“Hey, Mini Constantine,” I tease, and he rolls his eyes. “How’s school?”
“It’s fine.”
“Do you want something to eat?”
“Nah. I’ll grab something upstairs.”
Constantine narrows his eyes, giving Leo an assessing look.
“Gee, stop it with the parental. I’m just stressed because I have a test to study for and missed a few classes. It’ll be okay, but I have to go up and study,” Leo says.
Constantine squeezes his elbow. “I’ll be up later because we got a last-minute order, so you have extra quiet time. I’ll make you pasta for dinner.”
“With peas?”
Constantine laughs. “No, dude. That’s a sin. I’ll make you proper pasta like the Italians eat. You can get the peas on the side.”
“Fine.” Leo walks past us through the kitchen door to the back.
“You seriously denying a kid his veggies when he specifically asked for them?”
Constantine stares at me with wide eyes. “It’s. A. Sin. And I don’t want to get my chef credentials revoked because I served my kid pasta with nothing but butter and peas, which is what he’d have if he had his way.”
Before I can stop myself, I bring my hand to his face. “You’re a really good dad, you know that?”
“I have no idea what I’m doing, Julius. I wasn’t there for most of his life, and then our mom practically abandoned him just as he”—he shakes his head—“never mind. I never planned for kids, but he’s my baby brother, and I’ll do anything for him.”
“I know.” And because I’m a sucker for punishment, I brush my lips against his, breaking the kiss way too soon for my liking, but with our conversation interrupted, I don’t want anyone to catch us. It’s bad enough that my sister keeps sending me messages asking about Constantine and if I’ve made my move yet.
10
CONSTANTINE
The community centeris buzzing with an energy that makes the hairs on my neck stand up. It’s electric, all due to the force of nature that is Kay Nielsson.
“Doors are opening in five minutes. You guys ready?” she asks, tapping a pen on the clipboard she’s holding.
We both nod, and I’m a little frightened as she inspects the baked-goods display on the table.
“When did she start wearing glasses?” Julius asks when she walks away.
“Beats me. You’ve known her longer, but I swear she didn’t have them earlier.”
A loud whistle gets our attention. Kay is on the stage looking more confident than I’ve ever seen a person her age.
“Hi, everyone. Thank you so much for helping me and my class with this project. Ryan White was a kid, just like us, who only wanted to go to school. His courage and perseverance have inspired many people since he was diagnosed with HIV, and even after his death, his program continues to help others. Let’s be a little like Ryan today and do some good for those living with HIV. In the words of my dad, let’s rock and roll this place down!”
The band comes onto the stage, playing the first chords of a song. The lead singer gives Kay a kiss as she steps down from the stage.
“I swear kids these days are so much more put together than in my time,” I say to Julius.
“Hell yeah. I was more concerned with the three pubes I called a mustache than trying to help others.”
I smile, trying to picture Julius as a teenager with a baby face, with those cute dimples and barely there facial hair. “I may need to see photos.”
“Never.”
We don’t have a chance to chat much longer because as people enter the hall, kids go to the front to dance and parents hang back, grabbing a free cup of coffee and a baked good in exchange for a donation to the Ryan White Program.
