Page 16 of Dark Verse

“You have another gig lined up already?”

“Via,” Zeke explains.

Of course. She and Zeke have always taken on booking shows, but she’s always been more proactive.

“She booked it the same day as that wedding.”

“Reception,” I correct unnecessarily.

“Right. Anyways, she booked it with your name, not just the Nightshades.”

I sit forward slightly.

“Why did she do that?”

Zeke shrugs, meeting my eyes expectantly. “Hoping against hope, maybe.”

“I only agreed to Saturday’s show because Cash was out sick. You’re back now.”

“I’m out of the worst of it, but playing the drums on stage for hours is something I’m going to have to work back up to doing.”

“Guys, I’m way out of practice. I won’t be any good to y’all.”

“The job’s not till tomorrow night, and it’s a low-stakes pub gig. That gives us a chance to actually run everything together. As a band,” Zeke adds hopefully.

I sigh, glancing out the window past him.

I haven’t played with the Nightshades regularly in years. The last few years left me a wreck both physically and emotionally. Music didn’t have the same deep allure it had always held for me after everything that happened. I quit the band but encouraged Zeke, Octavia, and Cash to keep touring with the music we had created together.

They’ve been able to sustain themselves during that time as a trio, but none of them has ever really stopped trying to get me back. The Nightshades have even put out another five-song EP without me, but that failed to really go the distance with both critics and many of our fans.

Lacks excitement. Boring. Missing something essential.

And those were some of the nicer criticisms.

Cash has been down for almost two weeks now. For a live band during the summer months, that’s easily three or more gigs missed per week. And I know they’ve already canceled six gigs after Cash fell ill. That’s thousands of dollars gone for the three of them. Which means if I’m going to do this, I’m going to have to practice for at least a few more hours today and tomorrow. I was off the other night at that reception, but I don’t want to do that again. Not to myself and not to my band. I know they deserve better than what I gave them.

The smell of cooking food begins to creep up the steps and filter into my room. Bacon, coffee, something sweet. I breathe in deeply, and my stomach reminds me that it is currently empty. I stand and gesture towards the door.

“Shall we tell Via the good news?”

Zeke and Cash look at each other before they look back at me.

“So you’ll do it?” Cash asks.

“For y’all? I’d do anything.”

There’s an almost imperceptible release of tension in the air between them, but I still pick up on it. It actually makes me feel a little bit guilty. Did they really think I would say no to supporting them when Cash is still clearly in need of more recuperation time?

Well, yes. You’ve been saying no to them for almost five years.

“Okay, good,” Zeke says, “Because there’s more.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

RAVEN

I THUMP out the familiar pattern on my thigh under the table as Danica, the assistant stage director, finishes up her speech to the staff. Based on their expressions, they already knew some of these details, but today is their first day with me. Their gazes all land on me at various times, some filled with openness and others with suspicion.