Page 25 of Omega Rock

“You’re confident,” Noah says. “Do you know something we don’t?”

No, but he’s definitely felt or tasted something we haven’t. “Mia said she’d be here, and I believe it.”

Leo pulls out his phone, glances down at the screen, and shakes his head. He pockets his phone again. “Nothing from her saying shewon’tbe here.”

“Still—”

The doors swing open, cutting Noah off, and Mia strolls on in. She’s wearing black skinny jeans and her signature black vest, with a purple t-shirt spouting some logo I can’t quite make out from here. Her blue and purple hair is tied up today, and she’s smiling from ear-to-ear.

“Sorry I’m late!” She sets down her guitar before all of us and fishes her phone out of her pocket. “I was struck with some ideas on the way and pulled over to record them.”

She looks… happy. And excited.

And a lot less flush.

I’m not sure why, but knowing her heat has ended deflates me. And knowing she went through it on her own makes me feel even worse.

“Let’s hear it then,” Noah says with his hand held out for the phone. “How have you been?”

The question of the hour. Or the last three full days.

Mia smiles sheepishly. “Occupied, but when I could think, I wrote everything I could.”

Leo moves over to the drum set. He’s wearing a tank top today and shorts, ready to jam to whatever we’ve got going. “What you sent was fantastic. Hopefully Wes enjoys the two tracks we’ve already got for him.”

Mia hands her phone to Noah. “Three, maybe, if you guys like this.”

Noah flicks the screen and the video begins to play. He holds it out for all of us to see. Sure enough, Mia’s sat in the middle of the view on a fallen tree trunk somewhere along the highway. I can hear the cars whizzing past in the background.

She starts to play something slow, then jumps into playing an acoustic guitar as hard as one can. The soft beginning coasts into screams and growls, and where her lyrics fall off, I jump in on improv only, filling in the words. She smiles up at me, nodding along to my additions. Leo starts softly playing, too, and by the time the video’s over, even Noah’s fingering the air as if he had his bass in hand.

Mia glances up at all of us with anticipation gleaming in her eyes. “So, what do you think?”

“I think it’ll sound great tomorrow night at the Sound House in town.”

We all whip around to find Wes standing there, his arms crossed, and a grin on his face.

And then his words sink in. “Excuse me?” I ask.

Leo sets down his drumsticks. “The Sound House?”

Wes nods as he approaches. I didn’t even hear him come into the room. “Word got out that you’re heading a new band, Aiden. The Sound House called me right away and wants to book you, and they have an opening tomorrow night.”

Sunday’s weren’t normal gig days, and when we were in town, extra gig slots at Sound House always went to Designation Outsider. Which presents two unique problems:

We’re taking a slot from my old band.

We’re doing it literal days after forming this one, with barely two—three—songs that might be ready.

“Wes, that’s real quick,” I argue.

Wes holds both hands up before himself. “I know, I’m aware. But look at what you just made together. Do that, do some covers, do Mia’sDreaming Late. A mix of something. Ten songs, one set.”

I get the feeling that’s an order, not a request. So I turn to the band. Noah’s grip on the neck of his bass leaves me feeling uneasy. Leo’s paled some—this concerns me more. I know Lost Time has played Sound House, too. He’d be familiar with it.

“How did news even travel this quickly?” I ask Wes, although I can think of a few sources. Darius, for one.

Wes shrugs. “You know, I have no idea. It wasn’t me. But word is traveling fast, and there’s a lot of excitement about this particular group of people getting together. Noah, you’ve done a lot for a lot of people in the industry. Aiden and Leo, I don’t need to explain. And Mia.” He turns to her. “Mia, you have such a spark. I believe in Exit Fate. I believe in all of you. The question is, do you believe in yourselves?”

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