Page 26 of Dark Verse

Via’s posture shifts in her seat, her back straighter, eyes narrowing in thought.

“We can look at it as a group, decide if we want to make any changes, or like it as is. She mentioned that we’ll start next Monday, but in the meantime, we probably need to start discussing a real rehearsal schedule. We need to create a good announcement video—”

“Announcement video?”

“Our fans are going to know you’re back. We’re not Knox Knight and the Nightshades without Knox Knight.”

“Via…” I groan, already overwhelmed by her ability to create lists of tasks out of thin air.

“Something low stakes,” she promises, “Just the four of us on a couch letting people know we’re going to be playing some local shows, and they can come see us. No pressure.”

Which is how I end up on the couch between Zeke and Cash with two ring lights pointed directly at my face and a mini microphone pinned to a new outfit. I seem to be the only one with complaints, but she’s pleased after the third take, so she leaves to edit and post it.

“That woman of yours…” I nearly groan at Cash.

He simply laughs. “I know better than to get in her way when she’s got an idea in her head. I can’t believe you haven’t learned that yet.”

“Fair point,” I say, standing from the couch and stretching.

The rest of the day passes quietly between us. Cash and I catch up on a few episodes of a shared favorite show. Zeke runs out at midday of his favorite kind of gummies, so he decides to make a supplies trip out of it, noticing we are also low on some foodstuffs. I join him, wanting to get out of the house and see more of Denver.

The restless midday energy of the city wants to fuse with my own. It’s odd. I’ve been to dozens of large cities, some much larger than Denver, but it’s like I’m experiencing city life for the first time all over again. The light seems brighter here, and all my senses take in the landscape. Five years of avoiding most places and people have made me unusually excited by all this place has to offer.

Sunlight glints off glass skyscrapers and spills across the pavement. Cyclists weave through traffic, passing the buses, cars, and pedestrians at speeds that make me nervous. The air is thick and layered with sound. Snippets of conversation, the rhythmic tap of footsteps, the rumble of passing vehicles. The distant wail of a siren is somehow always fading and approaching.

I haven’t been here long, and I can tell that Denver is a city in constant flux. Every few blocks, I see building equipment at work. Bulldozers clearing spaces, excavators and dump trucks working in tandem like a coordinated dance. Cranes of all sizes swing slowly against the sky. Jackhammers pound into old side streets and walkways, breaking up the asphalt into huge chunks.

As Zeke and I pass through the heart of the city, the smell of street foods permeates the air. The scent of cooking oils and grilling food reaches me through the open windows. People from all stripes seem to linger in that area. Office workers with a slightly frazzled look about them, unhoused folks pushing their belongings in carts, families and vacationers pointing out the city’s offerings to each other.

We get back around three in the afternoon, arms laden with groceries for the house. Via and Cash are on the couch, snuggled together under a blanket, watching a movie. They both rise to help us unload everything. It’s such a familiar process. One or two of us will do a big shop for the month for the entire house, and the rest will help unload everything from the car when it arrives. I haven’t even realized that I have fallen back into the pattern until we are nearly done. I smile inwardly, feeling more settled at the prospect of living with them all again for the next few months.

“Have you seen the comments on the video from this morning?” Via asks me as I am putting away the last bag of chips.

“No,” I admit before pulling out my phone to open my socials.

Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, given that we’ve been an active band for over twenty years, but I’m completely overwhelmed by the number of red hearts, kissing emojis, and positive comments that the video has.

“Whoa.”

“Whoa is right! This has over four thousand likes and three hundred comments, and I just posted it this morning.”

“Shit,” Zeke says from the other side of the room.

I scroll through the comments, letting the general positive vibes fill me with even more hope than I felt just a few minutes ago.

“Hey, have you seen some of these comments?” Zeke asks.

“All of them,” Octavia says gleefully.

“Some of them are kind of weird,” he says.

“Yeah, there are always a few like that,” she says, sounding unconcerned.

As I scroll further into the comments, I start to see what Zeke was referring to.

@mus.a.vault Knox is BACK?! SOoo HOT. Happily suck his dick for free.

@profless I’d pay good money to be in that sandwich. Yummy!