Editing Getting the Band Together (section)

===''in progress- Holden gadget, hotel''===
Here’s a small scene for you:  

The neon light from the motel sign outside flickered against the thin curtains, casting restless shadows across the dingy room. The place smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap disinfectant, the kind that never quite covered up the history of bad decisions made between its walls.  It was the bands first out of town gig but the perks didn't include rooms at the Hilton.

Holden sat on the edge of the lumpy mattress, pulling on his jeans while Gadget lounged on the bed, still tangled in the sheets, her electric blue hair fanned out over the pillow. He moved around, picking up their scattered clothes from the floor.  

“Here,” he said, tossing her shirt onto the bed before bending down to retrieve her pants. As he lifted them, something tumbled out and hit the threadbare carpet with a soft *thud*. A wallet. It had landed open, revealing something that made his stomach drop.  

The badge gleamed under the flickering motel light. *Federal Bureau of Investigation.* Holden’s hands clenched around it as his breath caught. He flipped the ID up, staring at the picture—her picture—next to the name: **Special Agent Rowena Kessler.**  

“What the hell is this?” His voice was sharp, disbelief coloring every word.  

Gadget, still stretching lazily, turned her head toward him. When she saw what he was holding, her entire body tensed. The playfulness in her eyes vanished, replaced by something colder, more calculating.  

“Holden,” she started, voice low, but he was already on his feet, badge still in hand.  

“You’re FBI?” His jaw clenched. “What the actual fuck, Gadget?”  

She sat up, the sheets slipping down her bare shoulders, but she didn’t reach for the badge. Instead, she sighed, rubbing her temple. “It’s real,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “I’ve been undercover for a while.”  

Holden took a step back, his mind racing. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time?”  

“No,” she said firmly, finally swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She looked up at him, her eyes steady. “What you and I have? That’s separate from my work. I never lied to you about us.”  

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Then tell me. What the hell are you doing?”  

Gadget hesitated for only a second before deciding. “I’m here for Victor Kane.”  

Holden’s brows furrowed. “The city council guy?”  

“The underworld boss,” she corrected. “He’s running half the crime in Baltimore, and I’m getting close to exposing him.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping. “I need you to keep this quiet, Holden. No one can know. Not Eddie, not Tiffy, not Waldo—no one.”  

Holden’s hands tightened around the badge. His world had just tilted sideways, but the way she looked at him—steady, honest, and completely serious—made it clear she wasn’t playing him.  

Finally, he exhaled, tossing the wallet onto the nightstand. “You could’ve told me.”  


She gave him a small, almost regretful smile. “No, Holden. I couldn’t.” She paused, then exhaled. “But just so you know, Wrecker and Reggy don’t run me—I run them. They work for me, not the other way around.”  

Holden’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the badge tightening. Gadget crossed her arms and leaned against the nightstand. “I’ve got a senior agent overseeing things, Lisha. We have… a lot of freedom to operate however we need to.” She glanced away for a second, then back at him. “The original plan was simple: track down Wart’s guys, follow them up the chain, and get a clear line to Kane.”  

She gave a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Didn’t work out that way. I got a little… sidetracked. The music, the band—it wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a cover, a way to blend in. But then, I actually started *liking* it. The guys, the gigs, the late-night jams—it became real.  Saying that its different then what i'm used to is a humongous understatement. Reminded me of my dreams before things got complicated.  Music.  Performing.   And for a while, I let myself forget why I was really here.”  

Holden swallowed hard, trying to process everything. “And now?”  

Her expression hardened. “Now, I’m back on track but i want the music too.”  

She stepped closer, voice lowering. “Those guys who have been pushing Lucky around? They’re Kane’s. Low-level enforcers, but still connected. That means we’re already in the game. I just have to work my way up, get closer to Kane’s inner circle.” Her fingers drummed against the nightstand as she thought. “Once I’m in, things change. I stop being the one looking for an opening, and I *become* the opening.”  

Holden’s stomach twisted. “And then what? You take him down? Just like that?”  

Gadget gave him a long look. “It’s not going to be that simple, but yeah. That’s the idea.”  

He let out a slow breath and rubbed his face. “Jesus, Gadget… This is dangerous. Kane’s not just some street thug. He’s got politicians, cops, hell—probably half the damn city in his pocket.”  

“I know.” Her voice was calm, steady. “That’s why I need to be careful. And that’s why I need you to keep this secret. No matter what happens.”  

Holden looked at her, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. There was none. Just that same fierce determination that had drawn him to her in the first place.  

Finally, he sighed and dropped onto the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair. “You’re asking a lot, you know that?”  

She sat beside him, bumping her shoulder against his. “I know.”  

He let out a dry laugh. “Figures I’d fall for a fed.”  

Gadget smirked. “Figures I’d fall for a guy who could keep up.”  

A moment of silence passed between them. Then, softly, Holden said, “Just… don’t get yourself killed, alright?”  

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Not planning on it.”  

But the weight of her words hung between them, a silent acknowledgment that plans didn’t always go the way they should.