Page 8 of Omega Rock

We enter Carnation Studio to the sounds of rock music filtering through speakers. The lobby is small, housing two black leather love-seats, with dark blue walls and posters of bands the world over hanging in frames everywhere. I spot a Designation Outsider poster and can’t help but frown. Bands break up all the time, but that one kind of hurts. I wonder if Wes hasn’t had the time to take it down despite Aiden supposedly being here today.

“Through here.” Wes holds open a door through which is a much larger jam space. Not a studio itself, but a twenty by thirty-foot room lined with chairs, a couch, loads of wires running into amps and plugged into walls all along the room. A drum set from a decent brand sits against the farthest wall with a drummer already sat there, looking up at Aiden Paltier. The two laugh, and it’s only then it sets in.

I know that drummer.

It’s Leo Altis. Formerly of Lost Time, an old favorite band of mine from my twenties. He left Lost Time for health reasons, although I can’t really remember if they ever said what those were.

Leo doesn’t look sick now as he catches us entering the space and raises his chin in greeting. “Afternoon!”

Aiden Paltier follows Leo’s line of sight and waves. “Welcome in!”

It’s a much warmer welcome than I was expecting. Then again, I don’t ever expect too much.

Wes ushers me in front of him. “This is Noah Smith, a fantastic bassist with classical training but also a lot of practical rock experience, too.”

Aiden’s expression is open and we’re already shaking hands, but I can see the tightness in his eyes that betrays the facade he’s trying to hold—and I don’t even know the guy personally. It’s then I realize that Designation Outsider must really have kicked him outyesterday.Damn.That’s cold.

“Happy to have you here, Noah,” he says as he turns to Leo. “Leo Altis, our drummer.”

I reach a hand over the drum set to Leo. “Nice to meet you. Big fan of you both.” Both of them look somewhat uncomfortable with the compliment but they both nod and smile like any trained performer would. “So, are you forming a new band or something?”

Wes claps once. “Precisely, once your singer gets here.”

Weird.Aiden was Designation Outsider’s lead singerandguitarist. He won’t be singing for this?

“Sure thing.” I set my case down and retrieve my bass since Aiden’s got his guitar out, too. “Who’s the singer, then?”

Aiden’s eye twitches, but it’s Wes that answers. “Mia Moore. She’s young, but she’s got the vocals. Just… needs a little discipline, too.”

Mia Moore.The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.

Aiden pulls his guitar around his front and strums idly. “Trusting you, Wes.” He seems so unsure, but this must all be whiplash for him.

I realize something else: all three of us are alphas. There’s a distinctpresencethe three of us have that Wes doesn’t. Not that it impacts the music we could make together, but the instant clicking of our presence is a nearly tangible thing.

A thing smashed like glass as quick footfalls echo through the lobby of Carnation Studio. A short, very young, very cotton-candy-colored hair young woman rushes through the door, a guitar case in hand, and waving excitedly at Wes, then the rest of us.

“Hi, sorry I’m slightly late—” She stops dead in her tracks, her gaze glued to Aiden. “Oh. Hi.” Then to Leo. Her eyes go wide as she turns to Wes and me. “Wesson.”

It’s then I recognize her. Mia Moore. The woman who went viral six or so months ago, and then again last week. She’s got this amazing song,Dreaming Late. The same woman who her followers both praise for musical ability but shame for partying, drinking, and just generally being in her twenties doing what you’re supposed to do in your twenties.

At thirty-three, it’s easy to judge, but I also understand where she’s coming from. And it’s not like I’ve exactly left the partying days behind. But at least Itriedto make it through Juilliard first. I can’t imagine Mia’s had much training of any kind at all.

But shecansing. I’ll give her that.

Wes smiles at her in a sarcastically sweet way. “Mia, so happy for you to join us. You’re actually not late.”

“I just got here,” I offer her.

Mia inhales a sigh of relief but her cheeks are still flushing with the brightest blush. “Good. Traffic on 91 was a hot mess.” She then busies herself with laying her case on an open chair, turned away from us. I just see her eyes widen before her face is hidden from view.

She’s kind of cute when she’s embarrassed.

Wes indicates all of us. “Well, welcome in everyone. I’ve brought you here today under Aiden in hopes of seeing if you all fit together. I’ve followed you all individually, and I think you’d make the perfect band.”

My eyes narrow on Wes. I’ve heard his name passed around a lot the last few years, but I don’t know much about him specifically. “Why the sudden band-making?” I toss a nod to Aiden. “You looking to get back at your last one?”

Aiden releases a curt laugh. “Bastards, all of them. But this is Wes’s idea, I can’t take credit.”

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