Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) (26 page)

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, so now suddenly you’re a diva?
Darling, this baby has an $8,000 price tag.”

I grunt and have no choice but to take the instrument when
she shoves it at me. Even my worst pout wouldn’t risk an eight thousand dollar
guitar. I have to admit it feels really nice in my hands.

“The action is great,” I mumble, testing out a few chords.

“It’s got a sweet finish.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Needs new strings, though. We should
go find Tyler.”

We don’t have to go far since he is hovering right outside
the display room, pretending to unload the same three guitar tuners. We catch
his eye and wave him in.

“Hi, need something?” he asks.

“Yeah, can you grab us a new pack of medium
Elixers
? Purple pack,” I say.

He seems embarrassed. “Oh, shit, sorry. Those need to be
changed?”

“Yeah, man, no big deal. You must have some serious
customers testing this out in here.”

He smirks. “Yeah, everyone picks that one up, but no one actually
buys it. I wish.”

I study him for a second. “Why? You get commission or something?”

He seems to blush a bit. “No, that would be awesome, though.
Here, I’ll change those for you,” he adds, reaching for the guitar.

“Thanks, man,” I say, handing it to him.

I feel Holland’s gaze and glance back at her when Tyler
disappears.

“What?” I ask defensively.

She just smiles to herself and shakes her head. “Nothing. I
just see your brain working.”

“My brain isn’t doing anything except trying to figure out
why we’re locked in the display room of a chain music store.”

She grins and grabs another guitar from the wall. “How about
a Martin?”

“What about my Taylor?”

“Your Taylor’s getting worked on at the moment, relax. Try
this one.”

I sigh and take it from her. I like the feel of this one
too, although both make me long for my ’43 Gibson. When we get back I will be
craving some serious alone time with my other girlfriend. I love that Holland will
be more jealous of me than the guitar.

“Ok, so now what?”

She shrugs. “So now you play.”

“Huh?”

“That was confusing?”

I roll my eyes. “Um, this whole thing is pretty damn
confusing.”

“You need music, Luke.”

“I know, but…”

She shakes her head. “No, you don’t know. You don’t even
understand what music is to you. What it does for you. You think you control
the music, but it controls you, and you need to let it right now. So play.”

“Play what?” I cry in exasperation.

“I don’t care! Anything!”

“Holland, come on…”

She gives me a hard look and moves to the door. “Tyler, how
are those strings coming?”

“Still have a couple more.”

“No problem. What’s your favorite Night Shifts Black song?”

We watch Tyler just about drop his $8,000 guitar. “Um…’Better
Get Back.’”

“Oh, nice! Hockey fan, huh?”

He grins and nods. “Go Wings!”

“Thanks, Ty.”

She closes the door and returns.

“’Better Get Back.’ Go.”

I’m still staring at her in disbelief. “This is crazy.”

“No, what’s crazy is the fact that one of the most
incredible musicians of our generation is so shut off from his own gift that
he’s embarrassed to play his own song in front of his girlfriend.” She moves to
the stool beside me. “Please, Luke, just trust me. You’ve had
a brutal couple days
. You need this. You need to let the
music be more than music.”

I have no idea how to argue with that and finally give up
the fight. I adjust the guitar in my hands and grip the neck. Drawing in a deep
breath, I stare at the opposite wall and start to play.

As the music comes out, the world begins to melt away like
it so often does. It’s not a different reality; it just feels different, more
possible. It’s the same way I feel when I’m on stage, when I’m writing, when I
jammed with Percy alone in my room while my mom and her boyfriend screamed at
each other in the kitchen. Like the life that I could have is right there,
right at my fingertips, and when I play I actually get to touch it for a few
brief seconds.

Then, Holland Drake came along and shoved life right into my
soul.

At some point Tyler returns with the guitar, but I don’t
stop playing. I hardly even notice him as the chords bleed into
song which
bleeds into art. The expression on Holland’s face
as she watches me play is just as mesmerizing. It’s more than pride, it’s pure
joy that she gets to be part of a moment. As though I’m giving her the gift.

No one moves when I finish, least of all Tyler who looks
completely paralyzed. There’s the warmth again and I wave him over.

“You play?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah, but not like that.”

I laugh. “Grab a guitar. That my Taylor?”

He hands me the Taylor, and I give the Martin back to
Holland.

“What’s your favorite Tracing Holland song?” I ask, and love
how Holland glows at my question.

“Um, ‘Perfect Storm,’ probably,” he says.

“Yeah, me too.”

I strum the new guitar and grin. “This has a nice tone. I
like the feel of it.”

Tyler nods. “Yeah, it does. It’s got that sweet cutaway too.
The other model in the series doesn’t.”

“Have you ever played it?”

“A little.”

I hand it to him. “Play something.”

“Um…”

“Do you write any original stuff?” I ask, helping him along.

He reddens a bit, but nods. “Some.”

“Ok, so play us that.”

His eyes shoot to mine in shock. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not. I want to hear the guitar store expert play
this thing.”

He grins at my joke and seems to relax a bit. “Ok, sure.”

He moves to one of the other stools, and we settle back to
listen.

When he starts to play, Holland and I exchange a surprised
look. The kid’s not bad. He’s actually a whole lot better than not bad.

“
I’m
Nowhere
Man in nowhere spaces

Everywhere
a thousand faces, places spill from beneath the wreckage

Oh it’s
over now

Oh
oh
it’s over

I’m Forgotten Man in endless races

Chasing air with futile paces, traces of the craft that made
us

Oh it’s over now

Oh
oh
it’s over

You say you see me, but it’s just my shadow

I’m not waiting, just fading past the time you remember

I’m Forgotten Man, Nowhere Man

Light a candle before I’m gone.

I’ll run this
race,
it’s still my
anthem

Past the shame, the pain is where I fight now

I’m a blaze, a fire,
a
final hour

Oh it’s not over

Oh
oh
it’s not

It’s never over”

Tyler glances up with a shy look as he finishes, and I lean back
with an approving smile.

“Nice! That was great, man. You write a lot?”

He beams as he hands the guitar back to me. “Yeah. I mean,
just for myself mostly. I fool around a little bit with some guys in the area,
but we haven’t done anything other than play a couple bars. And honestly, they
like to do covers more than originals for the most part anyway.” He laughs. “We
actually cover one of yours all the time.”

I grin and cross my arms. “Really. Which song?”

“’Suture.’”

My eyes widen as I stare at him in disbelief. “’Suture?’ No
kidding.”

“Do I even know that one?” Holland chimes in, and I smirk.

“Probably not. That was from our first album. We didn’t even
put it on the re-release.”

“You should have, man! That song is epic.”

“Yes! That’s what I said. But the Label was not having it.
They already said we were too heavy for the mainstream when we signed, so that
was it.”

“No way! That’s what I love about you guys! No bullshit.”

I grin and glance at Holland. “Hear that? No bullshit.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please.”

“What do you play in your band?” I ask, returning to Tyler.

“I lead, for the most part. Jack takes a couple of the
songs, but I do the rest.”

I nod. “You in school or anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, well, not really. I’ve taken a
couple classes at the community college, but my mom really needs me around. She
hasn’t been doing well the last couple years. I’m trying to work as much as I
can.”

He’s about to continue when the door opens and a stern man
shadows
the gap. We know he’s the manager from his tie and unfiltered
glare.

“Tyler, I thought you were supposed to be working on
inventory?”

Tyler deflates, and my good humor gives way to the
inevitable boil of my blood when challenged. “Actually, sir, we requested his assistance.
We’re interested in these guitars,” I explain, holding up the Taylor and
motioning toward the Martin.

The man gives me a skeptical look. He has no clue
who
I am, which only encourages me further. Unlike Tyler he
doesn’t actually pay attention to what happens in his store.

“Is that so? Did Tyler review the price of that guitar?”

“He did, thanks. $7,999 and it comes with a case. He
recommended I go with the Platinum Warranty. Considering the abuse it’ll take
on the road, that’s not a bad idea.”

“You tour then?” the manager asks, and I force a polite
laugh.

“Oh, right, sorry.” I slide off the stool and approach,
holding out my hand. “Luke Craven with Night Shifts Black. That’s my friend
Holland Drake from Tracing Holland. We’re actually touring together at the
moment. I think she’s interested in that Martin. Right, Holland?” I ask, addressing
her.

She nods to us with a smile and holds it up. “It’s a pretty
color.” I almost snicker at her joke, but manage to hold it in.

The man just stares at us.
And stares. And glances at Tyler. He studies my tattoos for
a while, then back to Tyler.

“I see. Well…”

“So, can he ring us up here, or do we do that at the
counter?” I add, solely to see his face explode.

It does, and there is no doubt in my mind this will be an $8,000
well-spent
. I’m pretty sure Tyler is wetting his
pants.

“Um…Tyler can ring you up at the counter. Our computer…he
needs the computer.”

“Great! Oh, hey, he’s been great. Does he get credit or
anything for this sale?”

The man looks about to pass out before shaking his head.
Tyler’s eyes are the size of guitar picks.

“No, our employees are hourly.”

“Oh, really? Well, that’s too bad. Hey, Ty, can you throw in
one of those mini clip-on tuners you were showing us earlier? I can’t even tell
you how many of those damn things I lose. Thanks. Oh, and an extra set of
strings and your favorite strap.”

The manager has to step from the doorway so we can march
past. I know Holland’s eyes are glued to me. She has no clue what I’m doing.
Hell, I’m not even entirely sure at the
moment,
I just
can’t shake this sense that a slight shift in the universe is about to occur.

“Well, if you need anything else, please let me know,” the
manager says, and I wave my hand.

“Thanks, but I think Ty’s got it. Right, Ty? We good? You
can ring us up?”

“You want the Taylor?”

“That’s the one you like, right?”

He nods. “Yeah, she’s a beauty.”

“You’re sure? I shouldn’t consider a different one?”

“I mean, the Martin you were looking at is nice too, but if
it were me, you struck gold with that Taylor.”

I nod. “Perfect. That’s all I need to hear.”

He’s smiling to himself as he processes the transaction, and
I cast a quick glance at Holland who’s giving me the death stare. She didn’t
bring me here to buy another $8,000 guitar I’ll have to fly back to
Philadelphia.

“So, it’ll take us a little bit to get it ready for you and
adjust anything you need, the action or whatever. Will you be able to come back
in about an hour? We’ll have it all polished up and ready for you,” Tyler says
as I’m signing the receipt.