Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
MIA
A month of touring has passed since that night at the diner. Organically meeting and hanging out with fans has since become a regular occurrence to the point that Wes schedules some meet and greets at a few stops along the way, including tonight.
We’ve just pulled into our spot at the first Maine tour stop and are starting to get ready for the night when my phone rings. I set down my eyeliner and look at my phone. Surprise has me cursing. I expect it to be Sable checking in, so my stomach drops to the floor when I see Mom’s name on the screen.
I did not exactly tell my parents about Knotty Tour.
I pick up the call with shaky fingers. “Hi, Mom!”
“Hi, honey!” She and Dad are on speaker together and speak at the same time. “How’s the tour going?”
My stomach drops lower. “I… uh, how did you know?”
“News travels fast,” Mom says although she doesn’t quite hide the disappointment in her tone. I have to wonder if Sable told them, but I don’t think she would without my permission unless they asked where I’ve been. Which would require them notice me being more missing than normal to begin with.
Dad then asks the question I’ve been dreading ever since we left town for the first tour stop. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
I take a deep breath and watch my reflection in the mirror. Do I tell them the truth or lie? I shake my head. “Honestly, I figured you wouldn’t approve.”
“Honey…” Mom says.
“No, let’s be real.” A sudden confidence comes over me although I have no idea from where. Maybe it’s finally being out on the road doing something I love, or having found a pack, but it blooms quick. “Neither of you approve of this life. This style of music. But I’m good at it and I’m having fun. That should be all that matters.”
“And that does matter,” Mom says.
“But?” I ask as it certainly sounds like there will be one.
I hear the pack’s footfalls around the tour bus. They’re off getting ready too for our set in an hour.
Leo appears in the hallway with a questioning glance my way. “We’re heading out to the ready area. Are you good?”
I put my hand over my phone and say, “Just taking a call. You guys go on ahead, I’ll meet you there.”
He nods, collects the others, and they start heading out. I’m sure I’ll catch up with them soon. This conversation was sure to be quick.
“Frankly, Mia,” Dad interjects in his professor voice so I know I’m screwed. It snaps me back to the conversation after the tour bus door shuts behind my alphas. “I’m not sure how you’re even there. Or where Wes got the money from, as since you’re a filler band I can surely say your band wasn’t paid as much as the others. Plus a tour bus to every stop on the tour. Are you making anything off this?”
I nearly slam the phone down on the small counter. “It’s not about the money! It’s never been.”
“You need to take that into account though?—”
“Yes, Mom, I’m aware life costs money.” My tone is far more dry and frustrated than I should let it be with them. But my parents just don’t understand. They never have.
Dad speaks over Mom. “It’s not about the fame either, though, is it? I’ve seen videos, Mia. The band’s not well-received, and your music is…” He stops short of saying it. He doesn’t need to. Dad must be referring to videos of our first show, the one that went entirely sideways.
Unfortunately for them I’ve got another one to prepare for. “As fun as this is, I need to go. Thank you for checking in. I’m doing great and so is the band. But I do miss you both and home. You should come out to the last show, it’s only a few hours from home. I love you both!”
“ Mia ,” Dad cuts in. “You can still come home. We can get an application through at Juilliard quickly and?—”
“No,” I say firmly despite the tears brimming in my eyes. “I’m already doing what I want to do. Whether you both support it or not is up to you. I don’t want Juilliard. But I do have to go.”
“Mia,” Dad says, “if you don’t come home, you’re cut off. We can’t financially support this. And that you’re touring with Noah Smith of all people…”
This. He says it like touring in a rock band is the most despicable thing ever. To a classically trained music professor, I suppose it might be. And then the comment about Noah. I never heard from Dad or Noah exactly why he was kicked out of Juilliard. Noah had mentioned his partying and “bad behavior,” but he’d not given any specifics.
Still, all of this matters so much to me. I’m not going to stop, especially now.
So I shrug in the mirror. “Then that’s it, I guess. I’m cut off.” I inhale a shaky breath. “You know, all I wanted was for you both to be proud of me I’m still doing music, just not how you wanted. But it’s still music craft. But I’ve got a show soon and I do need to be ready. I hope to see you at the last tour stop.”
I hang up before they can argue. I don’t want to talk anymore. At this point, I hardly want to leave this room. Somehow I have to get off this shitty vibe and perform soon, but within this small conversation doubts have been planted that I’m not sure I can shake. If I leave now, maybe I can catch up to my alphas and rescue today.
Tears fall down my cheeks. I carefully dab them away without ruining my make-up. Once I’m finally ready for the show I text Sable: Hey girl. My parents found out about the band and Knotty Tour. It didn’t go well. I’m cut off. I told them about the last tour stop being close to home and hope they show up. But honestly today has been utter shit and I’m wondering if they’ve been right all along. Just wanted to update you. I hope you’re well!
It takes Sable all of ten seconds to read and reply: Screw ‘em. They don’t see how you’ve blossomed with Exit Fate—but they will. So ignore them for now but know they love you. They’re proud of you even if they won’t say it. They’re your parents after all. Love you, girl.
I text her back. Love you, too. And I hope they are proud.
To be fair, there are a ton of reasons for them to worry. But just one reason to be proud: Their daughter is doing what she loves. Isn’t that enough?
I head out into the main space of the tour bus and am nearly out the door when another figure steps onto the first step of the stairs onto the bus. I back up a step, thinking it’s one of my alphas or Wes even, but it’s not.
A man in a Designation Outsider shirt with a black vest thrown over it and tattoos down both forearms looks up at me with a wickedly charming smile.
One that doesn’t work on me given his abrupt appearance.
Something has me retreating further back into the bus before he’s even said a word.
“I think you’ve got the wrong bus,” I say and nod toward the rest of the parking lot.
The man extends a hand. “No, pretty sure this is right. You’re Mia Moore, correct?”
“Yes.” I glance outside the window. None of my alphas are in sight. If this is some crazy fan wild enough to board our tour bus, I’m on my own. My gut churns.
He must notice because his smile warms and he extends a hand. “Where are my manners? My apologies. I’m Jordan, Designation Outsider’s band manager.”
Breath leaves my lungs. Excuse me? “Aiden’s not here.”
“Oh, I know.” Jordan walks a bit further inside the tour bus so that he’s fully up the stairs and able to lean against the table as if he’s right at home. “I was hoping to talk to you, actually. I hope you’ll forgive how rather informal this is. I wasn’t sure if Wesson Thornside was here somewhere, or…”
He trails off, but his intent is clear as day. He was hoping Wes wasn’t here. Or the guys. And given how quickly he stepped in here after my pack left means he’s been watching for a while.
We’d made it this long without running into anyone from Designation Outsider. So why was their manager here now?
“How can I help you, Jordan?” I ask. “Do you need Wes’s number? Need me to pass along a message to Aiden?” I’m sure he blocked your number long ago.
Jordan inhales sharply and raises his hands. “Right, no. I don’t need those things. It’s you I want to talk to.”
Alarm bells go off in my head. “About?” If Aiden knew Jordan was here right now he’d lose his shit—as he rightfully should.
Jordan makes a show of looking around our tour bus. “I’m of the belief that Exit Fate is temporary. You’re good, but you’re a momentary amusement that many are humoring. But you , Mia. You’ve really got talent. And it just so happens I’m in fresh need of that. So I was hoping to make you an offer.”
My eyes narrow. “Designation Outsider’s doing just fine without Aiden. They’re here on tour.”
Jordan shrugs. “Yes, that’s true. But no one matches what Aiden brought—except you.”
My heart drops. “You want me to join Designation Outsider.” I’m pretty sure him even having this conversation without Wes present is some sort of degree of illegal. It’s also pointless. Which is actually insane to think considering how long I was a fan of Designation Outsider. Imagine what could have been if Jordan had called me first instead of Wes.
But the answer was simple. “No.”
Jordan inclines his head. “Mia, please. Aiden… he’s great, but he’s on his way out. Leo Altis is one bad day away from another health crisis. And Noah Smith is?—”
“An amazing bassist and close personal friend,” I cut in. “They all are. Please leave.” I’m rejecting my favorite band of all time’s band manager, and his offer to join that very same band. It’s insanity. But it’s also never felt more right .
“Mia, your talent deserves to be elsewhere,” Jordan continues. “Somewhere where you shine all on your own, and where there is an actual future.”
Jordan is so transparent it makes me sick. “It’s not my fault you can’t replace Aiden. But I do thank you for kicking him out so that Exit Fate can exist.”
Jordan’s eyes flash with anger. He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again. After a little chuckle he says, “Please give it some more thought, Mia. You’re young and have so much future ahead of you. I’ll contact you tomorrow.”
“Please don’t.” I point to the door. “Leave. I have a set to get ready for with my band.” And a manager to inform of this insanity.
“Sure thing, Mia,” Jordan says. I decide I hate the way he says my name, like we’re already close friends in business together. “Break a leg, as it were.”
Jordan disappears between the tour buses parked in the lot. My heart pounds in my chest and my mind whirrs with thoughts.
Knowing who I just rejected, knowing that his statements even partially entwine with my parents’ worries…
Tears sting my eyes but I refuse to cry—if only so I don’t have to redo my make-up. Jordan could sky-rocket my career. That I knew for sure given what he’s done for Designation Outsider and the other bands on his roster. But I also know he treats his bands like shit. Aiden is just one example, and what he did to Aiden is bad enough.
Wes saw my talent first. And he saw it for what it is, not as a result of needing a new lead singer or guitarist, and certainly not as a way to get back at Aiden.
I have to tell Wes this happened. But I really don’t want to tell the band. Not right now before we’re due on stage to perform, and not tonight either, when we’re supposed to be taking it easy.
I do have to tell them, though.
I pocket my cell phone and head out to the ready area. My alphas are there grabbing water and snacks, and generally attending to their pre-show rituals. They look so happy and relaxed, so ready to perform, that I decide this isn’t the time.
Tomorrow. I’ll tell them tomorrow.
It’s the right call. Our set is amazing and goes off without issue. We nail every song and my voice holds out despite the extra effort I put into some of the lines. Like everything inside me builds up during those moments of the song and I scream and growl more than is written. It’s an exorcism of everything: anger at my parents and at myself for constantly being a source of disappointment, anger at Jordan, and a heavy dose of grief for what was once my high regard for Designation Outsider.
I let it all out and I leave it on the stage, the only other safe space besides my pack’s arms and Sable’s company I’ve ever known.