Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2)

by Alyson Santos

  Then, Holland Drake came along and shoved life right into my soul.

  At some point Tyler returns with the guitar, but I don’t stop playing. I hardly even notice him as the chords bleed into song which bleeds into art. The expression on Holland’s face as she watches me play is just as mesmerizing. It’s more than pride, it’s pure joy that she gets to be part of a moment. As though I’m giving her the gift.

  No one moves when I finish, least of all Tyler who looks completely paralyzed. There’s the warmth again and I wave him over.

  “You play?” I ask.

  He nods. “Yeah, but not like that.”

  I laugh. “Grab a guitar. That my Taylor?”

  He hands me the Taylor, and I give the Martin back to Holland.

  “What’s your favorite Tracing Holland song?” I ask, and love how Holland glows at my question.

  “Um, ‘Perfect Storm,’ probably,” he says.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I strum the new guitar and grin. “This has a nice tone. I like the feel of it.”

  Tyler nods. “Yeah, it does. It’s got that sweet cutaway too. The other model in the series doesn’t.”

  “Have you ever played it?”

  “A little.”

  I hand it to him. “Play something.”

  “Um…”

  “Do you write any original stuff?” I ask, helping him along.

  He reddens a bit, but nods. “Some.”

  “Ok, so play us that.”

  His eyes shoot to mine in shock. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, why not. I want to hear the guitar store expert play this thing.”

  He grins at my joke and seems to relax a bit. “Ok, sure.”

  He moves to one of the other stools, and we settle back to listen.

  When he starts to play, Holland and I exchange a surprised look. The kid’s not bad. He’s actually a whole lot better than not bad.

  “I’m Nowhere Man in nowhere spaces

  Everywhere a thousand faces, places spill from beneath the wreckage

  Oh it’s over now

  Oh oh it’s over

  I’m Forgotten Man in endless races

  Chasing air with futile paces, traces of the craft that made us

  Oh it’s over now

  Oh oh it’s over

  You say you see me, but it’s just my shadow

  I’m not waiting, just fading past the time you remember

  I’m Forgotten Man, Nowhere Man

  Light a candle before I’m gone.

  I’ll run this race, it’s still my anthem

  Past the shame, the pain is where I fight now

  I’m a blaze, a fire, a final hour

  Oh it’s not over

  Oh oh it’s not

  It’s never over”

  Tyler glances up with a shy look as he finishes, and I lean back with an approving smile.

  “Nice! That was great, man. You write a lot?”

  He beams as he hands the guitar back to me. “Yeah. I mean, just for myself mostly. I fool around a little bit with some guys in the area, but we haven’t done anything other than play a couple bars. And honestly, they like to do covers more than originals for the most part anyway.” He laughs. “We actually cover one of yours all the time.”

  I grin and cross my arms. “Really. Which song?”

  “’Suture.’”

  My eyes widen as I stare at him in disbelief. “’Suture?’ No kidding.”

  “Do I even know that one?” Holland chimes in, and I smirk.

  “Probably not. That was from our first album. We didn’t even put it on the re-release.”

  “You should have, man! That song is epic.”

  “Yes! That’s what I said. But the Label was not having it. They already said we were too heavy for the mainstream when we signed, so that was it.”

  “No way! That’s what I love about you guys! No bullshit.”

  I grin and glance at Holland. “Hear that? No bullshit.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please.”

  “What do you play in your band?” I ask, returning to Tyler.

  “I lead, for the most part. Jack takes a couple of the songs, but I do the rest.”

  I nod. “You in school or anything?”

  He shakes his head. “No, well, not really. I’ve taken a couple classes at the community college, but my mom really needs me around. She hasn’t been doing well the last couple years. I’m trying to work as much as I can.”

  He’s about to continue when the door opens and a stern man shadows the gap. We know he’s the manager from his tie and unfiltered glare.

  “Tyler, I thought you were supposed to be working on inventory?”

  Tyler deflates, and my good humor gives way to the inevitable boil of my blood when challenged. “Actually, sir, we requested his assistance. We’re interested in these guitars,” I explain, holding up the Taylor and motioning toward the Martin.

  The man gives me a skeptical look. He has no clue who I am, which only encourages me further. Unlike Tyler he doesn’t actually pay attention to what happens in his store.

  “Is that so? Did Tyler review the price of that guitar?”

  “He did, thanks. $7,999 and it comes with a case. He recommended I go with the Platinum Warranty. Considering the abuse it’ll take on the road, that’s not a bad idea.”

  “You tour then?” the manager asks, and I force a polite laugh.

  “Oh, right, sorry.” I slide off the stool and approach, holding out my hand. “Luke Craven with Night Shifts Black. That’s my friend Holland Drake from Tracing Holland. We’re actually touring together at the moment. I think she’s interested in that Martin. Right, Holland?” I ask, addressing her.

  She nods to us with a smile and holds it up. “It’s a pretty color.” I almost snicker at her joke, but manage to hold it in.

  The man just stares at us. And stares. And glances at Tyler. He studies my tattoos for a while, then back to Tyler.

  “I see. Well…”

  “So, can he ring us up here, or do we do that at the counter?” I add, solely to see his face explode.

  It does, and there is no doubt in my mind this will be an $8,000 well-spent. I’m pretty sure Tyler is wetting his pants.

  “Um…Tyler can ring you up at the counter. Our computer…he needs the computer.”

  “Great! Oh, hey, he’s been great. Does he get credit or anything for this sale?”

  The man looks about to pass out before shaking his head. Tyler’s eyes are the size of guitar picks.

  “No, our employees are hourly.”

  “Oh, really? Well, that’s too bad. Hey, Ty, can you throw in one of those mini clip-on tuners you were showing us earlier? I can’t even tell you how many of those damn things I lose. Thanks. Oh, and an extra set of strings and your favorite strap.”

  The manager has to step from the doorway so we can march past. I know Holland’s eyes are glued to me. She has no clue what I’m doing. Hell, I’m not even entirely sure at the moment, I just can’t shake this sense that a slight shift in the universe is about to occur.

  “Well, if you need anything else, please let me know,” the manager says, and I wave my hand.

  “Thanks, but I think Ty’s got it. Right, Ty? We good? You can ring us up?”

  “You want the Taylor?”

  “That’s the one you like, right?”

  He nods. “Yeah, she’s a beauty.”

  “You’re sure? I shouldn’t consider a different one?”

  “I mean, the Martin you were looking at is nice too, but if it were me, you struck gold with that Taylor.”

  I nod. “Perfect. That’s all I need to hear.”

  He’s smiling to himself as he processes the transaction, and I cast a quick glance at Holland who’s giving me the death stare. She didn’t bring me here to buy another $8,000 guitar I’ll have to fly back to Philadelphia.

  “So, it’ll take us a little bit to get it ready for you and adjust anything you need, the a
ction or whatever. Will you be able to come back in about an hour? We’ll have it all polished up and ready for you,” Tyler says as I’m signing the receipt.

  I sigh. “Well, I don’t think that’s going to work for me.”

  His face falls. “Oh, ok, well, maybe…”

  “Tell you what, how about you adjust the action how you like it since you’re the one who will be playing it.”

  He stares at me, completely confused. “I don’t understand.”

  I jot down my e-mail address on the receipt and shove it back at him. “The guitar is yours, man. Let me know how she performs on stage.”

  ∞∞∞

  Holland doesn’t even speak to me for the first five minutes after we leave the music store. We walk in silence along the line of storefronts, and the silly grin on her face makes me smile every time I catch a glimpse of it. I can’t stop looking.

  “You do realize that even after everything, all we’ve been through, that might be one of sexiest things I’ve ever seen,” she says, finally letting me into her head.

  I return her grin and give her a mischievous look. “What? The way I man-handled President Power Trip at the end?”

  She laughs. “No, the way you just changed some random kid’s life.”

  Her smile fades when she sees my face. “You get that you not only gave that kid an unbelievable gift, you also gave him hope. You validated his dream. You gave him a story he will now share with every person he knows and will be a part of his narrative for the rest of his life. Whether you want it or not, think you deserve it or not, you have that power, Luke. You touch lives.”

  Speechless, I can barely even muster a smile as I start walking again, staring at our reflections in the passing store windows. I know I’ll be lying awake tonight, fighting my way through that bombshell, but for now, for this second, I can’t even hope to start. I draw in a deep breath and turn back to her.

  “You hungry?” I ask, finally.

  She only grins knowingly and nods her head. “Yeah. I am. I saw a cute Thai place up ahead.”

  ∞∞∞

  Casey meets me for coffee at the hotel restaurant that night, while the girls check out the in-house spa. I had received a few cryptic texts from Callie throughout the day with updates, but not enough to get a true sense of what to expect when I finally see my friend. He looks drained, defeated, and my heart constricts a bit. I still wish I could have been there to support him, even though I know that wasn’t really an option.

  “Do you think I can get them to throw a couple shots in here?” Casey mumbles, glaring into his cup.

  I smile and cast a glance over at the neighboring bar area. “Maybe we met in the wrong section?”

  He smirks before leaning back with a groan. “Can I just say this day sucked? Like, massively sucked.”

  “So then how did we get stuck with a coffee date while the ladies got the spa?”

  His grin slips out as he shakes his head. “No clue. The plan made perfect sense when Callie laid it out. And then, she walks away, and you’re like, wait…”

  I laugh. “Yeah, that’s usually how it goes.”

  “How about you? What did you and Holland do?”

  “I’m pretty sure we’re here to talk about your day.”

  He grunts and swirls his coffee. “I already told you it sucked.”

  I almost laugh again. “Uh huh. Well, that’s a text message, my friend, not a coffee break. I’m gonna need more than that.“

  “Geez, dude, when did you get so pushy?” he teases.

  “When I started giving a shit about life and other people.”

  “Funny how that works, huh?”

  I roll my eyes. “Spare me the lecture and tell me about your father’s funeral, Case.”

  He shakes his head and settles back into his chair. “They wanted each of us to say something,” he begins finally, glancing up at me. “I swear my mom did that just to watch me squirm. They literally stared at me when it was my turn.”

  “Oh, shit. What did you do?”

  He shrugs. “I got up and spoke.”

  I let out my breath. “Wow…ok…”

  His smile starts to poke through the gloom, which always makes it impossible not to join in. “Yeah, it was not the speech they were expecting, I’m sure.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I thanked everyone for coming and then thanked my dad for donating sperm to make such great kids.”

  My eyes widen. “You did not.”

  He grins and shrugs. “Yeah, I kinda did. I phrased it better. At least I think I did. It was such a blur I don’t even remember exactly what I said, but it was along those lines.”

  I breathe a curse and shake my head. “Well, hey, they wanted a speech.”

  He laughs and rubs his eyes. “Yeah, they did. And they sure got one.” He sighs. “It was rough, dude. The whole thing.”

  I nod. “Did anyone give you a hard time?”

  He looks away and seems to focus on the wall behind me. “Not openly. Just a lot of the passive-aggressive shit my family has mastered.”

  “Aw, I’m sorry. Yeah, your family always rocked the underhanded cut-downs.”

  He grunts. “Yeah, Great-Uncle Alan actually introduced himself! That bastard. He said he was surprised I still remembered all their names when I told him I knew who he was. Totally serious too, as if I wouldn’t see through such an obvious blow.”

  I smirk, I can’t help it. “Um…”

  “Yeah, exactly. What a dick.”

  I laugh, fresh from my own encounter with Great-Uncle Alan. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, he told me I probably had an STI so...”

  “What?! No!”

  I nod, still chuckling. “Yep. Right after Great-Aunt Norma said I was probably high on ‘the dope.’”

  “The dope? Oh my god!” Casey roars, laughing so hard we draw stares from other tables.

  I’m right there with him, trying to compose myself as the humor of the entire situation begins to chip at the horror.

  “Oh, yeah! And you should have seen the flowers the Label sent. Completely ridiculous. Like five times the size of any other display.”

  I laugh again, not surprised. “They wanted you to know they care, man.”

  We exchange a wry smile as he shakes his head. “Yeah, whatever. Do you think the Executive Assistant who ordered them even knew who I was?”

  “Depends if the Executive who gave the command included the band name in the email,” I joke, and Casey laughs again.

  He shakes his head with a smile. “Hey, thanks, man. There was nothing funny about it at the time, but some of it is kinda hilarious on the other side,” he admits, as if reading my thoughts a moment ago.

  I grin. “You know me, always finding the fun in life.”

  He snickers. “Yeah, you’re just a ball of sunshine. Speaking of that, oh man, you should have seen what Uncle Nestor was wearing. Hang on.” He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through pictures.

  I just about spit out my coffee when he turns it toward me.

  “What is that?” I cry, trying to make sense of the black tuxedo/tracksuit monstrosity.

  Casey shakes his head, cracking up so hard he can barely speak. “I have no idea! He walked into the church like that, and even Callie almost lost it. Callie! Unbelievable. I guess it’s for when you want to look like you’re trying without giving up the comfort of your favorite couch apparel?”

  “Wow, that’s, uh, something…”

  He’s still chuckling. “Oh, and then I pretty much choked on my mint when Nate asked him where he got it. You know Nate, totally sincere and polite. Like, just making conversation.”

  “No way! What did he say?”

  “That’s the best part! His girlfriend made it for him!” Casey starts laughing all over again, and I stare at him in disbelief.

  “Wait, Uncle Nestor has a girlfriend!”

  “Four years, dude! Four fucking years! They met at Sole Barn!”

&n
bsp; “The shoe store?” I cry.

  “I know!” Casey smacks the table. “I guess they share a love of bland, sensible footwear, I don’t know.”

  “Wow…”

  He nods. “Exactly.” He grows serious. “Hey, so, you should also know that at least ten people came up to me and asked me to tell you how sorry they were for what happened at Nate’s house.”

  Shocked, I’m not even sure how to respond at first. “Seriously?” I manage finally.

  He nods. “Yeah, man. They were blown away by you. They feel bad for hiding and not standing up for you at the time, but they couldn’t believe you just stood there and took it. That you’d actually come back to take responsibility for your actions. They have a huge amount of respect for you now.”

  I look away, still not sure what to make of that. “Wow. I…”

  Casey shrugs. “Dude, you’re legit, and people are seeing it.”

  I draw in a deep breath and stare into my coffee cup. “Thanks, Case. I needed to hear that.” I force my eyes up and meet his gaze. “I went to visit Elena today. Holland went with me.”

  He’s quiet for a moment and I can’t begin to read his expression. “Good, I’m glad you did,” he says finally, studying me. “Holland’s an amazing woman, Luke.”

  I nod and instinctively glance toward the entrance as if she’ll walk in at that moment. It hits me hard how much I want her to. “She is. Incredible.” I focus on him again. “You know I didn’t ask for any of this. I wasn’t looking for someone else.”

  He meets my eyes. “I know. You have nothing to apologize for. You will always love my sister. We all know that. It doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else too.”

  I swallow, doing my best to breathe. Leave it to Casey Barrett to transform his moment of pain into evidence of what an amazing friend he is. I almost smirk at the thought of freaking him out with an impromptu hug but have mercy. I stare back at my mug instead.

  “I think I could really love her, man. I think Holland might be it for me,” I say after a pause, shocking myself as much as anyone with my confession. I glance up again to test his reaction, but Casey doesn’t seem surprised.