Chapter 6 130 Decibels #2
For the next twenty minutes, we bounce ideas back and forth—the aesthetic, the backstory, even potential venues for a debut performance.
I find myself wondering if The Silent Revenant could fit into the showcase I’m planning, though I know Jesse would resist the idea.
Still, it would be the perfect high-profile launch, adding another layer of intrigue to an already high-stakes event.
Even having Jesse there, seeing the reaction firsthand—it might be enough to convince him this could actually work.
“If this takes off, you realize we’d need to record under the Silent Revenant name,” I say, thinking aloud. “Whole new branding, marketing approach, everything.”
Jesse nods slowly, seeming both terrified and intrigued by the idea. “One step at a time. Let’s see if I can even pull this off first.”
“It’s about finding a way to play without all the noise in my head. Without being ‘Jack’s kid’ for once.”
It’s the most engaged I’ve seen Jesse in months, maybe years. For the first time, he seems to see a way forward that doesn’t require him to either live up to or reject his father’s legacy.
Hayley glances at her watch and jumps up. “Shit, I’ve got to go. The sitter’s only until eleven, and the kids will never go to sleep if I’m not there.” She grabs her jacket, dropping a quick kiss on Jesse’s cheek. “Think about it, okay? This could be huge.”
“Don’t thank me,” she laughs on her way out. “I was kidding! But if it works…” She waves as she disappears through the door.
Jesse and I sit in comfortable silence for a minute, the concept of The Silent Revenant hanging in the air like a tangible thing. I’m torn between my duty as his friend and my responsibility as an executive at Stonewall.
Maybe this mask idea is the perfect compromise—giving him the psychological space to perform while fulfilling his contract obligations.
His eyes search mine, expression shifting. “So, how’s it going with Morgan Clemson running Left Turn? Must be interesting for you.”
I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Interesting is one way to put it.”
“I bet,” Jesse smirks. “You’ve been carrying a torch for her since we were teenagers.”
“And she knows exactly how to use it to burn me,” I admit, leaning back in my chair. “She sent a singing panda to my office to ‘declare war’ on Stonewall.”
Jesse bursts out laughing. “Morgan doesn’t mess around.”
“Tell me about it. She’s brilliant and stubborn as hell,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Won’t even consider my offer that would save both our companies time and resources. Left Turn is struggling, but she’d rather fight me than admit her father’s company needs help.”
“And this proposal has nothing to do with wanting to spend more time with her?” Jesse asks knowingly.
“I never said I wasn’t strategic,” I reply with a wink.
Jesse shakes his head, amused.
“It’s called multitasking,” I counter with a laugh. “But honestly, the business part makes sense. I wish she could see that.”
Jesse studies me for a moment. “There’s something else going on though, isn’t there? You seem distracted.”
My smile fades as I think about the email sitting in my inbox. The one I’ve read at least twenty times but haven’t responded to.
“Yeah,” I admit quietly. “Something’s been on my mind lately.”
Jesse sits up straighter, hearing the seriousness in my tone. “What is it?”
I push off the mixing board and begin to pace, the nervous energy compelling me to slip off my leather jacket, dropping it onto a nearby chair.
“A few weeks ago, I got an email from this guy, Liam Rhodes,” I explain, running a hand through my hair. “He says he’s my biological brother. Same mother, different father. He found me through the genetic testing site from the kit Maggie got me for Christmas.”
Jesse’s brow furrows in confusion. “Are you sure this guy’s legit?”
“I made sure,” I say firmly, avoiding specifics.
“But wait,” Jesse frowns, still skeptical. “Aren’t adoption records sealed?”
I nod, trying to keep my voice even as I explain. “They are. My biological mother chose not to have contact—I’ve always respected that.” My jaw tightens involuntarily. “Liam’s in a band.”
“You think that’s what this is about?” Jesse asks.
“If he wanted to connect as family, he wouldn’t have mentioned his music in the first email.”
“It does seem a bit calculated,” Jesse admits.
“Exactly. I’m not about to be manipulated by someone using a DNA test as a shortcut to a record deal.” I run a hand through my hair in frustration.
Jesse eyes me carefully. “Part of you wants to know him, regardless of his motives.”
“Yeah,” I say finally, rubbing the back of my neck and feeling the tension.
We stand in comfortable silence for a minute before Jesse asks, “You want me to stay?”
I give a small shrug. “I’m good. I just need to think.”
“Nothing helps you think better than 130 decibels,” he jokes.
“Ah, you give me too much credit. I haven’t played in a while.” I smile, and he laughs.
“Alright then. Take it out on the drums, man.” He claps me on the back and leaves.
I settle behind the kit, pulling my shirt over my head and letting it drop to the floor. The drumstick feels familiar between my fingers as I twirl it, muscle memory taking over. I center myself, close my eyes, and let the first beat fall.