The first time he was called 'son' was by his mother's second boyfriend when he was seven. Mark figured if he can get to the kid, he have no problem with the mother. But really when it came to Jim, he couldn't care less. He could remember the first time it happened. Jim was sitting at the table watching television when Mark came in.

"Hey brat, where does your mom keep all her cash?"

"I'm not a brat!"

"Who you talking to like that, boy? You should learn how to respect your betters."

"Funny cause I don't see no betters. Just a punk loser."

Suddenly Mark grabbed Jim and banged his head on the table. "One thing your going learn to do is respect me, boy."

"Get off me ya jerk."

"What is going on in there? " Winona asked from the other room.

"O just some male-bonding. Isn't that right, son?" Mark asked squeezing Jim's neck tightly

"Yes. "

"Ok. Watch the china."

"Of course, darling." He said heading out to the yard.

"Your not my father." Jim told the retreating Mark

"Thank god for that, son. " Jim hated that word.