There's something special about the sound of hundreds of teenage girls screaming simultaneously. The noise should be loud but it's soft to Holden's ears, like the waves crashing against the rocks on shore back home in New Orleans.

If he closes his eyes he can pretend he's playing his guitar on the docks. He could smell the salty air with a whiff of fresh crawfish. His fingertips have hardened over the years, but they're sore today as he strums harder and does a wild spin. The girls go nuts over him dancing to the melody, the drumbeat controlling the rhythm of every person's hearts. Even after the song ends, the crowd remains uproarious.

Sweat slides down his blotchy skin as he gasps for air, his smile shining brighter than the hot lights burning on the stage. He lifts his hand and strums his guitar, teasing the crowd with a mischievous smirk. He makes eye contact with a redheaded girl in the front row and winks, causing her and the girls around her to nearly faint as they scream louder.

"Do y'all want a taste of a little more?" Holden drawled with a lifted brow. He keeps his hand high in the air as the crowd responds, begging for him to do it.

Holden considers himself a giver, so he strums again, igniting the band to start another snappy tune. The audience floods the theatre with their lively applause as they receive the encore they asked so nicely for.

×××

After another successful show, the band trudges into the green room, everyone collapsing on the sofas with moans and groans. Phillium Benedict enters the room behind them, his brows furrowed and his lips downturned in a scowl.

"What in the Hell was that, Holden?" Benedict growled as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the handkerchief he kept in his breast pocket.

"An encore?" Holden replied sheepishly. "Ah, c'mon Benny. They asked for it so I just had'ta give it to 'em."

"Well because of that little stunt you pulled, we're gonna lose time on the road to get to your next show," Benedict said with a frown.

The bandmates all share a look and Jasper, the drummer, pipes up. "Look Benedict, we really appreciate all you're doing for us, but these back-to-back shows are kinda killin' us.

"My brother's right. We need a break," Holden added with a nod. He cracks open a cola and chugs it down, enjoying the fizz on his throat.

"If you wanna make it in this industry then you have to swim, otherwise you'll drown," Benedict explained. "I don't want you to fail Holden, you know I only want what's best for ya."

"I know, I know. You're the best manager anyone can ask for. All I ask is just to float once in a while," Holden said, placing the glass bottle on the table of the green room.

"Just be careful not to float for long," Benedict replied. "Otherwise, you'll lose what you've gained."

×××

Holden loiters by the backstage doors, signing people's records and posters idly until he sees the same redhead from the front row. She holds his record close to her chest and he offers her one of his winning smiles. She hands over the record and his hand lingers on hers briefly as he accepts it to sign. He tries to be discreet as he checks her out, enjoying how her dress hugs her curves and how shiny her auburn hair is under the streetlights. He hands her back the vinyl and leans close to her ear.

"Glad you enjoyed the show," he whispered hotly into her ear before backing up. He waves at his fans as he casually walks away, brimming at the sight of that girl. The state he left her in has her nearly toppling over as she staggers to her friends who squeal with joy.

Holden heads towards the car where the band completed their task of packing the trunk. He offers one last wave before sliding into the backseat and sighing deeply, finally obstructed from view. One town done, another five more to go.

×××

They drive through the night, each member taking turns at the wheel. By seven the next morning, Holden's at the wheel whilst the others sleep in various states that will surely break their necks. He sips his gas station coffee with a grimace, the taste somehow being stale; his eyes unmoving from the road ahead.

Just a few more hours and maybe they might be able to get a hotel and sleep properly before their next show. Their manager and the opening band The Elton Gray Experience is about ten minutes ahead of them, having left whilst The Osprey had been packing the car. Holden would feel guilty for not helping them, but the fans always swarm the backstage doors to get a glimpse of him. They would crowd the car if he helped like he used to.

Holden smiles at the thought of when they started out. Before they were just The Osprey, but once they got Benedict managing them, the first change he made was making their name: Holden Beauregard and The Osprey.

Holden and Jasper used to be the only members two years ago, and then they managed to convince their high school buddies Travis and Preston to join in a year later. As Holden smiles at the memory, Preston stirs awake beside him.

"Where are we?" Preston mumbled, rubbing the gunk from his eyes.

"We'll be in Dallas in two hours tops," Holden replied.

"That doesn't really answer my question but alright," Preston grumbled. "Maybe we can actually get a hotel and not break our necks sleepin'..."

Holden chuckles. "Exactly what I was thinkin'. Don't worry, I'll get us there."

Preston watches Holden for a moment before turning away, feigning nonchalance. "Anyway, I saw you eyeballin' that redhead last night," Preston observed whilst readjusting himself in the seat. "Shame we couldn't spend the night there, huh?"

Holden readjusts his grip on the steering wheel, frowning. "Yeah, real shame..."

"Oh, and sorry I didn't say nothin' to Benedict last night. I just hate goin' against him," Preston said as he gazes out the window. "He's a real stickler when it comes to the business side of things. I don't want him thinkin' that we think we know better or somethin'."

"It's all good. Touring is just a nightmare sometimes. When we're on stage though..." Holden sighed, smiling at the thought. "It's somethin' else."

"Yeah, those girls go nuts when you start dancin'," Preston chuckled. "I'm honestly a little jealous."

Holden laughs, his cheeks sore from smiling so hard. "It's just my natural charm."

Preston snorts, turning his head to face the passenger window again.

×××

After a proper sleep and another successful concert, Benedict decided to ease up on the boys and allow them an hour at the carnival in town. Holden walks through the makeshift amusement park settled in a local community baseball field like a giddy child in a candy store. The dust from the ground seems to swell around them in the muggy summer night as the band meanders through the glittery sights.

Holden chats up a pretty little blonde when he hears the music. He swiftly turns his head at the sound, eager to watch the performance. He grabs the nameless girl's hand and maneuvers their way through the thick crowd to reach the small stage setup. The banner listing the bands shows the opening performers name: The Comettes.

It's a group of four girls, all rocking out to the upbeat tune. The crowd goes wild as the lead singer steps up to the microphone and sings the first notes of a song he's never heard before.

The first thing he notices are her amber eyes. Like fire, they glow brighter than the sun. Her voice was the next thing; hypnotic like a siren in the deep sea. She reeled him in, hook line and sinker, and he didn't care. She could drown him with just her voice and he'd thank her—and that's why he despised her.

Holden watches with a crease in his brows as the crowd around him responds vigorously to the performance. Even the cute little blondie beside him has all but forgotten his presence as she gapes in awe at the spectacle. A group of beautiful young women, performing an original song, it's like they were factory made for these teenage girls. This is what Benedict was referring to when he said you either sink or swim, and these girls were swimming laps around Holden by a long shot.

As he turns away to find his people, he catches them standing close by, hypnotized by the dazzling show ahead of them. His heart skips a beat when he sees Phillium Benedict watching the group with that same look he had when he introduced himself to Holden last year. Dollar signs like a slot machine glimmer in his eyes and Holden knew; he was fucked.