Page 2 of Knot My Band: Part One
As he leaves, I catch my reflection in the mirror again. This time, I see not just a singer, not just an omega, but a force of nature about to be unleashed on stage. The new band doesn’tknow it yet, but they’re about to join the ride of their lives. And me? I can’t wait to hit that first chord and feel the rush of connection that only music can bring on this tour.
I go back to practice, grabbing my guitar.
“Alright, let’s do this,” I mutter to myself, feeling the familiar weight of my guitar settle against my hip.
I never get to use my guitar on stage, so I savor having it now during practice. My fingers dance over the strings, teasing out a melody that’s been playing on a loop in my mind since Trevor dropped the bombshell about the band. It’s new, it’s raw, and it’s pure Oli Hart—undiluted and unrestrained.
As the notes spill into the cavernous room, I lose myself in the rhythm, the vibrations resonating through my bones. This is where I belong; this stage is my domain. Each strum, each chord is an extension of my soul, the lyrics a confession of my wildest dreams and darkest fears. Music is more than just an outlet; it’s the language through which I bare my heart to the world.
Midway through the song, a pang of vulnerability slices through me. Being an omega on tour is not easy. The industry is a jungle, rife with alphas who mistake assertiveness for aggression and dominance for artistry. But I’ve learned to navigate these treacherous waters, turning potential pitfalls into stepping stones. I’ve got a fire inside that burns brighter than any alpha’s ego—and I’m not about to let it be extinguished. I’m one of only two omegas ever to get a song into the top twenty, and it’s because it’s so difficult to make it in any industry as an omega.
The song builds to a crescendo, and I pour every ounce of defiance and determination I possess into the final chords.
I end on a note that rings out, clear and true, its echo atestament to resilience. A slow smile curves my lips as I picture the crowd, the sea of faces lit up with adoration and excitement. They’re here for the music, for the connection that only a live performance can forge. And I’ll be damned if I don’t give them one hell of a show.
After a three-hour practice session, I’m feeling excited. Maybe I can use this opportunity to find an all-female band to match my all-girl opener, The Storm! I can help lift up women in this industry and turn this around into something positive.
The guitar’s last echo dies off as I strum, my fingers lingering on the strings. Sweat beads along my forehead are a testament to the intensity of the rehearsal. Spent but satisfied, I look up just as Trevor bursts through the door.
“Oli, you’re not gonna believe this,” he announces, his usual frown swapped for a gleam of success. “I’ve found your band.”
“Already?” I can’t help but quirk an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. I lean back against the amp, arms crossed, waiting for the catch. “I was actually thinking maybe I could pick up an all-girl band to join me.”
Trevor frowns. “I like the idea, but we don’t have time to find that for this tour. But if you give this group a try, then I promise to help make that happen for the next one.”
I think that’s reasonable. This will give us time to find the perfect girls for next time. Maybe even another omega.
“Deal. So, who did you find?” I ask.
Trevor’s smirk widens. “A group of alphas. Immensely talented, albeit with a bit of a… let’s say, colorful reputation. They were supposed to have their own tour that would have been much smaller than yours. The pack will be thrilled.”
“Alphas, huh?” I chew on the inside of my cheek, mulling over the prospect. The music industry is a playground foralphas—it always has been. But something about Trevor’s tone tells me these aren’t your average alpha rock gods. “When do I get to meet the infamous pack?”
“Tonight,” he says, clapping his hands together. “They’re on their way now.”
“Good to know.” I stand up, slinging the guitar strap off my shoulder. Despite the wariness that bubbles inside me—a natural response to the unpredictability of alphas—I can’t deny the zing of excitement at the thought of a fresh collaboration. New energy. New sounds. It’s the adrenaline shot my creative heart craves.
“I’m going to go shower with some scent-canceling soap after my practice,” I say. It’s always safer to cancel your scent when you’re going to be around alphas.
“Hey,” Trevor’s voice pulls me back. “you okay with being around a bunch of alphas? You’ve dealt with them before, but…”
“Please, Trevor.” I toss him a wink, loading confidence into my tone. “This industry’s swarming with alphas. I eat their egos for breakfast.”
“Alright then,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Go shower so you can be ready. I will tell you about them if we have time before they get here.”
I nod, head to the shower, and start to brace myself for being around the alphas.
Jack
ALPHA TEA GOSSIP COLUMN
MAY THORNTON WAS ARRESTED AFTER ATTACKING AN OFFICER WHILE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF DRUGS. WHERE DOES THIS LEAVE THE EDGE?
March 18th
The stale scent of sweat and electric tension hangs thick in the cramped rehearsal space, clinging to my skin like a second-rate cologne. I’m slouched in a worn-out armchair, the faux leather sticking to the back of my legs, as the rest of the band members trade glances that are as heavy as the bass line we can’t seem to get right.
“Can you believe May would pull this bullshit?” Dax growls, scrunching up his forehead until it looks like a crumpled piece of paper. The frustration is practically oozing out of him. “After everything we’ve been through to get here, and now she screws us over once again.”
