Lyric & the Heartbeats

by Kole, Lana

  No… she couldn’t mean—?

  His name wasn’t one of those in the pile of applicants, so why had Andi brought her here?

  “We’re not here for work,” she scolded Andi, though it felt more like she was trying to convince herself.

  They had a hundred more applicants to go through, she couldn’t just pick some guy out of a venue and offer him the job. Even if she knew he was talented…

  But what if…?

  Pushing the thoughts away, she shook her head and focused back on the stage. The brim of his hat cast his face mostly in shadow, but she could see his eyes were closed as he sang into the mic. He tilted his head to the side, baring part of his neck, and Lyric surprised herself as she imagined biting into the flesh.

  Shuffling on her seat and willing the warmth away, she glanced at the tables nearest them, but the occupants were oblivious. Even though she took her daily suppressant to dull her own scent and those of others, she was paranoid her scent might still be a little… intense. But thankfully no one seemed affected, so she returned her gaze to Emerson just as he finished the first song.

  He finished on a solemn note, sliding his pick across the strings and pausing his hand in the air as he let the note trail off.

  Then he glanced up, adjusting the hat atop his head, and nodded at the crowd. “Thanks for coming to listen. I’m Emerson Lockly, and I hope you enjoy it.”

  That was all he said, his voice rumbly and delicious before he put his fingers to the strings and began another song. It had the same moody feeling as the other, but it was still different, unique in its own way.

  Listening to the lyrics, she lost herself in each song, in each story he told by weaving notes and words together in a quilt of memories that blanketed the audience. She was transfixed.

  Lyric had been so focused on her own music, on the tour, the auditions, that she hadn’t given herself the chance to enjoy music as it was meant to be. And Emerson reminded her of why it was a necessary part of her life. Not just as a job. But as something to be proud of and to take a moment to just exist while it flowed around you.

  Was this guy for real?

  As she sipped her water and Emerson finished his show, she watched him take his hat off, bow to the crowd, and leave the stage. Only when he was gone from sight did she turn to Andi.

  Andi waggled her purple eyebrows at Lyric. “Think he belongs on tour?”

  Lyric nibbled her thumb nail and glanced around. He was talented. He had experience performing on stage. He was captivating, and the crowd loved him.

  “Do you know who his agent is?” Lyric asked. Even though he hadn’t been picked up by a label yet, Andi had connections, she could make shit happen. At the very least, she could reach out and find out if he was interested.

  Andi turned a droll look her way. “Or you could just ask him?” she suggested, and glanced over her shoulder.

  Lyric turned just as he came from the back room, a new shirt in place, hat removed. It revealed a few tattoos inked into both arms, randomly placed, and he walked with his head down, hair falling forward to frame and hide his face.

  He passed their table without looking up, and Lyric parted her lips before she could stop herself.

  “Excuse me, Emerson?”

  He paused, steps stuttering to a halt before he picked his head up and pasted a smile on his lips. Shuffling closer to their table, he leaned over the edge so his voice could be heard, and Lyric drew in a slow breath as her heart pounded. Lightning storms. That was what he reminded her of, both his scent and presence. Fresh rain and the promise of danger.

  She crossed her legs.

  “Emerson Lockly, that’s me,” he said, and then cocked his head to the side.

  Recognition lit his hazel eyes, and she tried to push aside the mix of pride and embarrassment. Did he remember her from the scouting show? Or just from her recent rise in the charts?

  “I just wanted to say I loved your set. You’re captivating.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.” He shuffled away as if he were going to take off, so she blurted the next thing that came to mind.

  “I’m actually holding auditions for a touring band and was wondering if you’d be interested? You’d make a great addition, and I’d love to have you on board.”

  Fuck. She hadn’t meant to put all her cards out there like that, but his nervousness was making her nervous.

  His brows rose in surprise before he looked her up and down, then glanced to the stage and back. Something… unpleasant filled his expression, and it made her stomach tighten as he turned his attention fully on her.

  “Sorry, but if you couldn’t tell, I’m just fine on my own.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I don’t want to be added to some spoiled omega’s collection. Have a good night.”

  With that, he turned and walked away.

  Lyric’s cheeks heated at the utter embarrassment engulfing her.

  Maybe he remembers me after all.

  She didn’t even know what to say. Speechless, she turned to Andi, whose brows had crawled halfway up her forehead, anger coloring her cheeks.

  “What an asshole,” Andi hissed in his direction. “Wow. I can’t believe he said that.”

  Spoiled omega?

  “Let’s get out of here,” Andi said, and stacked the plastic cups together.

  Lyric slid from the chair to her feet, adjusting her beanie.

  Why hadn’t she said anything in response? She didn’t even know what she could have said.

  The realization made her even angrier. She’d replay the interaction in her head a thousand times and come up with the best response… days later when it didn’t fucking matter.

  She followed Andi through the crowd, keeping her head down. But she couldn’t help lifting her head by the door, searching the room. Her gaze was drawn to the bar—and there he was. Tall, practically glowing in the soft gold emanating from the lighting above the bar.

  She scowled in his direction, and as if he could feel her gaze, he cranked his head over his shoulder and found her.

  His expression of indifference didn’t even falter as he turned away from her to continue his conversation with whomever he was talking to.

  “A spoiled omega? I’m not fucking spoiled,” she ranted in the car as Andi drove them back to her house.

  Andi remained quiet, content to let her get it out of her system. “I worked too fucking hard to get to where I am for him to make assumptions like that.”

  I worked too fucking hard to avoid the omega stereotype.

  And there was the underlying reason for the hurt that still tightened her chest. Even after everything she’d accomplished, two albums, and now a sold-out tour, some people would still see her as just an omega. Just like her mom had before she tried to mold Lyric into her vision, someone with nothing better to do than to lay around a nest all day and wait for her alphas to take care of her.

  “Ugh!” she growled, and crossed her arms.

  “Don’t listen to him. He’s an ass. Just sleep knowing that he’s playing in venues like that when you’re about to fill places four times as large.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Lyric agreed.

  She turned her head to look out the window, counting the streetlamps they passed.

  She’d only gotten to thirty-three by the time Andi parked outside her building in the gated community, and she sighed.

  “Despite what an asshole he was, thank you for taking me out. Tomorrow, we’ll find someone even better,” Lyric announced.

  “That’s the spirit. Have a good night,” Andi said. “Love you!”

  “Love you too!” Lyric called out as she crawled from the car.

  Andi didn’t drive away until she unlocked the security door to her apartment, scented the entryway for intruders, and unlocked the deadbolts. Once inside, and after another scent check, she flipped the hallway light on to signal she was okay.

  The car’s engine faded as she drove away, and Lyric grumbled some more as she unarm
ed the alarm system, the soft beep echoing in her home.

  That she’d purchased herself.

  “Spoiled omega, my ass,” she muttered. Lyric tugged her beanie off, untied the ribbon, and let her hair fall free as she headed to the shower.

  But as she relaxed into the warmth of the rainfall showerhead in her bathroom, she frowned.

  And so what if she was spoiled? That didn’t make her hard work any less valid. It didn’t invalidate the years, hours, blood, sweat, and tears she’d put into her music, her career. And if at the end of the night she washed the day off with a fancy showerhead and slept tight in a king-sized mattress with seven pillows, it didn’t lessen her accomplishments.

  “So fuck that guy,” she grumbled.

  After combing the conditioner through her hair and rinsing it, she stepped from the shower refreshed and relaxed.

  And yes, she slept like a motherfucking princess in her giant bed, cozied up with her pillows in her nest. That she’d decorated with her own money earned from her own hard work. Not a pack.

  Yeah.

  Fuck that guy.

  With a groan, Lyric threw some popcorn at the screen with one hand while marking out a name on the list with the other.

  “No. He creeps me out.”

  Andi arched a brow and turned to her. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, squinting at the screen paused in the middle of an audition. To fill the callback list, Lyric was desperately watching the audition again, trying to find someone to fit. But the more videos they skipped through, the more Lyric’s hope dwindled.

  “I… I know we have two or three for each position, won’t that be enough?” she asked, and then winced. Out of almost two hundred auditions, only ten or so had both talent and a clean record in the music industry. Or at least didn’t rub her the wrong way.

  What if she couldn’t find enough musicians to fill the spots?

  All they needed was a drummer, a lead guitarist, a bassist, and a pianist or synth player. So far, a few options for each were available… but as she watched their tapes again, her options for bassist were looking less and less appealing with each viewing.

  “We’ll find them, don’t worry,” Andi soothed, and took the popcorn bowl from her.

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Shh,” Andi teased, and pointed to the screen. She queued up the next video and Lyric smiled. She’d actually enjoyed this one.

  “Oh, I liked her. What was her name?” she asked, and flipped through applications. “Never mind, found it! Desi.”

  The short-haired brunette waved at the mirrored window and took a seat behind the drums. She was lithe and lean, and the blouse she wore buttoned to her neck with a lace collar made her look soft. But when she lifted those sticks and crashed them back down onto the drums, any hint of softness disappeared. She was fierce and the passion for the music came through in every beat of the snare or kick of the bass drum. The hiss of the cymbals clashed, and with each beat that passed, Lyric liked her more and more.

  “Yep, definitely moving on with her,” Lyric said, and placed her application into the round two pile.

  But after another three hours, she was still unconvinced about the bassist position. “I mean, they’re all... okay,” Lyric admitted. “But none of them made me sit up and go, ‘ooo.’” She feigned excitement, clasping her hands together and resting them under her chin. “But we might as well go ahead with these three. We can see how we get on when I meet them for the first time.”

  “Alright, alright. Be picky, why don’t you.”

  Lyric grinned. “I know, right? How dare I be picky about the people I’m going to spend six weeks crammed into a bus with?”

  Andi rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you won’t have a nest in the back to hide in if they get on your nerves.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “I’m just teasing, you know. You’re allowed to be as picky as you want. This is your tour, and it’s your music they’ll be playing. If you say they’re not a good fit, then we find someone else.”

  “Have I mentioned how much I adore you lately?” Lyric asked.

  “Then give me a raise,” she responded dryly.

  Lyric laughed and bumped her elbow into Andi’s side. They both knew she was the best paid agent in the damned city, and she earned it.

  Lyric handed Andi the stack of papers she’d acquired, and Andi pulled out her work phone.

  “So, it’s decided? We’ll call them for the second round?”

  Lyric chewed on her bottom lip before nodding. “Yeah. It’s now or never.”

  “Okay, here goes,” Andi said with a smile.

  She dialed the number on the first callback, and Lyric looked over her shoulder to see it was Adra. The tall, shy synth player who’d heard her moaning over pizza. The memory brought a smile to her face.

  Andi dialed his number and put the call on speaker. Lyric wanted to hear their reactions and how they treated her agent.

  “Hello?” he answered, voice deep and rumbly but polite.

  “Hello. I’m looking for Adra.”

  “That’s me,” he replied, and some rustling sounded in the background. “Can I ask who’s calling?”

  “This is Andi Maylen speaking, Lyric Ceran’s agent. We wanted to thank you for your application and extend a congratulations. You’ve been chosen to move on to the second round of auditions.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, and then a very long pause took place.

  “Am I being pranked, or is this for real?”

  Andi shot Lyric a gaze filled with mirth and chuckled into the phone. “There’s no prank, Mr. Wards. For now, I’m going to email you a permission form, and once you sign consent for an interview with the omega center and send it back, we’ll meet again in one week. Does that work for you?”

  “Holy sugar,” he whispered. Lyric’s lips twitched. “I mean—yes. Yes, that absolutely works for me. Thank you so much.”

  “Perfect. If you have any questions or concerns before then, feel free to email or call.”

  “Of course. Thank you again. So much.”

  “Anytime. Have a good day now.”

  Andi ended the call and turned a blinding smile toward her. “He is so sweet. And what was that holy sugar business?”

  “I don’t know but it was adorable,” Lyric admitted, and mentally batted the butterflies away from her stomach.

  The next few phone calls were unremarkable or went to voicemail. Which was disappointing, but Andi promised to let her know how they went.

  “Hello?” one of the applicant’s voices came through the line. It was one of the bassists, and his voice sounded sleepy.

  “Hello, I’m looking for… Renold White?” Andi asked politely.

  “Speaking. Who’s this?”

  “This is Andi Maylen—”

  “Holy shit, you’re Lyric’s agent!” he practically shouted. Lyric winced and leaned away from the speaker of the phone.

  “Ah, yes, that’s me. We wanted to call and—”

  “We? Is she there? Can I talk to her?”

  Lyric’s eyes widened and she made a cutting motion across her neck.

  Andi’s brows dipped as her mouth opened and closed a few times. “No, she’s not here with me, I apologize for the misunderstanding. I wanted to call and—”

  “Did I make it? Is this the callback? When do I get to meet her?” He asked the questions rapid-fire, and Lyric’s stomach turned sour at his enthusiasm. He sounded more like a fan, and while his audition seemed decent enough, she didn’t want to tour with a fan, she wanted to have a talented, trusted musician at her back.

  She made another cutting motion across her neck before crossing her pointer fingers in an X shape.

  Andi got the message and quickly ended the call with, “Sorry, I actually think I have dialed the wrong number. Have a good day!”

  She ended the call, and not three seconds later, her phone rang. The number matched the one on Renold’s ap
plication.

  “Oh, no,” Andi groaned, dragging out the last syllable.

  “Block him,” Lyric urged as her phone went silent for exactly three seconds before the ring tone sliced through the air again.

  “Blocking, blocking!” The ringing stopped, and once she blocked the number, it remained quiet and they both released a sigh.

  “Alrighty then. I need a pick-me-up, how about you?” Lyric asked as she stood and walked to her kitchen.

  “Yes, please,” Andi called out.

  Lyric poured them both a glass of iced coffee, adding frozen coffee cubes and a little creamer before walking them back to the living room.

  “Oh, I forgot you drink the fancy stuff. Gimme,” she said happily, and held out grabby hands.

  Lyric grinned as she passed her a glass and reclaimed her seat on the couch. The bowl of half eaten popcorn sat forgotten on the coffee table as Andi queued up the next applicant.

  “Nohen here,” a soft voice answered sleepily.

  “Hello, Nohen, this is Andi Maylen, agent for Lyric Ceran. I was calling to let you know—”

  “Oh, no. If you’re calling to tell me I haven’t made it, just do it. Like a Band-Aid. Rip it off,” he pleaded.

  Andi’s lips twitched and they shared a look as she continued. “Calling to let you know you’ve been selected to continue with the audition process.”

  “Wait, really?” he asked, voice laced with excitement. “Even though I was late?”

  Lyric’s lips twitched, and Andi looked over at her with an arched brow.

  “Despite your tardiness, you’re moving on.”

  Andi continued laying out the plan, about the consent form and the interview, yada yada. Lyric sipped her coffee, content to listen to the excitement in his voice. She could tell he was practically vibrating on the other line, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

  “He seems nice too,” she commented after the call ended.

  “Definitely welcome after the last call,” Andi said, and flipped to the next applicant.

  “You’ve got Desi, who’s calling?” a feminine voice answered.

  “Desi, hi. This is Andi Maylen, agent to Lyric Ceran. Is this a good time?”

  “Are you kidding me? Any time is a great time to hear from you. What can I do for you?” she questioned with a hopeful hitch in her voice.