A Summer Like No Other Page 3

  “He’s okay,” I reply, desperately wanting to change the subject.

  “I’m glad he decided to stay in the city. You and your brother can use a friend. And Nick is a real friend. I’m sorry again we didn’t go to the Hamptons this year.” Mom gives my shoulder a squeeze.

  “It’s fine. I need to practice anyways,” I reply. It’s on the tip of my tongue to mention the search for my birth parents. I’ve talked to them about it before, but I don’t want to bring it up now. Some days, Mom seems fine with my quest, supporting me, answering my questions. Other days, she seems worried, like she’s losing a part of me.

  “We should get going. The driver is waiting and we have so much to pack and move tonight.” She winks at me. “Maybe I should ask Roberto if Nick can help us with moving some of the boxes downstairs.”

  “You wouldn’t.” I croak, drying my hands over and over again.

  “We do need help.” Mom chuckles.

  Nonna’s happy wrinkles around her dark eyes deepen as she laughs loudly. “My Dino is lucky to have married you, Amanda.”

  “I’m lucky to have married him,” she replies and kisses Nonna on the cheek too. Mom may look way different than Nonna with her reddish hair and blueish eyes, but she fits right into Dad’s family. They were proud of their son for “making it” as they used to say, for being a fancy Wall Street guy, but when Dad lost his job, they were here for him.

  They helped us secure the place next door to the restaurant and helped Dad find a new job. It’s not as prestigious and we definitely can’t keep the same lifestyle we used to, but at least it’s going to pay the bills and pay for school.

  Mom wraps an arm around my shoulder as we step out into the humidity that is New York in the summer. “If you really don’t want Nick to come tonight, I won’t call him. But you can’t avoid people who make you feel alive,” Mom says.

  “He’s a player. And I’m not interested,” I reply, glancing everywhere and anywhere but not looking Mom in the eyes. An extra pair of hands would help tonight. It’s funny how friends disappear at the same time money runs out. The driver opens the doors for us and I sink into the leather seats, breathing the brand new car smell that always comes with these type of rides, enjoying the air-conditioning and the way the windows are tinted so no one can see us.

  I turn to Mom, who’s sipping from a bottle of water. “Actually, I’m sure Roberto would love to have Nick for dinner. Let me call him.” My heart skips a beat—calling Nick is usually not that nerve-wracking. “I have something to ask him too,” I say, thinking about Jen, and his blatant lies about going out with her this evening.

  His voice mail picks up and my stomach warms at his deep voice. “Hi, you’ve reached Nick. You know what to do at the beep.”

  “Hey Nick, it’s Em. Would you happen to be free for dinner tonight? We could use some help with the move. I know you mentioned something about Jen but unless she’s jet-setting back from France, she might be late for your date.”

  CHAPTER 6 - NICK

  I listen to Em’s voice mail at least three times before texting her back that I’ll come over and help. Her voice in the message sounds amused, but also a bit disappointed. And why the hell am I analyzing her voice mail? This is ridiculous.

  I haven’t been to Em’s and Rob’s house in over a month, but I could still get there with my eyes closed. After all, I used to spend almost every evening with them, soaking in the family fun, before getting into the School of Performing Arts. I walk with my head high, nodding at the doormen I recognize like I don’t have a care in the world, but I’m rehearsing what I will say to Dino—their dad—if I see him. “I’m sorry about my father” or “I had no idea he was going to fire you. I promise.”

  I’m so deep in thought I almost run into a gorgeous girl pushing a little boy.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  And she smiles. “It’s okay.” She’s got an accent. German, maybe? She must be a nanny—she’s with two other girls, and they continue their conversation as I walk past them. They’re bitching about the families they’re working for.

  My nanny probably did the same while I was growing up. She probably told all the other nannies how awful I was. According to the psychologist we all saw as a family, I was only trying to get attention.

  Maybe I should tell those nannies that the moment will pass. Kids only try to get attention from one source for so long before they get their fix somewhere else. My chosen method is pretty healthy: no drugs, no drinking...only all eyes on me while I dance. And girls.

  Girls, girls, girls.

  Actually, Nanny One is pretty hot, especially with the accent. She has short light brown hair, and her big boobs are almost spilling out of her blouse.

  She must feel me staring at her, because she turns around. But before I can work the charm I notice Em carrying a box into a moving truck, all by herself. The box is almost bigger than her and her face contorts under the effort. She’s going to trip and hurt herself. If she hurts herself, she won’t be able to dance. If she can’t dance, she’s going to be depressed. If she can’t dance, I won’t see her as often and I’ll be miserable.

  “Are you trying to prove something to someone?” I ask her as I relieve her of the heavy box.

  She breathes heavily. “Are you trying to get it on with Katrin because Jen is out of town?”

  “Katrin?” I slide the box on top of another one and turn back to her.

  She points to the girls I was admiring a few seconds ago. “The nanny you were about to hit on.”

  “Katrin. Is she American or...?” I waggle my eyebrows.

  “She’s German.” She raises one finger at a time as she enunciates the rest super slowly. “She’s here for the summer. She loves going to Central Park and she doesn’t understand why she has to work fifteen hours a day while the mom is a stay-at-home mom. Oh, and she likes girls. So, nice try.”

  “Did she hit on you? Oh please, tell me she did. I am getting the best girl-on-girl images in my mind. You. That girl, Katrin. A ballet studio. With all the mirrors. A kiss. Or two. Or more...”

  She punches my shoulder. “You’re so dumb. No, she didn’t hit on me, I met her at Starbucks the other day and we started talking.”

  “You’re talking to people now, not just hitting them?”

  “And you’re losing your mojo. First, Jen who escapes to France before your hot date, and then you almost hit on poor Katrin, who doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

  She’s kidding me. Me, losing my mojo? I don’t think so. I stare at Em, at her long legs, her full lips, and I gently tuck a strand of her wild brown hair behind her ear, my finger slowly caressing her cheek.

  She sucks in a breath and I bend down, until my lips are at her ears. “Do you want to test that theory?”

  “What theory?” She doesn’t move, and I’m not even sure she breathes. My entire body reacts to hers, and I can’t remember what I wanted to prove. I’m under her spell.

  “Hey bro!” Roberto yells from the stairs. “Thanks for coming!”

  Em retreats at her brother’s voice, muttering something I can’t hear, but the slouch of her shoulders is a tell that she’s disappointed. My hand automatically reaches for hers, wanting to comfort her, maybe even wanting to see if she’ll take the risk of her brother seeing us, wanting to test myself too. It’s nothing but a brief touch, a brief brush of our fingers, a brief hurricane of feelings. Our eyes lock. Hers are darker than usual, full of questions and desire.

  For once I’m tempted not to move. For once, I’m tempted to check if maybe Rob changed his mind, if maybe he would give me the benefit of the doubt, or maybe he would realize his little sister is big enough to make her own decisions

  “Thanks for coming!” Rob’s almost by our side and Em lets go of my hand, stepping further away from me.

  “Em!” I call and she turns to me. Her lips are slightly parted as if she’s ready for a kiss, but instead she gives me the finger and laughs as if it was all a big jo
ke.

  Rob slaps me on the back, maybe a bit harder than necessary. He eyes me carefully. “Is everything okay?” It’s funny how even though they don’t share the same DNA, they do the same frown with their eyebrows when they think I’m getting myself in trouble.

  “The usual,” I reply. Me lusting after Em is not new, so technically it’s not a lie.

  “If you say so,” he says slowly, raising an eyebrow. He glances between Em and me. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. Mom says we have to earn our dinner tonight by moving the boxes from the living room.”

  “Let’s do this,” I answer and follow him inside without looking at Em.

  Roberto’s my best friend. He’s the one who jumped in front of me when four guys in middle school pounded on me with their fists, kicking me in the stomach and spitting on me. He’s the one who helped me fight them off, telling them to “shut up” when they called me names: “fag, dick sucker, sissy.” They thought I was gay because I was a dancer. When they disappeared at the corner of a street, Rob—the popular school wrestler, the guy who loved math and football, the guy who got asked to the school dance by five girls—turned to me and blurted, “I think I’m gay.”

  I replied, “I really like girls.” And we both laughed.

  We’ve been as close as brothers ever since.

  I can’t fuck that up, but I can’t stop thinking about Emilia.

  CHAPTER 7 – EM

  Of course, Roberto had to kill the moment. I’m pretty sure Nick was about to kiss my neck. My body warms to new highs that have nothing to do with the hot weather as I think about his lips touching me.

  “Thank you so much for coming over to help,” Mom says right as Dad enters the house, dropping his briefcase a little loudly.

  “This job is a joke,” he says and pales when he sees Nick, sitting at the table.

  “We were waiting for you for dinner.” Mom stands up and gives Dad a kiss on the lips, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. He nods but his posture is still stiff, and he doesn’t even loosen his tie.

  I bring the dish of spaghetti carbonara to the table and serve everyone before taking my usual spot—next to Nick. Hello, torture.

  “Em told me you also went to rehearse today.” Mom’s voice is almost too enthusiastic, but at least she’s making an attempt at conversation.

  “I did. But I was distracted,” Nick replies, and did I see him glancing at me?

  “Why did you decide to stay here this summer?” Mom asks, and Roberto mutters something about Nick not needing to answer.

  “Dad wants me to help a bit in the office this summer.” Nick doesn’t look down, he doesn’t avoid the answer in front of my father.

  Dad’s fork falls on his plate and he clears his throat. “How is your father doing?”

  “Good, thank you,” Nick says. And then shovels another spoonful of spaghetti in his mouth. The dining room is almost empty of all decorations: the walls are bare except for one picture of Nick’s dad and mine together in front of some gala.

  “He hasn’t called me back.”

  “Dino.” Mom’s tone is gentle, but she narrows her eyes into the look—the one that usually shuts my father up in less than a second. She doesn’t use that look a lot, but it’s effective, and Dad even jokes about it sometimes.

  Dad shakes his head and barks a laugh. “What? I’m supposed to shut up?” His voice rises and I’ve never heard him like that—so bitter. “I’m supposed to say nothing while my best friend screwed me over? I’m supposed to have his son over for dinner like nothing ever happened?” He pounds his fist on the table. “Bullshit!”

  Roberto hisses, “No matter what happened, is it Nick’s fault?” He leans forward on the table. “Dad, I asked you a question: is it Nick’s fault?”

  Nick shifts on his seat. “I should go. I’m sorry. I should go.”

  Mom shakes her head. “No. Don’t go.” She turns to Dad. “Dino, Rob asked you a question. And I think you know the answer.”

  Dad stares into his plate of spaghetti. We used to have elaborate meals, we used to have a chef coming once a week for a tasting of some sort. We used to have a maid, we used to be rich, but I never thought being rich was something that defined us, defined who we are.

  Dad clears his throat and leans back in his chair. “Nick, please stay.” Dad looks up. “I’m sorry. Amanda’s right—this has nothing to do with you.”

  Nick’s eyes widen and I’m tempted to sneak my hand underneath the table to offer some support, to let him know that I’m here. “I’m so sorry. My father is...”

  “Charles is a businessman, and he did what was needed for his business.”

  “But you’re his friend.”

  “Business and friendship don’t mix. Don’t worry, we’ll have cigars again soon, once I’m back on my feet. And you’re always welcome here. You are Roberto’s best friend and you’re always there for Em. We appreciate that.”

  For the first time, the lines around Dad’s eyes appear more pronounced. His hand shakes a little as he brings the Diet Coke to his parched lips. His shoulders are slouched; he used to always stand tall. Mom covers his other hand with hers and smiles their special smile. It’s the one she usually has for him when he doesn’t look, when he helps Roberto with his homework, when he hugs his mom, or when he makes her laugh after a hard day.

  My heart warms because no matter what, my mom and dad are here for one another.

  And again, I’m tempted to show Nick I’m here for him too.

  But Roberto beats me to the punch. “Hey Nico, do you want to go hang out at your place again tonight?”

  Nick shifts on his seat. “How about we go to the pinball place tonight? I heard they got the new Avengers pinball!”

  Roberto smiles. “You know I rock at pinball. Remember, two years ago in the Hamptons, I kicked your ass.”

  “Actually, Em kicked both of our records that night,” Nick says but doesn’t look at me.

  Roberto nods. “Let’s do it then. You and I. Old-school pinball machines. I’m supposed to meet someone later, but I can postpone. Come on, last night I kicked your ass—maybe tonight you’ll get lucky.” No one bothers asking me what I want to do. And I can’t help feeling a bit left out. When we lost everything, I also lost my so-called friends. Dancing and Nonna’s restaurant are my world now.

  Maybe I could go back to the studio later and rehearse, or maybe I could see Nonna again and ask if she could finally share the secret to her tiramisu. Learning how to create dishes, how to recreate them, is relaxing. In the restaurant, no one expects me to fail. I don’t expect myself to fail.

  Nick gently nudges me. “Do you want to join us?”

  Roberto smiles. “That’s a great idea. I love how she beats you every single time.”

  I want to go.

  But instead of saying yes, I shrug. “Nah. I’ll pass this time. I might go dance again tonight. I’m pretty sure no one requested the studio at eight p.m.”

  “Tomorrow, if you want, we could work on the choreography from the last showcase together.”

  My heart beats so fast I’m sure everyone at the table hears it. “Sure. That sounds good,” I reply.

  “Tomorrow at five?”

  “Five it is,” I answer.

  Note to self: don’t be too full of hope.

  CHAPTER 8 - NICK

  Modern Pinball is crowded as always. But we don’t have to wait long to get two machines side by side. This place is super clean—not like Video Games Forever, the arcade we sometimes go to which smells like old food and old cigarettes. Rob’s playing on the Avengers machine while I’m starting on the Mustang one. It’s nice to hang out together again. Yesterday was the first time since my father fired his that he came over to my place. It was awkward at the beginning, but after he beat me at Formula One, he turned to me and said: “Your dad and mine can figure their shit out. It’s not our business. And it’s none of their business that we’re best friends.”

  That settled it.

/>   “You suck even more tonight!” Rob says and then clears his throat. “Was everything okay when I came outside earlier? You and Em seemed pretty intense.”

  “Everything was fine,” I reply, my throat dry.

  “She’s not mad at you. She’s upset about moving, about Dad losing his job and she’s super focused on dancing and finding her birth parents.”

  I hold my hand up. “We’re fine. Last summer, when we talked about her birth parents, she said she wanted to wait until she was eighteen to find them. What happened?”

  “She’s been more and more restless about it. I’ve told her she needed to wait, but you know her, the more you tell her she shouldn’t do something, the more she wants to do it.”

  “But it’s about her birth parents; I’m sure it’s not about her being stubborn.” I crack my knuckles after winning a bonus round.

  “I don’t want to see her hurt,” Rob says.

  “I don’t either,” I whisper, but Rob doesn’t hear me—instead his eyes glance at a point behind me.

  “I told you I had plans, right? Well, my plans have arrived and I really want you to meet him,” he says and for the first time since I’ve known him, his voice quivers and he seems unsure of himself. Nervous.

  “Mysterious guy?” I ask, teasing him.

  “Serious guy,” Roberto replies and stands up. He gives the newcomer a hug. The guy looks different than Roberto’s usual flings. He’s tall and dark-haired with dark eyes, which is Rob’s style, but he’s more than that. One, he’s not all-muscle: he’s rather lean and he’s got glasses. Two, he’s holding a messenger bag with books inside of it and not a fitness magazine, and three, he actually knows how to smile.

  “Nick, this is my friend—Giovanni.”

  “Nice meeting you.” Giovanni has a super heavy Italian accent. “Roberto talks so much about you.”

  “He probably told you he’s better than me at all things video games.” I lean in. “But I let him win, that’s why.”

  Rob smiles. “Giovanni is Italian, he’s here from Milano and he’s studying astrophysics with me.” He speaks much faster than usual and he fidgets. Rob never fidgets. “Well, not with me. He’s in the astrophysics program, I’m in the nanophysics program. But it’s the same building.”