Chapter 4
Chapter Four
NOAH
The call came early this morning. I was lucky enough to already be awake for once, working on some new material with nowhere to showcase it. More than once I’ve considered joining the ranks of those posting videos of themselves performing online, or going out to a train station and performing live. But that’s just not me.
Instead, I peddle sales for whatever company decides to keep me and lament the paths that could’ve been while occasionally booking smaller local gigs playing bass for anyone who needs it. Because as it turns out, when you get kicked out of Juilliard, a lot of music venues really don’t want you around except the small bars and clubs needing openers.
So yeah. Thornside’s call surprised the shit out of me.
I pull up outside Carnation Studio and spot a rather tall man with red graying hair and a seriously long red beard that makes me wonder if I’ve pulled up to a Viking exhibit instead of a music studio. But he waves me over when our gazes meet, so I park fast and head over with my bass guitar stowed in its case.
I’ll admit one thing: Wes Thornside’s call was fairly out of the blue, but he’d done his research and promised that Aiden Paltier was involved, which anyone would be stupid to turn down outright.
But Designation Outsider kicked him out last night. Or, the news had broken last night and it’d happened a while back. Like anyone with a good ear, I’d been a fan for years. It just seemed really wild that Aiden was already looking for another gig.
Wonder what happened between them all?
Bands break apart all the time, though. It could’ve been anything.
Wes wears a wide smile just visible beneath his graying red beard. He extends a hand. “Thank you for coming on short notice today, Noah. I appreciate it.”
I shake his hand. “Of course. Happy to hear out whatever this is.”
“I promise it’s good.” His eyes light up, and he’s got the tone of a salesman I’ve had to perfect over the years. I recognize it instantly—his excitement is genuine, but he’s nervous. Like someone trying to sell a really good but risky deal.
“Let’s hear it then,” I say.
Wes nods toward the entrance to Carnation Studio. It’s a little one-floor studio with a residence above, tucked between two other brick buildings in the center of town. I’ve been here a few times since leaving Juilliard with my tail between my legs, but only to do bass work for other bands or artists. It’s how Wes must have heard my name and got my number.
“Let’s head inside,” Wes says, then throws another look toward the street and sighs. “Everyone else is mostly here.”
I clock his concern. “Sure thing, lead the way.”
We enter Carnation Studio to the sounds of rock music filtering through speakers. The lobby is small, housing two black leather love-seats, with dark blue walls and posters of bands the world over hanging in frames everywhere. I spot a Designation Outsider poster and can’t help but frown. Bands break up all the time, but that one kind of hurts. I wonder if Wes hasn’t had the time to take it down despite Aiden supposedly being here today.
“Through here.” Wes holds open a door through which is a much larger jam space. Not a studio itself, but a twenty by thirty-foot room lined with chairs, a couch, loads of wires running into amps and plugged into walls all along the room. A drum set from a decent brand sits against the farthest wall with a drummer already sat there, looking up at Aiden Paltier. The two laugh, and it’s only then it sets in.
I know that drummer.
It’s Leo Altis. Formerly of Lost Time, an old favorite band of mine from my twenties. He left Lost Time for health reasons, although I can’t really remember if they ever said what those were.
Leo doesn’t look sick now as he catches us entering the space and raises his chin in greeting. “Afternoon!”
Aiden Paltier follows Leo’s line of sight and waves. “Welcome in!”
It’s a much warmer welcome than I was expecting. Then again, I don’t ever expect too much.
Wes ushers me in front of him. “This is Noah Smith, a fantastic bassist with classical training but also a lot of practical rock experience, too.”
Aiden’s expression is open and we’re already shaking hands, but I can see the tightness in his eyes that betrays the facade he’s trying to hold—and I don’t even know the guy personally. It’s then I realize that Designation Outsider must really have kicked him out yesterday . Damn. That’s cold.
“Happy to have you here, Noah,” he says as he turns to Leo. “Leo Altis, our drummer.”
I reach a hand over the drum set to Leo. “Nice to meet you. Big fan of you both.” Both of them look somewhat uncomfortable with the compliment but they both nod and smile like any trained performer would. “So, are you forming a new band or something?”
Wes claps once. “Precisely, once your singer gets here.”
Weird. Aiden was Designation Outsider’s lead singer and guitarist. He won’t be singing for this?
“Sure thing.” I set my case down and retrieve my bass since Aiden’s got his guitar out, too. “Who’s the singer, then?”
Aiden’s eye twitches, but it’s Wes that answers. “Mia Moore. She’s young, but she’s got the vocals. Just… needs a little discipline, too.”
Mia Moore. The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.
Aiden pulls his guitar around his front and strums idly. “Trusting you, Wes.” He seems so unsure, but this must all be whiplash for him.
I realize something else: all three of us are alphas. There’s a distinct presence the three of us have that Wes doesn’t. Not that it impacts the music we could make together, but the instant clicking of our presence is a nearly tangible thing.
A thing smashed like glass as quick footfalls echo through the lobby of Carnation Studio. A short, very young, very cotton-candy-colored hair young woman rushes through the door, a guitar case in hand, and waving excitedly at Wes, then the rest of us.
“Hi, sorry I’m slightly late—” She stops dead in her tracks, her gaze glued to Aiden. “Oh. Hi.” Then to Leo. Her eyes go wide as she turns to Wes and me. “ Wesson. ”
It’s then I recognize her. Mia Moore. The woman who went viral six or so months ago, and then again last week. She’s got this amazing song, Dreaming Late . The same woman who her followers both praise for musical ability but shame for partying, drinking, and just generally being in her twenties doing what you’re supposed to do in your twenties.
At thirty-three, it’s easy to judge, but I also understand where she’s coming from. And it’s not like I’ve exactly left the partying days behind. But at least I tried to make it through Juilliard first. I can’t imagine Mia’s had much training of any kind at all.
But she can sing. I’ll give her that.
Wes smiles at her in a sarcastically sweet way. “Mia, so happy for you to join us. You’re actually not late.”
“I just got here,” I offer her.
Mia inhales a sigh of relief but her cheeks are still flushing with the brightest blush. “Good. Traffic on 91 was a hot mess.” She then busies herself with laying her case on an open chair, turned away from us. I just see her eyes widen before her face is hidden from view.
She’s kind of cute when she’s embarrassed.
Wes indicates all of us. “Well, welcome in everyone. I’ve brought you here today under Aiden in hopes of seeing if you all fit together. I’ve followed you all individually, and I think you’d make the perfect band.”
My eyes narrow on Wes. I’ve heard his name passed around a lot the last few years, but I don’t know much about him specifically. “Why the sudden band-making?” I toss a nod to Aiden. “You looking to get back at your last one?”
Aiden releases a curt laugh. “Bastards, all of them. But this is Wes’s idea, I can’t take credit.”
“Were you going to go solo?” Leo asks.
Mia turns back to us all then. Her face is no longer flushed with an adorable blush, but her hands do shake around her guitar neck. She’s nervous . Every movement she makes is one I register and memorize without knowing why.
Aiden shrugs. “My previous manager and I had a disagreement about my performance, and I think I’m still good to go. I did want to prove them wrong. Then Wes called and offered a deal I couldn’t turn down. Said he had the perfect bandmates to make something special.”
Wes looks pretty proud of himself, but I’m not convinced. “A former frontman and drummer of two huge bands, a fresh-out-of-viral-fame singer-songwriter, and a bassist kicked out of Juilliard?”
“Kick out of Juilliard?” Leo asks.
“Yes,” I reply. “They weren’t fans of my behavior.” And to be fair, they shouldn’t have been. Partying, excessive drinking, being disruptive. It didn’t really fit their vibe.
“Everyone deserves another chance,” Wes says. At first I think it’s to me only, but then I realize he’s addressing everyone. “You are each incredibly talented and unique, and I do strongly believe that you would make an amazing band together. So much that I’m willing to throw as much capital at this for minimal royalty in return until conditions are met. I care much more about the work you can create together than the pasts you came here with, and I’ll treat you better than your previous managers may have. I just ask that you work with me, which includes trying this out.”
It’s atypical, but I can’t deny Wes has a great sales pitch. And honestly, I’m not doing much these days to begin with. Nothing that drives a passion in me, anyway.
This is an opportunity I can’t let slide. “Well, I’m in.”
“Same,” Leo says. “And screw Designation Outsider, Aiden. They seem like real pricks.”
Aiden doesn’t voice an agreement, but an angry quick lift to his eyebrows says enough. “One album, one tour. Might as well give it a go.”
Career’s already tanking as it is , he doesn’t say, but his expression does.
Mia’s hands have stopped shaking, but every time she makes eye contact with one of us, her blush returns a little. “This is all really new to me, I’ll admit. And you all have a lot more experience in the industry, obviously. But I’m in.”
Wes gives her a hard look that seems out of place. Mia acknowledges it with a nod, and it’s clear that it’s both related to an important issue but also none of our business. Then Wes claps again and throws his arms out wide. “Great—then let’s give this a go. Play something you all know. Show off a little. Feel out the vibes.”
I hate it, but the three of us alphas all turn toward Mia. She’s so much younger that it probably depends on what she knows. There’s an obvious choice of something from Designation Outsider. But I don’t think Aiden would want that.
Thankfully, Mia pulls out something completely out of left field. “Sun Sign Rising by Darkest Night.”
A few years old. Heavy on screams with a wicked drum solo. But also fantastic talent show off for Aiden and I.
I shoot her a grin. “I’m already impressed.”
“Thanks.” Her blush rises higher. “Wes, you got a mic for me?”
“You can hit that?” Aiden asks. Disbelief echoes in his wide eyes. Leo’s beside him doing a much better job of hiding any similar feelings. I’m personally of the mind of letting her show off before deciding what low notes she can and can’t hit.
Mia smirks as Wes hands her a microphone. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Something in my chest flutters at her passive cockiness.
We all plug in our instruments and Leo counts us in. For having never played together before, we meld astonishingly well right away. Before the first verse even starts, there’s this warm feeling of inspiration and rightness in my chest. We exchange glances only a few times to confirm timing of verses and choruses. And then Mia…
Mia does hit the low growls. The screams. Even Aiden looks impressed as he provides the background vocals.
By the time the song is done, Wes’s wide grin spreading from ear to ear is enough confirmation of the feeling I have swelling inside my chest. Like hearing your favorite song for the first time, of falling in love, of riding a natural high.
It’s joy. It’s rightness.
“All right then,” Aiden says after Wes finally winds down his awkwardly-long solo applause. “Damn, Mia. I’m impressed.”
She beams up at him then throws a thumb over her shoulder to Leo. “Leo, you smashed that.”
He nods to me. “Juilliard reject’s got talent.”
I can’t even be mad because what just happened was like magic. Four relative strangers coming together. But that’s what music does. It unites us across all that divides us, draws us together, and gives us an experience to fall into.
And that’s what this felt like: falling into a joy I wasn’t sure existed within music any more.
But… there’s more to it than that. And it’s not until Mia’s blush returns that I realize what that something is.
A wistful hope. A sudden need .
Mia is an omega. An omega in a band of alphas.
“That’s it, then,” Aiden says, “I’m thinking we’ve got a band here. Welcome to Exit Fate.”
Wes raises an approving eyebrow. “Perfect name.”
It is. I’m wondering if Aiden and Leo have sensed Mia, too. I wonder if Aiden realizes that by calling us Exit Fate, he’s welcoming this fate in.
Is it crazy to wonder if we might not become just a band, but a pack, too?
“Let’s come back tomorrow with our best song ideas,” Aiden says. “I want to keep this magic alive.”
“Why not go out tonight and get to know each other more?” Leo asks.
Mia’s almost too eager when she says, “I’m free.”
Aiden shoots the question to me. I nod. “Sure, let’s do it.” I guess I’m eager too. I want to follow this joy, this need, and see where it goes. It’s all I can focus on right now.
Wes shoots another hard look at Mia but doesn’t otherwise interrupt or say anything. Mia rolls her eyes.
Aiden disrupts the moment with genuinely excited energy. I just know that must be a relief after what’s happened to him. “Al’s Wings, tonight. They’ve got good food and drinks, and it’s usually not packed. See you all there later.”
We say our goodbyes for now, but I can’t help feeling that we didn’t quite exit fate so much as barrel right into it today.
Having a promise of a meaningful direction, even one this new, is refreshing beyond words.