Omega Rock (Knotty Tour Omegaverse #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

MIA

It’s when Brett hits his tenth wrong note of the evening that I know this show is going downhill fast. My songs aren’t even that complicated! But really, was there any more uphill after last week’s video went viral? Three million views across all the social media apps on that video, millions more on the other two that went viral, and suddenly people are banging down this venue’s doors to see me. I mean, not really banging down the doors, but close enough.

And Brett fucking fucks it up on bass.

Davis then gets off-beat with his drums and I try hard not to sigh into the mic as I finish out the song . My viral hit, Dreaming Late.

Maybe I should have booked an acoustic set with Seth, the bar’s manager, for tonight instead. Or used background tracks with electronic instruments like the tracks on my videos. But no, Seth said his clientèle only like live music that’s lively—and has drums. Very specific.

Surely if Seth had met Davis he’d have said no to the drums.

Every time I go out to play a live gig I book different musicians. It’s never the same drummer or bassist. And maybe that’s the problem. Unfortunately, I can barely afford the gas to get to some of these venues, let alone pay to keep people on retainer. That’s what a label and manager should be paying for, but Wes only signed me six months ago. And, yes, three viral videos is a great sign for increasing success. But not fully enough , apparently, for my manager to pay for those things just yet.

It’s this stress—and that of hoping no one posts videos of this poor performance—that twist any amount of pride I might have had free from my body.

I bow and give thanks to Brett and Davis, then hop off stage to the sounds of Sable, my pink-haired best friend, clapping and hollering.

“WOO! Go Mia!” she shouts from where she sits at the front of the stage, clad in a black skirt, black Designation Outsider t-shirt, and high-heeled black boots. She looks like a walking 2010’s Hot Topic ad.

I flash her a beaming smile. Sable’s always had my back ever since we met in fourth grade and decided, upon being desk mates, that we’d be best friends forever. How true that was turning out to be.

I throw my arms around her and she swings me around. For being just as short as I am, there’s a whole lot of strength in her 5’5” body. “Thank you, Sable.”

Sable smiles wider, if that’s possible. “You were amazing as always. And Brett and Davis weren’t too bad. Were you, guys?” She asks them as they pass by. They just give a little wave and head for Seth to get paid. I won’t see them again. Sable leans in and groans out, “Even I could’ve played bass better.”

I chuckle. “If you knew how, I’d hire you.”

She elbows me playfully in the side and hands me a cup of ice water. What I really want is a whisky neat, but I know Sable won’t allow it. Which honestly is for the best. I don’t have the greatest… control, or reason, when it comes to alcohol. Especially lately.

Instead, I sip the water and relish the way it feels on my throat after performing for an hour. My music and the songs I cover is rock, heavy, and generally involves more screams than runs. I’ve gotten good at doing it all correctly and not destroying my throat, but even still. Better to hydrate and rest after.

Seth appears with a plate of fries on the house. He’s wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt that reveals full tattoo sleeves on both arms. “Thank you, ladies, for visiting tonight. And to you, Mia, for performing.”

I flash him a dazzling smile. “Thank you for the opportunity. I really appreciate the chance.”

Seth chuckles and rubs his beard. “The chance to have you play here?”

He turns and gestures toward the lively bar. There are a lot of people in here tonight, and all of them knew the words to Dreaming Late . It’s surreal—almost as surreal as Brett and Davis not really practicing beforehand. And like yes, sure, I’m just a local act. But even still.

I wave him off. “I’m just me. Thank you again, Seth.”

Seth inclines his head with a rather fatherly look. “You’re not just you, Mia. You do have talent, and I’d love to have you back any time. Although maybe with a real band behind you.”

Sable laughs and claps Seth on the shoulder. “You’re not half-bad, Seth.”

He gives her a roguish wink before walking away.

I lean in to Sable. “I’m sorry, was that a wink? ”

Sable’s cheeks flush red. “Literally just met the guy.”

I sip my water again. “I don’t know, might be worth it. He seems nice.”

Sable giggles nervously, and that’s how I know she’s for sure into Seth. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll drop him my number.”

I nod toward Seth who’s nearly made it back behind the bar to serve customers. “Better do it quick.”

Her eyes go as wide as her grin. “Should I?”

“Yes, go!” I shoo her away from the table and watch her hurry up to the bar.

Never once have I seen her so excited to be with anyone . I smile as she whips out her phone to get his number and wonder what relationships must be like for non-omegas. Sable is a beta, but she doesn’t have a pack, and I’m pretty sure Seth isn’t an alpha. But me…

I sip my water again. I was designated an omega as a teenager and have been on heat suppressants ever since. They’ve started to wane with their effectiveness—or maybe that’s the increased alcohol usage as of late—but with them, I’ve managed to keep my life mostly functional. No distracting heats aside from the first, no alphas following me around. But it’s also meant no scent matches, no alpha for me, nor a whole pack of them.

It’s a little lonely, if I’m being honest. Especially since the world is promised to omegas who find their matches.

But it’s fine. Because as much as that life calls to me, music calls louder.

A pack of my own would be everything, but I dream of succeeding in music. Of finding the perfect band. Of touring and playing gigs and making music videos. Music is joy and heartbreak. It’s therapy and catharsis. It’s storytelling and empathizing—one of the few things that can genuinely connect people everywhere.

So yes, maybe at twenty-two I’m dreaming a bit late to be considered for most of these things. All the bands I grew up listening to started in their late teens and were fully established by now, including Designation Outsider. I can’t even count how many times I’ve seen them, how deeply their music has been etched into my veins and soul. Or how many times I’ve fantasized about kissing their leader singer, Aiden. Everything about that man feels like a magnetic force pulling me to him.

Designation Outsider was established by the time the guys were eighteen. They started touring by twenty. And now they’re on top of the rock world in their thirties.

They’re living the absolute dream, one my parents find to be a complete waste of time compared to my father’s training and teaching at Juilliard. My parents would rather I be in college, not chasing a few hundred every few weeks at dingy bars on the wrong side of town.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I check my phone. Messages from both Mom and Dad are there, asking how the gig went. But even through text only I can hear the dryness in their tones.

They want to know if I made anything off it. If something is coming from me going viral and soft-launching my career. Well, the video of me strumming along to Dreaming Late in the stairwell of my apartment building went viral enough to land me a talent manager. Doesn’t that prove I have a chance?

I catch sight of Sable’s short pink hair ducking through the crowded bar with panicked eyes. By the time she makes it to me her breath is so shallow, all she can do is shove her phone in my face. “Look.”

I blink and grab her phone. “What, it’s just a phone number, right? Or did Seth already hit you with a?—”

My eyes go wide. My stomach sinks.

Designation Outsider Front Man Aiden Paltier Leaves Band.

Aiden Paltier Kicked Out From Designation Outsider.

Aiden is the Real Outsider—Ousted From Band.

A dozen news stories from across the rock world. All of them wondering what the future of my favorite band is now that their lead guitarist and lead singer are gone so suddenly.

I look up at Sable with my eyes still wide. “What happened ?”

She shakes her head and takes back her phone. She starts scrolling wildly with one finger while holding the phone in her other palm. “No idea, looks like no one knows. Maybe he’s on drugs or something.”

I level her with a look but don’t say more. It’d be so cliché to think that. Or maybe that’s just me being way too involved with a stranger’s personal life, even if they’re a celebrity. Especially since they’re a celebrity. Who really knows what happens in the lives of all these stars?

Sable sits back. “Well, another one bites the dust. I always hate to see bands break up. It’s like your favorite TV show getting canceled. First Lost Time, now Designation Outsider. Almost as bad as?—”

Sable goes on but I tune her out. Not because I’m not interested in sharing in this trauma with her, but because I pull out my own phone and can’t stop looking at the photos of Aiden that these rock news sites keep using.

Some are old, from when Designation Outsider just started as teens. Others are from far more recent live shows, where Aiden looks paler, thinner, and almost in pain while playing guitar.

What happened? I ask the photos, as if Aiden would jump out of them and answer me. As if I had any right to those answers as just a fan. But something deeper pulls at my chest, a hurt that doesn’t belong there, or to me.

It’s grief, yes. As a fan of Designation Outsider, even if they don’t fully break up, their music will never be the same without Aiden’s deep voice and brilliant guitar riffs.

But it’s also something I can’t fully place. A mix of concern and sadness for someone I don’t actually know. It’s round, and large, and sticky inside my gut and I don’t know what to do with it.

It’s how I felt when Leo Altis was kicked out of Lost Time, and their music changed forever, too.

So I close my phone and sit back as well. “Sable, I think we both could really use a drink now.” I hope she’ll acquiesce. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings tonight. The disappointment from my “band” and now this loss. It feels like a stupid thing to be upset over, especially with the latest viral video still a hopeful sign, but the emotions gnaw away at me regardless.

Sable holds my gaze for a moment with a wrinkled brow, but then she slowly nods. “ One. Just one. Because fuck, this is a tragedy.”

She hops off her chair and dances back across the bar to Seth. As she goes, I wonder if it’s fate that both me and Aiden Paltier are both having rough nights in the rock music world.