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I do.” He toasted the kid with the
fry. It was stupid but it went over well. The kid laughed. John could tell he
wasn't laughing at him but with him.
    Cassidy eyed John for a moment. “You
know,” she told him after taking a sip of her soda, “you look really silly with
your pants riding so high.” Her eyes drifted down his body.
    John shrugged, trying to ignore her
suggestive gesture. Yes, he used to be able to rock a pair of weathered Levi’s
with rips in the knees. “It's a look,” he told her. He loved the way her brown
eyes sparkled when she insulted him. “You don't have to like it,” he added so
he didn't seem pathetic.
    “Don't they hurt?” she asked. She
reached past him and popped a french fry into her
mouth, followed up with a wink.
    John knew she was trying to rattle
him and he probably deserved it.
    “Mom,” the kid moaned. “Would you
leave the guy alone?” he asked coming to John's rescue. The boy studied Cassidy
for a moment. “To comment on someone’s clothes is a form of bullying.”
    Mom? Did the kid just say mom? Rattled, yes John was completely rattled. Cassidy had
just won hands down. John didn't know Cassidy had a kid. Especially
a kid so damn old . Not that the kid was gray or ancient. But he
had to be at least twelve, making Cassidy fifteen or sixteen when she gave
birth.
    “Okay, okay,” Cassidy raised her
hands in the air. “Sorry,” she said. She blushed as she chewed on another french fry.
    “Apologize to him, not to me,” the
kid told her. He rolled his eyes like teenagers have done to their parents
since the beginning of time.
    “I'm sorry,” she said to John. She
even smiled.
    John was in shock. “Who's this?” he
asked jabbing his thumb toward the preteen.
    “This is my son,” Cassidy
explained. “Kevin.” She tapped Kevin on the shoulder. She even looked proud.
    “Son?” John said as he rubbed his hand over his forehead. Then he blinked a few times.
“I didn't know you had a—”
    “Yeah,” Kevin said. “She got
herself knocked up when she was fifteen and I was the surprise that came from
that moment of teenage indiscretion.” He pulled on the front of his T-shirt.
    “A kid,” John finished his
sentence. Jesus, Cassidy and him had been close. Really close. She didn't tell John
about a kid.
    “Technically I'm not a kid,” Kevin
answered. “Now a teenager.” He looked John up and
down. “You sure you don't like Commander Adama better
than Starbuck?” he asked.
    “No.” John shook his head.
    “Bad ass, reckless fighter pilot
versus stable, level-headed leader,” Kevin continued. “You remind me more of Adama ,” he remarked.
    John needed to get to the bottom of
this because he'd spent the last two years with Cassidy Cooper and he was sure she
never mentioned a kid. “Hey, Kevin,” John said not taking his eyes off Cassidy.
“I'd really like a root beer.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “Could
you get me one while I talk with your mother for a moment?” The line looked
long so hopefully it would take the boy a few minutes to order and pay.
    “Since when do you drink root beer?”
Cassidy asked after Kevin had walked away. “And wear fringe shirts?” She pulled
on one of the strings hanging from his arm. Even after Kevin's scolding she was
still in the mood to pick on John.
    “Since when are you called mom?” He
shot right back at her.
    She shifted in her seat.
    “I didn't know you had a son,” he
told her.
    “Well, I do,” she said sharply. “Don't
worry, I won't tell Kevin you're a cop and blow your cover.” She rolled her
eyes. “I know how important the job is to you.” She said this with a boat load
of attitude, which just wasn't fair.
    “That girl wasn't in danger,” John
replied feeling defensive. He figured he'd attack her before she started
accusing him of child abuse and a million other things.
    “That's not true,” she countered. “By
exposing you I was able to save that child from abuse. My