Page 1 of Dark Verse

PROLOGUE

KNOX

THE GROUND underfoot vibrates, the movement of thousands of humans noticeably shaking the earth. That sensation of shifting earth adds to my nerves, my heart rate sputtering. Taking a few steps over to the massive, heavy curtains, I peek out.

Mistake.

The pressure in my chest increases, my nerves threatening to make my hands shake. Finding the nearest chair, I force myself to sit and calm my body, pushing the jitters away. My guitar lies across my thighs, the weight familiar and comforting.

My childhood best friends, Cash, Zeke, and Octavia, are just as energized as I am. Cash paces back and forth while Zeke hammers out a rhythm on his chest, eyes closed in thought. Octavia’s anxiety is apparent, subtle though it may be. Via keeps touching her necklace and whispering something to herself. A prayer, I think.

I pull out my phone and send Pa a text. The action is so frequent it feels automatic at this point.

Me: Going on soon. Send us luck.

Seeing his standard all-caps LUCK HAS BEEN SENT response always brings a smile to my face and helps tick my nerves down by a level or two. Pa wasn’t always on board with me pursuing music as a career. I know he always hoped I might take over the business when he was ready to retire or at least follow a more traditional pathway. But that all changed nearly a year and a half ago when he got a one-two punch from the doctor. A diagnosis of stage two kidney disease and type two diabetes threw our whole family for a massive loop. Getting through that brought us all together like never before. He’s even been repairing his shaky relationship with his younger brother, my Uncle Garth. Now Pa’s our biggest supporter.

“Where’s my opener?” a man says.

I sit up straighter in my chair as he approaches, pushing my phone back into my pocket.

“Here,” Zeke says, raising his hand.

“Good, good. We’ve got a full house tonight, nearly four thousand seats filled.”

My heart rate climbs once more. This is the biggest venue any of us have played. That reality hit me during sound check. I feel it even more now with the crowd entering the space just on the other side of the curtain. The murmur of voices reminds me of a massive, droning meditation bell in temples. The tiny bar stage from our hometown feels very far away.

“You’re on in ten minutes,” the stage manager says. “Your set list is your timer. You have roughly forty-five minutes, with time for one encore. I repeat one encore.” He pauses for effect, looking between all of us with his dark eyes. “I will turn off your mic if you try to stay on the stage past fifty minutes. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again. The curtains close in five minutes. You can take your places then. Any questions?”

We all shake our heads.

Five minutes later, we step out onto the stage. I watch the breeze created by the shifting bodies move the curtain in front of us, making it come alive.

“You ready?” Zeke asks, stepping over to me.

He strums his bass.

“Fuck yeah.” I nod.

“We play this right, and this is just the start, Knox.” He smiles.

I nod, nervous and excited.

Over the last six months, our third album has risen steadily in the charts, gaining more traction and plays. It’s been enough for the management staff of Cinder and Cress, a band with ten times the number of followers and fans as us, to contract with us to be their opener for their second cross-country tour. The fact that we can now link ourselves to a band as big as Cinder and Cress means something.

Today it’s the historical Soirée Theater and a cross-country tour.

Someday soon, it will be Red Rocks and Madison Square Garden. International tours. Top ten on the Billboard charts. GRAMMYs.

The idea of playing in front of international audiences sends an enormous, excited chill through me. We can make it. I know we can. We’ve got the talent. We’ve got the drive. With Via on lead guitar and Cash now playing drums, our sound is fuller, more complete, and the success of our new music is proof of that.

I check my phone, but nothing has come through from Pa yet. I’m disappointed I don’t have that extra bit of encouragement from him at the moment, but I move past that feeling. He was slow to respond two nights ago when I texted him before a gig, and I heard from Ma when I called that he’s been tired and sleeping more this last week. I’m just glad Ma has Uncle Garth to help around the property while I’m out here on tour. Unc moved back home right around the time Pa got sick the last time.

Deciding I’ll call Pa in the morning to check in on him, I focus my attention on now. Turning to my bandmates, we all share matching expressions of excitement and nerves.

The curtain pulls back, slowly at first, like it, too, is nervous about what’s to come and wants to hold off for a little longer. The lights are blinding at first, the thousands of bodies one indistinguishable mass of movement. My phone is on vibrate, and it flutters in my back pocket. I smile inwardly, knowing that’s Pa’s text.

Leaning into the microphone feels like it takes an eternity, but as soon as I open my mouth to sing, all of my stress seems to shrivel up in the harsh stage lighting. All at once, I realize that the music we are about to play will unfold with the certainty of a night predestined to go well.