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plates, and of course Green-Wood Cemetery stretching along Fifth Avenue. The only real sign of the gentrification Michael had been grumbling about since he’d begun teaching in the neighborhood was the presence of several yuppies and hipsters along the sloping hills that led to Brooklyn’s Chinatown. And most of them appeared to be congregating at Nunzio and David’s favorite bakery.
    “Oh my God, you look so good,” David blurted as soon as I walked through the glass door.
    “It’s just a jacket.” I turned to the massive black chalkboard stretched across the wall. There must have been eighty options of gourmet sandwiches, coffee, smoothies, and an entire case of pastries. “What’s good here?”
    “You do look awesome, Ray. I’m not gonna lie.”
    “See? Nunzio agrees.”
    I made eye contact with the blank-looking chick behind the counter. She shrugged.
    “You don’t just have some Boar’s Head turkey or something?” I asked.
    Nunzio snorted and shouldered me out of the way. “Give him the special on a panzeratto.”
    “What’s a panzeratto?”
    David reached up to adjust my collar, scowling at the unfastened buttons. “It’s kind of like an Italian pita bread.”
    “Good description, Mr. Butler,” Nunzio drawled. “Would you like to butcher anything else from my land?”
    I tried to twist out of David’s fussy hands, but he clung to my shirt and redid the buttons. “Well, how would you describe it?” David rolled his eyes. “A baby calzone?”
    “Yes.” Nunzio nodded. “Exactly.”
    I smiled. If the only thing they’d found to bicker over was Italian bread, the day was going all right.
    “So where’s this apartment?”
    Finished sanitizing my appearance, David pulled away with a casual slide of his finger down my jaw and neck. I’d given myself a clean shave, and I was sure he was admiring the results.
    “It’s on Fifth Avenue, but never mind that for now.” Nunzio moved to the table he and David had been sitting at before my arrival. Coffee cups and an empty, crumb-laden plate were already strewn on the table. “How did the interview go?”
    “Waste of time. What did you think was going to happen?”
    “Don’t be so negative,” David chastised. “Just tell us everything.”
    “I’ve been telling you everything for the past few weeks, and no one has called me back.”
    The sizzle of meat hitting a grill crackled through the café, followed closely by the aromas of olive oil and warm, freshly baked bread. My stomach rumbled, and I pressed a hand over my abdomen.
    “You have to expect this.” Nunzio picked up one of the coffee cups and took a careful sip. “It’s not going to be one-two-three for you. You don’t have experience in the jobs you’re applying for, and you don’t have some impressive education to back you up either. The best thing you can do is rock the interview and pray that Rolly gives you a good reference.”
    “Zio, I haven’t even made it to the reference part on any of these interviews. You’re dreaming.”
    “And you’re making excuses,” Nunzio set down his cup with a thump. “Don’t start trying to regress back to your usual bullshit, Ray. I’m going to help you as much as I can, but you have to keep your eye on the goal and stop quitting when things get hard. I told you I would cosign for you, and I also told you I’d pay your half of the rent until you’re set up.”
    David’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
    “Of course.” Nunzio’s tone sharpened. He looked at David, took in the guileless doe eyes, and tempered himself. “Michael and I are the ones shoving him into this position and doing it in a big hurry. We’ll help for the first couple of months, but by the holidays, he needs to have his shit together.”
    David looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but the food came before Nunzio could blab any more about how I needed long-distance babysitters. I’d planned to keep living on my savings, but they seemed to think