by Cara Dee
August chuckled. “Because you and your brothers are constantly raisin’ hell.”
“Pshh!” Camden waved that off. “We show one another love. You wouldn’t get it.”
I met Nicky’s smirk and nodded at Camden. “He grew up similarly to us but abandoned Staten Island for the South early on.”
Nicky widened his eyes. “I’d abandon Staten Island too, man.”
“Ay!” Camden sucked his teeth. It was the first time I’d really seen the remnants of a New Yorker in him. Cute.
I had to broach the next topic—my heart demanded it—but I decided straightaway to stay out of the trash talk that was bound to follow. So I mentioned to my brother that Camden was a Mets fan, and I told Gideon, who rooted for the Yankees, that he had a friend in August. Of course, it got Chris and Luiz going too.
I grabbed my beer, took a swig, and sat back again, pleased as punch.
When everyone was loud, you knew you were among family.
Saturday was meant to be the highlight of my whole stay in Nashville.
Instead, it felt like I was just going through the motions. A part of me had shut down, and I didn’t get it. I knew why; it was because I was leaving soon. But feeling nothing sucked hard.
It showed, too. Before we were off to Murfreesboro, August asked me twice if everything was okay. Nicky kept giving me looks too, and I blew it at the rehearsal. My singing was off, I missed cues, and I fucked up the transition between several songs.
I couldn’t get into it.
And I should. This was a dream come true for the young punk in me who’d once dreamed of becoming a rock star. It was gonna be a big festival, and crew was running around all over the place. The sun shone down on us, people were hollering orders and instructions, tents were being assembled, delivery trucks fought over parking spaces, and various bands performed soundcheck.
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.”
I blinked.
“Last but not least, we can squeeze in another contract with one of the public schools in our district that already wanna transfer their students to us,” he said. “You know we’re sitting on a gold mine, Anthony, especially with our credentials and the quality of our classes. If there’s one thing schools like, it’s to make budget cuts. But if they send their students to us, they can slash their own music programs and still boast about a fantastic opportunity for anyone who wants to learn an instrument. And for every school we take on, our income becomes a little bit more stable because of government funding. If we expand and open a second location—madonn’, we could be running all the Park Slope schools’ music programs.”
Before I could even begin to process what he’d said, he stood up and checked his phone. “Listen.” He leveled me
with a serious look. “Do I think you should rush into something with August and Camden? No. All’a youse need time to think and whatever. And you need to come home with us on Monday and clear your head. But don’t tell me there’s no way to make compromises. August and Camden aren’t Charles—they’re not asking you to give up everything and move across the country.” Then he gestured toward the others waiting offstage. “We have twenty minutes before we gotta box everything up again. Think you can pull yourself together enough to sound decent, at least?”
Ouch.
With a quick shake of my head, I filed away his mind-numbing rant for now and stood up. “I was nicer to you when you were hugging your pillow and crying into your ice cream, thinking Gideon didn’t want you.”
He scowled. “I didn’t cry.”
“Sob.”
Let the music guide you, Nonna always said.
It didn’t guide me as much as it centered me. It helped me find focus and sort through my thoughts.
It was what I needed today, so I didn’t tag along on any sight-seeing. I didn’t drive back to the ranch either. I texted August, telling him I was staying at the festival to get into the right mood and that I’d see them after the show. And once we’d rented all the cars we needed for the day, Nicky drove off in my truck, and I got on the bus.
For several hours, it was just me, earbuds in my ears, a pen and notepad, a pack of smokes, and some food and soda I’d bought on the way back from the rental place.
Before coming down to Nashville, I’d complained about the monotony of my life. How my existence had become predictable and dull. Now it was suddenly the opposite, and I was finding a way to bitch about that too.
I shouldn’t. I should let the uncertainty shake me up and keep me in suspense for a while.
We got bored so easily, and yet, as soon as something unfamiliar happened, we did everything to work things out as quickly as possible. For what? So we could get bored again?
It was okay not to know where we were headed.
I left my seat somewhere in the middle of the bus and grabbed my duffel near the front. After changing into a pair of new jeans and a black tee, I started pacing the narrow aisle and thinking about the first song on our setlist. Everyone would be back soon, and I wanted to make some changes. Maybe add a chorus to highlight the message?
It was beautiful irony that the song was about not knowing what state of life you were in. About having a long way to go and being lost. About leaving in the morning… But despite the songwriter’s lack of direction and state of uncertainty, it wasn’t a sad tune. It was rock ’n’ roll at its finest and had harmonies that fit in any Beach Boys song.
Maybe I should just embrace it. Having uncertainties didn’t have to be bad.
Nicky had given me a lot to think about, and I did have a long way to go, but there was hope now too. Because he was right on the money. There were compromises to make.
Around the time everyone came back from their day in downtown Nashville, I was sitting outside the bus on a lawn chair, guitar perched on my lap, smoke dangling at the corner of my mouth, and I’d just rearranged some of the lyrics in the first song.
“The day did you good, huh?” Nicky smiled.
I nodded and took the smoke from my lips. “I owe you one.”
He shrugged. “I’d say we’re even.”
Darkness fell, and the first band was in the middle of their gig when August texted me to say they were here and were gonna check out some of the other bands. A big part of me wanted to seek them out, maybe have dinner with them, but I stayed near the bus. I couldn’t lose focus again. I felt much better. Determined—I felt determined.
It was impossible to drown out the concerts taking place so close, but we did our best to go through our gig step by step. Anyone who had questions or struggled with something, we dealt with.
Nicky came back after a food break with his man and announced that August and Camden had joined up with Gideon, so that was nice.
The next time I checked my watch, too much time had passed, and we were suddenly in a hurry. All the instruments had to come out of the cargo space on the bus, including my Hammond that was a fucking pain to move, Maria demanded pictures had to be taken, and I had to make sure the boxes with all the gear had the right labels for the crew that was about to put their hands on our shit.
It was the benefit of always playing smaller gigs—you were in charge of your own equipment. No such luck on a big festival where everything had to run smoothly.
When all was said and done, we had about five minutes to spare. The second band was about to wrap up, and the roadies were getting ready to invade the stage.
“I’m so nervous,” Maria said, waving her hands in front of her face. I didn’t know what for; as soon as the sun set, it wasn’t very warm. I did feel some nerves, though. “Hey, guys! Can we gather for a moment? I’d like to do a prayer.”
I supposed this was where Nicky and I—and Chris—didn’t quite fit in with the rest. My brother and I weren’t exactly religious, despite our close connection to our local church. It was mainly for the music. I couldn’t call myself agnostic or an atheist either, for that matter. Religion was… It wasn’t just one thing. It was complicated. And personal. But it wasn’t the first time Nicky and I bowed our heads in prayer, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Everyone joined hands, and Maria led the way.
“Hear us pray, O glorious Saint Cecilia,” she began.
“This is so fucking rock ’n’ roll,” Nicky whispered next to me.
I grinned but kept my eyes and mouth shut.
“…We lift our hearts in joyous song, sent heavenward on winged notes,” she continued. “We pray, guide us, our saint for those who sing, keep us under your protective wing. O glorious Saint Cecilia. Amen.”
“Amen.” I cleared my throat and looked over my shoulder as the audience some fifty feet away erupted in cheers and applause. “All right, everyone. We’re up. As long as you do better than me at rehearsal today, you’re good.”
I got a few laughs outta that, and it relieved some of the tension.
“Kidding aside, I’m glad you’re all here,” I said. “Music once brought us together, and music is what we’re gonna give these Southerners.”
“Fuck yeah!” Luiz’s agreement rose above the others’, and he held his drumsticks in the air. A nice instrument to play when you had roadies doing the heavy lifting. You just grabbed your sticks.
Another poor bastard had to get his three guitars ready, ’cause no roadie in the universe was allowed to touch them.
Standing right next to the stage, I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach as the crew unveiled our backdrop. With our lack of goals for this band’s future, we hadn’t gotten very creative with our name, but it still packed a punch to see The Second Initiative in rusty lettering against the black background.
I took out my phone to snap a picture of it, and I noticed I had a text waiting from August.
Can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. You’ve been on my mind all day.
My chest constricted. It was insane how fast that man reeled me in. Just a few words, and I was ready to go find him.
I walked over to the canvas-covered fence and folded my arms over my chest, sneaking a peek between two bars. Not a bad crowd that’d stayed, not bad at all. I’d expected more people to leave once the second band had left the stage, but I estimated there were a few hundred still standing there. Waiting for us.
It’d be interesting to see if any of our demos got sold over at the merch tents.
“Stage is clear!” someone from the crew hollered.
It was our cue.
I rejoined the others and grabbed my guitars, then jogged up the steps and nodded to Luiz. Soon as my electric was plugged in, he would start us off.
The stage was still dark as a big man in a headset and festival T-shirt grabbed the mic to introduce us.
“Next up, straight from Brooklyn! Give it up for The Second Initiative
!”
It was a freaking rush to hear the people cheering right away. Maybe they were drunk already. They hadn’t fucking heard us yet. But I took advantage, quickly plugged in my guitar, and took a chord, holding it in place to pour a feedback effect out of the speakers and through the crowd. Then I took my spot in front of my mic and my overdrive on the floor, pressed down the pedal as Luiz hit the hi-hat, and Nicky followed suit. As the music exploded, so did the stage. Spotlights lit us up and killed the nerves.
Nicky and I exchanged a chuckle before I turned my back on the crowd and made eye contact with Maria and Matt. They led the way for the choir. Got a nod from Chris, got a nod from Sylvia. Shit was good.
I faced the mic again and threw myself into the song, managing to block out the outside world like I hadn’t been able to do this morning.
I’m leaving…in the morning.
I don’t…I don’t know where I’m going.
But we’ve got a long way to go.
Chapter 15
The entire gig had been so loud that when we sat down with our acoustic guitars to deliver the last song in front of a quiet audience, a rushing sound invaded my ears.
I kept one foot on the floor and half sat on the stool, and my voice was granted a break with a tune that was much easier to sing. Well, at the moment anyway. There was a crescendo later when I’d have to give it my all one last time.
Nicky and Chris harmonized beautifully alongside me, taking over for a beat so I could move on to my next task. I switched places with Sylvia; she took care of the rhythm, and my fingers found their home on the keyboard.
She stayed by my side, and we sang into the same mic.
Exchanging a look with Luiz and Nicky, we wound down the song so I could speak to the audience again.
“You’ve been amazing, Nashville.” I kept playing softly, accompanied by the others, and I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak tomorrow. I could already feel a hoarseness creeping up. “A dream come true, really. Thank you.”
We were met by cheers that gave me chills, and I could only smile to myself. Definitely a dream come true.
