Page 1 of Tracing Holland

Prologue

“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

1

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.

2

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.

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