We Have Till Dawn

Anthony followed, Luiz followed, the choir followed. We built up everything once more until we all jumped off the ledge and belted out the last chorus till our lungs burned for air.

Stand by me, darlin’.

Choose me.

Pick me, god-fucking-dammit.Chapter 10I was stalling.

The gig had left me a little too raw, and I had to at least compose myself somewhat before I faced Gideon. So I took my time helping Anthony box up our instruments and equipment.

Pop gave no fucks and stepped up on the platform, hands in his pockets, his ugly old bucket hat on as always, and an open jacket to show his The Fender Initiative sweater. Our old man was as unpolished and politically incorrect as they came, but he had a heart of gold and had always supported us in his own clumsy way.

“Youse rocked it tonight, eh?” He bobbed his head in agreement with his own statement. “No one was sitting at the end. I saw.” He gestured at the floor. It was starting to clear out. As always, too many were dumping their lawn chairs and “forgetting” their blankets. Same shit every year. “Everyone cheering—that’s good.”

“Thanks, Pop.” I bundled together the cord to my amplifier and walked over to kiss his cheek. “Anthony drivin’ you home?”

“Yeah, since Nonna took my car,” he replied.

“Don’t catch a cold, old man,” Anthony hollered from over by the drums. He was helping Luiz pack up. “Go have some coffee under a heater.”

Pop snorted and jerked his thumb at Anthony while he eyed me. “When did that boy become my father, huh? That’s what I wanna know.”

I grinned and started taking apart the microphone stand.

Then he wagged a finger at me. “And you. Either you’re stupid, or you think I’m stupid. You can’t sing like a canary to Ruby and Camila and don’t expect shit to get back to your grandmother and me. Huh? The fuck’s wrong witchu?”

I winced. “What’ve they told you?”

“All about that suit in the back.” He jerked his chin, presumably at Gideon. “You’ve been shacking up with him in the city.”

I shoulda known about Ruby. Her grandmother talked to Nonna, who talked to everyone, including Ruby herself, and she wasn’t the best at resisting my grandmother’s ways. But there were limits, and I knew I could count on my friend not to spill the beans about how Gideon and I met.

“So that’s why you were giving him the third degree,” I said.

“Third degree,” he scoffed. “I was just making sure you wasn’t bringing home a mamaluke like that one did.” He nodded at Anthony.

I was too nervous to laugh, but I probably would later.

“Anyway.” Pop twirled a finger and got serious. “Bring the boy over for dinner once he’s stopped calling youse ‘just friends.’” Ouch. But I hadn’t expected Gideon to call us anything else. “He seems nice—maybe a little uptight, but you can’t be picky anymore, son. You ain’t twenty no more, and you wanna find a good man before your balls start sagging.”

“For chrissakes!” I hollered.

“What?!” He widened his arms. “I’m just sayin’!”

“Can I turn thirty first?!”

“Ay, both’a yas!” Anthony called.

I growled under my breath and tried to reel it in. My temper, not my pre-sagging balls.

“I give you two love and good advice,” Pop argued, speaking with his hands, “and what do I get in return? You stomp on my heart.”

“Oh, for—you’ve been spending too much time at Nonna’s,” I told him irritably. “How about you take care of your own sagging balls? Go meet a nice lady who didn’t change your diapers as a baby!”

“Why the fuck would I do that for?” He frowned. “If I sell the cow, the neighborhood women won’t bring me casseroles when I dangle the milk in front of them.”

I groaned and scrubbed my hands over my face. “I give up.”

“Might as well. And go talk to the boy!” he ordered.

Madonn’, if Gideon thought it was funny when I called him baby, it had nothing on when Pop called him boy.

“I will, ’cause you’re givin’ me a headache.” I jabbed a finger at my temple and dumped the last cords in a hardcase box. “All the fuckin’ drama all the fuckin’ time.”

“Easy,” he bitched. “This is still a house of God. Don’t curse.”

I shot him an incredulous look.

He grinned and scratched his nose. “What?”

I just shook my head and walked off the stage.

Gideon was standing some twenty feet away, close enough to have probably heard most of that exchange, and the closer I got, the more I thought he looked troubled. His worry wrinkles were in full effect in his forehead.

He was holding a glazed bear claw in one hand and a bunch of napkins in the other.

“Hey, you.” I came to a stop before him and told myself to keep my cool. For all I knew, he was still worried about his dog.