Page 103 of Knot My Band: Part One
Roadies lug speakers, techs check mics, and the air hums with the static charge of impending showtime. I’m an alpha on a mission, though. My senses are sharpened to razor-edge focus.
“Hey, Leo,” I murmur, sidling up to the crew member who’s in charge of setting up my bass. I work with him every show and trust him more than the rest of the crew.
“Yo, Dax. What’s up?” His voice is as casual as his shrug, but I can see the way his eyes flicker with curiosity.
“Did you catch sight of anyone hanging around the bus while we were gone between shows?” I keep my tone nonchalant, hoping my inner turmoil isn’t bleeding through.
Leo pauses, a cable held mid-coil, his brow knitting together as he gives it some thought. “Nah, man. Just the usual suspects. Why? Something off?”
“Usual suspects?” I ask, ignoring the rest.
“Well, Riley is always there. Tommy usually brings coffee. Trevor comes and goes, and the people who deliver food.”
“You saw all of them there while we were gone?” I ask.
Leo pauses. “I couldn’t say for sure. Sorry, Dax.”
I nod, trying to squash the unease that’s worming its way into my gut. Leo didn’t see anything concrete, and that just cranks up the volume of the alarm bells in my head. I pivot on my heel, scanning the backstage for another set of eyes that might have seen something—anything.
I find people, but no one I talk to has any answers, so it’s time to move on to security.
My boots thump against the concrete as I weave through a labyrinth of cables and equipment, zeroing in on the cluster of security guards huddled by the stage entrance. They’re supposed to be the eyes and ears around here, but their nonchalant chatter and lack of awareness don’t inspire confidence.
“Hey,” I call out, my voice slicing through their banter like a bass line cutting across silence. They pivot towards me, their expressions shifting from casual to something resembling attention.
“Who was on bus duty two days ago?” I demand, locking gazes with each in turn. My question hangs in the air, unanswered, as they exchange uncertain glances—a silent game of hot potato with my patience on the line.
“Anyone?” The edge in my tone sharpens, my impatience growing as thick as the tension in the space between us.
“Uh, it was kinda all hands on deck with the setup,” one of them stammers, a beta whose face doesn’t ring any bells. His gaze darts away, unable to meet the intensity of my alpha stare.
None of them look familiar to me, and there’s only one alpha among them.
“Great,” I mutter, sarcasm dripping from each syllable. There are no answers, just more questions piling up.
“Look, if you remember anything, find me.” I grind thewords out, feeling my alpha status like a cloak around my shoulders. “It’s important.”
“Sure thing, Dax,” another pipes up, nodding vigorously. But their assurances are empty. As I turn away, I can’t shake the sinking feeling in my gut that we’re playing catch-up.
I’m threading through the crew, eyes peeled for anything out of sync when I spot him. Tommy. He’s leaning against a stack of amps, his gaze lingering on the stage door Oli and Chase disappeared through.
“Hey, Tommy,” I call out, putting on a casual front. My boots scuff the concrete floor as I close the distance between us, my fingers twitching at my sides.
“Yo, Dax,” he greets with a chin lift, pushing off the amps. “What’s up?”
I lean against the wall, mirroring his nonchalance. “Saw you eyeing the stage door pretty hard there.”
“Ah, well, can’t help it, right?” Tommy smirks, running a hand through his hair. “Oli’s something else. Her energy is magnetic, man.”
Does he have a death wish?
“You shouldn’t even be looking at her,” I growl, and a prickling sensation crawls up my neck.
His spine snaps straight, and he backs up. “Well, I better go.”
I grab his shoulder, stopping him. “Not so fast.”
“Someone mentioned seeing you by our bus while we were gone. What were you doing?” I ask.
