3. Jez
CHAPTER 3
Jez
Viv made sure we stopped at my favorite coffee place on the way to the train, and kept me busy and distracted on the ride to Reading as we discussed baby names. Her Alphas had told her they wanted her to choose names, and with the legit complaints she’d had of feeling so out of control in her body since pregnancy began, I appreciated them giving her complete control of something she could throw her energy behind.
After the short ride over to Reading, my nerves bundled back up and started a jittery dance. The rain had stayed off and it was a muggy day, which made me feel more on edge as though it could downpour any second and I’d left my umbrella behind.
“What if I don’t get on with this band? What if it’s someone who hates my music? What if I’ve never heard of them and I have to act like I have?”
Ash’s agency has dozens of bands on their roster these days, and I didn’t want to further my concerns by researching all their clients, so the surprise will either make or break me.
“What if they’re all intolerably hot and end up being your pack and you guys have wild, passionate sex every single night of tour?”
“Haha, that’s absolutely hilarious.” I make a gagging sound. She knows I don’t want a pack. At least, not at this point in my life, though I can’t imagine ever wanting that. She says it’s because I’ve been on suppressants since my first heat at sixteen; I say it’s because I am a self-aware control freak and being in any kind of romantic relationship seems so dangerous to me. How do you ever trust the other side to be loyal and unconditional once you’ve shown your true self? My brain can’t comprehend wanting to give the reins of myself over to someone else.
We enter the building that Knightley Entertainment took over three years ago, a stately home-turned complex, complete with gorgeously-tended flower gardens that are multihued and beautiful even now, at the start of autumn. We walk up the dahlia- and hydrangea-lined path and the receptionist buzzes Ash to say we’ve arrived.
“Third floor. The lift’s currently being serviced I’m afraid—are you okay with stairs?” She eyes Viv’s protruding belly. Despite her professed concerns about losing bodily autonomy, Viv has shown no signs of slowing down physically, which to me is pure witchcraft.
“Not at all!” Viv says brightly. She links her elbow with mine but I narrow my eyes at her.
“Viv, you are not walking me up there if you don’t have to. C’mon. You’re cooking three in here.” I eye a comfy seat in the lounge area and thrust my arm and finger out. “Go. Stay.”
“Girl, shut up, let’s go. You’re going to be late and that’s not the impression you want to make.”
A few minutes later we’ve ascended more steps than I think is good for Viv. But once we’re outside the door with Ash’s name engraved in a gold-plated plaque, I’m grateful she’s here. We stop, we look, and we listen.
“She’s been making waves as a singer-songwriter all on her own, with one— one —friend helping her, playing the role of manager as far as she can take her. And if I gave either of you an option, you’d be choosing from a narrower viewpoint. I’m watching over all the industry. You know that. You’ve got to trust me by now.”
It’s Ash’s voice. I goggle at Viv but she’s calm as can be, nodding along. I move toward the door but she throws her hand up, then gestures at her watch. Okay, we’re two minutes early.
A man’s voice replies. “We do trust you, or we wouldn’t be here. You know that, Ash. But I’ve already told you how this is going to go and you?—”
“Because you’ve made that decision. Not because you’ve waited to see what organically happens.”
“I don’t like organic food. Means they’ve not picked out all the bugs yet,” comes an Australian accent.
Something quivers in my gut.
“Thought you were used to eating weird shit like that,” says yet another man’s voice. I strain my ears to hear the fifth person in the room but it’s such a mumbly voice.
“Whatever. You guys don’t have a choice in this, and you’ve signed your lives over to my direction,” says Ash with a grin in his tone. Someone groans. “I’m kidding, but you’ve gotta know I’m thinking far ahead. I don’t do rash. Each of your three tours has gone better than the last, correct? And far better than the ones you did before you knocked on my door?”
No reply but I expect there’s some nodding. Or maybe rude gestures.
Viv nods at me and as I put my hand to the door to knock, it slowly swings open like it was never pulled all the way shut to begin with.
Viv and I stand and stare into the room at Ash seated behind a large mahogany desk, with two sofas facing each other in front, overflowing with four male bodies.
My eyes whiz from one face to another then back to Ash before my gut—which knew who the band was before my brain—decides to heave up my coffee.
A chasm of fire and What The Fuck opens inside me.
“The woman of the hour!” says Ash, arms extended as he stands and walks around the desk. Before I know it, he’s leading me by the hand into an arm chair not visible from the open door, but facing the rest of the room. There’s one on the opposite side, which he walks Viv over to. She curtsies at the room at large but my saucer-eyes don’t leave hers and try their best to have a full-on conversation. She’s smiling so hard her jaw looks about to shatter. I replay what she said to me this morning when we boarded the train:
These are kind of desperate times, Jez. I know I’ve slowed down with work because of the sickness and low energy. I’ve only got three tiny shows lined up for us in the next two months and then Christmas becomes a black hole. You need this. I will not let my personal life cause any skips or stumbles in your career. This has come at the most perfect time.
And my reply:
But I don’t get a choice. I don’t get any say in this. It’s an offer, but an unknown. I am not a fan of unknowns, and Viv knows it.
She’d only smiled warmly, her dimples and green eyes softening the blow. Your choice was to say yes or no to this offer. You said yes, so that’s your choice taken. Not that I need to remind you, but you need to level up, and even if I wasn’t in this condition, I wouldn’t be able to get you much further. Your talent is beyond me, girl. It’s in the stars, and I’m firmly planted in Bristol.
Yes. Working with Ash will be a dream come true. Touring for four months—seeing the world, meeting fans, expanding my reach. All a dream come true. It lessens my anxiety. But my frustration only grows.
Why, oh hell why THIS band, of all bands. But it’s now clear why he kept their identity under wraps. He needed to make sure they’d accept me first.
For a stupid hot second I imagined it might be Arcadia Echo, that their opener for their winter/spring tour had pulled out. Or even Glowsail, who I know is also repped by Ash’s company. I mean, I tend not to care who manages artists I can’t fucking stand, so I’d had no earthly idea that Fable on Fire was managed by Knightley Entertainment these days.
And yet, here we are. Me, and the band who had me disqualified from the Ten to One televised talent contest three years ago to this month. Who made it so that for an entire nine months to follow, I couldn’t get a single gig off the press package and my demo. Who forced me to write and record a new album in three months to distance myself from the me I was prior to the Ten to One debacle where Fable on Fire rejected me.
Why in the holy fuck would Ash think their crowd would stand to see me? Why does he think any of my fans who might attend would be comfortable being surrounded by their fans?
I try to stay away from comments on social media as much as I can, but I know rumors have followed me these past three years. My hardcore fans have a fervent though fairly restrained hatred for Fable, knowing what they did to me. It was never publicly declared because I’d never even made the televised portion of the show. But somehow word got around to one fan, and then they all knew. Same with Fable’s fans. They didn’t make some grand announcement that they’d had a little indie singer-songwriter called Jesamine Jacobs booted from Ten to One . But somehow word got out, and some had even come searching for me on social media to leave snide comments like, Who did she think she was, trying this out in front of our boys?
Some of my fans argued back then that Fable had made me stronger by saying no, and forced me to write more material and get it out quickly, which they adore. But most people—including myself—don’t see it that way.
Viv looks irate, but she’s hiding it well. Which makes me feel worse. How can she sit there with a smile plastered on her lips, hands in her lap like this is all perfectly acceptable? I almost feel betrayed. But I shove this away—she had no idea it was Fable, and she’s due all the rest she can get. Still, I feel cornered like a rabid animal. Cornered, and trapped in a room getting smaller by the second.
And only two days ago I was warning Ash about my condition.
I drill my gaze into him, though I feel everyone else’s eyes stab me like a thousand swords.
“Thank you for seeing us today, Ms Jacobs, Ms Wyatt.” He nods to me and Viv. “May I introduce the members of?—”
“I know who they are,” I say carefully. My hands grip the armrests like I’m on a roller coaster about to go from zero to sixty.
I look at each of their faces. Holden Pearce, who emigrated to the UK from Australia a decade ago. Blond, tall even for an Alpha, athletic, a perma-smile on his tan face and blue eyes that look like sunny skies. He’s smiling at me even now, though God knows what he’s thinking.
Nico Fiore, the only one I’d met before the talent show. He started out in a band with Enzo Flynn before Enzo joined Arcadia Echo. I think they’re either cousins, or grew up together in Bologna. Not sure which. He’s not smiling, but his dark hair and green eyes look thoughtful, open to possibility. Or maybe he’s just daydreaming that he’s on a beach with a beer in his hand instead of in this office with me.
The thought of a beach makes me desperately want to open the window, but at least Viv made sure the door stayed open.
I wore a knee-length halter dress under a jean jacket, and ankle boots for the meeting, so pinching the top of the dress away from my skin isn’t the best look. I worm my arms out of the jacket and place it around the back of the chair for something to do as I gather a round of ammunition that I hope I don’t have to unleash from my mouth.
I look over to Thomas Ashcroft, the infamously Oxford-educated bassist, who is even more infamous for basically never speaking. On the set of Ten to One , where Fable on Fire were one of three sets of judges, Thomas didn’t say a word. Nodded, shook his head, that was it. It’s one thing to be quiet but something about his well-known and accepted silence really irks me. I know it’s the music industry, not the conversation industry, but it feels like it’s all a mask, a persona he’s chosen. Though, I suppose, everyone in any entertainment industry wears a mask of some kind. He’s not mute—he has been known to mumble. But it feels dishonest to me somehow.
Then, I turn to Kai Hartley, the heavily-tattooed, tousled-hair, Isle of Wight-born lead singer and guitarist. The outspoken one. The one who looked me in the eye and said I wasn’t strong enough to survive in this industry, then turned away and told the other judges they should know that I struggled with a health condition that meant it was better for me to not be forced into situations that might compromise my well-being.
And then slated my songwriting skills to boot.
I still don’t know which of those reasons hurt more. I also still don’t know how he learned a very private fact I worked hard to keep hidden. While the fans found out about my removal from the show, mercifully, the reason remained secret.
I didn’t show my face on any stage for almost nine months after. That’s how long it took to re-grow my courage from the wreckage.
The only thing I came away from that time period feeling positive about was that at least Fable hadn’t spread the truth of my condition. They did enough to stall me out by crushing me with rejection. I guess they felt their work was done.
From across the room I can feel the tension in Viv’s body. And maybe it’s only for her that I say what I do.
“I would love this idea to work out. I’ve already agreed, fully aware that I wouldn’t know until today who the band was. Maybe that was so you could place me elsewhere if these guys refused. But since we’re all here, I can only accept that this is a professionally-approached business deal, and we’re all going to be adults.”
My voice is cold, but soft somehow. I look into Ash’s gaze and wonder if I see a struggle there. His jaw hardens and relaxes for a second, then he leans against the front of his desk, hands propping him up and legs crossed at the ankles.
“Indeed. You guys are all adults, and all professionals, and if I say I believe this will benefit both of you, I mean it. I’m not in the business of digging a grave for myself or my clients. I know you’ll have questions, and I want you to come straight to me first when they come up.”
Nobody nods, except Holden, who still looks a million miles away. The tension in the room is enough to make me feel like I’ll choke. But maybe I’m saved by the more intense sensation of wanting to tear into all of them and storm out and tell Ash to stick his deal up his arse and twirl on it.
But I love what I do. And I love Viv. And I can’t let us down, or disrespect all she’s done to get me here. That’s the bottom line.
“Is that clear?” Ash says, in a polite but firm tone. He looks at each of us in turn. Now we nod.
Slowly, Kai gets to his feet, and the oxygen in the room seems to disappear. He stands with his arms crossed.
How can this work? How can I survive four months with these guys, sharing a bus, sharing hotels, sharing cars? Sharing a stage?
Wait. I can do this. I want this dream more than I hate them. That has to be true, and besides, we’ll never be on stage at the same time. We don’t have to socialize. Sure, we might have to hit some parties and press events simultaneously but we don’t have to be arm-in-arm. Just appear friendly.
I can act, can’t I? After all, every gig I’ve ever played, I’ve had to act like the press of the crowd below or before me doesn’t make me want to run to the sea and inhale.
I can do this.
I stand with the intention of holding out my hand toward Kai, but Holden leaps to his feet first and steps in front of him, extending his hand to me.
“How ya going, Jez? It’s been awhile. Sorry about last time. So great to see what you’ve done since then. The new single is an absolute cracker!” His thick accent and friendly demeanor loosens the tightness in my chest. But to be honest, it was only ever Kai I’d butted heads with. Kai the mouthpiece. And what a mouth.
What a piece of work, too.
“Can we put the past behind us? We’re excited to have you on tour,” Holden says. His glance slides back to Kai, as though watching a rabid animal he might have to lure quickly away.
I shake Holden’s warm hand and stare into his eyes, caught by the sudden glint in the bright ocean-blueness of them. He really does seem harmless. And friendly. And genuine. Which surprises me.
These past three years I’ve made a mental dartboard of their faces, but really, it was only Kai who said the words that ended my short-lived tenure on the contest.
And yet—can “ we ” put the past behind us? The fuck.
“It might be in the past for you, but it’s my every day. It’s still in my present. Knowing I could be so much further along. Knowing that you spoke to the show runner, told them my secret, and had me removed. Discrimination at its worst but I guess that’s okay because I’m just an Omega, right? Just an Omega playing girlie songs you didn’t want competing with your serious man-rock, right?”
The room falls silent, and Viv gives a nervous giggle. “You guys, maybe we need to speak alone, just Jez, Ash, and Kai and I.”
Ash pauses before nodding at Fable. Thomas, Nico, and a reluctant Holden leave the room and close the door. I feel even more stifled, somehow, with fewer people but Kai being one of them. I turn my flushed face on him.
“You did the shittiest thing ever. Are you even going to admit it?”
“I did it to protect you,” he growls. “Because nobody with your condition needs to be surrounded by a crowd every day in life. And if you reached the level of popularity you were aiming for, it would make your life hell.”
“Bullshit! You did it because you just didn’t like me! You told your bandmates you hated my music, my style, my whispery—what’d you call it, ‘feathery fairy voice.’ Like it wasn’t good enough for you so it wasn’t good enough for anyone else.”
“We were judges on a contest! It was all about our opinions!”
“Oh, so you really loved the guy who refused to sing anything but Broadway ballads?” I snap.
“Hey, he ended up fronting that pop band, he was pretty good.”
“He was but you can’t tell me that that was your style! And where is he now, your winning protégé?” I ask. I note that Ash and Viv are watching us like a table tennis match, but I’m glad they’re staying out. I need this as much as air.
Kai holds my glare, his fingers curled into fists at his sides. He knows where the winner went. Back to university to become an equity analyst or something. He’d decided he didn’t like all the media attention and crumbled when his affair with a much older Beta in a pack came to light.
“That’s right,” I say in the void of Kai’s response. “I guess we can’t all be such pillars of strength and perfection under the spotlight. But you at least gave him a chance. You didn’t say his nerves would ruin his career. You didn’t cut him off at the knees before he even got to perform.”
Kai has no response, but I swear smoke puffs from his ears.
“You think you’re going to prove us wrong and somehow earn our respect.” He says it as a statement, but it feels like a threat. Like, Sure, come at us, little girl. Good luck.
I look at him a moment, willing sudden surprise tears to back the hell off. Thankfully, they don’t drop. I’m grateful my body does one thing I need it to, anyhow.
I shake my head ever so slightly and stare back. “Go fold yourself in half.”
Ash blows out a breath he was holding and taps the desk. “Right. That went well.” He raises his voice a notch. “Okay you lot, come back in here.”
I clear my throat as Holden, Nico, and Thomas file back in. And with the quiet snicker from Nico, I gather they all heard us anyhow.
“To answer your earlier question, Holden. I’ve been hard at work. And I’m not stopping anytime soon,” I say, my eyes still glued to Kai’s mossy ones.
Viv gives a mild cough so I step this up a bit. “And how have you guys been? I didn’t see you at the festival last weekend.”
Another cough from Viv. I don’t mean this as a stab. Or maybe I do. All the biggest bands hope for an invite to Summer’s End, and I don’t know the reason for Fable not attending. They might’ve had another gig or recording session booked, or personal time booked off, or maybe other bands were just invited in favor of them this year. They have, after all, played the last several years that I know of.
Maybe … they’re on their way out.
In which case, do I really want to be on tour with them?
But no. They’re still a massive household name. They still have new music coming out. They’re far from over. Sigh. Just my defensiveness.
“No, we weren’t there. We’ve been playing a lot of one-off shows in America this summer and fancied a break to start writing new material,” says Holden. “Been going really well!”
“And we weren’t invited,” says Nico, his mouth a flat line. Kai shoots him a thunderous look and Thomas winces, the most expression he’s given so far. A ripple of unease runs through the room, mostly from Ash, who closes his eyes for longer than natural.
“Okay, can we just address the thing no one wants to touch?” I say. “Not that I care what your fans think of you guys, but don’t you care? They’re going to demand to know why you’ve brought me along when you clearly despise me so much.”
“What makes you think this was our idea?” Kai growls.
I know it wasn’t, given what I heard outside the door. For a moment in my anger, I forgot about that.
“Your fans don’t overlap much, I’m sure,” says Ash slowly. “But can we not assume they’re such vastly different demographics? Fable’s tend to be thirties and older, slightly disenfranchised, book-smart, aware of current affairs, politics, economics. A lot of gamers, strangely.” He shoots a look at one of the guys but I can’t tell which one. “And the majority are male.”
The band all nods slowly as if this is a given.
“And you, Jesamine, your fans tend to be?—”
“Teeny-bopper girls who think glitter and whispers are a whole identity.”
“Hartley, enough! I’ve had enough of the attitude!” snarls Ash. He pounds a fist on the edge of the desk. “Look, you are now both my clients. That means I work for you, and want your careers to succeed as much as my own. Arcadia was my main focus, and I’m still their manager; you guys are next in line,” he says toward the Fable guys. “I chose carefully when I chose Jez, just like with you. And that’s final.”
The stern tone is not to be fucked with, so I zip my mouth.
“And you, Ms Jacobs—I see so much promise in the talent and persistence you’ve already shown. You’ve been hard at work for seven years on this career. That’s a serious and stable baseline. I want to take you further, and after speaking with Viv, I know that’s what you and she both want. And I want you to know I believe your condition should have no bearing on your ability to do so.”
I look to Viv at her tightly-drawn mouth and wide, hopeful eyes, and I simmer down.
“I will give you this one chance to back out,” says Ash softly, looking at me, holding my gaze. He pulls himself up to standing, arms dangling free. “I wanted to see what your immediate reactions would be to each other. You haven’t physically attacked the guys yet, so that’s a good sign.” A small smile from him begrudgingly draws my own. “I believe in you, Jez. I believe in all Viv’s done for you. I’m asking—not will you trust Fable. Will you trust me ?”
I look at Thomas, Nico, and Holden, who have varying degrees of, This is mad but let’s hope for the best written on their faces, while Kai’s looks more ready to erupt with a furious roast of my character.
But my thoughts rush back to the private comment he shared as I walked off the stage at Ten to One , after he announced his feelings on my reliability. Let’s not make this personal. This really isn’t about music. I just don’t like the odds of someone like you surviving in the cutthroat business that this is. And you should hear that now, before you get too deep into waters you can’t swim in.
That’s what cut me. I could’ve somehow handled his hatred of me or my music or my voice or my face. But what got me was that he believed I wasn’t already deep in. That it wasn’t already my life.
That it wasn’t too late to back out and walk away.
It was too much like Tristan, my ex. Too much like the love of my life telling me I could never be anything more than a passing acquaintance. Because Fable on Fire had been my favorite band until that day. And the joy I’d felt when I knew they’d be one of my three judges on the show was like a rainbow shooting out of a unicorn’s horn.
To then be crushed. And my love turned to revulsion. To resentment. To brokenness.
Because that’s what hate is, in the end. And I embraced it. And made it my reason to push even harder. But unlike some, I refuse to give them credit for my hard work. I will never say, Their rejection forced me to go deeper.
No. My pain did that. I did that.
My words come slowly. “Viv and I had planned for one of her contacts from the Artists Guild to hook me up, and keep me running until after her maternity break. But it has been eating at me.” I turn to Viv and frown. “I can’t expect anyone to be as supportive to me as she’s been, and have asked more from her than I should. I know it’s time to step out and try something different.”
Heading out on the road, on a huge tour like this without Viv might kill me. But doing it with my sworn enemies? I honestly don’t know how I and my mental health will handle it.
Viv speaks up at last. “I’ve vowed to help up-and-coming artists, Jez. From day one. You knew that. Ash pinched you from the crowd. You’re up there now. He wants to bring you to a new level, and you won’t need what I can offer. Someone else will, after the triplets are born. But as far as best friends, girl, I am not going any-fucking-where. I’m a call away, always. Your talent is beyond me, Jez, and the world needs to see it.”
This is Viv’s way of saying to the others, Fuck with her and I’ll find you.
I swallow tightly, my throat pinched and my breath coming in short bursts. I sit up straighter in my chair to give my lungs more space.
How can I turn this down? Maybe I can beg Ash to open for someone else, even a much smaller tour. I’d rather play for smaller crowds than Fable’s crowds. But Ash isn’t stupid—he’s a success because he follows the industry with a microscope.
Viv stands, probably because her back is killing her. I stand and offer her a hand which she waves away.
“Jez, I think we should give our decision to Ash and go get some lunch.”
“Good idea. Ms Jacobs, what will it be? Is this the worst idea you’ve ever heard?”
I look around at the Fable guys, averting Kai’s gaze but taking in the firm set of his chin, and something I can’t quite read there.
I have this shot. And if I don’t take it, I might play Viv’s last three booked shows and then not again for another year. Or ever.
“Will I have to share anything but a stage with them?”
Ash keeps his gaze locked on mine, and doesn’t bat an eyelash.
“Yes. For part of the tour, you will be traveling in a tour bus together. I can’t lie to you; your take on this tour will be a good deal smaller than Fable’s earnings. I’ll get my merch people to work with you, and we’ll get as many copies of your albums printed as we can for the road. But if we pay for separate transportation for you, it would eat mightily into your earnings.”
Share a bus ? I’ve been on a tour bus, once. Tristan got us backstage for an older but still popular rock band because he’d gone to school with the new drummer. We stepped on their bus for five minutes, got a tour. We’re talking five bunks for five bodies, a huge flatscreen TV, a kitchenette and a sofa area. It was lush, don’t get me wrong, But after a few days, the smells, the proximity, and the lack of privacy?
And how are Fable okay with this?
I chewed my cheek and felt Viv’s impatience rising off her skin. And also, my chance, lifting off like a rocket, slow at first, but it’d be gone soon.
“Well,” I say at least, then clear my throat. “That’s what noise-cancelling headphones are for, right?”
This means you’ll have to share a toilet. How many tour buses have two toilets?
Ash chuckles but knows this is not an answer. I feel the Fable guys’ gazes searing into me, and my cheeks are surely ablaze. They’re probably hoping I’ll say no now.
“What about my band? I’m aware I don’t exactly have one right now, but presumably I will. Where are they going to be?”
Ash nods with an answer ready. “They’re not earning the same as you, and even if they were, it wouldn’t be financially logical to hire another bus and driver for you and your band to travel separately from Fable. You and Fable are the biggest earners on this tour, therefore, we’d like to have you in the best possible accommodation for the longer travel days. Most of the time you’ll be in hotels, so this is not every night. I understand your concerns, Jez, but trust me that I’ve been through this before.”
And no one has murdered a fellow musician in their sleep . That’s what he’s trying to say.
I look over and focus on Nico’s face, for some reason. He’s actually smiling while Thomas is staring at the back of Ash’s head, Kai is fuming and frowning with arms crossed, and Holden is fidgeting with his smart watch.
I have to be a grown up. If they won’t, I will. And I’ll be the one with the biggest gains out of this if I do.
“Yes. I accept your offer, Ash.” I look over at Kai, who’s now staring me down. “I’m not afraid to play for your crowds. But don’t you dare try to interfere with mine.”
I step toward Ash and shake his hand, then take Viv’s arm and walk out the door, head held high.
But my insides quaking.