prologue

prologue

Dreams made

up Jace Kelly’s world. He had grand plans for his life. Great plans. Plans that kept him away from drugs, booze and sex. Most parents would be ecstatic that their nineteen year old kid had goals. Most parents would encourage said kid to keep on making the best decisions he could in order to achieve those dreams.

Jace Kelly had two things preventing him from that reality.

Firstly, his dream was to become a famous reggae artist.

Secondly, he was blonde haired, blue-eyed, and completely and totally white.

Things like race, however, didn’t seem to matter when he strummed his guitar and sang about love and heartache and triumph. His parent’s disapproval melted on the wave of a complex riff. He was wholly given to music. Notes pumped life into his veins. Melodies kept his chest heaving and the air circulating through his system.

If someone stepped up to Jace and asked him who he was, his answer would be: “I am reggae”.

He’d fallen in love with the smooth tones of the music genre when he was fourteen. He’d been taking classical piano lessons and hated every second of it. His parents then decided to spare him from the torture of the lessons, but insisted that their only child, given to mischief, be involved in some kind of activity.

Jace decided he wanted to learn the guitar and started attending the Reyes Music Center. At the center, Jace met a teacher named Ashley. As much as he’d roasted the guy for having a girly name, Jace soon learned not only the techniques of classical guitar styles but the joy of exploring every single musical genre that existed.

One hot day, Jace started listening to reggae music. He began with the classics like Bob Marley and Peter Tosh. Their distinctive crooning captured his attention, but the war cry in their lyrics sold him on the sound. Jace was forever after a reggae man.

It was a drug. When Jace touched the strings of a guitar, he was immediately carried away to another universe where his body felt lighter and his limbs felt freer. It was the best high he could ask for and the withdrawals were a dream.

Jace decided, on that hot summer’s day, that he would forever walk the path of reggae, no matter where it took him. It was a lofty dream, a grand goal that most would have applauded.

But as mentioned earlier, Jace Kelly had several problems standing in his way, at least according to his parents, a united front that represented the rest of society.

Thankfully, he had some support in the form of Trey Johnson, his best friend since before either of them understood the concept of friendship and Will, a tall, brooding guy from their predominantly ‘white’ circles.

They’d dubbed themselves “Dust and Ashes” and started rocking out in the Johnsons’ garage and eventually in bars around Belize. For the most part, Emily and John Kelly turned a blind eye to Jace’s late night jam sessions with his friends. Mr. Kelly was certain that this obsession with ‘black’ music would pass and Jace would settle down, go to college and become a lawyer like the line of Kelly’s were born to do.

Unfortunately for the Kelly’s, Jace’s passion for reggae grew and so did the band’s popularity.

Despite the comments, the strange glances, the heat from their parents, and their individual dedication to school and girls, the boys stuck to their guns and played set after set no matter how little the pay or how far the distance.

They did it for the love of music, for the love of reggae.

Jace believed with all of his heart that he stood on the cusps of a dream. None of the others could see it, but his vision went far

beyond the dusty streets of Belize. He was meant to change the world.

One night, Jace’s determination paid off and the world made room for a set of talented, reggae-jamming, non-weed smoking white boys.