Page 5 of Omega Rock

“Wesson, how do we even know each other?” Normally I’d ignore this kind of thing, but on a night like tonight I want to think of anything but the band that’s kicked me out. So yes, I’ll hear the random man out as I sip away at my beer.

“Knotty Rock tour, two years ago,” Wesson says quickly. “Atlanta night two, the after party. We met briefly through Jordan, who assumed I was coming to poach you or all of you away from him. But I was just wanting to make connections as a newer manager.”

My brows creased as I tried to place the night in my memory. But, yes, I definitely remember Jordan kicking someone who sounded a lot like Wesson out of our after party for some unknown reason. Must have been the assumed poaching. “Well, were you trying to poach us?”

“No,” Wesson says firmly. “Trying to make connections, like I said.”

I shake my head. “So what’s this got to do with me and the news tonight?”

Wesson pulls in a breath loudly enough that I hear every long second of his unwanted ASMR. “I want to give you an offer. And you can take it or leave it, but at least hear me out.”

“Thornside, huh,” I say. “You going to be a thorn in my side about this?”

Wesson chuckles dryly. “Funny. A bit overdone at this point in my life, but funny.” He pauses—and here’s the prepared speech. “I’m offering to sign you for one band, one tour, one album with minimal royalties to myself.”

Frustration worms its way into my throat. “Wesson, I’m notina band anymore. That’s why you’re calling me, isn’t it? Didn’t you hear, I apparently lack talent these days.”

“We both know that’s not fucking true,” Wesson hisses, a little too over-protectively for someone not my manager. “And to be honest with you, I hate Jordan. The man shouldn’t be managing anything, least of all rock bands selling out venues the way Designation Outsider is.”

“Yeah, well, we did a lot of that work,” I say.

Wesson snorts. “Not surprised. But listen, I’ve got a few people in mind I want you to meet. I think you’d make a great band together and can go far. I knowyoucan. I think this is a great opportunity, and I want to show you that it is. Will you at least give me that?”

“You wanted me to hear you out,” I clarify. “And I have.”

Wesson gives a little satisfied chuckle. “You haven’t hung up yet.”

Well, he’s got me there. “No, I haven’t. And I’m just pissed enough to say yes to this, I think.”

“You think?” Wesson asks with hope lacing his words. Hope he probably shouldn’t have.

“It’s not just putting people together and hoping it works,” I say. “Starting a band is a ton of work. And it’s expensive.” Monetarily, and emotionally. And I’m really out of anything that isn’t spite at the moment.

“Don’t you worry about the money,” Wesson says while shuffling something on his end. “I’ve always been a fan of Designation Outsider. But I do truly believe that you brought the uniqueness to the band, the heart of it, on your own. Come, meet me and some friends in town tomorrow at Carnation Studio. We can make a band that’ll put Designation Outsider to shame, a band that understands that while music is life and is important, there are other balances, too. I’d never let you go because of surgery recovery, Aiden. That’s swarmy as fuck.”

Other balances.Wesson’s words echo through my mind with the help of all the beer I’ve drunk tonight.

My fury and shame turn to hope—and inspiration.

I’d already decided to go solo or start a new band to stick it to Darius and Jordan both. But there is definitely something infinitely attractive about having actual support behind doing so, and Wesson is offering a whole lot on a silver platter.

One I’m not sure Icanturn down. Even if it’s only been a few hours since I’ve been on my own.

“Wesson Thornside, you have a deal,” I finally say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wesson breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Good. Thank fuck. Also, please arrivenothungover. I can only imagine you’re at a bar or something right now. Not that I blame you.”

I laugh and shake my head because I didn’t just lose a band, but a pack, too. So yeah, I’m at a bar. “Understood. See you then.”

I order just one more beer and drink it slowly over the course of the next hour. I’d heard that when one door closes, another opens, but I’d never believed it until now.

Because there’s also another saying: If it’s too good to be true, it probably is.

Which one is this? Hope, or folly?

I make a promise to myself to not treat Wesson or this group of people as a rebound chance. I’ll give them everything I have of whatever is left.

ChapterThree

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