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that.
    “Where’s Becky?” I ask him about his babysitter. I rock him once in my arms, waiting. Lyric’s got all sorts of diversions crossing his features like a film. He’s always trying to outwit us. When will he learn that people have been around so long we don’t fall for it? Finally, he settles on one diversion, raises a chubby index finger, and points at the bar: “Pop.”
    No. Leon would have a fit if I gave him soda.
    “Water, okay?” I say, but the little man shakes his head vehemently. Purses cherry-plump lips at me in disappointment. I take him to the bar, to Cameron, who arches a brow, eyeing the heartbreaker I’m holding.
    “Tam!” Lyric screams, happy again. He reaches wide arms at Cam, expecting to be hoisted over the countertop. Needless to say, it’s what usually happens. Cameron always horses around with him before doors open. It’s a bit different at nine p.m. when Mr. Tyke here should be sound asleep and the students are getting their booze on. Lyric really has no business downstairs.
    Cameron grabs him anyway and lets him bounce on the bar top like a marionette. Lyric launches into a funny tap dance on pajamas feet. “What’re you doing up, silly?” Cam asks once he’s got him in his arms.
    Lyric tries to explain, pointing in various directions. Once he remembers his story, he points at the beer tap. “Pop!”
    “Your daddy would kill me if I gave you pop,” Cam laughs.
    Then, his mother’s there. “Lyric. What in the world? Where’s Becky? What are you doing here… Jesus. Did he come down on his own?” She’s a bit of a mother hen. It doesn’t help that Leon’s overprotective of the two of them either. Long story.
    “Sure did,” I say. “He wanted pop.”
    She snorts, relieves Cam of his sweet little burden, and inundates Lyric with mommy kisses. As always, he wriggles to get away. “Ma,” he objects, already too cool for her intense affection.
    “Let’s mix him a drink,” Cameron votes.
    “Yeah! Make him something fun!” I clap my hands while Arriane exclaims, “Cameron. No.”
    By the time all is said and done, though, Lyric totes a small glass of cucumber and tomato juice with a splash of sparkling water, and he’s slosh-stirring it with a celery stick on the way up the stairs in his mother’s arms.
    That baby always makes me smile. Now, I feel Cameron’s eyes on me. It’s been two days since our fling at his dorm, and after the initial bickering due to the little stunt I pulled, we slid right back to the touchy-feely, insolent friendship we’ve shared since day one. With Cameron, that’s what I expected with one hundred percent certainty. I knew we’d ruin nothing with a sleepover.
    “You look good with Lyric,” he tells me, irises sparkling in the low light.
    “Thanks, he’s my color. I’ll wear him for Halloween.”
    “You want to have my babies?”
    I choke on the Seven-Up I’m in the midst of swallowing. When I start coughing in earnest, Cameron’s smile stretches into the widest grin. Yep, he’s mentally congratulating himself.
    “Shut up,” is my first, lame response. Damn, I’m predictable with this guy.
    “Oh, is it too early? Okay. Let’s stick to practicing, then. You know what I think?” he asks, actually stopping to wait for an answer, like I’m going to buy into that. Whatever Cameron thinks is not PG-rated.
    “Ja, I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I shout across the counter. I’m better off joining him in the back, though. The closer I am, the less asinine blabber reaches the customers. Not that they’re not used to it.
    I pass Christian by the register and reach Cameron. He’s mixing a Bloody Mary for some idiot with weird nighttime choices. My guess is he saw Lyric’s drink and got inspired.
    “You think I really enjoyed practicing with you, and now I can’t wait to carry your children, am I right? Because you’re God’s gift to women?”
    Cam freezes, bulges his eyes, and slaps a hand flat against his chest in a