Chapter Twenty-Eight
RAVEN
TONIGHT I feel an extra buzz in my body that always settles in when a job is well done.
I knew this concept could work, but even I’m surprised how quickly the location is set to start making a profit.
To me, that’s just proof that this area has been hungry for high-quality live music.
Alice is on board with maintaining seasonal contracts with bands and with retaining the current staff, pending the entire board’s approval.
They have all proven themselves in my eyes, and that is exactly what I will be telling the nine-person board when I see them in a few days.
The shared words in the form of lyrics. The band’s rhythmic pulse draws us all in as a community.
The memories we are all making together will follow us for years to come and across lifetimes and distances.
Knox, Zeke, Octavia, and Cash take the room full of people on a sublime journey that spans fifteen years’ worth of their lives.
The loud clapping and whoops calm as Knox leans back into the mic to speak.
“Wow, thank you for such amazing energy. You are all incredible.”
The crowd shouts, more clapping, more whoop whoops, more positive energy.
“We’ve got one more song to play for all of you, but before we do, please join me in thanking the amazing staff that makes all of this possible night after night. Our light and sound engineers…”
The lights flash and sparkle.
“Our bartenders and security staff…”
Behind me, I can hear our tenders clinking some glasses together like they are toasting.
“And will you all give me an extra special thanks to the amazing manager of this location, Raven?”
The sound intensifies. Smiling lightly, I wave at the audience.
“Raven, come on up here and take a bow.”
I shake my head vigorously, trying to communicate to him that I do not want to be up there.
But a moment later, Jacob shines the main spotlight on me, nearly blinding me to my surroundings.
I cannot believe how quickly I cave to pressure, sauntering through the crowd, past the security staff, and up the side steps.
“Now I promised you all an encore, but I can’t do it alone. I’m going to need a little extra backup.”
“Knox,” I say, my mouth barely moving, but he pretends not to hear me.
“Would ya’ll help me convince this amazing musician standing next to me to play one song with us?”
The audience’s volume doubles, and I hear cheers of “Do it! We want to hear! Come on!”
“Knox,” I repeat, keeping far away from the mic. “No.”
“You did not walk all the way up here just to disappoint all these people, did you? Your last official audience of the summer season?”
I turn at the sounds of movement, and I see Danica and Hendrix pushing out the upright piano, locking it into place. My heart rate spikes at the sight, hands suddenly clammy. I look back at Knox, and he must see my unease because he turns his back to the audience.
“You’ve got this, sweetheart.”
And suddenly I realize I do. I’m still incredibly nervous, but as I take a seat on the bench, I feel my focus beginning to narrow to what’s in front of me. The only other sights I allow myself to take in are the members of the Nightshades. I’m no longer listening to the movement of the crowd.
“Now, it’s not one of ours,” Knox says to the crowd, “But it’s absolutely a favorite of every person on stage right now.”
He plays the opening chords to one of Cinder and Cress’s biggest hits, Lord of Population.
The audience’s energy begins to climb again.
However, I’m unsure whether it’s because they enjoy the song or because they’re just happy for the Nightshades to keep playing.
It’s just me and the piano, the keys slightly warped and a little yellow from years of use.
That little critic in the back of my head starts making herself known, but I shut her up by bracing my fingers and thundering them down onto the keys.
I let myself get lost in the chords, playing backup to Cash as he smashes his way through every challenging rhythmic stretch.
Playing call and response to Octavia’s improvised moments.
Bouncing along with Zeke in my seat. Listening as Knox draws out every last bit of energy from the crowd with his voice.
The sound the audience makes as we finish is something I’ve never heard before as a classical piano performer. I’m accustomed to the polite applause of a classical music attendee. Not the complete wallop I feel in my chest as the crowd goes wild.
The Nightshades usually take the back exit after their last song, but tonight they go back into the crowd.
I watch with immense pride as they shake hands, take photos, sign more shirts and CDs and arms and…
oh good God. I watch as Knox signs most of a woman’s chest. I try to see if I recognize her from previous shows, but the angle of her face and the length of her hair block my view of her features.
I hope that’s not permanent ink.
I know they’ll be some time. The mob is thick around all four of them, so I slip backstage.
“Well damn, girl,” Hendrix says, and my smile widens. “Did not know you could play like that.”
“Thanks. I don’t play much for people.”
“Hope that changes soon.” He sticks out his hand. “It was a pleasure working with you.”
I take his hand. “And you.”
I take some time saying goodbye to the backstage crew and front of house.
All the goodbyes feel weighty on my shoulders, but it’s only because, more than any other venue I’ve worked with before, I want this one to succeed.
It’s been my most challenging assignment to date, and I’ve grown to care for the staff as well as some of the residents who have attended multiple shows over just the last four weeks.
I will never forget the look on Miguel and Elena’s faces as Knox introduced Leo to every other member of the Nightshades.
I could almost see the glow they both had, coming from within, as they met their favorite band and shared a special moment with their son.
It’s moments like those that I live for, and I want this place to be open for years to come.
It’s well past eleven when the final ticket holders leave, and the Nightshades can pack their instruments and a few pieces of their gear they always take home between shows.
It’s late August, but when the sun is long gone, a dampness hangs in the air from the evening rain showers. I join Knox and the others outside.
Knox pulls me into a hug the moment he sees me, our bodies pressing together in a way that makes my insides tremble.
“You did amazing, Venny,” he says.
“So good,” Zeke says.
“Agreed,” Cash adds from the other side of the van.
“Yeah?” I say, my fingers skimming across Knox’s shoulders.
I don’t even pretend like my intention isn’t to grab his ass as my hand falls into his back pocket. I’m distracted as the tips of my fingers run into something plastic. I pull at it, thinking it’s his credit card or something along that line.
Instead, when I bring the plastic out and we look at it together, I recognize it as something else entirely.
“What is that?” Knox asks.
“An iFind tag.”
He looks confused. “Was that in my pocket?”
“Yeah.”
His expression darkens. “What…”
“The fuck,” I finish the idea.
“What’s up?” Zeke asks, looking up from what he’s doing.
“Raven, please tell me you’ve become suddenly more clingy than I could have ever imagined and you put that there.”
I shake my head slowly.
“Because I think I could accept that reason,” he presses.
“What’s up?” Zeke repeats, his attention fully on us now.
I hold up the little device so he can clearly see it.
“I just found this in Knox’s pocket,” I say.
“Hey, Via, Cash,” Knox calls them from the other side of the van, and they both appear. “Do either of you have a missing iFind tag?”
“iFind tag, yes, missing, no. Isn’t that kind of the point of them to begin with? To find something,” Cash says.
My stomach feels suddenly sour, and I know Knox’s face is a mirror image of mine.
“When was the last time you checked your pockets?” I ask him.
“Right before we went on stage,” he answers immediately.
“You’re sure?” Cash asks.
“Yeah, I empty my pockets before any show at this point. House rules,” he says. I think he means it to be a joke, but it doesn’t land.
“So when?” Zeke asks, his brows drawing together.
We all stand there for a solid minute, and when it comes to me, I realize it shouldn’t have taken me a solid minute.
I say, “When you all left the stage. The crowd crammed in. All those people wanted pictures and autographs.”
My words spark something in all of them, and they all begin to check their pockets.
Even I check mine, suddenly paranoid. A thorough search proves there is just the one.
However, I still feel edgy about the whole thing, even after Knox crushes the device thoroughly under his heel.
Zeke scoops up the pieces and tosses them into a nearby trash can.
I don’t really know what to do with this information, and an unease I cannot fully name settles into my bones, as if those tiny broken plastic pieces were part of a story I don’t understand.
That unease follows me through the rest of the weekend. Through packing all my clothes, through my final goodbyes with the Nightshades and with Knox. To the airport. And all the way back to California.