We Have Till Monday

Forty-five thousand tickets sold. Eighteen bands. Food trucks, beer tents, the whole nine yards. Everything was going to come together on this massive field in the middle of the woods.

“Yo, everybody take ten,” Nicky ordered.

I made a face and set down my guitar in its stand, then watched the others walk off the stage.

We had everything set up the way we wanted it for tonight. Choir in the back next to the drums, Sylvia on the keyboard, my Hammond organ next to it, Chris with his bass next to our amps, and then Nicky and me at the front.

Nicky lifted a brow at me. “You wanna tell me why I’m here listening to you dying when I coulda been with Gid at the hotel pool right now?”

I blew out a breath and slumped down in front of my Hammond. “Thanks for sugarcoating that.”

“You’re welcome. Thought you needed it.” He uncapped his bottle of water and sat down on the stage floor. “Last year, you helped me when I didn’t know if Gideon and I were gonna happen. Something tells me I’ll be able to return the favor soon.”

I side-eyed him. “I don’t know what tells you that. August, Camden, and I aren’t becoming a thing.”

“They’re called triads, I think.” He smiled.

I knew the goddamn term.

“Don’t you have a few buddies who’re in triads?” he asked. “The concept can’t be that foreign to you.”

“It’s not.” I furrowed my brow. “I don’t think you and I are on the same page here, Nicky. There’s no relationship to speak of.”

“Uh-huh.” He scratched his nose, not believing me for shit. “You can’t tell me you don’t want a relationship with them, though. None’a youse can. Fuck’s sake, you couldn’t go ten minutes without checkin’ in with one another yesterday. If August wasn’t coming over to you, you were going over to wherever he was. And you both sought out Camden.” He paused and tilted his head. “There’s kink involved, isn’t there?”

I reckoned we hadn’t done the best job hiding that fact. Plus, Nicky had his own kink dynamic with Gideon, though I didn’t believe it ran as deep, but it was probably enough for him to see the signs.

“Yeah.” The confirmation was only for the last part. “As for the rest—it’s too soon. It’s been a week.”

He found that funny. “Don’t bore me with that bullshit. Chemistry’s pretty much instant, Anthony. Either you want more, or you don’t. You don’t gotta promise your undying love just because you admit you want more with them.”

I shot him an irritated look and felt frustration building up. We didn’t have time for this discussion. The next band had their rehearsal in half an hour.

“Of course I wanna see them again,” I said impatiently. “We’ve talked about it.” Kind of. “We don’t wanna rip off the Band-Aid. We’ll visit each other or something.” Then I had to be honest. “But you know the reality too, Nicky. These things never last. I already went through it with Charles. Eventually, you return home.”

He wasn’t satisfied with my response, though he had nothing to say at first. He hugged his knees loosely and rested his chin on his shoulder, and he looked out over the festival area.

I handled his arguments a lot better than his silence, and I felt the need to defend myself.

“I’m not shy or insecure, bambino,” I told him. “If we’d lived in the same city or I’d seen things working out somehow, I woulda said so. I’ve got no issues taking initiative. But they have their own busy schedule, and I can’t leave New York. Even if I wanted to. I can’t make compromises with the school. I have classes every day. Piles of bills to pay.”

Last year marked the first when I didn’t have to prioritize the bills that came in. It was an indescribable relief to be able to pay everything right away, but there were still a lot, and balancing our budget was a monthly struggle.

Nicky turned to me with a frown. “I was blind as a bat when you helped me with Gideon—when I thought he didn’t want me—so I’ll cut you some slack for not seeing the solutions. But we can always make compromises, Anthony. Don’t forget that you’re not alone at the Initiative anymore.”

“You’re already working full time,” I pointed out.

“And?”

Didn’t he fucking see? And he called me blind. “My hands are tied,” I grated out. “I can’t work less. You can’t work less—but hey, if you think you’ve got everything figured out, please enlighten me.”

I knew that came out bitchy, and his look told me he knew it too.

Mannaggia.

I groaned and scrubbed my hands over my face.

“All right,” he responded casually. “I’ll fuckin’ enlighten you. Just off the top of my head—and this is about saving time and money so you can make room for a relationship, yeah? You can trade your rusty gas-guzzler of a truck for something cheaper that you can still transport gear in. You can stop turning to takeout as soon as Nonna’s leftovers are gone. I can take some classes from you if you take over my paperwork duties, shit you can do from home. And next semester, we can schedule your classes on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, which would leave you with Thursday and Friday to work on your goddamn couch. Or in Nashville. You can also quit tying yourself down every Saturday when you repair instruments for no money at all. It’s become a dumb-ass chore. You barely even like it anymore.”