Chapter Twenty-Five
RAVEN
THE INTENSE heat pressure cooks us all into late summer, but mid-August finally brings relief in the form of the afternoon monsoon rains.
Every day like clockwork, heavy, angry clouds appear over the mountain peaks and bear down hard over the cityscape.
Each storm brings buckets of hail so thick that it looks like snow across the grass and pavement.
Then the rains and winds come, collecting the tiny hailstones and creating a frothy stream that carries everything to the city’s storm drains.
By five each evening, the only evidence of the intense weather left is cooler air, wet grass, and the occasional broken tree limb.
It’s a wonderful cycle that allows all Denver residents to enjoy the city in the evening.
Tonight is another night off for the Nightshades, their only one this week, so Knox and I decide to explore downtown together.
We take his bike down to the heart of Denver and park in one of the many garages.
As we step outside onto the busy sidewalk, my attention keeps getting pulled in different directions.
“Oh wow,” Knox says, his pace slowing.
I match him, and together we stop in front of a building surrounded by scaffolding and thick plastic sheets in some places.
“What is it?” I ask, looking for a sign but finding none.
“It’s the old Soiree Theater. We played here years ago, when we were on our very first tour. The one that was canceled.”
“Oh,” I say, looking upward towards the roof of the building. “That’s pretty cool.”
Spotting an informational board, I pull Knox towards it and begin to read.
“It would be awesome to play here again,” he says, his gaze skyward.
“Looks like it might be a while,” I say, now reading the poster aloud.
“The city of Denver, in partnership with Jefferson County, Adams County and private donors, began the intense process of updating this historic venue in March of this year. This building is currently undergoing extensive renovations to improve safety, functionality, and overall appearance. Work includes structural upgrades, asbestos mitigation, facility modernization, exterior restoration, and enhanced accessibility features. Construction activity may result in noise pollution and temporarily restricted access to nearby parking lots, side streets, and walking pathways. Blah, blah blah…we appreciate your patience as we transform this space into a safer, more efficient, and welcoming environment for all visitors.”
“Bummer,” Knox says.
“But maybe next year…” I say, reading further. “Looks like they want to try to reopen it for its 125th anniversary.”
“It’s really beautiful inside,” Knox says, taking my hand once more as we begin to head down the street again.
“There are all these stone archways and craftsman details in the decor. They had old, preserved movie posters from when it was still a movie theater. The sound moves beautifully in there. As large as it is, you don’t even really need amplification. It’s so well designed.”
He continues to tell me more about Soiree Theater as we pass the various attractions along the 16th Street Mall.
Children run and scream in joy around us as the water garden shoots them in rhythmic bursts.
Parents sit back under the large umbrellas and tree cover, sipping spiked lemonades.
Men and women pass by, heavily laden with shopping bags and large smiles.
Knox stops walking again, looking up at the name of a business, and I follow his gaze.
“Comics and Columbines?” He reads the sign aloud with curiosity. “Okay, I have to see what this is.”
I nod, following him inside. We both stand in the doorway, taking in the display before us.
“Okay, this shouldn’t work, but it does,” I say after a solid twenty seconds of staring.
“Right?” Knox agrees, taking several more steps into the business.
The store is divided perfectly in half, with the left side laid out to be a comic book fan’s wet dream.
Colorful numbered issues are on display, the racks stretching from floor to ceiling.
The display lights are angled perfectly to capture the most intriguing covers.
Towards the center of the comic book side, the action figures are on display, the plastic heroes captured at various stages of battle and pose.
I even see a bookshelf for graphic novels towards the back.
The other half of the store is a flower shop, overflowing with color and fragrance.
Every corner of the right-hand side of the store is filled with fresh columbines, sunflowers, calla lilies, roses, peonies and eucalyptus clustered in glass jars.
The wooden counter is scattered with ribbon, twine, and blank tags.
Hanging plants sway gently near the windows, creating dappled light on the carpet.
There are only two other customers in here: a man busy picking out flowers and a boy in the action figure section, with an employee standing with him, speaking to him animatedly.
“Hello, welcome,” a woman says as she enters the space. She slips behind the comic book side counter. “Can I help you find anything?”
“We just stepped in to see what a comic book store in a flower shop looks like.” Knox smiles.
“Or is it a flower shop in a comic book store?” I ask.
The woman smiles good-naturedly, obviously familiar with this kind of comment.
“It’s what you get when a happy couple want to start a business together but cannot agree on what they should sell and can only afford one storefront at downtown prices.”
That is both the simplest and most logical reason for the exquisite madness in front of us. On the surface, it seems like comic books and flowers have very little in common, but the explosion of vibrant colors from both sides tricks my eyes enough to start seeing the similarities between them.
“A perfectly reasonable answer,” Knox says.
I notice his gaze is squarely on a box of comic books near us, his body slowly moving in that direction.
“Please feel free to browse either side. We have a wide selection of both comic books and graphic novels, and we’re always able to order items and ship anywhere in the country. And this time of year, dahlias and asters are blooming, so we have some flowers on sale.”
“Thank you…” I pause.
“Gail.”
“Thank you, Gail. I think we’re going to look over here,” I say as Knox pulls me in the direction of the display.
Her smile is wide. “Just holler if you need anything, and we’ll be happy to assist you.”
She moves to help the customer on the flower side.
“Ven, look at this one!” Knox pulls up a colorful issue. The alien characters look locked in mortal combat. “Wow, I haven’t seen this series in like ten years. I didn’t even know they were still writing them.”
“What is it about comic books that turns every man I’ve ever known back into a teenager?”
“The most powerful drug of all, nostalgia.”
Before I can answer, a small voice nearby gasps, pulling my focus from Knox’s face.
It’s the boy who had been by the action figures. He’s staring directly at Knox, eyes wide with disbelief. A moment later, the boy snaps into action, rushing toward the man Gail is working with.
I’m sure he thinks he’s being subtle, but I can clearly hear his excited voice as he whisper-yells, “Dad. Dad! That’s him.”
The man looks down at his son, who’s pulling on his arm. His reply is in Spanish, and it takes every gear in my brain working to catch a few words of the exchange.
Something something please something flowers for your mother something.
Looking slightly defeated, the boy leaves his dad’s side. I step closer to Knox, lowering my voice.
“I think you have a mini fan over there.” I gesture with my head.
The boy takes a seat at one of the child-sized tables and begins scribbling with the provided crayons and paper.
“Pretty sure that kid has me confused with someone else,” he says, pointing to a movie poster.
I follow his gesture and realize Knox does look remarkably similar to the actor playing Rhinoman in the latest blockbuster.
“Don’t be so sure he’s got it wrong. Those people at the ice cream parlor knew you.”
“Yeah, but only ’cause they had just been to one of our shows like two days before.”
“Maybe,” I concede.
“But hell, I’ll take that compliment of being mistaken for a movie star.” He shrugs, turning his attention back to the box of comic books in front of him. “That guy is everywhere these days.”
A few more minutes pass of quiet browsing before I hear the boy’s voice again.
“I swear it’s him…”
I catch his words mid-sentence. I turn to see the boy pulling his father towards us.
The father offers an apologetic smile, saying, “I’m sorry. My son thinks you’re—”
“Knox,” the boy blurts out. “You’re Knox Knight.”
Knox blinks once, smiling. He pulls his hat up more so it no longer sits low across his forehead.
“Guess that’s better than Rhinoman?”
The kid is nearly vibrating with excitement. “I knew it! We listen to your songs every morning before school.”
I grin immediately. “That’s a serious endorsement.”
The father chuckles, clearly recognizing Knox as well.
“I’m Miguel, and this tornado is Leo.”
Leo indeed moves like a force of nature, bouncing between his dad and Knox, pulling at the sleeves of his own shirt.
“Knox. Obviously.” He smiles, shaking Miguel’s hand. “And this lovely woman with me is my manager, Raven.”
Knox winks at me, and I just hold back my eye roll.
“Very nice to meet you, too,” Miguel says, shaking my hand with just as much vigor.
“And you.”
“My wife and I, we’ve been fans since…God, probably your first album. We were still in high school. It’s so cool to meet you, man.”
“Your song Animal’s People is the best,” Leo chimes right in. “But No Saints, All Sinners is so good too. And we just listened to Autumn Honeybee right before we got out of the car!”
“Do you have a favorite?” Knox asks.
Leo freezes in movement as he thinks.
“Hmm…maybe…maybe…Green Grass!” he shouts happily.
Knox, Miguel, and I all glance at each other in the way only adults know how to when they know something a child does not. Miguel holds his hands up in defeat.
Looking mildly embarrassed, Miguel says, “I should be more ashamed, but I’m not. If I never listen to another Kidz Bop album again, it will be too soon. I need real music to battle morning traffic.”
We all chuckle.
Leo looks at Knox again with a newfound seriousness. “Your music makes my dad happy.”
I see how those words land across Knox’s expression. His surprise quickly turns into curiosity, but neither of us asks for further explanation.
A moment of hesitation passes between us before Miguel sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at his son.
“It’s been a rough year for us. Some close friends…have had to leave,” Miguel settles on.
“I’m sorry,” Knox and I both say.
“They moved back to their home country. They didn’t feel safe anymore.”
He pauses again, watching Leo as he bounces away. Leo makes his way back to the child-sized table to keep scribbling over the paper.
When he begins speaking again, Miguel’s voice is sadder.
“Twenty-seven years living here. They had their family here. Just had their second grandkid. They built their home with their own hands. They were investing in their community…they are family to us. Things have been an adjustment since they left. Music helped. A lot.”
Knox’s expression softens completely alongside my heart. In just a few words, I know Miguel just showed us a little part of his heart and his hurt.
“Thank you,” Knox says.
“No, thank you, man. It’s…it’s nice to see you back out on stage. I’ve seen some of your posts on my socials.”
“Have you been to one of the Nightshades live shows?” I ask, “They’ve had a short residency at House Band Featuring for the last few weeks and will be there through the end of September.”
“I did hear about that,” Miguel says. “Congrats on that. That’s awesome. Any chance there might be some new music coming out soon too?”
Knox shrugs, his grin suddenly impish.
“There might be some things in the works, but it wouldn’t come out until after we wrap up at the venue, so you should come see us live,” he says.
“Yeah, maybe,” Miguel says, although his expression is unsure, “If tickets aren’t too much, I maybe can swing it next paycheck.”
“What’s your last name, Miguel?” I ask.
“Cordova,” he answers automatically before saying, “Why?”
“That’s all I needed to know to have a couple of tickets set aside for you for one of their upcoming shows, free of charge.”
“But…why?”
“Why not? I’m his manager, apparently.” I wink at Knox before I turn my attention back to Miguel. “And more importantly, I manage the location. I think we can afford to comp the tickets of a lifelong fan.”
“I…” he looks stunned. “Thank you.”
“No thank you.” Knox smiles. “It’s fans like you that keep us going. I’ll be happy to see you in the front row soon, hopefully.”
Miguel’s eyes brighten with gratitude.
“Yeah. You will. Wow…Elena’s going to be so excited. My wife. These are for her,” he holds up the bouquet of daffodils.
“All you’ll need to do is check in with will call when you get to the venue. The tickets will be waiting under your name.”
“Wow,” he repeats, “I can’t thank you enough.”
“No need,” I say with a smile, watching as Leo runs back up to us. “Just come and enjoy yourself.”
Leo’s bursting energy suddenly shifts as he stops in front of Knox.
He holds out the folded piece of paper shyly.
Knox takes it, unfolding it carefully to reveal what’s there.
It’s all hastily rendered in a child’s hand, but it’s still clear to see.
In a blast of color, I see Knox standing on a stage, music notes spilling out of his mouth.
I can make out both a microphone stand and his guitar next to him, all beneath a sky of giant stars.
“You made this?” Knox asks.
Leo nods nervously.
“Did you draw it for me?”
Now Leo nods vigorously.
“Just so you know, Leo, I’m keeping this forever.”
Knox carefully refolds the page like it’s a priceless artifact, tucking it into his front pocket and giving it a firm pat.
Miguel’s eyes mist up for a moment, but he quickly clears his throat.
“Thank you. Both of you, for just being kind.”