We Have Till Monday

“Howdy, stranger!” Nicky answered. “Am I sayin’ that right? I wanna make sure my brother understands me now that he’s abandoned the north, I do declare.”

I snorted and sat down in a chair. “That’s gotta be the worst Southern accent I’ve ever heard.”

“Col cazzo! I nailed it.” He sucked his teeth. “How are you?”

“I’m good—I’m really good.” I exhaled some smoke through my nose. “How’s everything at home?”

“Same, same. Good. Pop’s nervous about us leaving. Both sweet as fuck and annoying as shit.”

I grinned to myself and imagined Pop calling Nicky at all hours of the day, asking what time they were leaving New York. “I guess you’ll start packing soon, eh?”

“Soon? Son, we packed two days ago. I ain’t doin’ nuthin’ last minute, and I live with a worrier. Gideon says hi, by the way.”

I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it and glanced at the screen. Holy shit, it was already Thursday?

I coulda sworn it was Wednesday.

“Say hey back,” I replied. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to convince you to fly down instead.”

Nicky laughed. “Trust, he did. Tempted me with first-class tickets and blow jobs.”

I smirked.

“I got the blow job anyway,” he said cockily. “But I don’t know, I’d feel like a dick if Gid and I flew to Nashville and all the others had to take the bus.”

True.

“You callin’ him Gid now?”

“Not to his face,” he guffawed. “He hates nicknames. Except mine, of course. I’m his only exception.”

If he was gonna start with his lovey-dovey shit, I’d hang up.

“I get it,” I responded wryly. “You’re each other’s exception, god, and altar of worship.”

I was fucking with him. Since getting out of New York, I was in a much better place. I didn’t feel any bitterness about my own situation. And, no wonder.

“Why you gotta be like that?” Nicky bitched. “Don’t tell me you’re not balls deep in your own bliss. You can’t fool me, big brother. You’ve hooked up with the hot chef and his sidekick—admit it.”

I barked out a laugh—I couldn’t help it—and it got me August’s attention. “August, my brother demands that I admit I’ve been hooking up wit’chu.”

“You’re at their place right now?” Nicky asked.

August smirked and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “This is where you confirm, sweetheart.”

Nicky heard him, and his string of triumph came out in a butchered mix of slang and Spanish, only for him to switch to Italian and English the next second. “Lo sapevo! I knew it!”

“Cool it,” I chuckled. “When’re youse heading out? We should decide where to meet up tomorrow.”

It dropped a rock in the pit of my stomach. Friday tomorrow, then Saturday—a day that would disappear. I’d be busy all day with Nicky and the others. We’d get a single rehearsal at the venue in the morning, and I probably had to spend some more time with them afterward.

I felt ungrateful, but my time with August and Camden was running out, and I could see my friends and family from New York when-fucking-ever.

“The bus is picking us up outside the Initiative at eleven tonight,” Nicky responded. “Did you know it was gonna be Luiz’s uncle drivin’ us?”

“It was his recommendation,” I said. Luiz wasn’t only our drummer; he drove a school bus on a daily basis and earned extra money at his uncle’s company in the springtime when every eighth grader on the East Coast was going somewhere with their class. “Miguel will drive the first eight hours, and then Luiz will take over. He said it was the best way to get everyone to Nashville without wastin’ money on a motel along the way or breaking any regulations. Drivers aren’t allowed to be on the road for more than ten hours or something. I don’t remember exactly. But you’ll stop to stretch your legs and get something to eat, obviously.”

“Tell that to Maria,” Nicky laughed. “She’s been cookin’ with Nonna all week.”

I grinned and put out my smoke in the ashtray. Maria was one of the best singers our church’s gospel choir had seen, and she lived in the same building as Nonna. I wasn’t surprised one fucking bit that they’d team up to make road snacks for everyone. I’d be jealous if I weren’t already being spoiled by my own chef.

“Well, eat up on the bus, then,” I said. “After you’ve checked in to the motel, we can meet up at a restaurant nearby. I’ll find us something and text you the details.”

“Sounds good,” Nicky answered. “That’s a fight I lost, though. We’ve canceled our motel reservation. Gideon insisted we stay someplace where he doesn’t have to worry about bedbugs, so he booked rooms for all of us downtown.”

Madonn’. That had to cost an arm and a leg. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Gideon was as generous as he was loaded.

After wrapping up my call with Nicky, I trailed back to the pool area and got comfortable on the lounger next to Camden’s. August was still in the water, and I gave him the rundown of my brother’s arrival. Mostly, I wanted a recommendation for a nice restaurant where I could treat everyone to dinner. With my having been here all week already, I felt we needed some time to reconnect before the gig on Saturday. A night out should help.