold of her daughter and pulled her out of the Mercedes. Melanie popped the fugly teething ring into JR's mouth, growling, "Don't you dare," when the girl tried to spit out the frilly pink thing.

Brian hastily shut the back door and plastered himself against the Benz as a Ford pickup with Barden Bumpers came tearing past, way too close to the parked vehicles on the side of the road. The fortyish driver had an exultant look on his face, like revving his car along Liberty Avenue was the best thing ever.

"Fucking cops are never around when you need them," Melanie groused when Brian joined her on the sidewalk. Jiggling JR, who was screaming around the teething ring, Mel coughed. She was probably trying to expel a lungful of the exhaust the Ford had left in its wake. 

"Case of arrested development," Brian informed her. "The jackass shouldn't be allowed behind the wheel."

"At least he didn't gouge Teddy's car," Melanie observed. "I can't believe Ted let you drive his baby."

Brian stared at her in disbelief as he pressed the fob to lock the doors. "I traded him my Vette."

Her angry cries tapering off to whimpers, a madly wriggling Jenny stretched out her arms to Brian. Tightening her hold, Melanie frowned. "Yeah, but Ted worked years for this car. He saved practically every penny." 

All he did, Brian thought a trifle sourly, was rescue the GLC from a fucking failure of a Carnivale. They weren't grateful, but it did fund his purchase of the Corvette.

Smirking at how he'd put one over on Tannis and Philip, while also raising desperately needed funds for the AIDS hospice and a homeless shelter for teens, Brian lifted JR out of Melanie's arms. The tot had good taste, wanting to be with him.

Jenny promptly spit out the teething ring, which bounced off Brian and landed on the Mercedes' front passenger window, from where it gradually oozed its way down the door. It left a gross brownish-red streak behind, which, Brian noticed, matched the stain on his tailored Gieves and Hawkes shirt.

"Your spawn," accused Brian. "You explain it to Theodore." Jenny was quiet now, probably because she'd gotten rid of the pacifier, which had dropped into the gutter. Good riddance, thought Brian; the street sweeper could deal with the pink thing. Making sure the demon child was cradled securely in his arms, he stomped over to the diner's front entrance and shouldered open the door.

"Daddy!" a shrill cry greeted him. Brian didn't see Gus anywhere at the front of the diner, which was surprisingly uncrowded, so he strode toward the back in search of his offspring. He finally spied Gus, who'd stood up on a banquette so Brian could spot him. Clambering down, the boy slammed into Brian.

"Daddy!" Gus repeated, clasping Brian's leg tightly.

"Here," Mel said, "let me have her." She took JR, and despite her own anxiety, let Brian have a moment with the boy.

Brian absently thought that they really had come a long way; just a couple years ago and the bulldyke wouldn't have given way to him like that, no matter how much Gus wanted his father.

He hefted Gus up in his arms and buried his face in the hair that was so like his own.

"I wushn't scared," Gus mumbled into Brian's neck.

That patently wasn't true, but Brian wasn't about to call him on it.

"Jesus, Mel, it was awful," he heard the woman standing next to the booth say as she set down her cell phone and shrugged off her coat. "This car came hurtling out of nowhere, heading right up our rear. I thought we were goners."

"You done good, Corinne," Melanie responded, wrapping her free arm around her shaken friend.

"Mom was like a race-car driver!" the other little boy shouted, moving an arm in what was doubtless meant to imitate evasive maneuvers.

Over Gus' head, Brian studied his son's playmate. The freckled carrot-top had a couple of teeth missing in the front but not next to each other. Unlike Gus, he didn't have a lisp. What was his name? Tommy? Or maybe Jimmy? Whatever the kid's name, Brian didn't think he was as unaffected as he was trying to appear. There was an unnatural pallor to his skin and a frenetic edge to his speech that Brian would bet came from more than just a simple sugar high. If the boys had even gotten the ice cream they were craving, Brian just now realizing he didn't know if that had ever happened.

"Best part." Corinne summoned a wobbly smile. "Timmy's started calling me mom."

That was it: Timmy. Brian made a mental note of the name.

"Vroom!" Timmy yelled. "Mom went left and then right and then left again!"

Corinne laughed weakly, visibly rattled. "There was no ‘vrooming.' I was looking for parking, so I wasn't going very fast. I didn't have to swerve that many times either."

"How many then?" Melanie asked the question on Brian's mind.

"Once or twice," Corinne admitted, shrugging one shoulder.

"Christ," Mel breathed out, drawing back just far enough so that she could stare into her friend's eyes. "Thanks for keeping my son safe, 'Rinne. You're my hero."

Melanie planted a kiss on Corinne's lips.

That was one thing he liked about Mel, thought Brian. The bulldyke wasn't shy about giving another woman a kiss. Unlike most munchers, who acted like kissing any woman besides their lover on the mouth was tantamount to sacrilege. Gay men generally knew better than to get emotional about something that was just a greeting or a farewell, which set them apart from dykes.

Since Corinne was a former beau, kissing could be a bit dicey. But it wasn't like Linds was around to observe the kiss, and besides, Brian had a feeling his blonde friend might plant one on Corinne herself after the way she'd safeguarded Gus. Hell, Brian was almost tempted to kiss her.

Her face pinkening, Corinne demurred, "It was my kid too."

"Yeah," Melanie agreed, glancing across the table at Timmy. "But I know you weren't just worried about him."

Brian watched as Timmy climbed up on the seat, grabbed the Heinz ketchup bottle, flipped open the cap and held it upside down. "Gus? Wanna make catsup art?" he asked. "We can draw us in Mom's car."

A muffled sound from Gus indicated his interest. Stirring, he loosened his clasp on Brian's neck and rubbed his face against the neck and the collar of his dad's shirt.

It wasn't like his sonnyboy could add much to JR's damage, Brian mused wryly. Regardless of his dry cleaner's claim that they could ‘refresh anything and make it look new,' he suspected his Gieves and Hawkes dress shirt, if not his entire suit, was destined for the trash.

"You can put me down, Daddy," Gus informed Brian. "'kay?"

Brian wasn't ready to let go - he wanted to hold his son for the rest of the afternoon - but after murmuring a quiet, "Love you," into soft brunet strands, he set Gus on his feet.

Gus gave him a gap-toothed smile. "Love you, Daddy."

Brian didn't care if Gus ruined every single one of his designer suits. As long as he was okay. That was all that mattered.

Brian's eyebrows rose when, after scrambling up on the banquette next to his friend, Gus squeezed the bottle and began drawing something on the table. It made sense that ‘catsup art' would involve ketchup, but who in the heck had taught the boys to draw directly on the tabletop?

Neither of the women was watching what the boys were doing, Corinne swiping at the tears welling up in her eyes, while Mel patted her on the back. "I held it together with the cops," Corinne explained, "and I even got through talking to Marie, but now..." 

She trailed off, shrugging helplessly, before resuming, "I downplayed everything with Marie because I didn't want her to go ballistic."

The woman had every right to fall apart, thought Brian. He wanted to himself - by yelling at inept staff and then fucking someone, but he wasn't at the office and there was no one in sight who was remotely fuckable. Where was his blond when Brian needed him?

Shit. He hadn't called Justin. His partner would go insane with worry if he heard about this from someone else.

Brian had just stuck his hand in his trouser pocket, his fingers closing around his cell phone, when the bell over the diner door jingled. The tinny noise was followed by an unmistakable voice announcing, "I figured a lemon bar would be just the thing, you know?"

"What I wouldn't give for a metabolism like yours, Sunshine," another distinctive voice responded. 

Brian turned to see Debbie patting her midsection as she headed toward the counter, where the cake stand with the lemon bars was prominently placed.

The redhead shook her head regretfully. "Once I had Michael, everything traveled south. All I have to do nowadays is look at food, and it gloms right on to me."

"I like you just as you are," Justin tactfully noted. "And, uh, so does Carl." 

He said the last bit a little warily, doubtless concerned about being subjected to tales of hetero shenanigans. Debbie had never quite cottoned on to no one wanting to hear about parental figures going at it. Or she just ignored the gritted teeth and sighs of disgust; that would be more like Deb.

Justin looked up right then, a smile spreading across his face when he saw Brian.

Brian smiled in return but before he could take a step toward his blond, Gus raced past him and caromed into Justin.

"Papa!"

The enthusiastic greeting and the frantic edge to it had obviously caught Justin by surprise. Brian's sonnyboys were always glad to see each other, but they'd just spent most of the previous day together.

Justin glanced over at him but it was too late for Brian to discreetly fill him in.

The blond crouched down to bring his face level with Gus', and despite all the shit going down this afternoon, Brian had to smile. Gus was shooting up like a weed, so Justin didn't have to lower himself very far. Whenever Brian ragged Justin about being short, it generated the desired protest: ‘I have the inches where it counts!' Brian would then egg Justin on to prove it, to both their satisfaction.

"Hey, buddy, what's going on?" Justin asked. He passed his sleeve across Gus' countenance, removing fresh tear tracks and allowing the boy to pretend he hadn't been crying.

Justin's effort was in vain.

More tears started rolling down Gus' cheeks when Debbie squatted down and asked, "Gussy, honey, what's wrong?" 

Gus had been stoic about his grandma calling him Gussy up till now, but Brian suspected he'd object one of these days. This time the nickname seemed to be what Gus needed to hear, the boy immediately wrapping his arms around Debbie and burying his head in her capacious bosom.

"It was scary," admitted Timmy, who was now standing next to Gus, looking like he wanted to launch himself at Debbie as well.

"Scary?" Deb freed one arm from Gus and held it out in invitation. 

Timmy burrowed in right next to Gus.

Debbie had the biggest heart, Brian mused fondly. She always had time for another ‘boy,' no matter what age.

"We almost got creamed," Corinne muttered in a shaky voice. She moved closer and stopped next to Brian, Mel unobtrusively supporting her friend with a hand under her arm.

His head whipping toward Brian, Justin mouthed, "Creamed?"

The motherly waitress' head also shot up, but then JR let out a piercing shriek and distracted her. "Gamma!" the little girl screamed.

Her eyelids at half mast and her head resting on Mel's shoulder, it had appeared Jenny was worn out from her teething tantrum. Now she suddenly was wide awake and focused on getting to her ‘gamma.' The girl was going through a possessive stage and didn't like it when anyone else got her grandmother's attention, especially when it was her brother.

"Gamma!" JR screamed again, wriggling madly, like a wind-up doll that just got its crank turned.

"Jenny Rebecca!" Melanie remonstrated. "You can wait a minute for your grandmother's attention."

Unfortunately, Debbie undermined Mel's efforts to teach JR acceptable behavior. "I've always got time for my granddaughter," she claimed, standing and outstretching her arms.

"Gamma!" the child yelled again, this time happily.

A big heart, Brian reminded himself, but one that had a definite bias toward her biological grandchild. 

Gus obviously recognized that too. Swiping at tear-stained cheeks, he stepped back, tugging Timmy along with him so that Debbie could get to Jenny. A hurt expression flickered across Gus' face, but then he shrugged in resignation.

"Jenny'll get over this soon," Debbie assured the two seven-year-olds, proving she wasn't quite as oblivious as Brian had assumed. "She's just a little needy right now."

That caused Brian to raise an eyebrow. Needier than the grandson who'd nearly been sideswiped?

"I would've been scared too." Justin put one arm around Gus and the other around Timmy. He might not have much to go on - only Corinne's ‘almost creamed' - but he somehow knew what to say.

"You would?" asked Gus doubtfully. "Mommy and Mama are alwaysh saying how brave you are."

"I'll let you in on a secret," said Justin in a conspiratorial tone. Both boys leaned closer. "You can be brave and scared at the same time."

Timmy frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

"Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared," Justin elaborated. "It just means you keep going anyway."

"Keep goin'? Whaddaya mean?" Gus asked, brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"Well." Justin paused for a moment. "You didn't run and hide, did you?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"Did you scream your heads off? Make it hard on" - he shot a glance at Corinne - "your mom, Timmy?"

"Nuh-uh," Timmy replied. "Mom was busy keepin' us safe."

"Yeah," Gus chimed in. "We didn't wanna dishtrack her."

"That's what keeping going is." Justin smiled at Gus and Timmy. "Doing the best you can. Just like Timmy's mom." He turned his smile on Corinne, mouthing, "Thank you."

Redirecting his attention to the two boys, he stood, asking, "How about I get us a game or a couple sketch pads from the break room?"

"Um." Timmy scuffed a shoe against the lino.

"We're doin' cashup art," Gus supplied for his friend.

He'd been able to ignore the mispronunciation when Timmy said ‘catsup' - while holding a Heinz bottle! - but Brian couldn't hide a wince this time. What yinzer would say ‘catsup'? No one from the Burgh should pronounce the name for the condiment like that. Chasing an account with one of the big three condiment makers or their parent companies didn't make Brian biased. It was just... this was a Heinz town, and sure as shootin', the diner would never stock a rival catsup product.

It was only when Brian looked again at his sonnyboy, the gap between his teeth on display as Gus smiled, that it dawned on him. It was the lisp that was turning ‘ketchup' into ‘cashup.' Once his son's permanent teeth came in, the problem would disappear. Thank fuck. 

"Yeah?" Justin's face lit up at the mention of ketchup art.

Brian's eyes narrowed. Was Justin the one who'd started Gus and Timmy's ketchup fetish?

"Did you get an old newspaper from Kiki?" 

Maybe he should cut his partner a break, Brian mused. Justin had apparently taught the boys to draw on something disposable.

His nose wrinkling in distaste, Justin added, "Or some of the brown paper towels from the bathroom?"

Huh. Brian lifted an eyebrow. Who would have guessed the cheap-ass paper towels might actually have a use?

"Um... no?" Gus' eyes shifted to one side.

"No?" A blond eyebrow arched in question.

"We didn't have any kinda towels," Timmy confided, "so we did what you told us to."

Flummoxed, Justin echoed, "What I..."

"We made do," Gus seconded his friend's assertion. 

"Yeah. Come see." Timmy scampered over to the booth, Gus at his heels.

"When did they have time to draw anything?" Corinne wanted to know as she followed after the boys, Melanie at her side.

"Dunno." Mel sounded equally puzzled.

Brian snorted, amused. The bulldyke should've figured out by now that although Gus was basically a good kid, he had a streak of deviltry. The good news was that Gus appeared to be recovering from this afternoon's trauma.

"That-" Corinne gasped as she looked at the boys' artwork. She wavered, leaning heavily against Mel, who'd gone a chalky white.

He was wrong, Brian thought, also turning pale as he took in Gus and Timmy's drawing. He hadn't paid attention before, other than to briefly consider calling the boys out for using the tabletop as their easel.

The ketchup stood out starkly against the off-white, gray-speckled formica. Those must be splotches of blood, he realized, next to a crumpled figure, which had an arm and leg bent in the wrong direction. Christ, could that be the kid Murphy had hit? The one that could have been Gus? Brian groped for the wooden divider between the booths, needing something to brace himself against.

Brian looked around for his blond - he could use Justin's help to deal with the grisly scene - and discovered he'd gotten boxed in. Mel and Corinne were blocking him to the front and left, while Debbie, holding JR, was on his right. He could back up and move around to the other side of the booth, where Justin was standing next to Gus, but that would hardly be inconspicuous. Or in accord with Brian usual smoothness.

"Honeybun, that's not for your eyes," Debbie declared, turning Jenny's head away from the table.

"Wanna see!" the little girl demanded, squirming in Debbie's hold. Not that she got anywhere with Deb in full-on grandmother mode. Debbie cupped her fingers over the eye that wasn't pressed into her shoulder, preventing JR from seeing anything.

Gus looked at the drawing with a critical eye. "We need mushard for the big ye- yerro- uh, car."

Brian wasn't sure if the grimace on Gus' face was from his inability to correctly say ‘yellow' or from a memory associated with the drawing.

"It wouldn't be the right yellow," Timmy noted morosely. "The car was like a-" 

"Bumblebee," Gus filled in for his friend, enunciating carefully.

Timmy nodded in agreement.

Justin looked almost as shaky as Brian felt, but he kept it together. "That what you saw?" he asked. "Did somebody get hit?"

"Yeah," Timmy answered. "Some guy in a sports car, a bright yellow one. He, like, wiped out a buncha people. He almost took us out too. Right, Mom?" He looked up at Corinne for corroboration.

"Bumblebee," Corinne repeated what Gus had just said. "Zooming right at me."

"He didn't get you though," Melanie told her friend, running her hand soothingly down her back. "'Cause you were so quick to respond."

"Those other people though..." Corinne trailed off, looking at the ketchup rendition of the incident. "They weren't so lucky." Side-eyeing the drawing, she whispered, "Timmy, I wish you hadn't done that."

"I agree," Mel chimed in. "Gus, no one wants to see-"

Justin cut her off. "I know it's hard for you to look at, but it's a normal reaction. After the ba-"

His voice cracking, Justin paused. Not because he was trying to avoid the word ‘bashing,' Brian was certain. The girls had made the decision years ago not to hide the bashing or other acts of violence from Gus and Jenny. They rarely spoke of it, and they didn't go into detail around the kids, but they didn't hide that it had happened.

Justin tried again. "After the bashing, art really helped me... cope. Not right away because I couldn't draw for a long time, but later. Prom and the bombing still show up in my art, you know?" 

Corinne nodded. She might not have known Justin at the time, but the bashing had rocked the gay community. Not that violence against fags had been anything new, but the bashing of a seventeen-year-old white kid from an exclusive private school at his prom made the news in a big way. Unlike other crimes with gay victims. Even after Deekins became mayor, other acts of violence against gays hadn't rated more than a brief mention, until the bombing.

"Assholes," Debbie muttered.

Brian grunted. If they didn't have Horvath in their corner, the bombing probably would have turned into a cold case by now. Carl made sure that it wasn't dead-filed, periodically pushing his team of investigators to take another look.

Gus turned away from the tomatoey artwork and wrapped his arms around Justin. "Love you," he mumbled into the denim of Justin's jeans.

"Thanks, buddy." Looking a little misty-eyed, Justin swallowed hard. "Love you too."

Weird, they must have the heater set wrong, Brian thought, blinking to clear his eyes. The forced air didn't usually affect his vision.

"Anyway," said Justin, looking over at Corinne and Melanie, "I don't think you should be worried about the ketchup art. Gus and Timmy are just processing what they experienced." Glancing down at Gus who was still attached to him like a limpet, he suggested, "Maybe we could clear it away though, huh?"

Gus nodded against Justin's waist, but Timmy screwed up his mouth, not quite objecting but also not acquiescing.

"If we clear off the table, you can get the ice cream you wanted," Melanie jumped in.

Timmy's moue slowly morphed into a smile.

"It may not be Klavon's, but the diner makes a good sundae," Corinne wheedled.

So that was where they'd been headed. Fucking carb city. "The banana split's not bad," Brian nudged the boys toward something marginally healthier than a sundae. The bananas didn't add that much healthy content, but a split would still be better than just ice cream smothered in chocolate syrup.

Justin licked his lips, which made Brian want to kiss and shake him at the same time. His partner was likely contemplating switching from lemon bars to a banana split. No matter what calorie-laden food he consumed, Justin didn't put on weight. He didn't even have to work out regularly to maintain his trim figure, which Brian thought was deeply unfair. Never mind fucking annoying.

He wasn't surprised to hear Justin say, "I could go for one of those. But I prefer a banana split with fresh strawberries-"

"Me too," Gus piped up.

"-so I'll wait till strawberry season."

Gus nodded. Based on past experience, Brian expected his son to go for whatever his Jushun did.

"A slice of warm apple pie with a dollop of vanilla ice cream on top" - Justin smiled at Gus and Timmy - "would hit the spot, I reckon." He rubbed his stomach right as it let out a gurgle.

"Thash what I want!" spoke up Gus, his stomach also rumbling.

"Yeah, pie!" Timmy thirded the pie plan.

How'd he end up partnered with a bottomless pit? Apple pie did sound good though. Maybe he'd eat a couple of bites - ones that weren't covered in ice cream - to save Justin from all those calories.

"Hold that thought," said Justin, backing away from the booth. For a second Brian thought Justin had read his mind, but then he realized Justin must be speaking to Gus and Timmy.

"Pie!" JR shrieked as Justin drew abreast of her and Debbie. "Wif ice cream!"

Justin winced, undoubtedly half-deafened like the rest of them.

Shaking his head in what Brian took as an effort to restore his hearing, Justin trotted over to the pass-through and stuck his head into the kitchen.

Gus gave Jenny a narrow-eyed look, although Brian suspected it had little to do with the decibel the girl had reached; the boy had to be used to his sister's high-pitched shrieks by now.

Gus relaxed after a moment, leaving Brian clueless as to why he'd been upset with JR. "Yeah," Gus agreed, shrugging at Jenny. "Pie."

Justin slid in between the two dykes and Gus and wiped up the ketchup art with a damp rag before drying off the tabletop with another cloth.

"How about signing back on, Sunshine?" Debbie asked, smiling at the blond.

"Huh?" Justin replied.

"You'd make good tips. You always did better than the rest of us," the redheaded waitress went on persuasively. "It'd only be for a few days, until I can find a new busboy."

"No can do, Deb," Brian answered for Justin. "I need Justin's help." He avoided specifying the kind of help he had in mind.

Although he looked surprised, Justin didn't gainsay Brian.

"Oh, well." Debbie sighed. "It was worth a try. If fuckin' Betty wasn't on vacation, it wouldn't be so bad."

Melanie chuckled. "Stay here over going to Palm Springs? Soak up some sun instead of this shit..." The bulldyke cast a disparaging glance out the window at the overcast sky.

"Mama!" Gus held out a hand, palm up.

Brian smirked. His sonnyboy must be recovering from the trauma if he was back to demanding money.

Clearly happy to see Gus regaining his ebullience, Mel shook her head and told the boy, "I'll put five bucks in the ‘vakey fun' later, okay?"

"Ten," Gus countered. "For Grandma too."

"What?" asked a baffled Deb.

"Don't ask," Mel said on a sigh. "Okay, ten," she told Gus. "But that's it, hear?"

Satisfied, Gus nodded before elbowing Timmy and then scooting into the booth next to his friend.

When Brian heard Timmy whisper, "You're so lucky," he figured Gus must have clued his friend in about the vacation fund. But not Debbie, although that hadn't stopped Gus from milking Mel for his grandma's curse. Considering the stream of ‘fucks' that tended to fall out of Deb's mouth, Brian suspected Gus would regret settling for a measly ten dollars.

"Anyway," Melanie picked up where she'd left off, "the Dinah party is normally just for a weekend in the spring, but this is a weeklong, once-in-a-lifetime, autumn extravaganza. Who wouldn't want to go?"

Me, thought Brian, and going by his paler than usual face and the carefully neutral expression, Justin didn't seem entranced either.

"I'll stick with Carl," Debbie announced, which, honestly, wasn't much more palatable than the idea of attending California's muncher fest.

"Hey!" shouted an irate customer from the front of the diner. "I've been waiting for forty minutes. Where the fuck are my pork chops?"

"The chops'll go on the grill as soon as Pete catches the porker. Last I saw," Deb cackled, "they were heading south on Sixth."

Justin clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes dancing with mirth as he glanced at Brian.

Brian was left to speculate where the pork chops might come from.

"Why the fuck do I come here?" the hangry man muttered.

Moron, thought Brian. He'd be lucky to get his chops before dinner time.

Her back to the irate customer, Deb gave Jenny a lipsticky smooch on one cheek before handing her off to Melanie. Then, picking up the rags Justin had used to clean the table, she whirled around and trotted toward the kitchen. "Pie and ice cream coming right up."

Typical. Debbie had decided everyone was going to have pie and ice cream, whether they wanted it or not. Everyone except him, that is. Deb knew better than to bring him a slice of pie topped with empty calories.

What Brian was desperately short of and could use right now was caffeine. Fucking intern that picked up coffee on the way into Kinnetik had called in sick this morning, causing everyone who did show to gripe that the kid was already suffering from ‘Drinksgiving' syndrome. To top it all off, the fancy cappuccino maker that Cynthia had insisted was a necessity for the office had gone on the fritz - some kind of bizarre coffee machine solidarity with Brian's kaput DeLonghi? - leaving him caffeine deprived. 

Lauren, a former intern who'd just graduated from Pitt and was hired as a junior copywriter, had gone on a coffee run, but one latte didn't go very fucking far. No one else had been interested in going out in the inclement weather, so Brian'd had to suffer for the rest of the day.

"Coffee!" Brian called out a moment after Deb vanished from sight. Shit. His timing was off.

"I could use a jolt," Corinne muttered wearily.

Justin headed off again, and the next thing Brian knew, the blond was setting a tray with glasses of milk as well as cups, saucers, spoons and a creamer on the coffee table. 

"Revisiting your glory days after all?" Brian snarked as Justin began filling cups with the all-important elixir.

Setting the milk in front of Gus, Timmy and JR, Justin then placed cups and saucers in front of the lesbians, who'd sat down opposite the boys, Melanie bouncing a fretful JR.

With a cheeky smile, Justin informed Brian, "I work for tips."

Brian smirked. He had just the ‘tip' to satisfy his blond.

This time Justin did read his mind. His smile broadening into his trademark grin, Justin murmured, "That would be acceptable... if you're being versatile."

Brian was instantly on board. "Tonight," he husked. Once they got Brown Athletics sorted, he was gonna need the stress relief that only a good fuck could provide.

The sludge the diner passed off as coffee would have to keep him going until then. Brian started to reach for the sugar canister, but then backed off when he saw that the lesbians were trading it back and forth. Rather than battle them for it, he snatched the one from the next booth over and poured a smidge into his joe. Way less than either Mel or Corinne had dumped into their coffee, Brian was sure. But then, dykes needed sweetening.

His satisfaction abruptly vanished. Justin clearly intended to claim the spot next to Gus - he was currently pouring coffee into a cup he'd placed there - which left only one open seat. Right next to the bulldyke and her now squirming offspring. No way was Brian gonna serve as a kickboxing target for Jenny again this afternoon.

Fortunately, two skinny seven-year-olds and one slender blond didn't take up much space. "Shove over," Brian ordered, nudging Justin with his hip.

Quickly lifting the carafe away from his partly filled cup, Justin objected, "I've gotta-"

"Deb'll take care of it," Brian dismissed Justin's protest. Tugging his partner down to sit next to him, he took the carafe and added more java to Justin's cup. He quirked an eyebrow at the younger man, filling it all the way to the brim when Justin didn't indicate he wanted to add cream.

Unlike at the munchers' house yesterday, Justin didn't usually add cream, claiming it diluted the coffee too much - a point on which he and Brian were in agreement. Where they disagreed was in regard to the minuscule amount of sugar Brian put in his coffee - the only thing that made the diner's swill palatable. He put even less into a good cup of joe, only adding enough to reduce the acidity.

Brian watched in horrified fascination as Justin raised the cup to his lips, blew on the liquid and then took a sip. "Ah," Justin sighed, sitting back in his seat, his eyes closed in bliss as he took another swallow.

Maybe the coffee hadn't been made for long? Hopeful, Brian took a cautious sip from his own cup. "Gross," he growled, sending an accusing look at his partner.

"Geez, what is this?" the bulldyke seconded Brian's assessment, lowering the cup she was holding. Her face screwed up in distaste, Melanie demanded, "Someone siphon that out of their gas tank?"

"It's not so bad," Corinne asserted, looking almost as blissed out as Justin as she quaffed from her cup.

Brian and Melanie stared in disbelief.

"I reckon working here as a busboy killed Sunshine's taste buds, but what's your excu-" Mel stopped speaking mid-word. "Uh, never mind," she stuttered.

Corinne smiled at her erstwhile girlfriend. "I worked at Starbucks back in college."

Melanie's stared blankly at Corinne. "You did?"

Corinne nodded. "Yep. Saw me all the way through grad school."

No wonder the woman's taste buds were dead. The ubiquitous coffee store chain produced worse slop than the diner, even considering the bitter brew Brian was currently swilling. Brian couldn't imagine inhaling it 24/7.

"Pie à la mode!" Debbie's booming voice thankfully cut short further discussion of unpalatable coffee.

Deb distributed plates loaded with pie and ice cream, the one she plunked down in front of Justin containing extra-large portions and two spoons.

Brian raised an eyebrow and sardonically inquired, "You got something to share, Sunshine? You eating for two?"

Justin snorted.

"I thought for sure you'd knocked Sunshine up," Debbie threw in, grinning broadly.

"Right." Brian rolled his eyes. "And when did my super sperm perform this miracle?"

"It's what made you propose," the redhead elaborated, going all misty-eyed. "I read that wedding invitation and was sure you musta impregnated Sunshine."

A beet-red Justin sputtered helplessly as he dug into the pie with one of the spoons.

Thank fuck Gus was engrossed in talking to Timmy, or his sonnyboy would doubtless insist right now was the right time for a wedding. It was Brian's fault for fobbing his son off with something vague about ‘waiting for the right time' when Gus wanted to know why he didn't ask his Jushun to marry him again.

Brian still wasn't sure where that verbal sleight of hand had come from. He should've just told Gus his daddies weren't the marrying kind. 

"Anyways, I thought you might like your own spoon - for a change," Deb snarked.

Brian covered his lover's mouth with his and curled his tongue around the spoonful of pie and ice cream Justin had just placed on his tongue. Sucking the pie into his mouth, Brian slurped it down, ran his tongue across Justin's lower lip and gave Deb a sweet smile. 

"What for?"

Before the redhead could retort, the bad-tempered customer yelled, "Where's the salt? Someone forgot to salt these cutlets. What kind of eatery is this anyway?"

Kiki clomped over to the aggrieved man in her size twelve pumps, snatching a salt shaker from another table.

Looking mollified, the man outstretched a hand for the shaker. Kiki, however, deftly evaded him and upended the salt over his pork, a white shower cascading down.

"What the fuck?" shouted the man, looking at the now salt-encrusted meat in dismay.

"You've been coming here for years," Kiki growled, a menacing glare pinning the jerk to his seat.

The guy did look vaguely familiar, but he also had an unmemorable face and build. He could be anywhere from forty to fifty, Brian estimated. He'd better lose the paunch he was developing if he ever wanted to score; being overweight was the death knell for a gay man. Unless he was Theodore, mused Brian, remembering the fat phase his friend had gone through. Maybe he should have Ted put a word in the ear of that freakin' weird former trick who went for older fat dudes.

"You could've gotten up and taken the salt from the next table," Kiki lectured the pork lover. "Or at least asked politely. But no, you had to act like a jerk. You wanted salt? You got salt."

And a heart attack on the way, mused Brian. How anyone could consider a diner meal to be under-salted was beyond him.

"Now shut the fuck up and eat," Kiki finished up.

Brian was surprised when the man did shut up. Clearly abashed, cheeks burning, Mr. Pork Chop smeared ketchup over his meat, muttering, "I would've salted the sauce anyway."

Deb pulled a chair over to their booth, wooden legs squealing against the lino. Laughing, she noted, "Michael likes to salt his ketchup too."

Mikey's gastronomical habits weren't part of what Brian loved about his friend.

Justin made a gagging sound, looking a little sickly when Brian glanced at him. "Pie went down the wrong pipe," he professed, his expression pained and pitiful when Debbie looked at him, eyebrows raised in challenge.

"Better to just let Brian nick all of it," Deb stated knowingly. "Then you won't choke on it."

Jesus, what Brian wouldn't give to be able to pull off that ‘butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' innocence. He'd have to be blond to carry it off though, and Brian's lone foray into bleaching his hair years ago hadn't gone well. He'd sworn off blonds, and except for his already-established friendship with Lindsay, he'd stuck with it. Until he came along.

Fucking twink.

As she sat down, Debbie glanced at the two seven-year-olds, who were busy shoveling ice cream and pie into their mouths while talking excitedly about something.

Brian only caught one word - Tatanka - but that was enough to clue him in. He and Justin smiled at one another, Brian thinking proudly that both he and Gus had done a pretty fuckin' bang-up job during yesterday's pumpkin-carving experiment.

Deb nodded, and apparently satisfied that Gus and his friend were occupied with their own conversation, planted her elbows on the table and fixed Corinne with a piercing gaze. "How the fu-" she started when she was forestalled by JR.

"Gamma!" squealed Jenny, squirming madly in an effort to reach her grandmother. "Sceam!"

Ice cream was like a lodestone for the toddler, who scarfed down anything sweet that she could get her hands on. Just like her dad. 

"Of course you get ice cream, honeybun," Debbie cooed, removing her elbows from the table and relieving Mel of the wriggling child. "Pie too."

Two dimples appeared in JR's chubby cheeks. "Pie," she agreed with a smile, her brown eyes lighting up.

And that was how the girl far too often ended up overindulged, Brian thought. That smile was fucking irresistible. 

Not that there was anything wrong with her having a child-sized portion of ice cream and pie along with everyone else. But knowing Deb, she'd feed the entire oversized serving that she'd dished onto her plate to Jenny, and then the little girl would be on a sugar high for hours.

That'd be the munchers' problem, thank God.

JR ensconced on her lap, Debbie scooped up pie and ice cream and raised the spoon to her granddaughter's mouth. To no one's surprise, the girl managed to get her mouth around the large spoonful. 

"Now," Deb asked in her blunt manner, "How the fuck did you almost end up being roadkill?"

Even Brian wouldn't have asked so crudely, whether or not he knew the people involved.

"Jesus," muttered Melanie, scowling, presumably at Debbie's tactlessness.

Long seconds ticked past with no one saying anything.

"Well?" the redhead demanded.

"I was looking for a parking place," Corinne related, "while Timmy and Gus jabbered about what kind of ice cream they wanted. They kept changing their minds." She smiled over at her son, who looked up and grinned in return.

"It was really crowded along the Strip, so I was about to check out one of the side streets near Klavon's for a parking spot. Then, out of nowhere, this yellow car appeared in my rear view, getting closer really fast."

"Mom was mad about the ‘asshole speeder,'" Timmy piped up.

Corinne nodded her agreement. "I thought it must be an out-of-towner who wasn't familiar with the area and hadn't taken note of the speed limit. I wanted to give them a piece of my mind. I mean, they were flying down the road, not paying any attention to all the people wandering around."

That was business as usual in the revitalized, increasingly popular Strip District. Most drivers had the sense to go slowly and keep a wary eye out for pedestrians.

"Then..." Corrine paused, shuddering.

Mel set down the spoonful of pie and ice cream she'd just scooped up, wrapped an arm around Corinne and made soothing noises.

"Honey, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it now," Deb backed off from pushing for the details.

"No." Corinne shook her head. "You're Gus' family. I'd want to know what happened if it had been Marie ferrying the kids around instead of me." A guilty look flashed across her face. "Marie doesn't know the details yet. Suzy's got an ear infection, so she's home with her and the other kids. I didn't want Marie trying to figure out how to get to us or go nuts worrying. Maybe I should've headed home, but I was just so distraught that I figured it was better to come here once the cops let us leave. Get the boys ice cream and get it together before I see Marie. I don't want her having flashbacks, you know?"

Dusty, thought Brian with a mental grimace. She'd been an even butcher dyke than Mel and got on his nerves, but he never would have wished for her to be killed in the Babylon bombing. 

And Marie... Christ, if Corinne or Timmy had been critically injured or killed, the woman might never recover. Brian silently approved of Corinne's decision-making in the midst of a crisis. Better to wait to tell Marie everything that had occurred.

"I'll go with you to tell Marie the full story," Mel consoled Corinne. "The main thing is that you and Timmy are okay. Marie'll understand."

"You're right." Corinne took a deep breath, let it out slowly and then resumed her story. "Suddenly that yellow car was pulling up alongside me, and I thought the crazy bast-" When Timmy's eyes widened, Corinne abruptly stopped speaking.

Gus looked disappointed, probably wishing it was one of his parents, so there'd be a chance of having the vacation fund topped up again. Surprisingly, he hadn't clamored for payment for Mel's ‘Jesus' or Deb's ‘fucks,' but Brian was positive his sonnyboy was mentally toting up every curse, probably hoping that Mel's ‘that's it' warning had expired by now.

Changing what she'd been about to say, Corinne went on "-jerk wanted to pass me. The guy behind the wheel didn't even seem to see the oncoming traffic. He grinned at me - like he was out for a joyride - and then, he was veering into me. I- I don't know if he turned the wheel in the wrong direction or just lost control or what."

"Mom was way cool!" Timmy reported. "She turned the wheel all the way around and got us away from Big Yellow."

Fucking Murphy. Brian stifled a growl as he pictured the arrogant rookie forward.

"I almost kissed the oncoming car," Corinne disclosed, her hand shaking so much as she tried to lift a bite of the dessert to her mouth that she had to set it down again. "There can't have been more than a centimeter between us."

"Big Yellow got that car. Right?" Timmy tacked on uncertainly.

"It did look like Big Yellow tapped it with his fender," Corinne agreed, adopting her son's name for Murphy's car. "It all happened so fast that I'm not sure. The driver of the oncoming vehicle pulled over, just like everyone else in the vicinity, but they'd been trying to swerve out of the way too and ended up on the other side of the road a ways down from me.

"The bad part was what happened next." Corinne started shaking again and buried her face in Mel's shoulder. "I didn't even see it clearly 'cause I was concentrating on getting over to the curb, but-" she mumbled into Mel's sweater.

"It was kinda cool at firsh," Gus joined in. "Like it was a movie or shomeshin."

That wasn't an unreasonable assumption, Brian mused. Pittsburgh was a surprisingly popular filming location. Should've made Rage here, the thought flitted through his brain, not for the first time. Maybe they could've stopped the studio honchos from getting cold feet and backing out.

"Yeah, like Die Hard," Timmy enthusiastically supported what Gus had said. "There was blood everywhere and a bad guy mowin' down people. But-" He broke off, looking ill.

"But John McClane didn't show up." Gus paled and shifted closer to Justin, who wrapped an arm around the boy, his hand coming to rest on Timmy's shoulder, who also looked in need of comfort.

Weren't the boys a little young for Die Hard? Deciding he was being hypocritical, Brian opted not to say anything. He'd have wanted to see the movie when he was seven and would've sneaked around behind his parents' backs. Not that Jack would have given a shit; he'd have had the movie blaring at full volume in the living room and invited Brian to watch, commenting constantly about how McClane was a ‘real' man. Brian wanted a different upbringing for Gus, but Die Hard wasn't worth making a fuss about. It wasn't like any of Gus' family expected the kid to prove he was a man. His sonnyboy could be whoever he wanted to be.

Brian glanced at Melanie, who had her mouth open. Shooting a look at Brian, she shook her head as if bewildered before snapping her mouth shut. Brian ruefully guessed she might've applied similar logic.

His brow furrowed and a muscle ticking in his jaw, Justin eyed the spot on the table where he'd wiped away the ketchup rendering of a small body. Brian scooted closer to his partner and inhaled the homey scents of paint and turpentine, reaching around Justin to muss Gus' hair.

Gus turned his head toward Brian. "There was a little kid on the ground, Daddy, and his arm was pointin' the wrong way."

"But not like Distorto," observed Timmy, "'cause it didn't go back in place."

Gus nodded vigorously in agreement.

Melanie winced, doubtless recalling the unnatural way Liberty Avenue's contortionist moved his limbs.

Corinne lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed and wet. "It was really gruesome. There were bodies on the ground, people screaming and crying, blood everywhere.

"The Strip was a total madhouse. Ambulances pulled up, EMTs jumping out, and then a bunch of cop cars roared past, sirens blaring. They must've been chasing Big Yellow. The car just... disappeared." Corinne shook her head in anguished bewilderment. "How could the driver leave like that? All those hurt people."

"That's what a hit and run is," Melanie stated matter-of-factly, although to Brian's eye, the hard-bitten legal eagle looked almost as stunned as Corinne. Like this level of callousness was beyond her.

"Oh, hon, I'm sorry." Debbie reached across Mel to pat Corinne on the hand, blue eyes filled with sympathy. "What a godawful thing to witness."

"Yeah." Corinne managed a tremulous smile.

"Sceam?" warbled Jenny, sticking her spoon out at Corinne, vanilla ice cream dripping onto the Formica. 

Brian blinked, startled and a little squicked out. He hadn't been looking directly at JR, but he suspected she'd just taken that drippy spoonful out of her mouth. Maybe it had just touched her lips; that wouldn't be quite as bad.

"Jenny?" Gus gasped in shock. He lost his grip on his spoon, which clinked against his plate.

An understandable reaction, thought Brian. JR was normally completely self-centered, which wasn't unusual for a toddler.

Melanie beamed at her daughter, her brown eyes shining with pride.

"You're just like your daddy!" exclaimed Debbie. "You've got the biggest heart, honeybun!"

That was taking things a bit far. Brian coughed, pretending the pie he'd just snitched from Justin's spoon went down the wrong pipe. 

"That's generous of you, Jenny," Justin complimented the little girl. "But Corinne's got plenty of ice cream. You eat that spoonful."

Corinne blew out what Brian took to be a relieved sigh. Even if Jenny hadn't removed the spoon from her mouth, the drippy, pie crumb-dotted spoonful of ice cream didn't look at all appetizing.

Mel seconded Justin, directing, "Go on-"

She hadn't quite gotten out the ‘on' when JR wolfed it down, vanilla ice cream dribbling down her chin.

"-Jenny. It's yours," Melanie finished lamely. "You have such a sweet tooth." She chuckled, reaching out with a napkin to dab at her daughter's chin.

JR wasn't the only one, thought Brian, noting the inroads Gus, Timmy and of course Justin had made in their desserts. 

"Next thing I knew," Corinne picked up where she'd left off, "the cops were swarming the area, asking what people saw. They wanted a sworn statement from me, but I asked if it could wait since I had the boys in the car."

"You didn't do anything wrong." A thundercloud was gathering on Debbie's brow, and her jaw thrust forward pugnaciously, the redhead looked ready to take on Pittsburgh's finest. It wouldn't be the first time, thought Brian.

Corinne darted a nervous glance at Deb. "The policeman who was questioning me-

"We helped," Timmy piped up, looking offended to be left out.

Gus nodded a vigorous agreement.

Corinne smiled at the boys. "Us," she amended. "He motioned over one of his superiors, a Detective O'Neill, and asked if it was okay for me to leave. I, uh, told him Gus was Lieutenant Horvath's grandson."

"Good." A broad smile on her face, Deb nodded in approval. She was pleased as punch about her boyfriend's promotion from detective and was still boasting about it a year later. "Carl can fill us in on what's happening with the slimeball who was driving that sports car."

Corinne essayed a smile in return, clearly relieved that it was okay to have invoked Horvath's name. "The detective said I was free to leave, and told the uniform to go question one of the other witnesses. There were a ton of people who saw what happened," Corinne explained. "Detective O'Neill told me there was no sense in going in on Thanksgiving and asked me, really politely, to swing by the station on Friday to make a statement."

"Good," Debbie reiterated. "Maybe Carl can be there."

"I wanted to get out of there, so I started the car, but then-" Corinne paused, her lips pressed together as she looked at Gus and Timmy.

Gus' ears turned red, a sure sign of embarrassment. "I didn' mean to shout," the boy mumbled, his face turning scarlet to match the tips of his ears.

Timmy giggled. "The detective was lookin' all around and askin', ‘What big arrow?'"

"I didn' shay it right." Gus ducked his head, his lisp worsening as it tended to do when he was embarrassed, overexcited or stressed out.

"So I yelled, ‘Big Yellow! We wanna know what happened to Big Yellow!'" Timmy explained.

Corinne shook her head at the two seven-year-olds. "Lieutenant's grandson or not, I was sure they were gonna keep us for more questions, but then someone yelled something about a fire hydrant bursting, and Detective O'Neill waved us on our way."

Timmy bounced in his seat. "Some guy shouted, ‘What'd you call that car, son?' so me 'n Gus yelled back."

"‘Big Yellow!'" Gus joined Timmy in blaring the answer they must've given the bystander, which made it nearly indecipherable.

"The name stuck in my head," Corinne revealed. "I called Marie from the Strip, and the first thing out of my mouth was that Big Yellow had cut me off.

"Marie wanted to know if I was stuck in a Beatles' song." Corinne gave Justin a lopsided grin.

By now, the entirety of Liberty Avenue must know about Justin's addiction to The Yellow Submarine, Brian figured, rolling his eyes.

"After I explained Big Yellow was a sports car, Marie realized I'd almost been in an accident. She started to hyperventilate - I could hear her wheezing - and only calmed down after I told her over and over that I was okay. Which I was. Mostly," Corinne assured everyone. "Just shaken up, and like I said before, Marie couldn't do anything from home. Except worry.

"Since I'd just gotten a new phone and hadn't entered my contacts yet" - Corinne shook her head, obviously irritated with herself for the oversight - "Marie said she'd call Mel and Linds and let them know everyone was okay and that we were heading to the diner."

"I must've called Marie right when she was about to call me," Melanie said.

"Probably." Corinne nodded at her friend. "Anyway, if Timmy and Gus still wanted ice cream - on a chilly November day - it couldn't be anything too serious, right?" Corinne smiled wryly. "That did more to convince Marie that nothing was majorly wrong than anything else I could have said.

"Here." Corinne pushed her plate over to the two seven-year-olds, whose dishes had been scraped so clean that it was hard to tell there'd ever been pie and ice cream on them.

"Finish this off for me? I don't have much of an appetite right now."

Timmy and Gus didn't need to be asked twice, both of them immediately digging in.

"No!" JR vehemently objected, banging her spoon against Deb's plate and splattering ice cream in all directions.

Brian didn't so much as twitch as droplets landed on his suit. The dry cleaner was gonna be worth every penny if they could get the stains out of his Zegna, never mind his Gieves and Hawkes shirt.

He did take a sort of malicious satisfaction in watching the gooey stuff attach itself to Melanie's clothing as well; it was only fair. 

"Honeybun," Debbie attempted to appease the little tyrant, "there's lots of pie and ice cream for you to eat." She removed the spoon from Jenny's grip, scooped up some of the dessert and placed it in front of the girl's mouth.

"Mm-mm!" a red-faced JR refused to be placated, her lips pressed firmly together.

Debbie laughed boisterously. "You're just like your daddy."

What that meant, Brian had no clue. It wasn't like Michael'd had any kind of sibling rivalry going on when he was little.

Moving the spoon towards her own mouth, Deb acted like she was going to swallow the tidbit.

"Me!" screeched Jenny.

"Jenny Rebecca!" Mel wearily chided as she rifled through her handbag.

Debbie merely chuckled again and fed the spoonful to her granddaughter.

Focusing in on the bag in Melanie's lap, Brian realized with horror it was the same one she'd unearthed the oddest items from a few weeks ago.

Just like then, a sewing kit came out and the ubiquitous packet of wet wipes. Her putrid green Michael Kors wallet then made an appearance and Brian breathed a little easier. That must be what she was after.

Contrary to his expectations, Melanie kept digging, setting a pair of Pull-Ups on the table. "No!" came JR's adamant response to the Pull-Ups.

"They're just in case," Mel told her daughter, still searching in the depths of her bag.

Brian couldn't help being skeptical. This was the she-devil and Mikey's daughter, after all, so she'd take longer to train. He'd bet Jenny still wore Pull-Ups most of the time.

Debbie laughed indulgently. "Michael didn't like wearing trainers either."

Brian was surprised when Deb didn't go on about how Mikey had still needed training pants at four years old; fuck knew, she'd embarrassed Michael with that often enough.

"Hmm," Melanie hmmed, her gaze riveted on the insides of her oversized handbag.

Brian hoped she wouldn't lose her cool, not that he'd blame Mel if she did. Debbie's constant ‘Michael this' and ‘Michael that' in regard to Jenny's development would get on anyone's nerves, much less the bulldyke's.

"There it is," Melanie muttered, extracting her cell phone. It came out with a lacy red brassiere trailing behind, one strap caught on the antenna. 

Jesus, thought Brian, exchanging a ‘what the fuck' look with Justin. Did she carry that damned bra everywhere?

Mel gave the bra a perplexed frown and stuffed it back in the bag before turning on her phone.

"Oh, there's a message from Marie," Mel said in surprise. "I didn't realize Marie had called before I rang her. I was doing jazzercise with Jane and had the volume cranked up on the TV."

Brian neither knew nor cared who Jane was, although he'd off himself before he did something as ridiculous as jazzercise.

"Four years," Mel sighed, "and I'm still trying to lose the baby weight I put on."

"You?" scoffed Debbie. "You're skinny as a rail. Not like me." She patted her ample middle.

Unlike Deb, Brian got it. Extra weight was a bitch to get rid of. Thank fuck he didn't have to worry about losing baby weight.

"Can we get some service over here?" someone called out from a table of new arrivals.

"Give a girl a hand?" pled Kiki, her heels making sharp staccato sounds as she came up to their booth. "We're getting a midafternoon rush."

"Yeah, sure," Deb agreed, slowly pushing back her chair, her reluctance to miss out on a single, solitary word written across her face.

"No!" JR complained loudly as her grandmother lifted from her lap.

"C'mere." Melanie smiled at Jenny, patting the seat next to her. "You can have some of my dessert."

"'kay," the brat quickly agreed. With her grandmother's help, she'd decimated the pie and ice cream on her plate and was now avidly eyeing the serving that Melanie had barely touched.

As Debbie walked over to the pass-through, Melanie relayed, "Marie tried Linds' cell and our landline but couldn't leave a message on either. We've gotta clear some of the messages off the landline; it's full. Mainly 'cause Lindsay's sister left some long-winded message about how she and Duncan are reaffirming their vows. Five years after they got married." The dyke rolled her eyes. "Who does that?"

Fucked if he knew. If Brian ever said his vows, that would be it. One and done.

"Lynette wouldn't be so uptight if she was getting some," Melanie declared.

"Linds refuses to delete Lynette's message until she can come up with the appropriate gift." Mel rolled her eyes again, so hard it looked like they might pop out of her head. Then she bared her teeth in a grin. "Personally, I think we should get them a sex swing."

A guffaw burst out of Brian, although he was as much appalled as amused. Since when did he and the Wicked Witch have the same taste in party favors?

"Wush a sex swing?" Gus wanted to know.

"It's a toy for old married couples who need to spice things up," Brian answered facetiously.

Justin snorted. "Old married couples?" he threw out innocently.

Mel saved Brian from having to answer. Her brow furrowed, she looked at Brian. "By the way, how'd you know to call me?"