Page 20 of Hollow Heart

That I’ll walk in, he’ll take one look at me, yell “who the fuck is this?” and Lou will have to escort me out of the building.

The other part of me isn’t afraid of Felix one bit.

Isaax was a goddamn mental case half the time, and the other half he was fucking blow up dolls on stage.

Felix and his petulant attitude don’t scare me. But the power of his stardom does.

I never paid much attention to the current rock scene, mostly because I had other things to worry about, including Bobby’s education.Hollow Pointewas a successful band, and the money we made in our heyday definitely gave Marci and I a comfortable nest egg, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have to work.

But outside of being labeled a “has-been”, I didn’t particularly care to play festivals at Knottsbury Farm or do Comic-Cons or whatever the kids call them.

After my wife passed, to be honest, I didn’t want anything to do with music at all. I was in a pretty dark place.

When the music dies, you’re forced to look at other options. Song writing was great for passive income, but I enjoy making guitars. Or rather,fixingbeat up instruments that no one saw value in anymore.

Not only did it give me something to do with my hands, but I found it relaxing to solve the complex problems that came with some of these guitars. My family is always telling me to sell them, and I’ve sold a couple here and there... but I’m no good at any of that business shit. That was always Marci’s department.

I haven’t sold a guitar in over a year.

When I arriveat the studio, I head up without issue thanks to the passcode Lou assigned me to be able to get in and out of the building during rehearsals.

Just like last time, the hipster twins are tinkering away in their sound booth.

Lou looks up from his spot next to Palo, grinning. “Excited to have you here today, McKay.”

His smile is as genuine as his tone, and instantly relaxes me.

“Excited to be here, Lou,” I say, tugging my backpack strap.

I know Lou said I’d be supplied with everything I need for playing, but perhaps he’s been dealing with punk-ass kids too long to remember I never play a drum set without my lucky sticks.

Every show I’ve ever played with my lucky sticks has been amazing, not to mention, I met Marci the night I played with my lucky sticks.

All the shows I played without them... well, Marci wasn’t the only one into witchy shit.

Some things carry good energy, and I can use all the good energy I can get if I’m going to get through this.

“Duncan, this here is Eddie.” Lou motions to the bassist, whose long, black hair covers half his face. “You might remember him from the other day.”

I wave, but he doesn’t seem all that interested in me, but then again, I guess that’s fair. I am replacing a guy they probably knew very well, and were friends with, after all.

“And of course, that’s Cory, but we all call him Corpse, because he’s better off dead.”

Cory flicks Lou off. Like Eddie and Felix, he has a similar dark meets neon vibe, though his hair is pulled back into a jet-black man bun, and he has far less tattoos than Felix.

Apparently Rolling Stone said he has fifty.

I take my seat behind the drums, dropping my backpack. As I pull out my sticks, I ask, “Where’s Felix? Or are we not rehearsing with him today?”

Lou’s smile fades as he sighs.

“Probably hitting the bottle again.” Corpse shrugs.

A glance at my watch tells me it’s barely a quarter after ten. “At ten in the morning?” I ask, looking at Lou over my set.

“It’s five o-clock somewhere,” Eddie says with disdain.

“Fuck me sideways...” Lou gripes as he turns, likely to go get Felix, when the younger man stumbles right into the room, nearly knocking Lou over.

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