TRACING HOLLAND
A Sequel to Night Shifts Black
A Novel By
Alyson Santos
NSB Series, Book 2
This novel is a work of fiction and intended for mature readers. Events and persons depicted are of a fictional nature and use language, make choices, and face situations inappropriate for younger readers.
Names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Tracing Holland
Copyright © 2016 Alyson Santos
All Rights Reserved
www.alysonsantos.com
Proofreading by Hannah Whalen
Cover design by Era Media Co.
www.eramediaco.com
Cover models: Jenny Castner and Gabe Gennace
Tracing Holland continues the story of Luke Craven, Callie Roland, and Casey Barrett from Night Shifts Black. It is strongly recommended that readers begin with Night Shifts Black to truly appreciate the growth and interaction of these characters in Tracing Holland.
TRACING HOLLAND
The Encore: Part I
Houston, Texas
New Orleans, Louisiana
Atlanta, Georgia
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina
Charlotte, North Carolina
Richmond, Virginia
Baltimore, Maryland
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Greater Metro New York City
Toronto, Ontario
Breakfast Club
The Encore: Part II
Note From Alyson
Acknowledgements
“Guide me toward the light, I swear I’ll follow.
Forgive me for the man I am.
Fight the hollow ghost I carry.
I’ve learned to hide the tears,
Though they still break me.
Search for me, the broken wanderer
Find me, deep within my own void
Save me, from my burning lies
Don’t believe what I am.”
- Luke Craven, Night Shifts Black
The Encore: Part I
It’s deafening. I close my eyes and listen, absorb. I know I should be reviewing what’s next, but my heart is pounding too fast, the blood searing through my body and blocking all coherent thoughts in my head.
“That’s for you, man.” Casey’s voice is barely audible over the roar, and I cast a quick glance in his direction. Casey. Callie. The reasons I’m standing here. The reasons I’m alive. The reasons I’m once again Luke Craven, frontman for Night Shifts Black.
I still don’t believe I deserve this second chance, but I’ve accepted it. Those two stubborn beacons of light didn’t really give me a choice. It’s a gift, or as Callie calls it, a miracle, and I’m not screwing it up this time around. I’m not.
“So are we doing this or what?” Sweeny yells over the chanting. “I mean, I could listen to forty-thousand people scream Luke’s name all day, but I wouldn’t mind hitting Saxon before the bar closes.”
Casey rolls his eyes and smacks him. “Relax, bro. We’ll go back out. Just give him a second. What are you guys thinking? Do the full three-song set for the encore? It’s our first comeback show. I think we can do three.”
“Three’s good,” Sweeny says. “Open or close with ‘Greetings’?”
“Close,” I whisper to myself. I face my band, my friends. “Definitely close.”
There’s a sudden pressure on my arm, and I turn to meet a pair of sweet, hazel eyes that somehow manage to cut into me every time.
“You’ve got this, Luke,” Callie says with a smile. God, I love her smile. Love the way she makes me believe there’s good in the world. There’s good in me somewhere. “You ready?”
I draw in a deep breath and stare back at the entrance to the stage. That’s the question, isn’t it? Am I ready? Ready for what? The crowd? The music? Or ready for life. Ready to face the reality that what I was will attack the very fabric of who I am now. I’m not naïve. I knew the second I agreed to come back that I was signing up for one hell of a ride. I’m a different person now, but no one knows that. No one knows I’m not a monster anymore. Well, no one except the two most important people in my life, which is why there’s a remote chance on God’s green earth I can actually do this. I might actually pull off a comeback, not just for my career, but for my life.
Am I ready? No. But I’m ok with that now. I’m ok, because for the first time since I can remember, I’m not afraid of myself. I’m not afraid of tomorrow. I’m not afraid to live.
Houston, Texas
September 12-13
The chanting begins to spread into an indecipherable roar as the front few rows of fans notice our shadows emerging from the wing of the stage. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through me now, feeding off the crowd, their passion, their excitement. I hadn’t bothered giving my guitar to the tech when we’d finished our earlier set, so it’s just a matter of a quick adjustment to the strap and tweak of my mic stand. The stand is set perfectly, but I always hit it with one last grip before the lights. I don’t know, maybe it’s about the connection. Making the microphone a part of me. I insert my in-ears and tighten the cables behind my neck, allowing the custom monitors to replace the din of the crowd with echoes of Casey’s adjustments to his kit and Sweeny’s last minute tuning.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
We delay another twenty-five seconds in silence. The darkness is almost tangible now, taunting the crowd with its presence since they know we’re here. They know we’re ready, that we’re about to explode on them with one last barrage of epic euphoria. We all feel the tension, the air heavy with anticipation. It’s up to Casey how long we torture them.
And there it is.
He taps the edge of the snare three times, our signal that he’s ready, and I nod, even though I know they can’t see me in the shadows. I take my stance, left hand locked on the neck of my guitar, right hand clutching my pick. I do one last scan of my pedal board to make sure everything seems on and ready to go. And then, the steady tick of the click track jumps to life in my ears. Tick. Tock. Tock. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tock. Tock. Casey gives us two full measures before a live count with his sticks.
1-2-3-4.
Explosion.
∞∞∞
“Hey, we’re all heading over to Saxon after we clean up. You in?” Casey asks as we hover around the table of snacks in the green room.
“I don’t know. Who’s going?” I ask, grabbing a bottle of water from the ice bowl. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the hem of my t-shirt and twist the cap off my bottle.
“Um, just us I think. Maybe some of the others. I didn’t ask. Does it matter?”
I shake my head. “I guess not.”
“Molly is going to meet us there.”
I don’t even have to see Casey’s face to know there’s a giant grin. I can hear it in his voice. I can’t help but return it. “That’s great, Case. Are any of your other siblings meeting up while we’re in Houston?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know yet. Just Molly tonight. I might try to set something up for tomorrow with a few other locals while we’re here. I want them to meet Callie. At least Nate and Abby.”
“Molly’s gonna love her.”
“Hell yeah, she will. Hey, come though, ok?”
I sigh. I know I should, I’m just reluctant to make a promise I might not keep. I’ve done enough of that in my life. “Where is Callie anyway?” I ask, changing the subject before he can force an answer.
“I think she’s with Holland,” Casey replies. �
��They’ve started hanging out since the tour rehearsals.”
I smile, not surprised. It’s hard not to want Callie around once she inserts herself into your life. “Did you catch any of their set?’ I ask, finishing off my water.
“Whose? Tracing Holland?”
I nod. “Their rehearsals looked great. She’s got a good thing going.”
“Yeah, I think Callie stuck around to watch them.”
I almost laugh. “Of course she did.”
Casey grins. “She’s loving every second of this. You should have seen her this afternoon when she first saw catering.”
This time I do laugh. “Let me guess, she went psycho fangirl on the mini quiches and selection of flavored teas?”
He snickers and shrugs. “What are you gonna do? You know how she gets with her tea.”
We quiet as the door to the green room bursts open with an explosion of female laughter.
Callie spots us and heads over with a huge smile. “You guys were amazing!” she cries. Casey gets a kiss, and I get a tight squeeze around the waist.
“Thanks. Are you having a good time?” I ask as she lets go and returns to Casey.
She gives me a look, and I can’t help but smile. “What do you think?”
“Callie’s right. The encore was killer. Love the new stuff.”
I glance over at Holland and return her polite smile. “Thanks.”
I can feel her eyes on me and look away quickly. I know what she’s thinking. It’s the same thing all of them think. Now’s the part where I act like an ass. I don’t blame her. I’ve never done anything to make them think otherwise. But she doesn’t say another word, which comes as a relief. My few interactions with Holland Drake have always been painfully polite.
“Are you coming out with us?” Callie asks, hanging on my arm again.
I sigh. That damn look in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m kind of tired.”
“Luke…” her tone is stern now, and I can’t help but smirk.
“What about you?” she asks Holland. “You’re all coming, right?”
Holland had been studying the selection of protein bars and glances over. “Um, yeah, probably. Where are you going again?”
“Saxon, right?” Callie asks Casey who nods.
“I’ll probably just hit the gym at the hotel for a bit and call it a night. Thanks, though,” I say, grabbing another water and an apple.
Callie is giving me her disapproving glare, but I only return a sheepish smile. “Another time?”
“Fine,” she grunts.
Even Casey seems annoyed. “Molly’s going to be disappointed if you don’t go.”
I groan. “Low blow, Case. That’s not fair.”
He grins and shrugs. They’re waiting. They know I’m wavering. They know I can rarely resist them when they team up on me. It’s not a fair fight. A thousand thoughts race through my head, and I feel Holland watching me again. I wonder which side of the debate she’s on. I sense it’s mine. I sense she’d be happier if I didn’t exist at all. She turns back to the snack table.
“Ok, maybe for a bit. But I probably won’t stay long. Just enough to say hi to Molly.”
Callie rolls her eyes. “When did you become such a loser?”
I laugh. “Hey, at least I’m not wearing a white t-shirt today.”
She grins and tugs at my decidedly not-white shirt. “I noticed! First show in a year and a half. I suppose if there’s any reason to dress up...”
Holland is chuckling to herself and seems startled when she realizes she has our attention. “What? Sorry, it’s just, I’m always bugging the guys about that, too. Hell, I have to spend two hours on hair and makeup. The least they can do is wear a decent shirt.”
“I know, right?” Callie cries. “These two insist on looking like they’ve just finished a landscaping project.”
I grin and shake my head. “Please don’t encourage her,” I mutter to Holland.
“Well, the girl’s got a point. That’s all I’m saying.”
Her tone isn’t exactly sharp, but it’s enough to draw my gaze. She meets my eyes, boldly this time, daring me to argue. I feel my smile slipping. I hate that I have to wonder what I’ve done to offend her, but clearly we have a history.
I swallow and look away. “I’m gonna go back to the hotel and change,” I direct back to Casey and Callie. “Meet you at the bus? We can grab a ride from there.”
It’s Callie staring me down now. I know she can sense the change in my demeanor. She always does, but I don’t need her worrying about me at the moment.
“Alright, see you in a few,” Casey says.
I offer Holland another quick smile as I pass, hoping I’ve misread her. I don’t think I did.
∞∞∞
I decide to just take a cab back to the hotel. I’m not in the mood for other people at the moment, and skip the shuttle. I can’t stop thinking about Holland’s stare for some reason. Sure, she’s beautiful. Gorgeous, really, but in a quirky way with her messy blond hair and haunting blue eyes. It’s almost like she goes out of her way to hide her beauty, although I doubt she cares enough about that stuff to bother with something so petty. She’s too confident to need to make a statement. She has nothing to prove. She’s just her own person, and I respect that. Hell, I’ve always been hopelessly attracted to that, but I don’t think that’s why I can’t get her out of my head. It was the secret behind her eyes, still searing my brain, accusing me of something I can’t remember.
We really haven’t spoken much since we met for rehearsals a week ago, so I know whatever I did must have been in the past. My crime might not have even been against her. In fact it probably wasn’t, since I’m pretty sure we never spoke before the tour. But yeah, I’ve pissed off enough people over the years that the six degrees of separation axiom pretty much screws me on a daily basis. It’s not that I don’t deserve it; it’s just hard to keep track of all the overdue apologies and corresponding train of grievances at every turn.
I turn on the water to the shower when I get to my room and pull off my t-shirt. It was a hot night, and the lights and frantic pace of the performance certainly didn’t help. We’re all drenched in sweat by the end of each show anyway, and I’m looking forward to a long soak under the waterfall showerhead. We’re doing two events in Houston, three if you count the mini acoustic set at a local rock station tomorrow morning. So our tour manager booked us rooms instead of living out of the bus like we do on some of our day stops. I’m grateful for the space, but more so for the privacy.
I strip down the rest of the way and slip beneath the warm stream of water, not too hot since my body is already on fire. I stretch out my arms and lean against the far wall, head bowed, allowing the water to soak into my sore shoulders. I imagine it washing away as much of the day’s tension as it can handle. It feels so good, and it especially feels good to feel good. I close my eyes.
My first show back. There’s a heaviness in my chest now that I can’t quite define. I’m not surprised, given the exhausting reality of this day, this moment. Sure, it felt amazing to be back. The rush of being on stage, consumed by the music, entrenched in the one thing I can do. For a long time, the only good thing I was. My life has always been a constant battle for purpose. I never found it. Not in a way that stuck, that mattered, anyway. Not until Elena, but of course I fucked that up, because that’s what I do. Well, what I did. I never knew what to do with Good so I’d destroy it. I’d break it apart and suck the life out of it until I could transform it into something more comfortable. Something disgusting that I actually understood, I deserved.
I know I’m not that person anymore, but that doesn’t make the pain go away. Scars may fade, but you don’t get to peel them off just because you finally put the knife down. Still, I’m trying to forgive myself, and I’ve come a long way over these last few months. The counseling actually helped. I was skeptical at first, but Callie and Casey were right, as usual. I learned things about myself I didn’t even know. O
ld memories I’d thought I’d buried turned out to be parasites slowly tearing at my soul. There were plenty of painful sessions, many downright tense. But most of all, I learned how to recognize my thoughts for what they are. To try to stop the downward spiral before it starts. To break patterns, well, glass as Callie says, and not let myself be comfortable in the familiar slide toward the darkness. They’re called triggers and I have a fucking truckload.
The water is starting to feel cool against my skin. I open my eyes and let them adjust to the light. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, but I suspect I’ll have some annoyed texts waiting for me when I check my phone. It’s fine. I’m actually pretty sure I’ve changed my mind about going out. I’m in no state to handle more of my past right now, and I know for sure I don’t have enough smiles left in me to get through a night at a crowded club. But they deserve an update.
I quickly finish my shower and run a towel over my hair as I leave the bathroom. I then wrap it around my waist and smile to myself when I see the stream of messages on the display of my phone. Callie does nothing halfway.
I return a quick apology and let her know I’ve decided just to stay in. I don’t get an immediate response back, which seems strange since I know Callie is glued to her phone, waiting for any evidence of my continued breath. She’s probably called the FBI by now and put out a missing persons report. I can see Casey rolling his eyes and trying to reassure her, but I’ve earned her concern. I know it, and it’s endearing in its own way. I toss my phone back on the bed and search through my suitcase for some clothes.
I’ve just pulled on a pair of gym shorts when a knock thumps on my door. Surprised, I move toward it and peek through the hole. I breathe a curse, but can’t stop the resigned smile as I shake my head and invite the intruders to enter.
Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) Page 1