Chapter Nineteen
RAVEN
I STEP out onto the curb, taking one last look at the stark white and red car rental office. With the car keys no longer digging into my back pocket, something unfamiliar settles in my chest—an unexpected lightness.
For the first time since my parents handed me the keys to a cute little blue four-door on my sixteenth birthday, I don’t have a car.
Or all the responsibilities for maintaining it.
First, it was the summer jobs I had to get to save up for gas money through the school year.
Then it was the general upkeep. Then, the random repairs.
Most were minor and routine, but some were major.
Insurance, fighting traffic, driving people to the airport, looking for parking.
Gas prices that only ever seem to be going up.
Honestly, it’s kind of a nightmare when I think about it.
I turn at the sound of wheels on pavement and see the attendant pull away from the building, likely taking the rental to be washed and vacuumed, ready for another person.
I watch as she takes a left, turning on the indicator signal.
For a moment I see a face in the car’s back end, the signal light winking at me in a final goodbye.
I feel a little silly doing it, but I can’t help but wave back.
I take a deep breath.
No more circling endless lots for parking. No more worrying over the latest gas price increase or insurance promotional emails or the low-grade anxiety of freeway traffic. Just…a new kind of freedom.
Adjusting the strap of my bag so it sits more snugly against my back, I turn toward the bus stop across the street. It feels a little strange at first, choosing to walk toward public transit instead of defaulting to a driver’s seat, but it’s not wrong.
I’ve been searching for ways to declutter my life, and a car plus the rental fee that came with it seemed worth getting rid of. Plus it’s only temporary. My car is sitting safely in the garage of a coworker back in L.A. while I’m out here.
As my first bus approaches the stop, the route map I studied last night unfolds neatly in my mind. One bus switch to get to my main route, then grab the southbound 2125 to the 1777, and the 1777 to my final stop.
There’s a grocery store three blocks from my sublet apartment and a coffee shop two doors down from there. It’s got the perfect hole-in-the-wall vibe that had me claiming it as my own the moment I stepped in. Yeah. It’s going to be doable.
More than that, it feels wonderfully intentional.
I smile to myself as I board the bus, tapping my pass and choosing the seat right behind the driver.
Pushing in one headphone so I’m still somewhat aware of my surroundings, I gaze out the window.
The city passes by in distinct chunks rather than a single long blur.
Like living vibrant murals I’ve never noticed.
Or haven’t had the time to notice. An unexpected green space shoved between two tall buildings.
A tiny pet shop wedged between a bakery and a laundromat.
All against the backdrop of the mountains.
The 1777 passes by House Band Featuring to reach my stop one block away. I almost don’t believe my eyes as the bus passes by the lot and I see a familiar vehicle. I check my watch as I gather my items and step off.
When I gave the Nightshades and Heirs access to the building, I told them all that during off hours they were free to use it as a practice space.
No one had yet taken me up on the offer, and I can only assume it’s because, until now, there was always something happening in there.
Chairs being ripped out and replaced, inspectors doing detailed breakthroughs, workers shouting at each other.
But with the relaunch officially behind us and business now moving forward as planned, I expected a completely silent parking lot on a Monday morning. There is no way Knox Knight, of all people, beat me here.
But that’s exactly what I find when I step into the building.
Knox sits on center stage at the piano, multiple sheets of paper spread out around him across the bench and the piano itself.
He wears a different outfit from Saturday’s show, but he has the energy of a man who has been here since I saw him 36 hours ago.
I watch as he makes a few marks on one of the pages, erasing something furiously, only to scribble some more.
“You’re here early,” I say to him.
He looks up and meets my gaze.
“Early is on time.”
Smirking, I say, “And on time is late.”
Knox takes a moment to gather the sheets of paper and stack them neatly. He stands from the bench, joining me on the main floor.
“So I’ve been thinking—”
“An endlessly dangerous endeavor,” I quip.
Knox smiles, that little gap between his teeth showing up.
“You need a night off.”
“Okay, now I know you’ve been talking to my family.”
He holds up his hands.
“No. But I thought about what you said the other night…”
Immediately apprehensive, I freeze in motion to listen to his words.
Saturday night, I lowered my guard in ways I haven’t done with another person in a long time.
The last several weeks have left me not only stressed but without my usual outlets to let off that steam.
Knox being there, willing to listen to my unfiltered thoughts, it felt right.
But some part of me has been regretting doing that.
Hasn’t life shit-kicked me enough at this point to know better?
Knox scratches at his beard, saying, “And I see how much of yourself you are putting towards making this place a success. I know I haven’t made your job any easier with my…”
“Perpetual tardiness,” I finish for him.
He huffs out a small breath but nods in agreement, “Yeah. So I want to make it up to you.”
“You’re here before anyone else,” I point out. “Seems like you’ve already started.”
“And I plan on continuing that. But I also want to thank you in another way for giving me a chance to get my shit together.”
“Okay?”
“There’s this interactive art installation here in town that I thought you might be interested in seeing. Cash actually told me about it. It’s in this big building right off the highway.”
“FullSpectrum?” I ask, a memory sparking.
“The very one, you been before?”
“No, but I’ve heard of it, and I think I’ve seen a few ads or tickets for sale online.”
“Yeah, Cash said it feels like stepping into someone else’s hallucination where the fever dream is having a fever dream. Weird rooms, secret doors, lights, sound, and music everywhere.”
“Sounds chaotic.”
“But fun, chaotic, he swears. He made it sound like a must-see. I was hoping you’d want to check it out. With me,” he adds, like that wasn’t implied.
“Knox…” I begin, my list of excuses already prepared.
“And before you say no…” he interjects, cutting off my train of thought.
We stand there in silence as I wait for him to go on, but he doesn’t.
I ask, “Yes?”
Shrugging, he says, “That’s it. I just wanted that pause before you crushed all my hopes and dreams.”
“Knox,” I chuckle lightly, “It’s just that…we work together. I have to stay focused on keeping this venue moving in the right direction.”
By all my metrics, Saturday’s show was a success. We are still far away from turning a profit, but my anxiety ticked down as I noticed our line wrapped around the building. Now I just need four solid weeks of nights like that every day of the week. You know…something totally easy to accomplish.
“And you still can,” Knox says. “I have it all planned out.”
“Okay?” I say, intrigued.
“I already checked the schedule. The Nightshades aren’t playing Wednesday, and I saw that you put Danica and Hendrix on as the house manager for the night. Seems like the perfect chance for them to prove their managerial abilities and for you to take that much-needed night off.”
I open my mouth to argue but find that particular line of logic solid on his part. I want Hen and Danica to take the reins of this place as soon as possible. They’ve both shown their value as we worked to relaunch this venue. Now they both need to show they can handle live shows.
“What I said the first night we met is still true.” Reaching out, he takes my hand in his, the action slow and deliberate. “I want to get to know you, Ven.”
His expression is so earnest that I’m struggling to voice any kind of firm rebuttal. So instead of giving in to his suggestion, I completely change the topic.
“Why do you call me that?”
“Call you what?”
“Ven. No one’s ever called me that.”
“Really, cause that strikes me as low-hanging fruit?”
I shrug. “It’s always just been Raven or Ray. My Nan calls me sweet baby, but she gets special permission.”
“Do I need to put in an application for this permission or is there some other kind of review process?”
I chuckle. “It’s a grandmother clause, and it can only be applied to blood relations.”
He clicks his tongue lightly. “Always a catch with you, Ven.” He squeezes my hand. “So, what will it be?” he asks.
For the first time in…well, forever, the pressure in this moment feels different.
Like a no from me won’t prompt a meltdown on Knox’s part, like most of my experiences.
For too long, everything in my life has felt like something I’ve been trying to stage-manage into the right place.
The few times I’ve let someone else in, it’s ended with my heart stomped into a million pieces and my health falling off a cliff.
Every heartbreak has forced me to relearn a hard lesson.
Life is a lot more survivable when you keep firm control of every part of it.
Yet there’s a thin but unmistakable thread that’s holding us near each other, a small hope that seems to start in his chest and draw me in. It’s growing steadily. It feels charged and safe at the same time. Like losing control might be worth the risk again.
“I have some admin work to do in the morning, but I should be done by early Wednesday afternoon.”
“Yeah?” His tone is hopeful again.
“I’ll meet you there,” I say quickly.
“Understandable. A lady needs a solid escape plan.”
“Oh, right,” I say, remembering that I no longer have a car. I make a mental note to see if the public transit system has a stop near FullSpectrum. “I can probably be there by five.”
“Five sharp. FullSpectrum. It’s a date.”