Chapter 1 - Royce
ONE
ROYCE
PRESENT DAY
When I was a little kid, I had fostered a dream birthed in the basement of a simple house shrouded in ivy.
Renovated as a coffee house, the top floor was used by avid book lovers in search of a hidden gem or discounted paperback.
At the end of the wide hall to the back of the house, and through the purple door, was a set of stairs.
Thousands of stickers lined the walls from over the years.
State’s, sayings, Post-it notes, taped messages, and pictures littered the walls as you descended into the base of the home.
There, in the bottom, you’d find magic…or in simple terms, a wooden stage, built up to be tall enough for the crowd to see who would walk across it, braving a moment under the bright lights to perform.
This was the Hollow.
A sacred space where artists came to sing, to perform and create art.
A place where music liberated the soul and healed the heart.
I had sat in the sound booth with my mother, as young as four, watching as artists took the stage, and while my sister would draw or watch movies, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the way their music made me feel.
That dream had tenderly tugged at the packaging of my heart and found a way inside, prepared to remain until I was old enough to tend to it.
I wanted to own and run the Hollow. I wanted to be the person to welcome the artists and give them a place to belong.
At eighteen, my father tried to rip me out of Rose Ridge to keep me safe, but all it did was thrust me into realizing that wish.
It was in the way they gripped the microphone, and their eyes took in the audience. The way the house lights dimmed and burst to life around each new note they sang. The way the crowd swayed and moved to the pitch of their voice.
That twinkle in their eye when they finally found their stride, and they remembered exactly what had driven them to step onto that stage to begin with. Some people wanted to be under the lights, and I was the person obsessed with turning them on, providing a spotlight for those who deserved it.
I’d protect this place with a fierceness my mother had taught me, which would ultimately redirect my entire future. In retrospect…maybe I should have let it go and walked away, maybe then my heart might still be in one piece.
“She’s incredible,” I whispered.
The small booth was barely big enough for Nick, Rodney, and me to huddle around a sound board. Nick adjusted a few buttons while we all watched the stage, but it was our boss Rodney who let out a heavy sigh followed by, “She’s got potential.”
“She has more than that. Look at how she’s affecting them.
” I gestured to the crowd, spellbound by each lyric.
Rodney had already pulled out his phone to disconnect from the conversation.
My fists curled against my sides as I watched him completely ignore me.
He did this often, where he’d downplay talented artists, acting as though there was nothing spectacular about them.
Then those artists would become memorable, and our little dot on the map, not so much.
“Well, thankfully it’s not our job to decide either way,” Rodney quipped.
Nick gave me a sympathetic head shake but didn’t say anything.
I understood what Rodney was saying about it not being our decision, and while that was true, it angered me that he didn’t seem to care about these artists. Whereas I probably cared too much.
I inspected him, watching as he checked out and scrolled on his phone. I hated his dark goatee that was in the shape of a triangle, plastered to his chin like a shape on a felt board. The rest of him was all limbs and torso, with no muscle or fat, just skin and bones, and that damn goatee.
The Hollow might only be a stage for performers, and our venue a space for a few high-profile producers to come and check them out, but it was also an essential part of boosting tourism in Rose Ridge.
I had started as an intern, grabbing coffee and helping with whatever I could until Rodney felt guilty enough that he actually hired me.
I was the person who found the talent, communicated with them, and ensured they had a memorable experience at the Hollow.
I made barely above minimum wage, but I had a plan to fix that.
The song faded as the woman closed out her set.
She was the last person to sing tonight, which meant Rodney would leave directly after.
I’d been putting off this conversation for exactly five days, trying to give him ample time to approach me, but I’d finally reached my limit.
I eyed him as he packed up his things and did the same, so we’d have a reason to walk out at the same time.
“Night, Nick.” I waved while pulling my leather bag up my shoulder and grabbing my helmet. Rodney had already made his way down the steep steps leading from the sound booth. He’d hauled his jacket on, along with a scarf, and after waving at the bartender, he veered off toward the exit.
I was hot on his tail even as a few people waved me down, trying to get my attention. I had to get to Rodney before he left.
Shoving the heavy door open, I jogged toward the parking lot, catching him at his car. My dad was going to be pissed that I hadn’t texted his guard dog that I was leaving. Ever since I was eighteen, he’d forced one of his members to tail me, but there wasn’t time.
“Did you ever get a chance to look at my proposal?” I asked Rodney slightly breathless.
The night sky was lit by obnoxiously bright streetlights, breaking up the darkness. I could make out the lines of his face and the way his mouth refused to lift into a smile.
“Royce, you know I have a soft spot for you. Mostly because of your mom, but also because I know how much all this means to you. I mean, heck you’ve been running around the stage and club since you were, what? Seven?”
Courage expanded in my chest. He was right, I had been running around the stage and even pretending to run things since I was old enough to hold a clipboard.
By all rights, I should have this in the bag, but Rodney had a strange way of rewarding loyalty.
My mother was one of the regulars that used to sing at the Hollow.
She would bring in a crowd like no other whenever she took the stage.
Through the years, she had turned toward writing music instead of singing it.
“But you’re only twenty-four years old—” Rodney’s tone brought me back to the moment. “You barely scraped by with community college, and you don’t have enough experience to run a place like this.”
I had to take a second to breathe because my first inclination was to argue with him.
I didn’t barely get by in community college.
It took me longer to complete because I was also interning in DC at a record label a few days out of the week.
Dad hated that period of time because three of his men were sent with me each time I went.
Rodney had no idea how qualified I actually was.
I knew Rodney was leaving and was about to put up a job listing for his position. I didn’t want to just run the club and manage the music. My eventual goal was to own the entire building, including the bookstore and coffee shop located upstairs.
My mouth parted with a well-calculated response when his eyes drifted to the side, and he let out a sigh. “Then, there’s that.”
The sound told me what Rodney was referring to, but I looked anyway. Five or six bikers rode together in a cluster toward the side street where the parking lot exited. They were there for me, waiting to follow me home. Rodney didn’t need to know that though.
“What about them?” My heart paced rapidly, but I played stupid.
This couldn’t be about my father. I refused to believe it, not when Rodney loved my family so much.
My mother was a staple here, practically a part of the Hollow history.
At this point, by all rights, I shouldn’t even have to ask Rodney for his blessing to take over for him, but Mom told me we had to play it by the book.
“I heard some gossip last week that the Stone Riders have a new leader.”
A laugh spilled from my chest because that was the dumbest shit I had ever heard. “Don’t you think I’d know if my father stepped down from being president of the club?”
Rodney sneered at me, lifting his too-thin lip. “No, actually. I don’t.”
Shit, he had a point there. But by that standard, he shouldn’t know anything either.
“Okay, I’ll humor you. What difference would it make if he stepped down?” I asked, confused at his concern.
Rodney rubbed at his small goatee patch. “Well, if there is a new president, then shit will get stirred and the town will pay for it.”
This was so stupid, which I conveyed with a slow blink.
“I’m not a part of my father’s club, but I can tell you that he isn’t looking for a replacement any time soon.
” Dad was healthy for being in his fifties, and despite what Rodey said, I would know if he were stepping down.
Dad didn’t tell me a lot, but him not being the leader would certainly be a topic we discussed as a family.
Rodney glanced around and let his eyes linger on the motorcycle parked a few spaces over. “You aren’t part of his club, and yet you ride?”
Of course I did. My father had taught me to ride a motorcycle before I learned to drive a car.
“What does any of this have to do with me running the Hollow?”
He ran a hand over his balding head. “Taking that risk isn’t an option for me, Royce. I owe the town that much, and I’ll be retiring. I plan to enjoy the peace.”
Red crept into my neck as anger stirred in my veins. “What drama have I brought to your doorstep within the past six years, Rodney?”
“There’s been no drama because I’m the one in charge.
If I hand things over to someone from that world, then it’s giving them access to even more of our town.
Right now, there’s a boundary of how far they can go and what they can do.
I’m the one holding that line. I shouldn’t have even given you a job to be honest, but I owed Nick a favor. ”
Owed Nick a favor? That meant he didn’t care that I had been volunteering my time, or that I had improved things for him? What did Nick care if I worked there? Rodney laughed as he must have read my expression.
“He always hoped to have a shot with you, assumed if you worked there, eventually you’d fall for him or some shit like that.”
My stance shifted the smallest bit as I crossed my arms. “So, it didn’t matter that I had been a stellar intern or willing to stay after hours to clean up.
That I drove all the way to DC and back in one day just to get you a band when you needed a bump in numbers?
It didn’t matter that I helped…” I realized I was wasting my breath.
I was bitter and annoyed, but I had to push it down and try to get Rodney to see this from my perspective.
“Rodney, I love this job. I only want things to improve over time and for this to be a place people can continue to come for generations. My goal is to create somewhere talent gets discovered. I want it to be a place that helps artists emerge into the industry. Please let me do that. Let’s pretend my dad’s motorcycle club isn’t a part of it.
I’m qualified for this job. I’m good at this job.
You’ve had triple the sign-ups for performances, and you’ve had more foot traffic and more people buying drinks.
I’m good for business. I help do your books, so I know that’s not a lie. ”
His head dipped with a laugh while he toyed with his car keys.
“Tell you what, kid,” he smirked. “I’ll give you a trial period of three months. If in that time it’s confirmed that there’s no new leadership or no drama stirred up for the town, then I’ll give you a shot.”
Trial period? What the hell did that mean?
I imagined sticking something incredibly sharp inside Rodney’s eye socket, which helped me plaster on a fake smile.
“Really?”
He yanked his car door open and slid inside. He shouted one last thing at me before closing his door. “I’d check in with your dad and those rumors circling before you get your hopes up because something tells me you’re not getting this job.”
Asshole.