by Kole, Lana
Clearing her throat, she wiped her hand on the napkin before shooting Andi a dirty look and tapping the microphone button again.
“Sorry about that, uhm—” She glanced down at the paper in a panic. “Adra. Thanks for coming. Please continue.”
She pointedly turned the speaker back off and pressed a hand to her own flaming cheeks before ignoring Andi’s stifled cackles.
“Okay then, uhm—I’ve just got a few things to set up, and then I’ll be good,” he said as he began linking cords to synth boards and setting them carefully on stands. He appeared comfortable using their keyboard, but it seemed he’d brought his own.
As he brought them to life, the different colored squares lit up in a rainbow and he nodded as if approving their appearance.
“Anything specific you want to hear?” he asked with a glance toward the wall they were hidden behind. He wouldn’t be seeing anything but his own reflection, and a knot tied itself in his brows before he smoothed his expression, erasing the worry from his dark eyes.
The keyboard was comically small in front of him.
Andi tapped the speaker button first. “Nope, this round is all you. Whatever you want to play.”
“Alright,” he agreed.
His lips moved, whispering something to himself, but the mic couldn’t pick up whatever it was.
Lyric glanced down at his information.
Adra. Alpha. Played synth, piano, and the keyboard. No touring experience, but he had been in a previous band. Reason for leaving…
Lyric stopped short and reread the section again, ignoring the slight hitch in her chest at the word alpha.
“Uh, Andi? Can you work your magic and confirm this?” Lyric tapped the section, and Andi nodded.
He began to play, and Lyric forgot all about applications and complications and whatever embarrassment she’d held onto from the moment before. Adra lost himself in it, pure concentration and joy on his face as his fingers drifted over the keys like feathers. He added in sounds he’d programmed on his synth, and as it came together, Lyric bobbed her head to the music and found herself enjoying what he created. More so than any music she’d listened to in a long while.
“Wow,” Andi echoed her thoughts aloud. “Look at this.”
“Oh. What?” Lyric asked and leaned over to read her computer screen.
“According to the news articles, it’s all true. I heard this story vaguely from a coworker, but never gave it a second thought. Damn. Do you think it’s too much to go hug him?”
Lyric laughed softly. “If you will, I will.”
His last band, comprised entirely of alphas, had found their own omega. She had chosen everyone in the band as part of her pack… all except for Adra. It wasn’t unheard of for an omega to break a pack apart, but as someone who’d been rejected again and again, she couldn’t help the empathy swarming through her. The band breaking up had been big news in the indie music industry, and from the information provided by several articles, he—
Lyric interrupted Andi’s longwinded summary, her heart squeezing. “I don’t feel right listening to all of those details. Just… tell me if he ends up not being a good fit, okay?”
Turning back to the music, Lyric studied his tall, fit form, the slight grin on his face, and the passion he exuded as he played.
“Okay, so what’s wrong with him?” she grumbled, and put his paper in a new stack.
“What’s that pile going to be for?”
“The ‘too good to be true so I’m suspicious until you get more information’ pile.”
Andi smiled, glancing back to the talented musician before typing away at her computer again.
Lyric picked up her pizza and tapped her foot against the chair as she ate, listening to Adra play. His audition ended, and he wiped his hands on his jeans.
“That was great,” Lyric said, reaching forward to tap the microphone button before she could help herself. “Thanks so much. We’ll be in touch.”
“Wait—really? No, wait. You probably say that to all the applicants. Uh, thanks. Have a great day,” he mumbled, fumbling over his words. He packed away his equipment quickly, as if eager to get out of there as fast as possible.
It made her smile, and somehow, the day didn’t seem so intimidating anymore.
By the time they wrapped up on the second day, Lyric was rolling her eyes. Their last applicant of the day was a no-show, and it rubbed her the wrong way.
“Well, if they can’t show up on time, that just proves it wasn’t meant to be. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have a hundred more musicians to go through,” Andi grumbled and packed her laptop away.
The try outs were individually scheduled, and if they didn’t show, they didn’t get to try again.
Too bad, so sad.
“It’s fine. Today was kind of a bust, but there’s always tomo—”
Just as they were pushing their chairs in, a commotion sounded from the door in the other room. Lyric turned as her heart dropped, and the door burst open.
“Wait, hold on! I’m so sorry. I’m late, I know, I’m sorry. Please let me audition!”
Lyric frowned at Nohen—she had memorized it from his application. He was drenched from the rain outside and glanced around the room, pushing a lock of wet, dark hair from his eyes. Blinking away the water, he shrugged the guard’s hold off and glanced around the room.
“Are they even here?” he asked. He didn’t even give the guard a chance to answer when he turned to the window, toward Lyric. But she knew he’d only be staring down his own reflection. “I know I’m late, but I promise this won’t be a waste of your time. I’m that good,” he promised.
Lyric snorted and crossed her arms. Cocking her head to the side, she studied the lean, dark-haired man. He was wearing dark pants, ankle boots, and had a short sleeve button-up shirt tucked into the waistband. Belt. Bow tie. With sparkles.
Narrowing her gaze, she pulled her chair back out and sat her tote in the seat, pulling her folder of applications from its depths. She slapped it on the table and pulled it out.
Nohen. Beta. Twenty-five years old. The words ‘musical genius’ were used in his application.
“Wanna listen?” she asked Andi and turned her gaze to the window.
“Well, he certainly has the holier than thou personality to go with the whole lead guitarist vibe,” Andi remarked.
Lyric snorted. “He does. But… he’s here. We’re here…”
And they hadn’t heard a single hopeful audition that day. Maybe this would be the one?
“Hey, this is your band, chick. It’s your call,” Andi said.
Lyric dumped her tote back to the floor and took its place in the chair before slapping the microphone button.
“Can we get him a towel?” Lyric questioned. “He can’t play dripping wet like that.”
Andi nodded, lips twitching, and murmured into her earpiece. The guard left the room, a puzzled Nohen staring after him and glancing from the door to the two-way glass. He returned and tossed a towel at the guitarist.
“You have three minutes. Impress me,” Lyric instructed.
His eyes widened as she spoke, but he quickly schooled his expression before turning to the guard. “Thank you. Some space would be nice,” he said before running the towel over his hair and face. He shook his hair out after, his curls bouncing on the top of his head haphazardly. Lyric wanted to run her fingers through them.
The guard turned toward the window with a puzzled expression. As Andi took her seat, she murmured something through her earpiece and the guard shrugged before leaving the room.
But Lyric was focused on Nohen. He touched the guitar reverently, gently, as he lifted the strap over his head.
Andi flicked the camera back on to record the audition.
He plucked a chord and a soft, high-pitched G note rang through the room and the mics. A smile curled his lips.
And then he began to play.
After he plucked that initial chord, he drew in a de
ep breath, and then his fingers began to fly over the strings.
Lyric listened in something quite close to awe as he played a fast but somehow still gentle melody.
The application lay forgotten as she lost herself to his music. And then, just when she was lulled into an atmosphere of dreamy, elegant music, he transitioned the song into a faster, upbeat tune. It made her perk up and the happy melody put a smile on her face.
Then he suddenly stopped and glanced down at the watch on his wrist.
“That was three minutes I believe. How did I do?”
Lyric glanced to Andi, a question ready to fall from her lips, and Andi held her hands up defensively. “If he can put a smile like that on your face with the music, I think you have your answer.”
Her smile didn’t lessen as she tapped the microphone button, but she did attempt to speak with a level voice. “Thank you, we’ll be in touch.”
She grabbed his application and paperclipped it to Adra’s, effectively adding it to the pile of too good to be true until Andi finds something wrong.
He seemed disappointed by her lack of excitement, but what he didn’t know was that he played the guitar with ease she’d only found in a few.
The guard escorted him from the room, and Lyric repacked the files as they waited for the all clear signal.
“What plans do you have tonight?” Andi asked.
Lyric shrugged. “The usual.”
“So… pour over the applications and eat ice cream while you toggle between baking shows?”
“You know me so well,” Lyric teased.
Lyric could tell Andi wanted to ask her out, maybe get her out of the house for a bit, but… she didn’t push Andi to ask.
She was consumed with finding the perfect bandmates.
The tour was drawing closer and closer with each passing day, and the pressure to choose the four others was intensifying.
Pouring over applications and weeding out the bad ones was just something to make her feel like she was being productive. When really, all she could do was wait. Wait for the next day, wait for the next audition.
And Lyric hated waiting.
That was the only reason she opened her mouth and queried, “Why, what’s up?”
Andi beamed, her frenulum piercing making an appearance. “I’m going out to one of the new clubs tonight. It’s low key, and there’s going to be a live performance there. Want to come?”
Maybe it would distract her from the inevitable. “Sure, why not?”
“Yes! You’re going to love it. The—”
Just then, the guard’s voice came through Andi’s earpiece. “All clear.”
Lyric followed Andi out the back door to their separate cars and waved to the guard at the end of the parking lot.
“I’ll text you with details later,” Andi announced.
“Okay, see you soon!”
As Lyric drove home, she was already planning her disguise. The best part about going out was dressing up. Ever since the announcement of her tour, it had become even harder to stay hidden from fans and paparazzi, and she’d had to get creative.
Once she arrived home, she checked her phone to an announcement that Andi would be picking her up at eight. Dress code? Casual.
I can do casual.
When Andi drove them up to the building ten past eight, Lyric studied it doubtfully.
“Club, huh?” she asked with a smile.
“That’s what the flyers said,” she admitted with a shrug.
The brick building was small, and the entrance was classy, all dark wood and black beams, glass doors that reflected their images back at them.
“Hey, I’m cute,” Lyric commented, and fluffed the ends of her ‘short’ hair.
Andi rolled her eyes. “You’re always cute. But don’t even think of cutting your hair.”
Lyric eyed her pixie cut and glared. “Says you. Bet I could pull one of those off.”
“Do it and I’ll break our contract,” she threatened sweetly.
Lyric laughed and bumped her shoulder into hers as they pulled open the doors. Letting out a low whistle, Lyric took in the low lighting that set the mood against the dark wooden walls and iron tables. There was a dance floor, but it was completely empty at the moment. Sconces were set in the walls with electric candles, casting a soft glow around the room.
“This is gorgeous,” Lyric remarked. “But definitely not what I had in mind when you said it was a club.”
“Me either, to be honest. But you know… I don’t mind,” Andi replied.
She grabbed Lyric’s hand and pulled her along, covering their entry fee at the opening of the room. They stuck to the walls, and Lyric avoided eye contact with the people seated. Soft conversation and a buzz of excitement filled the room, low music flowing through the speakers.
Strangely enough, the tables nearest the stage were the emptiest ones. Everyone was gathered toward the back near the bar. It was set into the wall and blanketed by a second floor balcony.
The dance floor was set in the middle of the room, and the tables were dispersed around the edges near the walls and toward the back by the bar.
Once they’d secured a table near the stage, against the wall to stay out of the way, Lyric studied the stage setup. The house lights looked expensive and very nice. They lit up the stage with a soft yellow glow, matching the sconces and electric candles dotted along the walls.
“I think I’m in love with this place,” Lyric admitted.
“It is nice. But don’t get any ideas. We’ve already had to upgrade venues in three cities.”
With her best puppy dog eyes, Lyric gazed at Andi longingly. “But…”
“No. That won’t work on me. Try someone else.”
“Fine,” she huffed, only partway kidding. “Will you at least get me a drink then?”
“Deal.” Andi disappeared in a flourish of black clothing as she waded through the throng of people littering the empty space throughout the club. Lyric couldn’t even spot her purple pixie cut until she drew near again, two glasses in hand.
“What’s wrong?” Lyric asked as she sat the glasses down. “I know that’s not vodka. Would they not serve you?”
After an awful drunken weekend, both her and Andi vowed never to touch vodka ever again.
So she sipped the water as she waited for Andi’s answer, and Andi slapped two packages down on the table.
“This bar doubles as a dispensary. How cool is that?”
“You’re kidding!” Lyric sat her glass down to lift the tiny package. It was a bite-sized gummy wrapped in foil, and she unwrapped hers at the same time Andi did.
“Cheers?” she grinned.
“Cheers,” Andi answered her.
They tapped the wrappers together before she popped it into her mouth. It was peach flavored, one of her favorites, and she hummed.
It would be anywhere from a half hour to more before it kicked in, but she was more than fine. Plus, she knew she’d sleep well, which would be a welcome change from the previous nights. The auditions had been consuming her thoughts all day and all night.
“So who’s performing? Anyone we know?”
Andi shrugged. “I don’t know him, but I’ve heard his name a few times. Emerson Lockly. Ring a bell?”
Lyric froze, turned her head to Andi, and stared.
“What did you say?”
Andi perked her head up and her smile quickly faded as she looked at Lyric. “Emerson Lockly? Do you know him?”
“We played at the same show that got me signed to my label,” Lyric breathed.
“Oh, fuck,” Andi hissed.
The mood certifiably dimmed, they chatted aimlessly as they waited for the performance to start, and Lyric people watched the hell out of everyone in the venue. As it drew closer to nine, the excitement amped up with each passing minute. Lyric didn’t feel guilty that she’d been scouted at the same show this Emerson had played at. But she did feel… something.
The conversations got louder
as the drinks were poured, and by the time the stage lights blinked, the energy in the air was invigorating.
“I love this,” Lyric admitted, turning her gaze toward the stage. Even with the tension in her shoulders, she was in awe of the energy in the crowd.
Watching the crowd’s anticipation grow made her eager to be on tour. She wanted to walk out on stage and feel the energy in the room, and know it was all for her.
As a man walked out on stage, the lights changed to blue, and the candles in the sconces switched in sync.
“Okay, that’s badass,” Lyric commented, and pointed it out to Andi.
As she swung her attention back to the stage, she recognized the fuzzy warm happy feeling of the high enveloping her and she smiled.
The tension she’d been carrying all week slid from her shoulders, and she braced her elbows on the table, cupping her hands together and resting her chin on them. She could still enjoy the show, a musician watching another musician.
“Are you feeling it?” Andi asked with a matching smile.
Lyric nodded and opened her mouth to respond, but a note rang through the venue amps and her attention was snagged to the stage.
Emerson was tall as fuck, broad as fuck, and pretty as fuck. Just like she remembered. She only vaguely recalled him from the show, but he had stuck out as… talented.
“Damn,” Lyric whispered under her breath. He had shoulder-length curly hair, a short beard, and was dressed in a forest green button-up, dark pants, boots, and had a wide brimmed hat on.
He was like a hipster’s wet dream.
And Lyric considered herself at least seventy-five percent hipster.
“Okay, Mr. Woodsy,” Andi whispered in her ear.
Lyric burst into chuckles and hid them behind her hand as Emerson continued to play.
The song intro was slow, moody, and rhythmic. Then he began to sing, and Lyric’s mouth dropped open.
His voice was sexy. Deep and bass, rumbly and smooth at the same time, but he reached for the tenor notes without hesitation, and they rang clear through the amps.
She turned her widened gaze to Andi, who gazed back at her with a knowing smile. “He’s good,” she said, a hint in her tone.