Page 9 of Tracing Holland (The Hold Me NSB #2)

She grins. She caught me, knows she got to me. “Come on, Luke. You’re an insanely talented, walking, talking Greek god bad boy. You even have the sexy accent, tortured soul thing going on. Is there a woman on this planet who could resist you if you wanted her?”

I smirk to hide my own reaction to her words, and tear my eyes away from her. “I can name a few.”

“Besides Callie,” she laughs. “And let’s face it, Casey Barrett isn’t exactly far off himself.”

I grin and shake my head. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

“You better not. I love Callie. She’d kill me.”

“No she wouldn’t. She’d laugh and tell you you’re absolutely right. Then thank you for noticing and ask if you wanted some tea.”

Holland chuckles. “She would. It’s true.

” She quiets. “Anyway, sorry if this is just making things more awkward. I just…I don’t know.

Life’s too short to play games with people.

I like to be open and just put the truth out there.

How else can we deal with it and know where we stand?

Our world is complicated enough. Why not simplify what we can actually control? ”

I don’t look at her this time. She may feel that way, but it’s so far from where I’m at that I don’t even know how to respond.

“Does that approach work for you?” I manage finally.

Her eyes are on me. I can feel her tracing me, and I’m afraid to look. I’m terrified of what her gaze does to me.

“Does deflecting work for you ?”

I instinctively glance at her now and go still. She doesn’t let me look away this time. She’s searching for something but I have no idea what. I doubt she’ll find it, whatever it is. God knows there’s not much left to find.

“Usually it works pretty well,” I respond.

She nods, then softens. “Well, it won’t with me, Luke,” she explains gently, pulling herself to her feet. “I’m just warning you. I have no idea if we can be friends or not, but you should know that I don’t believe in bullshit. I guess that should have been my warning yesterday instead.”

And with that, I’m alone again on the steps, staring at a line of rumbling delivery trucks, breathing in warm late-summer air, wondering what the hell just happened.

I decide I want to run my own sound check today.

My strange conversation with Holland still has me off balance into the afternoon, and I need to reset before tonight.

Besides, I never did get my writing time in, and I could use some relaxed creativity.

Casey agrees, and even Eli and Sweeny reluctantly follow when I tell them I have a new song I want to work on.

Callie is parked in the front row, her encouraging smile beaming off her face as she waits patiently for us to get our shit together.

“Is this the butterfly song?” Casey asks as we settle into our positions.

Eli and Sweeny nearly choke. “Wait, what? You get clean and suddenly we’re doing butterflies?”

I shoot Casey an annoyed look. “Can you not call it the butterfly song?”

He shrugs. “What? Ok, fine. But that’s what it’s about, right?”

“No. It’s about metamorphosis. Working title is ‘Metamorphosis.’”

“So butterflies.”

I roll my eyes and can hear Callie laughing from her seat. “It’s ok, Luke! I love butterflies!” she shouts up to us. “So do all your teen girl groupies! You just need a four-part harmony and coordinated dance to go with it!”

“It’s not about fucking butterflies!” I cry in exasperation, even as I shake my head with a grin.

“Don’t get mad! I’m just saying, is there a butterfly in it or not?” Casey asks, and I almost throw my guitar at him.

“Not anymore!” I hiss, and he laughs.

“Ok, ok! Sorry! Go for it. We’ll shut up. We’re ready.”

I turn back to the mic and draw in a deep breath.

I grip my guitar pick firmly in my right hand, my left hand positioned for a B minor chord.

I wrote this one in D, but I’m thinking I might need to raise it to E.

It’s not exactly an essential detail at the moment, but suddenly it’s all I can think about.

Maybe I should just play it in E for their first listening.

The higher key will give the chorus more energy, more power.

Yes, E. But shit, if I do it in E, I have to raise the bridge too.

Not sure I can hit that in E. I should have practiced this more.

What was I thinking exposing it so early?

I haven’t played it for anyone except Casey, and that was so early he won’t even recognize it.

My hands are sweating, heart racing. Bm, A, D.

No, maybe I should go to the 4 instead. A solid G back into the 6.

Dammit. I haven’t played anything original since…

god, I don’t know when. Breathe. I’ve been doing this my whole life.

No, not my whole life. Not at all since I became something else, someone else.

What if my music was in the darkness, the filth?

I have no way of knowing if I can trust what comes out now.

I’m surprised there’s no more ribbing interrupting the silence as I hesitate.

I glance back at Casey, and my chest suddenly gets heavy.

He knows. I can tell by the look on his face that he understands what this moment means to me, and all the teasing is gone from his expression.

He’s no longer worried about butterflies, just me.

I suck in my breath and turn back to the audience, finally able to breathe again when my eyes rest on the lone judge seated in the center of the first row. It’s Callie. Just Callie, gazing up at me, eyes full, waiting for me to be the person she discovered.

I wrote it in D. I have to start trusting myself at some point. As the music pours out, I can almost feel the suffocating curtain start to lift.

“Crawl in, crawl out

Terrified but moving now

Claw up, slide down

There’s no going back, can’t go back

Break down, break out

Break down, break out

Brand new day feast on the dark

Shuttered light, reluctant spark

Growing dawn and setting sun

Fight song of the desperate one.

Cocoon shredding

Past, heading straight for the wall

No more regretting, just breathing

Underwater

Too late to choose, too far to fall

Nowhere to go but on

No more excuses, no denial

No holding on to lost time

Break out, I’m breaking out

Brand new day release the dark

A new light, the smallest spark

Growing dawn and setting sun

Fight song of the desperate one.

Break it down, break it

Breaking out, just break it, break it”

I hadn’t even realized I’d closed my eyes until the last note lingers in the air, in the darkness behind my eyelids.

I open them, and I’m shocked, a little shaken, when I see Holland seated next to Callie.

They both are staring at me with grave expressions as I back away from the mic and face my band.

“I mean, I’m still working on it,” I explain into the silence. “Just…”

“It’s awesome, man,” Casey says, cutting off my instinctive apology. “I love it. We haven’t done anything that hard in a long time.”

“Yeah, dude. That bridge is sick,” Sweeny echoes. “Can we run it again? I have a couple things I want to try.”

“Yes! Definitely,” Casey agrees. “We’ve got plenty of time. How’s it sounding out there, Miles?” he calls to the front-of-house engineer.

“Guitar and vocal sounded great! Love the new stuff. Would also love to get a full check now,” Miles returns into our ears.

I swallow, unnerved by the sudden warmth spreading through me. I don’t know what to do with it, and turn back to Callie and…Holland is gone.

“Luke! Hey!”

I stop on my way back to the bus and turn toward Tess, our road manager.

“How’s everything? Did you get a chance to grab some food?”

I smile and nod. “Yep. Thanks, Tess.”

“What about the bus? Does anything need to be restocked before we roll out tonight?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe a few bottles of water. Hey, do you know if Gary is all good to take care of Tracing Holland tonight?”

“Yes! He’s all set.”

“Did he get in touch with Steven?”

“Steven?”

“Holland’s backline tech who had to leave.”

Tess waves her hand. “Oh, right! Sorry, I can’t believe I forgot his name. I don’t know, but I’ll check.” She quiets, and I brace myself. It’s that look I’ve come to dread. The “you’re-a-fragile-little-dandelion-but-we-love-you” look.

“How are you, Luke? How’s it been being back?”

“I’m good,” I answer. As if I’d say anything else. “It’s an adjustment, but going ok.”

“You sure? You’ll let me know if there’s anything you need, right?”

I try to hold in my sigh at the familiar script. She means well. They all mean well. “Yes, of course. I’ll let you know, but I’m good,” I repeat.

I don’t know if she believes me or not, but at least she seems to understand that’s the best she’ll get. I have this conversation memorized at this point. There are a few versions of it and I’m grateful that Tess is sensitive enough to make it the short one.

“Ok, well, I’ll go check with Gary and Holland to make sure they’re all set. Kill it tonight, ok?” she says, swatting my arm as she passes.

I manage to return her smile before the resigned sigh escapes. Dandelion Luke. I guess it has a certain ring to it. Beats Train-Wreck Luke anyway.