Gods of Greektown

Chapter 1

Live at the Apollo

God, he wishes he was stoned.

"Costa! Yammoto chirstoso, you cocksucker!"

Especially when working for his dad.

Costa’s attention is on mixing two records spinning on the turntables. In his mind, he is not only a master DJ: tonight he’s a musical alchemist. But his father, Diomedes Manos, the sole proprietary owner of Apollo Restaurant and Banquet Hall, sees from across the hall a master at jerking off. He marches over to the DJ table and shouts, Costa, what time?

Slowly, dramatically, Costa takes off his oversized headphones. What? he asks smugly.

Greek fathers with businesses don’t appreciate it when their sons attempt the Socratic answer-a-question-with-a-question routine. All Greeks with businesses draw their inspiration from the great and the not-so-great military dictators of history. In this man’s mind, work is war, and time is currency. Your brother. When the fuck is he coming?

In ten minutes. He just paged me. Costa grins at his father. "Ba, for a change, try to enjoy life a little. Just relax."

Costa turns around to grab his pack of cigarettes. Staring right into his father’s eyes, he stylishly pops one into his mouth and quickly lights it with his Satin Chrome X3 jet turbo flame lighter. "You want one, don’t you? Here, Ba, take one. I won’t tell Ma."

Diomedes shakes his head and studies his youngest son closely. What he sees is a mild reformation of a style that was supposed to have died with rap and hip-hop in the late 1980s. Incredibly, the Gino has made it into the twenty-first century. But Costa is a Gino in denial, in spite of his blowout haircut slicked with gel, his VIP membership to tanning salons, and his olive skin gleaning with manly-scented body lotion. Right now he’s wearing dark dress pants and a white designer ribbed tank top over his lean, muscular frame showcasing his well-developed biceps and an impressive handcrafted 24-karat yellow gold Greek key necklace. Then of course there’s his smile: with it, he owns the world.

However, at this moment Diomedes is a little irritated by his son’s cocky maga constitution. He’s proud of him, but will never let him know it.

"What are you, stupid? Do you know what kind of a malaka you look like right now? Go put a shirt on and go help Tasso at the bar and stop smoking. Don’t you know that this stuff can kill you?"

Yeah, this coming from a man who smokes two packs a day, Costa thinks. But he only dares to think it; being a smart ass does have its limitations. Diomedes doesn’t tolerate lip from his employees, let alone from his boys. To a Greek father, sons in their early twenties are still boys.

Costa takes another drag and puts out his cigarette. A handful of guests have begun to file into the hall. He stops his kickass fusion of downbeats and puts on the village Greek music. He pulls out a crisp white dress shirt and starts buttoning it up, leaving the two top buttons undone. Reluctantly, he makes his way to the bar.

Costa Manos hates socializing with most of the guests who’ve been invited here tonight. Ever since he was little he has maintained an undefined cynicism toward most of these socialites that parade as the elite of the Greek community. There always seemed something disingenuous, two-faced, in the way they spoke to him.

Costa takes his position behind the bar. He already feels like another cigarette.

Hi, Costaki! You know what kind of drinks we like?

In every family and generation within Greeklish society there is always one aunt who tries so hard to look modern and sophisticated, but has an androgynous voice that resonates with the dark arts of witchcraft.

Sure, Thea. Costa lines up two glasses, preparing himself for his aunt’s interrogation.

So, Costa, what are you doing with yourself these days?

Working. Saving my money. Trying to enjoy myself.

That’s nice. Do you know that Despina is in law school?

Like most aunts, Thea Sophia asks questions as an excuse to brag about her children and her life.

Wow, that’s great, Thea.

Why didn’t you continue school like your brother Zach?

I didn’t like school.

Did you finish high school? I don’t remember the story.

Thea Sophia thrives on the opportunity to manipulate a discussion in order to secure the upper hand.

Yeah, I finished with high school a long time ago.

But did you graduate? Anyways, it must be nice to have a business like this to fall back on.

Here you go, Thea. Costa passes her the two glasses.

Well, you are a handsome bartender. I heard that Zach has the most gorgeous girlfriend. Are you dating anyone?

She knows the answer to this one too. Nope. Costa smiles. I’m still enjoying my freedom, and I don’t think Zach is officially dating anyone right now.

Well, there are a lot of good girls here tonight.

Costa gives his aunt a disarming but courteous smile and continues to serve the other guests.

You know my girls married really rich and successful men. I saw Despina’s house the other day and I have to tell you, I have never seen anything like it.

Yeah, I know. I helped them move in. This is a tactical lie to stop the onslaught.

What? Thea Sophia pouts as Costa’s clever counterattack has reversed her usual campaign to belittle his ego. Costa has poured the drinks for his aunt and she—predictably—still isn’t finished with the interview. However, from his front pants pocket his cell phone is vibrating, meaning his brother Zach is outside.

Holy shit, the big surprise is here, he mumbles. Costa springs out from the bar to look for his father.

Which big surprise? Thea Sophia picks up her drinks and walks away.

Outside the restaurant, Zach sits in his car scanning the packed parking lot. He shakes his head, still having difficulty containing his giddiness as his plan progresses toward perfection. Tonight is the 35th anniversary for the Apollo Restaurant and Banquet Hall and all the guests he wanted are here. To him, they are the elite, the top of the pyramid, and he wants to earn a seat. Since he just graduated with his MBA and has as many blue chip offers, he saw this night as the opportunity to make a statement to the Greek community and secure his social standing as a future community leader.

Zach gets out of the car, breathes in the early spring air and stares at the Hellenic craftsmanship on the exterior of his father’s restaurant. It isn’t the typical columns and busts you might expect, but a panoramic architectural expression that tells the story of his father’s life through ancient Greek mythological archetypes. Every painting, drawing, and design is intentionally placed in a certain chronology that starts with Diomedes, Achilles, Odysseus and Poseidon, and then finishes with Apollo, Dionysus, Zeus, and Prometheus. His father has refused to reveal to anyone, including his wife, what it all signifies. Zach has always wanted to find the time to deconstruct it and decipher its meaning.

Zach turns around and notices his mother and his grandparents approaching from one of the parked vehicles.

Hi, Papou, Yiayia! Zach greets his grandparents, exchanging hugs and kisses on both cheeks. How was your flight?

First class? How much did that cost you? his frugal grandpa snaps.

"Oh Yianni, I haven’t enjoyed a flight like that in such a long time. Thank you Zachy-mou."

You deserve the best. And don’t worry, Papou, I have connections, remember. His Papou mutters something to himself then goes inside with his wife.

A huge black limousine abruptly pulls in. All the guests have arrived, especially this last key invitee: a special childhood friend from Germany whom his father talks about all the time and has not seen since he was eleven years old.

A man emerges from the belly of the giant vehicle studying the exterior of the building and the numerous cars. This is the first time Zach has seen him, and is taken aback by the immediate impact of his presence. His clothes, his jewellery, his shoes; he resembles a refined gentleman from a different era. A refreshing kind of class is about to be revealed at the Apollo tonight.

Hello. I’m Zach Manos. Zach extends his hand and prepares to shake a good first impression.

You mean Zacharias?

Technically, yes. But I just prefer to be called Zach.

I see. Themistocles. He smiles and shakes Zach’s hand.

Well, Themistocles, I’m so happy you could make it here tonight. When I spoke to your assistant, I was a little worried that you wouldn’t be able to make this trip. My father has told us so much about you.

I’ve heard a lot about you too, and they’re right, you are a good boy.

A good boy? Really? Ah, don’t believe what they tell you.

I don’t. He pauses with a reassuring smile. I know what I see.

A slight blush colours Zach’s cheek as he speculates how rare a compliment from a man like this is.

Hi, Themistocles. I’m Athena.

Diomedes’s wife? Yes, of course. Themistocles smiles warmly.

I never believed in miracles until now. Diomedes is going to be so surprised.

A banquet of surprises, indeed, he says ominously.

Why would you say that? Athena asks.

Because that is precisely what I feel at this moment.

Do you have any particular surprise in mind that we don’t know about? Athena laughs nervously.

Alright, Ma, don’t start with the questions. Remember the plan? Go in.

Athena shoots him a death glare.

Sorry. Please, Mom, could you make your way inside?

I thought about your plan, Zach, and I’ve come up with a better one, she replies matter-of-factly.

Mrs. Athena Manos is the type of woman who makes her husband a better and more organized man. Without her, there would be no business. She’s the strategist, the one who manages the business side of the operation, and the one who keeps a keen eye on the accountants and lawyers so that everything continues to function by the book. She has also been instrumental in raising her boys to be good men.

Diomedes and Athena’s philosophy was for their boys to learn at an early age the value of hard work and to develop a conscience. Demonstrating a sense of honour, integrity, and empathy for others while working in the banquet hall is something they both modelled to their sons. Throughout the years, whether it was weddings, baptisms, or showers, Zach and Costa watched with amazement as their parents sympathetically and skilfully handled difficult customers and employees. So, when Mommy intervenes with a change in plans, Zach is smart enough to listen.

There are roughly seven hundred people in tonight’s crowd. Impressive silk flower arrangements with parrot tulips and butterfly orchids have been tactfully placed throughout the hall, giving the evening a festive touch of spring. The musicians take their place on stage and await their cue.

Thea Sophia brings the drinks to her table and sits down. Seated at the table is her husband Frank, Father Pavlos—whose nickname is Father Hollywood—as well as Nick Ammonitis, the priest’s closest confidant and the most feared legal weapon inside Toronto’s Greek community.

The four of them sit together and engage in small talk, but all the while their eyes are on Diomedes as he happily mingles with guests. They all manage to straighten up and force a smile as he approaches.

"Yiasou, Niko. So nice to see you. Eh, where’s your lovely wife?"

Nick makes a brave effort not to look nauseated at the rivers of sweat that pour from Diomedes as he leans over him. Eh, yiasou, Diomedes. She’s around here somewhere. Nick abruptly stands up and scans the hall, pretending to look for her. Did you see my Stacy?

Eventually, they both look toward the bar on the right and notice Stacy and Zach conversing closely together.

Congratulations, Niko. Your daughter has grown into a beautiful young woman and it looks like Zach only has eyes for her.

Yes, it certainly appears that way.

Father Pavlos and Frank nod, giving Diomedes the comforting smiles of friendship and trust that he has always counted on.

I’m so happy all of you could be here to share this with us. I don’t know how we could’ve stayed in business without your support. You know, Niko, Zach really looks up to you.

Zach is very special. He has such a bright future.

Diomedes loves it when men like Ammonitis praise his son.

So, Father Pavlos, when is that new church going up? I don’t mind giving, but I don’t understand why it takes so long. You know I love the work you do with the Sunday school, the picnics, and all of that. I hear Zach has helped raise a lot of money for you.

Yes, Zach is an angel. And don’t forget Costa, he does a lot for the youth.

Ah, Costa. I wish he would’ve finished school like Zach.

Don’t lose your faith in him. You know you are blessed with this family, Diomedes.

Yes, Father. He slaps his hand on Frank’s shoulder. And Frank! Diomedes laughs, How’s the sex life?

You can be so ignorant sometimes, his sister Sophia says.

I don’t mean you, I mean his real wife! Diomedes pulls out his right hand and counts the fingers. Jack, Joe, Trifonas, Vagelis, and Mike! He mimics masturbation.

That’s disgusting! says Sophia.

You know I’m joking, right, Frank?

Right. Frank Maritsos produces a smile.

This party is a celebration for everyone, not just for us.

Well, Diomedes, you know what they say… Sophia interrupts.

Here it comes. Everyone, including her husband, rolls their eyes and prepares for the inevitable: Sophia Maritsos must always have the final say.

What do they say, sister? Come on, get it out of your system.

There is always a bill to pay at the end of a party. Sophia is the only one laughing.

Diomedes looks up, pauses, bites his lip, wrestles in his mind with that statement, and then says, I don’t get it. Frank, she’s your wife, can you translate that shit for me?

Frank gives his wife a murderous look. I’m sorry, Diomedes. Like most of us Greek men, I have stopped trying to understand the thinking of a Greek woman, especially this one. Frank sighs and takes a sip of his vodka.

Don’t worry, Frank. I stopped listening to her a long time ago too. Diomedes smiles, slaps his brother-in-law on the back and rushes off to the other side of the room to help pour drinks and mingle.

Zach, it’s amazing what you’ve done here, croons Stacy Ammonitis, leaning with an exaggerated casualness against the bar.

I can’t take all the credit.

I applaud your humility. She smiles and pretends to fix his tie.

Zach is not amused with anyone fixing his tie. He knows before he left the house that he looked good. He pulls back, Stacy, I heard you got a job.

Yeah, it helps to have connections. But let’s talk about you.

Me? There’s nothing new to report. But wow, it just hit me that we’ve been friends for so long now. Zach crosses his arms.

Is that how you see us, Zach, as just friends?

Zach pauses for a moment in an attempt to anticipate which direction this rookie litigator might take this discussion. He’s had a crush on her for most of his life, a fact not unbeknownst to the ever-coy Stacy. In fact, once her parents were made aware of the courtship, she allowed her mother and father to coach her with a playbook on how to dangle his young heart on a string.

Well, Zach, you’re more than just a friend to me.

Zach scans her elegant black dress, soft olive skin, long brown hair replete with tasteful highlights and his heart begins to beat faster. A part of him resists this temptation because their friendship has always had an underlying ritual of flirtatious teasing. It has been a while since he has succumbed to this ritual, and the humbling rejection that inevitably follows.

What do you mean ‘more than a friend’? Could you perhaps be a little more specific? Zach tries not to look her directly in the eyes.

Stacy leans closer to his lips where he can feel her breath and can almost taste that cinnamon spice perfume that has always consumed his imagination. I mean, I think you know what I mean.

Why tonight then? Zach steps back.

Zach, tonight, what you’ve become is a dream come true for me. Stacy moves seductively toward him.

Zach pauses and recalls the numerous times she stood him up on dates, left him in the cold, and how crushed and disappointed he was. Sure, they were teenagers but the scars still remain. He knows her words have no depth but—God—she looks so damn hot!

Zach, how do you feel? Do you feel the same way about me?

He grabs her hand with a burst of raw emotion. I do feel the same way, but I still need time before I can trust you. I really want to, though.

As if bit by a venomous snake, Stacy pulls back. You should keep your indecisiveness to yourself. It really hurts your chances if I’m supposed to take you seriously, Stacy hisses and walks away.

Stacy Ammonitis and her notorious cock teasing, Zach thinks. Some things never change. Without a second thought, he struts to the bar to pour some drinks with his father and brother.

Without a doubt, music, alcohol, food and gossip make for the perfect Greek party. Greek-Americans in particular love to competitively throw their money at events, resulting in an abundance of Benjamin Franklins flooding the dance floor and stage. Naturally, boys and girls under the age of six seize this opportunity to frantically seize upon the money while some of the older boys bend down to pick up the money as an excuse to look up older women’s skirts.

Tonight’s guests have gratefully accepted this evening as a party that they have the right to fully enjoy. As for the Manos men, while they pour and consume shots of ouzo and every other Dionysian refreshment, it’s clear that they are experiencing the apex of euphoria. After all this work, they deserve to get drunk as a family.

Meanwhile, Athena is keeping Themistocles distracted in a distant corner, where they are quietly studying the festivities.

Are you sure you don’t want to sit down and eat a plate of food? she asks for the third time.

I can’t eat with these people.

These people? Themis, what do you mean?

I don’t know exactly. Themistocles sips his scotch and stares through his glass, silently surveying one section of the room.

Athena looks to see what he is staring at, and perhaps deduce what he may be thinking. She surveys the hall and sees her friends and their families enjoying the magic of the evening.

Would you like me to introduce to you some of my friends and family?

I’m sorry, but did you say that those people over there in that section of the room are your friends and family?

Why, is there a problem?

Themistocles shuts his eyes and sighs.

What is it? Athena asks anxiously. She looks to see if Diomedes, Costa, or Zach are close by.

C’mon, Dad, just one more shot, Costa insists as he pours it.

Where’s your mother? Diomedes asks, already a little tipsy, then downs the sambuca.

You too, Zach, Costa urges.

I’m good, thanks.

What’s that word you taught me? You know, the pussy word.

Zach rolls his eyes. Pusillanimous?

Yeah, that’s right, that’s you. Now drink it.

Hi, everyone. I’d like all of you to meet Diomedes’s friend Themistocles, Athena announces.

An uncomfortable silence spreads across the table; nobody looks up. Greeks can be the most hospitable people on the planet, but they can also be the most xenophobic. Athena’s close friend Suzie speaks up to break the ice. How nice it is of you to come. Is this your first time in Toronto?

Yes, it is.

How long will you be staying? another woman asks.

I leave tomorrow evening.

Oh, Themis, you must stay longer, Athena blurts out.

I’d like to stay, Athena, but I have a critical business matter to attend to in London.

So what kind of work do you do? another man asks.

Themistocles finds that question to be rather rude considering this man is a stranger who hasn’t formally introduced himself. Is that what qualifies as an icebreaker in these parts? He takes another sip of his scotch. My work, hmm, I’m not used to describing my work, but I guess I would say that my work is… restoration.

What kind? Construction, insurance?

I’m sorry. I just don’t feel this is the time to talk business. Most of the women seated at this table are relieved by his courtesy.

Is there a Mrs. Themistocles in your life? asks Suzie.

Themistocles appears even more offended by that question. My wife died many years ago.

Oh, Themis, I didn’t know, Athena says with a sincere note of sadness in her voice. Everyone else at the table tries to follow her lead and mimic her sincerity.

I still miss her very much. Efthymia was the most fascinating woman I will ever know. Truly, we parted too soon.

Do you have any children? Suzie presses.

Yes, I have one daughter, Themistocles says delicately.

All the women at the table are instantly moved and drawn in by the way this mysterious man speaks about his precious daughter.

Themistocles’s eyes move toward an animated exchange between the people at the next table over.

If you’ll all excuse me. Themistocles turns brusquely and walks away.

Everyone at the table feels socially debased by this sudden exit—even Athena is irritated by Themistocles’s rudeness. All watch as he walks to his desired table.

Themistocles walks boldly and smiles at the familiar face. Hello! It’s been a long time!

Father Pavlos appears puzzled. I’m sorry, do I know you?

You and my wife are from the same village. I think we’ve both been to at least a dozen baptisms over the years. Remember Efthymia?

Older Greeks are famous for performing this I-do-know-you-but-I’m-going-to-pretend-I-don’t-know-you dark comedy routine. Often grandparents will do this to their grandchildren who haven’t visited them for some time. Father Pavlos begins by putting on that face. Suddenly, his face changes—an epiphany from the heavens. Efthymia?

Yes. You remember. Themistocles is a little insulted that he attempted this one-act play on him.

Of course—I’m so sorry. She was such an angel. I have such fond memories of her. Please, please, have a seat. Father Pavlos stands up, brings a chair beside him, and introduces Themistocles to Frank Maritsos and Nick Ammonitis.

Efthymia was just one of those women who entered a room and brought peace to it.

Another priest with all the clichés. Well, thank you.

So, Themis, what do you think of Toronto? interrupts Nick.

"Well, eh, I’ve only been here for such a short while that it’s difficult to give a solid impression of the city itself. I have done business with many Canadians and generally my experience has been quite positive. But, O Diomedes, I am so happy for him. Isn’t it wonderful to see what he and his first-class wife have done with this landmark of a business? And of course, those two outstanding sons they have raised."

That’s true, Themis. You know, Diomedes and I both started our careers at about the same time. When I finished working my first two years at a law firm, it was he who encouraged me to go into business for myself. He and Athena found the office that I still work in to this day, and they’ve referred many clients to me over the years. Nick Ammonitis notices his daughter dancing and points. And that’s my beautiful daughter Stacy.

Abruptly, Father Pavlos interrupts. Themis, do you still go back to the village?

Yes, a great deal of my money goes back to keep the village alive. I believe we must keep our villages strong in order to preserve Greece. Actually, I built a library in my wife’s memory there.

Yes, I know, I’ve been there. You’ve acquired a pretty sophisticated collection of texts and I’ve spent a good day or two reading them.

I want both young and old Greeks to have an arsenal of perspectives. As you all know, ignorance is our culture’s cancer, Themistocles says with feeling.

Frank Maritsos jumps in. We need to be more like the Jews. They’re much more organized with their networks and raise their kids to be in those middleman positions so that society will always depend on them. They control everything. They’re the ones who orchestrate all the wars and recessions to keep them on top.

Nick Ammonitis knows better than to verbalize such nonsense in public and abstains from reinforcing what to him is a lazy perspective. However, he doesn’t know what to make of Themistocles. Usually, when Nick enters into a conversation he can quickly take the upper hand by deftly applying his legal argumentation to deconstruct any opinion or belief. It’s a guilty pleasure for him to watch Greeks stutter in his presence as they struggle to find the right words so as to not appear ignorant. But with Themistocles, he doesn’t know.

Frank, always ever-so-tactful, continues. Come on, Niko, you hang around Jews all the time. What do you have to say?

For Nick Ammonitis, it is a little difficult to determine which argument he should present; there’s his own and then there’s the opinion of his friend, who is also a really great client and pivotal figure in the community. He opts for the latter, without really saying anything at all. Jews will be Jews.

What do you mean, Mr. Ammonitis? Themistocles challenges.

Caught off guard, Nick pauses and mentally stumbles to find the right words. Frank looks excited to hear a poetic articulation of his thoughts.

Well, I’ve worked with a lot of Jews in the courts, and they’re all alike. There is no respect for tradition, values or a diversity of opinions. I find them to be a rather cold and selfish people.

Lacking a diversity of opinions? Really? Which opinions are you referring to? The Orthodox, the Conservative, or the Reform? Themistocles responds coldly.

Excuse me?

I find it hard to believe that a learned man of your stature would really believe what you’re saying. I’m always a little suspicious when I start detecting the convenient sophistry of a lawyer.

Please. No lawyer jokes, not tonight, Nick laughs awkwardly and takes a large sip of his wine.

Then, why don’t I tell you. Themistocles stands up and finishes the scotch, the joke that is on the Greeks.

Please, do tell. For the first time, Nick Ammonitis is intimidated, while Father Pavlos and Frank find this exchange refreshing.

Like you, I work with many Jews, but I’m also very good friends with many.

I am as well, Themistocles. I was just generalizing—

Please, let me finish the joke. Themistocles leans on the awkward pause, relishing the tension. He continues. I don’t know about how you do things here in Canada, but for me there is a clear distinction between business associates and friends. I do not attach any utility to my friends; I just find intrinsic enjoyment in their company. It’s a very Greek thing to do, no? Anyhow, any time my Jewish friends and I get together, do you know what we talk about? What they love and insist we talk about? Greece. Not business, not gossip or recycled political debates.

What’s their interest in Greece? Frank interjects with suspicion.

They draw inspiration from it, Frank. We discuss the philosophers, the playwrights, the scientists, the landscape, the monasteries, the history. I have even given them guided tours and through their questions I learn from them as they learn from me. While a lot of the Greeks we know waste precious time on pointless gossip, social climbing for connections or dreaming up schemes on how to desecrate a man or woman’s reputation, most Jews that I have come across—my friends—are much more Hellenic than the majority of Greeks. They study Greece’s past while our backward arrogance continues to interfere with the quality of our judgments. So, the joke is on us. It is so convenient to say ‘Jews will be Jews’ while they embrace our Hellenic past, but for Christ’s sake, when will Greeks start acting like Greeks!

Father Pavlos chuckles as he glances at a speechless lawyer. Themistocles, I appreciate your wisdom.

Themistocles continues. I’m sorry, Mr. Ammonitis. I know that you are wiser than this. Sometimes it’s hard to express a comprehensive point of view with company you may not find are your equals.

No, it’s not that. It’s just I thought this was a party. Nick looks vindicated.

I have to believe that if you are in the company of a man like Father Pavlos and are such a loyal friend to Diomedes, then I’m in the company of men who are loyal to the virtues of honesty, friendship, and honour. I need a refill.

Trying to be Greek? Frank laughs.

Themistocles smiles.

How do you know Diomedes? Frank asks.

You’re his brother-in-law, right, Frank?

I am. Have we met before?

And you’re the bookkeeper, I imagine.

Yes, I’m an accountant. How did you know that?

The priest, the lawyer, and the brother-in-law who happens to be good with numbers. The classic trinity of Greek deception, he thinks. How do I know Diomedes? Zach brought me here. I’m the big surprise. Themistocles turns his head and motions to Athena that he wants to leave. It was a pleasure meeting all of you. I must go and get a drink before my reunion with our friend.

Themistocles shakes everyone’s hand and the men notice his dark emerald ring, and also that his hands are trembling. As he walks away toward the bar, the three men remain uncomfortably silent.

"Yiasou, kyrios kai kyria, ladies kai gentlemen. Grab that last drink, that last shot, or that last bottle and pleeeaaasssse enjoy it," Costa announces using an exaggerated Greek accent. People take their seats while some of the women move to get a closer look at Costa.

"We are so grateful that you could all come and party with the Manos family this evening. It’s so nice to see a lot of faces that I haven’t seen for such a long time. Hi, Theo. Hi, Nouno and Nouna—my godparents. Hi, Thea. Ever notice that everyone is a Theo or a Thea to the Manos family?" The audience laughs. Costa is just one of those young men who, even in the absence of a joke, can please any crowd.

Well, we have a lot of incredible music here tonight for the best occasion I can possibly think of. I want to give many thanks to our friends who have travelled all the way from Montreal, Calgary, New York, Chicago, Florida, and Virginia, to join us in our celebration.

It is at this precise moment that Costa’s father is caught off guard. He steps out of military commander mode and studies the room. He’s quite amazed at the calibre and status of the people who have attended; all the executives from all the major associations within the Greek community, past and present, are here. He never imagined that they would be invited. He glances at his wife, then at Costa, and begins to suspect that they have collaborated together on a few things without his permission. At his place of work, Diomedes does not like surprises. Restraining his temper, he crosses his arms and looks back at Costa.

The music begins. It’s one of Diomedes’s favourite songs: To Fegarri Pano The Mou by Tolis Voskopoulos. He immediately feels the goose bumps, for there are certain songs, like this one, that make him feel naked, vulnerable, and powerful. As the song begins with the bouzouki strumming in a particularly aggressive and sporadic manner, Diomedes’s imagination begins to drift to the memories of his childhood, his parents and all of his friends.

Costa lowers the music and takes a deep breath, smiling. Before I come down and join in the first dance—

The crowd springs up in a sudden explosion of applause and cheers. "Yiasou, Costa!" one lady shouts from the far back table, followed by similar shouts throughout the hall. A tantalizing dancer, Costa Manos has a distinct style that works women of all ages into an intense frenzy. Costa flashes that signature smile once again and inhales the adulation. The cell phone cameras are already out.

Most of you probably thought that tonight was going to be your typical lame-ass milk and cookies Greek-Canadian anniversary bullshit dance. Right? Admit it.

Only Costa’s friends, who he let in through the kitchen, are clapping. Diomedes wants to rip out his throat.

You see, it’s important to me that we take this party to a whole new level. I want to introduce to you one man.

Costa’s friends keep clapping.

One man you might have seen. You might have thought to yourselves, who is that? Where did he come from? Why is he here?

Everyone is silent. Costa pauses for five wonderful seconds.

Would you all please give a warm Toronto welcome to a man my father hasn’t seen since he was eleven years old. Dad, now it’s star time at the Apollo. Costa pauses and grins at his father. All the way from Germany—Mr. Themistocles Theoseretis!

Briefly, the applause is loud but then quickly dissolves into confusion. Odd glances are exchanged among the distinguished guests as the gossip machine accelerates into the usual xenophobia. Themistocles strolls down the walkway and feels the familiar tension. Diomedes leaps to greet him.

Hello, friend.

I thought you were dead. Diomedes grabs his hand.

Themistocles chuckles. I’m back from the dead now. Your son Zach found me.

Diomedes sees that his hands are shaking. What’s wrong?

Themistocles bites his lip. I’m just happy to be here now.

"Ella, Themis, come and dance. Diomedes looks to the band and says, Play some Tsamiko. Now!"

Tsamiko is a traditional dance played at all weddings and baptisms. But when men dance to it, especially the ones who are older and wiser, it’s all about independence. The music starts.

Themistocles joins the Manos family on the dance floor. They hold one another’s hands and take in the applause. Clutching Themistocles’ strong hand, Diomedes stomps his foot to the three-quarter rhythm and begins.

Wearing big smiles of warm Greek community support, all the guests in this room are petrified to explore what they are feeling. Men and women in the audience turn to one another in search of rationalizations to justify their sudden pangs of envy, while others curse the Manos family with their evil eye. Envy for another family’s happiness is a difficult force to contain within Greeks. However, within a split second, this same group will temporarily switch their envious hysteria to an exaggerated Opa! and will offer up a whole host of tired Greek clichés to masquerade their bitterness.

Yet, for this brief moment, the Manos family feels honoured and blessed to have all these wonderful friends.

"Ella, Themis, ella brosta, go to the front." Themistocles steps to the front of the line and firmly grasps Diomedes’s hand. At the front of the line, Themistocles and Diomedes dance with complete synchronization. Themistocles’s explosive kicks and spins mesmerize Zach and Costa. This particular dance brings out a particular fire in Themistocles—softened by the grace of a gentleman.

Zach watches him dance, and sees a man who is happy to be here. But Costa, a seasoned dancer, sees a man expressing a measured anger in his dance.

Chapter 2

Prisoners of Love

Zach wakes up feeling refreshed and alert. He hasn’t felt this well rested for a long time and decides to enjoy the moment. He leans up against the headboard of the bed and takes a look at his room. In his mind, it won’t be long until he moves out into his own house with Stacy.

He examines the bookshelves at the far end of the room and is impressed by how comprehensive his education has been. His large collection contains titles on management and leadership, on economic history, financial analysis, psychology and communications, sales, marketing, and negotiation. Along the bottom of his shelves are leather-bound binders containing market analysis on every company that came upon recommendation from the hundreds of investment newsletters he reads. Even though there are some books like Liar’s Poker that are still waiting to be read, Zach truly feels he is mentally prepared to accomplish the goals he has set out for himself.

This day is a new beginning for him. He has cultivated his reputation and a prestigious degree in order to attain an income that will win him favour and secure his relationship with Stacy. He leans over to the nightstand on his right, grabs his remote control, and turns on his stereo to hear some romantic R & B. He closes his eyes and lets his imagination drift to images of her.

Zach welcomes this restful Sunday morning to fantasize about what future Sunday mornings may look like. What does a woman like her wear to bed? Zach replays the same fantasy in his mind where she’s wearing different lingerie sets in different colours, and sometimes cotton shorts with a simple top. Despite the lingerie, his well-worn fantasy is strictly PG rated. He has deified her, placing her on such an angelic pedestal that there is a moral limit in his mind regulating how he can fantasize about her. He wants to maintain this presumed purity between them. But for some reason, today he would really like to sex-up the old fantasy a bit.

Are you jerking off to Blow Queen?

Zach is startled but keeps his eyes closed, feigning sleep. Costa laughs obnoxiously, walks into his brother’s room, and goes toward the stereo.

You still listen to this shit? This is pussy-controls-your-cock music!

How dare he insult my Stacy music? Why can’t he take the hint and get out?

Costa turns off the stereo and Zach can hear a few books from the shelf being moved. He hears Costa light up a cigarette and then hears the television being turned on to wrestling. Costa turns the volume up. Zach now knows this is just to irritate him. Costa sits on the small couch in front of the bed and quietly begins to sniffle, cough, and hack some phlegm from his throat.

What do you want?

Coffee.

Danforth? Zach asks, finally opening his eyes.

Dad won’t let me take the car. Costa gets up from the couch and walks to the door while looking at his brother.

C’mon, I’m tired!

Yeah, I know what from. What a waste of a load, Costa says sincerely.

Do you know she got a job at a law firm? Zach says defensively.

From polishing old man’s knobs.

What do you have against Stacy? She’s always nice to you.

But she’s not nice to you. I’ve seen girls like her at clubs, and trust me, with a strange piece of ass like that comes misery. Didn’t the boys in Greece teach you not to worship the temple of pussy?

But she’s different.

A different kind of social-climbing blow queen? I fucking doubt that. Look, all of that is your business. It’s a nice day and I just want to meet up with the boys for a bit, then we can go pick up Themistocles.

Zach looks at his watch: it’s a little after noon. He likes the idea of driving down the Don Valley Parkway to Greektown. Also, it’s been a while since they enjoyed each other’s company as friends, not just brothers.

Okay, let’s go. Let me take a quick shower and then we’re out of here.

Zach, we don’t have much time so, today, don’t be a woman.

I won’t. Fifteen minutes or I let you drive my car.

Okay. I’ll warm up the car.

Diomedes knew he had to wake up early and light that candle. He certainly isn’t a regular churchgoer, but today he’s looking for answers. For many years, his sister Sophia’s scathing remarks, sarcastic innuendos, and negative attitude have caused him great physical and psychological harm.

On Sundays, the church is usually standing room only. Diomedes walks in from the back and pays for a candle. It seems to him that today the choir is singing more beautifully, and he notices that Father Pavlos is in fine form as he leads the service. He lights the candle, plants it in the sand, concentrates while making the sign of the cross, and kisses the icon. He stands at the back of the church, waiting to receive communion and, like many who attend, his mind feels relaxed enough to have that private conversation with God. When it is time to pray, he begs God to help him find peace with all the members of his family.

The layered trinity of the choir, the candles and the incense transports his mind to the early 1950s when he and his sister were little and took that long boat ride from Greece to Canada. Life seemed safe and wonderful with his big sister Sophia around. He remembers moving into a tiny, crowded house with four families, where each family had their own section of a small fridge and where he and his sister shared a bed for many years. He reviews in his mind what it took to endure such humiliation, and how much his mother and father worried that Sophia wouldn’t find a worthy husband.

Take this blood that I have for you and for many for the remission of sin, Father Pavlos sings gracefully.

Ahhhhmeeen, answers the choir.

The choir continues to hum as the priest chants. In Greek, Father Pavlos now delivers the chorus: The body and blood of Christ. A parishioner steps up to sip the wine from the polished silver spoon, then the altar boys delicately wipe the corners of his mouth, and the parishioner steps down to take an oversized chunk of bread before walking back down the aisle. The next person steps up, and the ritual continues; however, as he steps closer, Diomedes’s attention is still transfixed on the good and resilient memories he has of his sister.

The body and blood of Christ.

He searches his mind for what may have prompted her to feel differently toward him and his family. They were so close, or at least it appeared that way. Diomedes realizes he is one