Page 16 of Waiting for Fate
Bea’s shoulders relax when Caleb laughs it off into a fresh mic, earning laughs from the crowd along with him. The rest of their performance is unhindered, but it’s clear the mishap has brought down their energy. As they trudge off the stage with waves to the crowd and smiles pasted on their faces, I feel for them. It has to suck to have something like that happen.
“You killed it out there,” Bea tells them enthusiastically. “Even with the mic issue, you enamored the crowd! And Caleb, you brought them right back into the vibe while your mic was swapped out. I know this feels like a disaster, but it wasn’t. Be proud of yourselves. I’m proud of you.”
They perk up a little, joy reappearing in their eyes with her praise. It isn’t a fix at all. They have to learn to overcome problems like this on their own, but it’s enough to prevent them from spiraling.
“I’m proud ofyou,” I whisper against her ear as we step back into the hall. “You saved them from sitting on that shit all night.”
Bea’s cheeks flush, her head ducking for a second before she playfully rolls her eyes and shoves me away. “It’s only the truth.”
I let her lead me to whatever task she feels she needs to accomplish next, content to follow her to the end of time if she’ll allow me.
CHAPTER NINE
LAST NIGHT’S SHOWdid not go as smoothly as I hoped. Technical issues arose at the beginning of Orbital Somatic’s performance, but luckily the tech team could resolve them quickly. And the band recovered quickly to reengage the crowd while the crew was working.
Today presents a new, slightly more difficult challenge- our first festival stop. Chicago’s Pack Reverence Fest has been on my bucket list for several years now. It’s a two-day event with over thirty different bands playing, merch tents, and enough food stalls to satisfy my best friend’s foodie heart.
Working the first day hasn’t been as fun as attending, but I have caught a few shows between tasks. Luckily, my band has just finished their set for the day. The difference between their performance at the previous two shows and today’s festival is obvious. Here, where the crowd can venture to other performances, the band is struggling to maintain their attention.
Part of it is nerves. Understandable since the festival sees an average of nearly one hundred thousand attendees every day. That can feel overwhelming for newer bands with smaller followings.
The biggest part is their stage presence, though. They’re missing something I can’t quite put my finger on. Letting my thoughts mull over their less than stellar performance, I wander across the massive venue to find the stage where Primordial Covenant will be playing.
Warmth at my back has my eyes rolling. Ridley has been clingier than a koala today. Constantly hovering behind me, entirely too close to be professional. Yet I can’t seem to convince myself to ask him for space. There are a lot of people here. Of all designations.
Growing up in a family who works in the DAU, I know all too well how risky being an unbonded omega in such a large crowd can be. I’ve seen the aftermath of alphas losing control one too many times.
Still, my bodyguard doesn’t need to have his hand at the small of my back to guide me through the crowds. It’s familiar in a way that has slick filling my scent-blocking panties. The urge to feel his hands all over my body is growing too large to ignore.
Damn, I need to get laid. I am absolutely sneaking out tomorrow to find myself a hot musician’s knot to ride.
Omen’s lilac hair is easy to spot at the front of the stage, where her guys will play in a few moments. Leaning against the metal frame beside her, I watch as she studies her camera. She’s thorough in her prep work before each show, methodical in finding the best potential angles for her shots.
“Do you think your guys would give Orbital Somatic some pointers about stage presentation?”
“My guys?” she replies with a frown.
She wants to pretend there isn’t a pull between her and Pack Graves? I barely suppress a roll of my eyes. She’s letting her family win by denying her instincts. It makes me sad. And angry. Why let the bad guys win? Tell them to shove it up their asses and prove them wrong. Life is more fun that way!
“Don’t play dumb, Oms. They need help. I think half the crowd left during their show this afternoon.”
“They seemed to do well at the other two tour stops.”
“I think that was only because the fans at those shows were suffering through while waiting to see Primordial Covenant. Here at the festival, they can leave to go check out whoever is playing on the other five stages.” I lace my words with the frustration I still feel about Orbital Somatic’s show. I don’t enjoy facing a problem I can’t solve. Impatience is one of my many flaws.
I barely hear her response, too busy fidgeting with my hair as I replay every aspect of the band’s performance in my mind. I’m going to drive myself crazy obsessing over this.
My attention snaps to Omen when she steps closer to me, forcing me to back up. Right into Ridley’s arms. He steadies me with firm hands on my waist, a purr rattling in his chest in response to my obvious stress. It’s like omega Xanax, and I melt against him.
Remembering where we are, and whose arms I am in, I push away with a scowl aimed at my meddling bestie. I’m the matchmaker here, not her.
Ridley grins, his blue-green eyes sparkling with amusement and desire. “You seem to enjoy running, Bea. Just remember my alpha loves the chase,” he smirks.
My body reacts to the image he is painting, instincts flaring to life and causing another burst of slick to coat my thighs. Packing all of my interest away takes a strength I wasn’t aware I possessed.
Turning away from Omen and my bodyguard, I nearly knock into Lex in my effort to escape. His eyes are as dark as Ridleys, the touch of our skin electric for the brief seconds my shoulder brushes against his chest.
Fucking hell, this night needs to go faster.
