Centenary

Nightshade hits Music City

Matias Monroe drifted down Music Row as if he were walking through somebody else’s lucky dream. The cool Tennessee afternoon air was energizing. He heard the echo of a pedal steel somewhere far off. It all pressed against him in a way that felt like a dare. The city was full of players who could change your life if they wanted to. Devour it if they felt like it, or never see you at all.

He wasn’t sure which fate awaited him. All he knew was that he was supposed to be at the Bluebird Café before sundown, because Daniel Charles told him to be. And you didn’t defy a man who ran an empire of ink and sound. So he’d decided to go early. Just as soon as he dropped off his stuff at the Days Inn Daniel had booked him a room at.

He touched the case slung over his shoulder. Inside it was his trusty guitar. A sleeping dragon capable of whispering old country fingerstyle or screaming through the fretboard like a chainsaw fed through an octave pedal. He’d been told for most of his life that he was a virtuoso, that his versatility was a blessing. Lately he suspected it was just another way not to get lost in the crowd.

Daniel said this band, Nightshade, was worth seeing. “They’re going to hit like heroin,” he’d said over the phone, his voice smooth as a banker’s promise. “I think y’all will work perfectly together. They’ve got a new singer you have to hear. Lila Hart. Remember that name.” Matias had already forgotten everything else.

Across town the Bluebird Café sat in the afternoon sun, the front door propped open to let in a little breeze. Inside, Nightshade’s soundcheck was close to starting. But first, Jace Barnes stood at the center of the little stage. His guitar slung low. He’d been working the same chord progression on a new song since the night before on the bus, and the others had heard it enough times they could probably play it in their sleep. “Let’s take it from the top,” he said as he started playing.

Tyler eased into his bass line. Drew twirled a stick between his fingers. Lila Hart’s boots clicked lightly on the boards as she stepped up beside Jace. She’d kept quiet, she’d known right away this song wasn’t hers to lead. Jace’s voice had a gravelly ache that suited the song and was seemingly tailor made for it. He started singing the first verse, the words breaking over the quiet room.

A hundred names posted on my Facebook wall
Some have numbers that I could even call
I scroll on past them and watch them fall
Dying to get connected to you.

There was something worn and true in the way he dragged the melody through his throat. Lila felt it in the pit of her stomach. Drew added the heartbeat of a soft kick, then another, the crescendo slowly building. Tyler tightened the bottom end with a bassline that slid and settled. The song began to breathe. Jace slipped into the second verse without looking at anybody.

A hundred memories flood my brain.
Another shot to drown my sorrow and kill my pain.
Whets my thirst for you again,
just another night to get through.

Lila let her voice thread into his, catching certain words, certain vowels, giving them the kind of raw harmony that felt like pulling barbed wire through silk. She wasn’t trying to outshine him. The rasp she sang with was conveying to him that she heard and felt what he meant.

Two hundred more miles on this bus alone,
on this seat that feels as hard as stone.
These are the longest nights on my own,
sittin’ here thinkin’ of you.

The band, even half awake and improvising, sounded tighter than most acts after three rehearsals. Maybe it was hunger. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was fate. Nobody spoke it aloud, but they all felt something forming, heavy and inevitable as weather. They rolled into another verse.

Hundreds of tear drops have fallen from my eyes.
You made me hard as rock and now I realize,
that it’s just a joke now cause there’s no disguise.
I’m just a fool alone laughin’ at your lies.

Drew closed the final fill with a flourish, more restraint than showmanship. Then let the crash cymbal hiss out like air from a slow leak. Tyler grinned at him, eyebrows raised in a holy hell, did you hear that? kind of way.

The music faded, and for a moment the room felt too quiet. Jace set his guitar gently into its stand and turned to face him.

The figure in a tailored jacket striding toward the stage, heavy steps softened by familiarity. Daniel Charles had a face that always seemed caught between a smile and a warning. “Jace,” Daniel called out. “Good to see you.” Jace hopped off the stage and wiped his palms on his jeans before shaking Daniel’s waiting hand.

Then he motioned Lila over. “Mr. Charles, this is Lila Hart.” She gave him her practiced half smile, the one that hid the nerves she never admitted to. “I’ve heard an awful lot of good things about you, young lady,” Daniel said, eyes warm but calculating, as though already weighing what she might be worth.

“Thank you kindly,” she murmured, as she shook his hand trying not to blush too hard. “Excuse us a moment,” Daniel said to her. “Jace and I have a few matters to discuss.” Lila nodded and stepped back toward the stage where Tyler was tuning and Drew was fiddling with his phone. They gave her space but kept an eye on her the way brothers might if the world suddenly grew too quiet around their sister.

Daniel led Jace toward the door. They walked slowly, like two conspirators plotting something good for business and maybe terrible for the soul. “Welcome back to Nashville, son,” Daniel said when they reached the far wall. “Feels good to be back,” Jace said. “Can’t wait for you to hear the new songs we’ve been working on.” Daniel nodded. “That sounded good. Sounds like you’ve been writing like a man possessed.” Jace smiled and admitted, “something like that.”

“And I hear,” Daniel went on, lowering his voice, “you rented a little basement studio for some preproduction.” Jace nodded. “Yeah. Idea is, if we record rough versions of everything ahead of time, the real recording will be quicker and easier. We’ll walk in having the nuts and bolts sorted out. Producer won’t have to drag anything out of us. We’ll waste less of your time and money”

“That’s smart,” Daniel said. “Damn smart.” Then his tone shifted, the air tightening. “But we’ve got one thing we need to handle before any of that.” Jace didn’t blink and said, “Lila.” Daniel exhaled through his nose. “Her name isn’t on Nightshade’s contract with Black Oak Entertainment. Everybody else is. Not her. She’s good Jace, real good. There’s already a buzz around her that’s starting to hum like a live wire. Do you know how this town gets when it smells innocent talent?”

Jace looked down. “Sharks are already circling.” Daniel reached into his pocket, pulled out a gold money clip and peeled a bill from it. He pressed a crisp hundred into Jace’s palm. “Take this centenary and put it towards taking the band to dinner.” He paused for a moment.

Then continued, “little reward for them before Nightshade hits Music City tonight. Then tomorrow, listen to me carefully Jace, we get her name on that contract when you’re touring the studio.” His eyes narrowed into a serious glare and he added “We have to.” Jace nodded in agreement and answered, “I know,” and then said, “and thank you. Really.”

Daniel clapped Jace on the shoulder. “After your show tonight, come find me.” And added, “I’ll be around and there’s someone I want you to meet.” Jace promised that he would. When he returned to the stage, the band straightened instinctively and readied themselves, like dogs when their owner returns. Jace stepped up and scratched the back of his neck.

“Alright,” he said, picking up his guitar. “Let’s get this soundcheck going. We’re going out for some grub before the show.” Tyler whooped. Drew let out a laugh. Lila smiled, widely and genuinely for the first time that day. Drew clicked his sticks counting them in.

Around the same time, Matias Monroe walked through the open front door of the Bluebird Café. The sound hit him first, the tight punch of a band that wasn’t messing around. Talent recognizes talent long before words get involved. He stood in the entryway, invisible for the moment, listening. A male’s voice, rough and hurting. A female harmony like a blade wrapped in velvet.

A rhythm section clicking together like gears in a machine that had just found its purpose. Matias closed his eyes for a few heartbeats. There was something in this sound… it tugged at him. He opened his eyes and smiled. Then walked into the room the music was coming from, found a seat near the back of it and sat down.

Drew started counting in their second number and it would be during this song when he would really hear Lila sing for the first time. At that exact moment in time, he had no way of knowing what was coming. All he knew was that Nashville was soon going to find out what he was made of. And Matias was about to find out what Nightshade was worth.