by Cara Dee
Oh, a Fender joke. I’d never heard those before.
I raked my teeth over my bottom lip and tinkered on the guitar as I leaned into the mic. “I was told very recently by a bossy little boy to promote the fact that I’m playing at the music festival outside of Murfreesboro next weekend, so I think we can cross that off the list now.” I got some chuckles from that, at least, and I heard Camden’s laughter.
With that out of the way, I glanced over my shoulder and gave the guys a nod before I started the first song.
I wouldn’t impress anyone with the guitar, not with these songs. It was an easy rhythm that stayed out of the limelight, giving more focus to my voice. And as I sang the first couple lines, I knew the lukewarm welcome I’d just received would change. It always did. Nobody expected real talent at these events.
I’d give Nonna one thing. My voice was a gift. Unlike with all the instruments I played, I hadn’t busted my ass to become good at singing. I treated it as a gift too; I was grateful, because I didn’t know if I was gonna lose it one day. I’d tried vocal coaches and herbal teas, I’d smoked and I’d given up smoking over the years, and my voice stayed the same. No better, no worse, regardless of my lifestyle.
I had the ability to shift between high and low notes, and my voice was as clear and strong as it was gravelly and strained. Nicky claimed I sang with my morning voice.
Either way…I had their attention now.
The tempo increased before we slowed it down. Then, just as some in the crowd began cheering, I played the beginning of Rising Sun, causing everyone to go silent again.
“There is a house in New Orleans—” I stayed close to the mic and peered down at the strings. “—they call the Rising Sun.”
Someone whistled sharply, and it was followed by some hollering.
“It’s been the ruin of many a boy.” I plucked quietly at the strings. “And me, oh Lord, I’m one.” Closing my eyes, I sang the rest of the verse. “My mama was a tailor… She sewed my new blue jeans. My daddy was…a drinkin’ man… Oh we lived, down in New Orleans.”
We stopped playing altogether, and I sang everything one more time without any music comping me.
There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
It’s been the ruin of many a boy
And me, oh Lord, I’m one
My mama was a tailor
She sewed my new blue jeans
My daddy was a drinkin’ man
Oh we lived down in New Orleans…
I backed away from the mic and turned around, exchanging a look with the drummer before we raised the tempo and let the music take over for the duration of the song. I chuckled to myself as I improvised around Mac’s own improvisation. I couldn’t imagine being an accompanying musician and never being allowed to be creative—God knew the men deserved it and were talented enough.
By the end of the song, we were met by cheers and applause, and I nodded at the crowd. What mattered the most was Camden and August being visibly excited to see me, something I hadn’t experienced in a long time. My ex had never been interested in coming to gigs.
I returned the guitar to its stand next to an amp, then retrieved the fifty I’d put in my back pocket earlier, and I shook hands with Mac.
“Have a beer on me, guys,” I said. “If you play anywhere else, I’d like to come see you.”
He grinned and was quick to hand me a business card with the information about their band.
“We comp at smaller gigs around town a few nights a month, that’s all.”
“I’ll look you up,” I replied. “Thanks, fellas.”
“Right back at you. You were right, you know. Your version stands out.”
I smirked and offered a two-finger wave, then stepped off the platform to rejoin August and Camden.
“Have I told you how amazin’ you are on stage? Christ—your voice, sweetheart.”
I grinned through a yawn and squeezed August’s hand.
“I liked his voice too, Daddy,” Camden mumbled sleepily from the back seat. “So much.”
I glanced at him in the sideview mirror and estimated he’d be dead to the world within five minutes.
The festival area disappeared behind us, and soon, everything went pitch black.
The silence was comfortable and much needed, but it was deafening too. Only the low rumble from August’s truck could be heard. After a day of so many impressions, it was unfamiliar. So were the country roads for this New Yorker. Life down here was different.
It’d grown on me a lot, though. I loved the peacefulness of it all.
The clock on the dash struck midnight, and it was officially Monday.
In one week exactly, I was going home.
“Penny for your thoughts?” August threaded our fingers together.
I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair. “Just thinkin’ I have exactly one week left.”
“Mm.” He nodded slowly and kept his eyes on the road. “A lot has happened already.”
Yeah. I hadn’t even begun to process most of it.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I’d have plenty of time to think back on this experience soon enough. For now, I wanted to live in the moment and soak up every minute I had left with August and Camden.
Chapter 12
The Heart
Was that them? I coulda sworn I saw…
I refocused on the music when Nicky raised his arms in the air and started clapping, encouraging the audience to join in as I pushed us into the last chorus.
My heart pounded, my lungs burned, sweat trickled down my neck.
The heart…
Always risky business to get that involved.
“Ragazzo, why don’t you come swim with us?” I asked. “The water’s nice.”
I’d fully expected to freeze my balls off when we’d gotten into the water earlier, until I learned that August and Camden had the pool heated between March and May, then again in October and November. Evidently, August was an avid swimmer but not a fan of getting cold.
Camden looked up from the game he was playing on his tablet and hitched a brow. “You’re not swimming. You’re just kissing and being boring.”
I rumbled a chuckle and turned back to August, sliding my arms around his neck. “You hear that? We’re boring.”
He closed the distance and smiled into a lazy kiss. “So very boring.”
I hummed, easily getting lost in another moment with him.
It was what the past few days had consisted of. Moments of absolute fucking bliss. Memories for a lifetime. Glimpses of a pipe dream.
We spent our days around the pool, fucking, swapping life stories, eating good food, enjoying the early summer heat, and then we went inside after dinner, after the sun had set. We’d caught a game together and watched a few movies. Last night, we stayed up till dawn, just talking and being with one another. Camden had fallen asleep with his head on my lap. He came and went as he pleased, busy playing with his toys or shouting at a video game, and sometimes he was sneaky. The other day when August had fucked me over the couch in the den across from the kitchen, we’d found Camden watching us discreetly from one of the entryways.
August and I were both learning that Camden evidently liked to watch—he was curious about everything he called “grown-up games”—but he didn’t want to participate.
It was new to them, too, since they hadn’t invited anyone into their relationship for years.
My back hit the wall of the pool, and August cupped my jaw as he deepened the kiss and swept his tongue into my mouth. He was the first man I’d been with who was as physically loving as me, and it was liberating to be able to spend hours just kissing and holding each other without worrying that the other was going to get sick of it.
“Daddy, can we make pizza today?” Camden asked. “It’s Anthony’s favorite.”
I chuckled, out of breath, then promptly swallowed a bout of unease when it struck me how much I adored the boy. Fuck. I
t felt heavy. Enough that my smile faltered, and I had to clear my throat and avert my eyes.
The two men were like night and day, as were my reactions to them, but the end result was the same. I couldn’t imagine one without the other, and two types of feelings were still equal when stacked up next to each other.
“Pizza sounds great, darlin’,” August replied. “I’ll dust off the pizza oven in a bit.”
“Of course you have your own pizza oven.” I forced a casual grin and swam backward toward the stairs.
“Of course we do.” He smirked back. “Where do you think you’re goin’? I wasn’t done with you.”
But one day very soon, he would be, and I needed to get my shit together.
“I thought I’d call Nicky. I’ve avoided him long enough.” Avoid was a strong word, but he’d put two and two together after I’d posted a photo on Instagram of me replacing a string on my guitar and saying I was looking forward to the gig on Saturday. My brother had seen the picturesque background of August and Camden’s patio and pool area in the photo and texted me something about my shitty motel having surprisingly high standards. His way of asking where I really was.
He’d also asked how I’d come to play at the food festival, after which he’d let me know that our sad Facebook page—that hadn’t seen an update in over a year—had gotten two hundred new likes overnight.
That last tidbit with the new likes had made it easy for me to dodge his other questions.
“I mean, you could tell him the truth,” August drawled.
“And what’s that?” I had to go there, didn’t I?
He swam over to me, trapping me against the wide steps. “That you’ve been kidnapped by a Southerner and a desertin’ Yankee.”
I let out a breathy chuckle and shook my head. “I think he’d have follow-up questions to that.”
“Mm.” He dropped his gaze to my mouth and kissed me quickly. “Tell him that any further information is rated R. Or NC-17. Or however porn is rated.”
I laughed and nipped at his jaw. “I’ll think of something.”
I had no plans to hide whatever I was going to say, though. August could listen in. It mattered to me that he didn’t want to be too discreet where I was concerned, and I wanted him to know I was on the same page.
After getting out of the pool, I snatched up a towel from one of the loungers and wrapped it around my hips. When you were around a man like August, you wanted to be naked as much as possible, and we had no reason to wear trunks in the water. But Camden blushed and stammered as soon as he saw our “things,” so it was best to cover up. Sometimes, anyway.
I grabbed my phone from under my tee and called my brother, fairly certain he didn’t have classes right now. Then I walked over to the barbecue area and lit up a smoke.
“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.
August thought about it and swam over to rest his forearms on the edge. “Why not meet up here? We could do a barbecue. Being on the road for over twelve hours… Maybe sitting down in a crowded restaurant isn’t at the top of the list of things you wanna do.”
As kind as his offer was, I couldn’t help but hesitate. No matter how valid his argument was. He’d already done so much.
“I didn’t mean to invite us to your reunion, of course,” August added. “I was just thinkin’ in terms of space and being able to relax. Camden and I can have dinner with my sister if you’d prefer to be—”
“Uh, don’t finish that sentence, ciccio. This is your home.” I furrowed my brow at him. “Look, I’ll be honest. I don’t have much time left with you, so I’m gonna steal every minute I can—even if that includes having the dinner here with everyone.” I paused. “My issue is that you’ve done too much as it is. So…I don’t know. If we have the dinner here, I’m ordering pizza.”
Camden found that hilarious, though he kept his eyes fixed on his game. “Ordering pizza—to Daddy’s house. That’s so funny.”
August squinted and scratched his eyebrow. “Yeah, that would pose a problem for me. In our home, we don’t allow takeout.”
I felt my forehead crease. “Why else would the top drawer in every kitchen in America have takeout menus?”
That made him snort. “Sounds more like your kitchen, darlin’. Here, we cook. We treat our guests to proper food. It’s how my mama raised me.”
Okay, he was sweet as hell, but he didn’t need to trash-talk fast food and takeout.
“I like takeout,” I muttered stubbornly.
August’s eyes glowed with mirth. “Let me cook for y’all, Anthony. You’re not the only one who wants to steal every minute we have left.” He was gonna win this argument, wasn’t he? I watched as he pushed himself out of the pool and walked toward me, wet, naked, with the sun bathing his skin in warm light. Fucking hell, he was sexy. All man, silver scruff, quiet strength, and charm. “This is one of those moments you’re supposed to be a good boy and obey me.”
