Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2)

by Alyson Santos

  “Holland, I’m so lost right now,” I confess, staring at her with what I’m sure is a baffled expression.

  She laughs dismissively. “No, I know. I…can we just pretend I didn’t say anything?”

  “Um…”

  “Yeah, ok, so I should just go. Thanks for letting me use your bus. I’ll just go to my dressing room or something.”

  After giving me another weak smile, she’s gone.

  I stare after her, totally confused by her strange behavior. I have no clue what she was talking about, what drama is concerning her. She didn’t seem angry, just sincere in her determination to avoid whatever it is. Or could be. Or was? What could I have done that would cause someone to fear me without being angry? I swallow, feeling even more uncertain, more insecure. I’m tired of hurting people, and the thought that I’m still hurting them without even trying is hard for me to accept. Just my very presence is a cancer, apparently. Dammit. Trigger.

  I close my eyes and lean against the partition to the sleeping area. I’m not a cancer. I’m just…I don’t know yet, but not that. Not anymore. I draw in a deep breath and continue on to the back of the bus in a disturbed silence.

  ∞∞∞

  Time alone with myself is uncomfortable at best, and after only a few distracted minutes of staring at the screen, I know I’m not where I belong. My encounter with Holland is only a small fraction of the weight on my conscience. There’s a much bigger burden that’s haunted me since the second we pulled into Houston, and the fact that I’ve been trying to deny it with lame excuses has only been feeding the monster. There’s something else I have to do while I’m home, one more conversation that needs to be had, and I can’t fight it anymore.

  It’s a bit of a drive to the large suburb outside the city but the cab driver promises he’ll wait for me. I leave him at the curb by the ornate iron gate, and he gives me a somber nod as I take the first tentative steps toward it. Drawing in a deep breath, I glance up at the imposing arch and force my feet to comply with my heart.

  My lungs are heavy and my progress slows as the distance shrinks. I can barely breathe, the smell of freshly cut grass mocking me with the scent of life in this place of death. It’s a frightening maze, but I know exactly where to go even though I’ve only been here three times.

  That first time. The day I can hardly remember. It should be ingrained in my head, a nightmare that haunts me every time I close my eyes, but it’s not. It’s just a shadow, lurking in the darkest reaches of my thoughts, reminding me of how far I’d fallen and would have yet to fall.

  Then, the second time. The day I almost killed Casey and ruined his life too. The day we lost consciousness beside the shiny stone monument and woke up to a firestorm of press releases and irate Label execs.

  And the third. The day I’d determined to join her.

  I freeze when I reach my destination, unable to move as I stare at the stunning headstone. I hate that it’s so fresh, so new, that in this sea of stone and statues, this one is the most beautiful to me. The tears are gathering now as I finally have the courage to kneel down and face her. To say I’m sorry. To finally make promises I will keep.

  In loving memory of Elena Barrett Craven

  Wife, Daughter, Sister

  A sob echoes through the silence, cutting off the distant sound of birds and insects. It’s mine, I know, but I’m afraid I’m not ready for it.

  I reach out my hand and grip the stone, letting the chill of death seep into my fingers.

  Wife, Daughter, Sister.

  First love. Inspiration. Victim.

  I close my eyes, the hot liquid searing my cheeks and staining my t-shirt. I rest my head on my hands as the late summer breeze rustles the trees, reminding me of the impossible distance that separates us. So much life in the presence of death. But it’s time. I need this. She deserves this. After a long pause, I draw in a deep breath, finally letting the door to her memory crash open.

  Her face. Her hair. Her smell. The way her laugh made you want to hold her forever. Her eyes, and that first time she looked at me as though she couldn’t live without me.

  “I’m so sorry, Ellie.” I whisper. “I love you. I love you so much. I should have been there. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  The tears are hers now, seeping into the ground, and I find myself praying they’ll come to rest with her somehow. I know it’s absurd, but I don’t have anything left to give her. I want her to have that. I need her to accept them.

  I forget about time, collapsed against her, completely paralyzed. I know it’s getting late. I know there’s another world waiting for me, but I just can’t let her go again now that I’ve finally come back to her. I don’t think I’m sobbing anymore, but the tears are still slipping down my cheeks, soaking my arms as I hold on.

  But it’s not her. It’s not Ellie. It’s just a cold chunk of rock on a pile of grass, and deep down I know I don’t belong here. Not yet, anyway. What’s left of her is the ghost in my head, in my heart, and I start to understand. I finally get it. This hope, this budding strength, this overwhelming sense of who she still is because of who she was. I may have failed her then, but she won’t fail me now. I finally believe.

  I can get up. I can still live.

  I can move on without letting go.

  ∞∞∞

  It’s a long time before I’m able to return to the venue, let alone the buses. I feel the pressure of the clock and know they’ll be looking for me, but I have the cab driver drop me off a good mile away so I can recalibrate my head with a walk.

  I eventually make my way to the dressing room to prepare for the show and grab a snack there to avoid any awkward encounters in catering. In fact, somehow I manage to stay hidden almost completely, other than a few interactions with our stage manager and crew. My discreet return is so successful I’m even able to startle Callie with a gentle poke as she watches Limelight perform from backstage. She jumps and spins, then breaks into a giant grin when she sees me.

  “There you are! Everyone’s been looking for you. You here to watch Holland?”

  I nod. “I told her I’d check them out.”

  “She’ll love that! Limelight’s really good too. You should try to catch their show tomorrow. Jesse’s voice is amazing! They’re gonna be huge. Have you talked to him? He’s actually a really cool guy. Casey said he worked in a warehouse to support himself until booking this tour!”

  I love her enthusiasm. I’m pretty sure I’ll never tire of watching her get excited about life. “No kidding,” I say, focusing back on the action on stage. She’s right. His voice is sick, their energy and sound well-beyond their years and experience. They’re going to be a big deal one day, and I can almost feel a small spark of excitement at the memory of what that jump was like for me.

  “Luke, hey!”

  I turn toward the voice and catch my breath a bit at Holland’s entrance. She looks incredible in this light with her stage clothes and makeup. I force a smile.

  “Hey. Came to check out your show,” I explain casually.

  “Wow, I’m honored. Thank you,” she replies, and her return smile seems sincere. I’m not sure what else to say, but am spared the need when the rest of her band appears and distracts her.

  Callie and I back away to make room as Limelight finishes their set and exits the stage, the crew immediately jumping into action to set up for Tracing Holland. Holland and her band are deep in conversation, most likely reviewing some last minute details before they go out, and I use that opportunity to grab Jesse as he passes.

  “Looked good,” I observe, and I love the pleased shock that flashes across his face before he can hide it. I remember being in his shoes. Wanting to play it cool, but totally in awe of the moment, the legends who suddenly become peers.

  “Really? You watched?”

  “Caught the end.”

  He grins and nods. “Thanks, man. I still can’t believe we’re playing a stadium. We just fucking played a stadium!”

 
I laugh. “Yeah, you did. And fucking killed it,” I echo, almost laughing again when I catch Callie’s disapproving look at my choice of language.

  “You were awesome, Jesse. Really, really good. I love your sound,” she says.

  “Thanks, Callie. That means a lot.”

  “Jess! Get over here! Are you coming or what?” Parker calls from the stage door.

  Jesse gives us an apologetic look. “Sorry, guys. Later?”

  We smile. “Sure, no problem. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  “Oh, no way. I’ll be back in a minute. You guys fucking blew this place apart last night. I’m not missing that.”

  I shake my head with a smile as he darts off, and Callie gently slaps my arm.

  “Hear that? Blew this place apart. You’re such a rock star.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, whatever.”

  It’s another few minutes before Tracing Holland takes the stage, and Holland gives me a “here we go” look as she passes to make her entrance. I return an encouraging smile and move to a better vantage point once they’re loaded.

  The lights flash in sync with the first few drum hits of their opener, and the crowd ignites. When Holland’s strong, haunting lead flows as a lonely melody into the vast space around us, I’m completely mesmerized right along with every breathless soul in the audience. Chills spread through me as the drum hits continue; just her voice, the echo of percussion, and that restless anticipation that something spectacular is about to explode on us.

  “I won’t be your momma’s girl.

  I’m not your daddy’s pride.

  So if you want me alone, don’t expect to take me home, I’m just not that kind.

  There’s no mercy for the fallen, no apologies for my prison.

  Brave boy, sure you’re ready for this?

  Last chance, are you ready for this?”

  The lights go out and a dramatic silence descends over the darkness.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought!” she cries into the void. “But you’ll take it anyway. …Here we go!”

  ∞∞∞

  I’m not sure I move the entire time I watch Holland’s set. The way she commands the stage, her confidence, her authenticity, her incredible music, Callie was right, it’s magnetic. I’m disappointed when I have to leave to take care of some last minute preparations before my own show. Well, part of me is disappointed. Another part is grateful. That would be the part that recognizes the emergence of these sudden crackling emotions but has no interest in solving, let alone engaging, them.

  There’s no denying I’ve been touched by what I just saw, I just don’t have a handle on what that means or what to do with it. Holland Drake is a special talent. It’s etched into her very presence that makes you stop and take notice. She deserves every bit of her success and recent accolades, and I almost find it funny that she’d been so amazed and honored by my attention to her work when I’m standing here brimming with questions for insight into her own.

  Still, I don’t know that I’m ready for a new friend or, more specifically, the effort it would take to cultivate another relationship when I’m really only good at screwing them up. The fact that watching Holland has stirred something deep, something that scares the crap out of me, is all I need to decide it’s better to leave that whole thing well enough alone.

  It’s already been a heavy day for me, and a brutal opening to our tour in general. I hope I’m strong enough to survive the next three months, but it’s hard to be optimistic when two days has felt like two weeks. At this rate, there is no chance in hell I make it to November. I’ll be lucky to make it to New Orleans.

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  September 14

  According to Kenneth’s bulleted, outlined, and color-coded schedule for the day, a continental breakfast will be available in catering until 11:00am. It had been a long night of performance, teardown, loading, and driving, so I’m not surprised when I’m one of the few who dares to venture from the bus before lunch. I’m not even hungry, just in desperate need of a change of scenery for a bit. I slip off the bus as quietly as possible and make my way toward the designated food hangout of our latest venue, an arena in New Orleans.

  I never did tell Casey and Callie about my trip to visit Elena’s grave. It was an important, but difficult, milestone on my journey, and I’m not ready to talk about it yet. Besides, if I know them at all, they’ll feel guilty, or something ridiculous like that, for letting me go alone, even though that’s exactly what I needed. At some point they’re going to have to let me spread my wings and attempt this “life” thing on my own.

  I hear voices as I approach the open door and hesitate when I recognize Holland’s.

  “I’m so sorry to hear all of that, Steven. You take all the time you need, ok?” Her tone is gentle, and I can sense the compassion even from this distance.

  “Thank you so much. I hate to leave you right at the beginning, though!” the other voice replies. Young, male.

  “I know. But your family comes first. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us. I’m sure the NSB crew can help us until we get someone else in here.”

  “Ok. Well, tell them to call me as soon as they can. They need to make sure they do everything right.”

  Holland chuckles. “Of course. We’ll make sure everything is perfect. Oh, wait, here’s my cell number just in case. Let me know if there’s anything you need. I told Darlene to cover your ticket home, so stop in and connect with her next.”

  “What? No, Holland! That’s not…”

  “Stop! It’s not a big deal. Just take care of your family, ok?”

  “Thank you. I…” I can hear the emotion in his voice.

  “It’s nothing. Thanks for all you do. Take as much time as you need and we’ll see you when you get back.”

  “Thank you. Thank you!”

  I wait until “Steven” exits the room and shuffles past before making my own entrance. When I do, I also see Jesse, Parker, and Reece from Limelight, along with a few crewmembers, seated around various tables. We exchange some polite greetings and I continue toward Holland who’s scanning the table of assorted bagels, pastries, and fruit.

  “Morning,” I say, grabbing a plate.

  “Morning,” she replies. Her smile is genuine today, and I relax a little.

  “Losing Steven?”

  She sighs and shakes her head. “Yeah, so sad. His grandmother just passed. I sent him home to be with his family. Poor kid.”

  “Wow, that’s awful. I’m sorry to hear that.” I pause. “Just tell me what you need. I’ll talk to Tess and make sure you’re covered.”

  She seems surprised when she glances over, and I’m uncomfortable at the evidence of her low expectations of me.

  “Oh, wow. Ok, thanks. Yeah, we’ll need a backline tech. At least for tonight.”

  I nod. “Done. Gary’s great. He’ll help you out.”

  She still seems like she’s confused by my generosity, and I look away.

  “Great show last night,” I continue before it gets more awkward.

  “Thank you for checking it out! I’m so honored. It was like having Beethoven sit in on your piano recital,” she laughs, following me to the drink table.

  I smirk. “Um…yeah right. More like Beethoven grabbing coffee with Hayden. Anyway, I didn’t really have a choice. Callie said I’d regret it if I didn’t.”

  Holland laughs. “Callie is awesome. I freakin’ love her.”

  I grin. We finally agree on something. “She’s the best.” I fill my coffee cup and move so she has access. “I wanted to tell you, I love how you transition from ‘Perfect Storm’ to ‘Answers.’ It’s genius.”

  “Really? You think so? Thank you,” she replies, almost shy. I’m not sure how to respond, so I just watch her as she makes her own drink selection. Callie’s ruined me forever when it comes to observing people and their food choices. The term “fruit cup” still makes me smile.

  Holland goes for coffee, two creamers.

&n
bsp; “We played around with a few different ideas,” she continues, and I love her sudden animation when she talks music. The same thing happens to Casey. It used to happen to me also. Maybe it will again one day. “There’s a key change, so Wes wanted to just modulate up like normal, but then I thought, why not tie in the ‘Acrobat’ hook instead. Then we can finish with the full version of ‘Acrobat’ at the end of the set.”

  “I love it. It works really well. I couldn’t catch all of the end, but I totally see that coming together.”

  She gives me another smile and moves away from the table. I’m about to find my own when she calls me back with, “you wanna sit?”

  Shocked, I pause for a moment before following her. I take the seat across from her at a table away from the others.

  “I’m sorry again about yesterday. On the bus,” she begins, almost embarrassed. “That was so awkward and totally my fault. You were being nice, so thank you for that. How was your movie? Were you able to get any rest?”

  I force a weak smile. “I ended up not watching one. Went for a walk instead.” It’s not entirely a lie.

  She takes a sip of her coffee. “Oh, ok. Well, that must have been nice. Get some fresh air and stretch a bit.”

  I swallow, unable to look at her. “Yeah. Um…so how’s your writing going?” I ask as quickly as possible. I used all my tears yesterday. I have no interest in going there again.

  She sighs. “Fine, if you count the fact that I have a chorus I love and two verses I despise.”

  I laugh. “You know it took me a month and a half to come up with a decent verse for ‘Forget Me.’”

  Her eyes widen. “Over a month? Are you serious? I love ‘Forget Me!’”

  I grin. “Well, you wouldn’t have before, believe me. I could not get the word ‘forever’ out of my head. I kept wanting to rhyme it with ‘never’ but it just wasn’t working and completely blocked any other possibility. Casey was pissed because the music was so good, but I could not get the lyrics to work.”