think last time was before summer. Now, Halloween and Thanksgiving were right around the corner, and the choir had some fun events to rehearse for. Anthony and I would be part of one of them.
Back in the day, it’d been mostly older people in the choir—and by older, I meant Anthony’s age—but now several of them were even younger than me.
It was a representative mix consisting of twenty men and women of the Catholic population of Williamsburg, and I’d gone to school with many of them. Anthony could say the same for the older folk.
As much as I loved Manhattan, this was where I belonged. It was home. With all its flaws.
“Nicky, can you take the piano for warm-up?” Anthony asked. “We have Nina, Henri, and Luiz on bass, guitar, and drums. I’ll take the organ.”
“Sounds good.” I left my guitar with him at the first pew and headed up toward the piano. “Maria!”
She was a friend of ours; she lived in the same building as Nonna, and I could always borrow the sheet music from her.
“What’s this I hear about you leaving Brooklyn, papi?”
“It’s just temporary.” I smiled, sitting down at the piano. A handful of people had arrived and taken their seats along the pews. “What’re youse working on these days?”
She smirked knowingly and handed over a binder. “It’s all in here.”
“Cheers, hon.” I found a good one to begin with, X Ambassadors’ gospel song “Belong,” and the choir fell quiet as I played the first few notes.
Anthony took his seat at the organ across the aisle and nodded to me, so I started over and signaled to Nina, Henri, and Luiz.
One of Anthony’s buddies, Matthew, stepped forward to the mic that was set up for whoever was doing a solo.
His voice had great range, and he handled the higher notes almost as well as my brother did.
As soon as the choir filled in and flooded the small church with their harmonies, it became abundantly clear that this was exactly what I needed tonight. And even more so when I gazed out over the pews and spotted my grandmother. I smiled at her, and she waved enthusiastically and sat down somewhere in the middle.
After two glasses of brandy, Nonna liked to brag about our music abilities and how they came from her. She’d once been a singer herself, and she’d bought Anthony his first guitar.
We ran through a handful of songs with the choir, most of which would be performed at the church’s fall concerts, and then we started going through the program for the event we were gonna participate in. It was an annual outdoor event that took place in an abandoned church that was more ruins than church. The lot sat on the edge of the neighborhood, and people tended to walk past it a little faster at night. But for one day of the year, the area was packed. The ruins of the church were lit up with bistro lights and spotlights and candles, people brought their own chairs and blankets, and a few members of the community sold hot beverages, cookies, hot dogs, and candied almonds.
As Anthony walked up to the choir and discussed harmonies of his new song, I sat back and listened on one ear while my gaze scanned the visitors. I exchanged another smile with Nonna, but she was busy chatting to some woman I didn’t know but recognized. Probably a neighbor. Judging by Nonna’s gesturing and the way she patted the woman’s arm, Nonna was giving unsolicited advice about something. She was fantastic at that.
Damn, Mr. Colinetti was here with his wife. He was my old math teacher in high school, and more importantly, Anthony’s first crush.
That was another thing that didn’t make sense about Anthony’s relationship with Shawn. My brother usually preferred older men. He’d spent his twenties chasing silver foxes, and now that he was one himself, he acted as if the roles suddenly had to be reversed. Shawn was young. Twenty-four or something.
Come to think of it, Anthony had brought Shawn home for Sunday dinner about a year ago, after my brother had bitched about getting old. He’d even dyed his hair for a few months before giving that shit up.
Maybe I should plant sexy silver foxes in Anthony’s path.
He needed someone sweet who was as nurturing as he was, someone who didn’t use him as a place to crash or source of income when “money’s short.” Because Anthony would never stop helping those who asked. Hell,