Page 16 of Discover Me
The concrete walls are covered in graffiti from previous performers, signatures and inside jokes and crude drawings. Our band's logo is somewhere in the mess, from the last time we played this venue two years ago. Rex had drawn it while drunk on cheap beer and victory, back when things felt simpler.
Rex and Liam are settled across the room, tuning their guitars, each of them in their own little world. Jordan isn’t far away, downing the special formalized tea Tom makes him drink to soothe his vocal cords. He's been quieter since the conference room meeting, the guilt of his betrayal sitting heavy on his shoulders. Liam has forgiven him, or at least moved past it. Rex seems indifferent and I’m still unsure that it was all an honest mistake.
The door opens and Tom walks in with the new PR lady. Hailey, I think her name is. Or maybe Hannah. I haven't bothered to remember because I don't plan on working with her long enough for it to matter. My contract is up in three months and after that? I’m gone. I have no idea what I’m going to do but fuck, it’s not going to be with Lunar Ransom.
"Gentlemen!" Tom's voice carries across the room with that false enthusiasm he uses when he's about to drop bad news andpretend it's good. "We've afforded one lucky fan from the crowd to get a backstage look after the show!"
We all grimace in unison. Meet and greets are one thing, but bringing a random fan backstage is another level of invasion. This is our space, the place where we decompress and prepare and just exist without the performance masks. Having a stranger here feels wrong.
But we grab our stuff anyway, preparing to head toward the curtain. The show must go on, as they say. Tom's hand lands on my shoulder, stopping me while the others continue forward.
The PR lady smiles, something calculating in her expression that makes my skin crawl. "We've curated the pick, of course. They're going to be asked to sign an NDA to fake date you. You'll do some PR appearances, take lots of pictures together, make it seem like you're falling for them. Then you'll have a public breakup right around the time the album drops to really sell the emotional narrative."
I stare at her, then at Tom. "You're kidding."
"Don't worry," Tom says, like this is supposed to be reassuring. "We'll find you a pretty little Omega to dote on for the next month until we announce the next project. Someone photogenic, someone who'll make you look good. It'll be great for your image."
I always thought I'd end up with an Omega eventually, but not like this. Not as a business transaction, a PR stunt designed to sell albums and soften my image. I'm so not ready for this. Every instinct I have screams to refuse. But I don't have a choice. I have nowhere else to go.
I hold back my anger, forcing it down where it can't affect my performance. My face shifts into something that might resemble a smile, though it feels more like baring my teeth. "Whatever you say, Tom. Sure."
Tom claps me on the shoulder, apparently satisfied with my compliance. "It's going to be fantastic! And the fans are really eating up this brooding act of yours. You're really selling it. Keep that energy for the show tonight."
He walks out toward the stage, leaving me alone with the PR lady. She looks me up and down, her expression somewhere between amused and irritated.
"Lighten up," she says. "I know a handful of guys who would give anything to be in your shoes. Fame, fortune, fans who worship you. Most people would be grateful."
"I'm sure you mean well, Hailey," I say, keeping my voice level.
“It’sHannah.”
I wave my hand at her, not really caring about the difference. "We both know you're only here to make money. The more money Lunar Ransom makes, the better your paycheck is at the end of the day. No shame in that or anything, but let's not pretend this is about what's best for me or the band."
Her smile takes on a bit more of a deviant edge. "At least I'm honest about my motivations."
"I signed up to share my love of music with men I thought of as family, as friends, or whatever other bullshit the label wants to put out there. In the last month, I've seen that crumble and fall. I've watched creative control get stripped away, watched my bandmates sell out for relevance, and watched as everything I thought we stood for got packaged and sold to the highest bidder."
Hannah crosses her arms, her expression hardening. "Hopefully the Omega we pick will straighten you the fuck out because you're an immature, grumpy bastard who's had a silver spoon in his mouth for years. You have no idea how lucky you are."
A harsh laugh escapes me. "I'm one incident away from saying fuck it and walking out the goddamn door. I don't haveanywhere to go but I could make it work. The only reason I haven't is because the guys don't deserve that. They don't deserve to have their careers tanked because I can't play nice with management."
She stares at me, something shifting in her expression. "I don't think I've heard you say this many words before. Careful, or your contract won't renew."
I grin, and I know it doesn't reach my eyes. "Oh, don't threaten me with a good fucking time."
I walk past her, heading back out to where the boys are waiting near the stage entrance. The sound of the crowd filters through, thousands of voices talking and laughing and waiting for the show to start. The opening act just finished, and now it's our turn. Time to put on the mask, play the part, and give them what they came for.
Jordan looks up as I approach, concern evident on his face. "What was that all about?"
"Apparently after the show I'm getting hitched to sell our new album." I try to keep my voice light, but even I can hear the edge underneath. "Wonderful, really."
Liam's eyes widen. "Really? They're actually going through with that?"
"Yeah. You all jumped on board with this love song shit real fast, and now I have to pretend I'm in love in order to get our fans more interested." I adjust my grip on my drumsticks, the new tattoo on my thumb pulling slightly. "Let's just get out there."
The pain in my chest flares suddenly. I press my palm against my sternum, rubbing at the ache as my breathing quickens. It's worse than it's ever been before, like something vital is being torn away piece by piece.
Rex notices, his expression shifting to concern. "You really should get that checked out, man. That's not normal."
