Page 7 of Follow the Rhythm (Fairview City Omegaverse #2)

E chelon Records in Fairview looked more like the lair of a comic book supervillain than a record label office. The building was black steel and glass, a pyramid shape that narrowed as it rose, capped by a spire.

It was an offering to the gods of capitalism, and considering the money that flowed in and out of here, some of which was flowing directly into my pocket now, it was doing a great job.

Johnny Fairchild, who’d hired me, was waiting for me in the lobby.

We’d only talked on Zoom before, but I recognized him immediately.

He was a short, older Beta with thinning ginger hair liberally streaked with gray and an accent like the chimney sweep in Mary Poppins.

Johnny was a legend in the business and almost certainly knew my father.

“Charlie, my son, right on time,” he boomed. “Thanks for coming early, mate.”

“Of course, it’s great to meet you in person,” I replied, shaking his hand. His scent was malty and slightly bitter, like a warm beer. He led me to a collection of couches and chairs that looked so deliberately uncomfortable I was sure we weren’t supposed to sit on them.

“I apologize for the skullduggery, but I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the suits,” he said.

“What’s up?” I asked. He’d piqued my curiosity. What could be so secret that he didn’t even want to say it over a Zoom call?

Johnny gave a long-suffering sigh. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, then. These boys I’m managing are barely getting on. It was hell getting Kieran to agree to this tour when they’ve either been at each other’s throats or not speaking.”

“Right,” I said after a long pause.

“I need your help, Charlie. I figure you know a thing or two about keeping rock stars from bashing each other’s heads in, eh?”

Ah, so he did know my dad.

“Sure, man, whatever you need.” I managed not to sound exasperated.

“Good, good. Knew I could count on ya. But that’s not it. The cunts at the label are trying to interfere, too. They pushed this drummer on us, some dykey girl. Granted, she sounds alright, but she ain’t Michael.”

“Hey, man, don’t say that,” I said, tapping his shoulder with the back of my hand.

“Ah, you yanks, so politically correct. Was it ‘cunts’ or ‘dykey’ that got your hackles up?”

“Both,” I laughed. It wasn’t funny, but I knew the best way to deal with old-school guys like him was to keep it light.

“Alright, alright. I’ll watch my tongue. Ah, here he is,” Johnny said, standing.

I recognized Kieran Walsh walking across the lobby towards us. He was tall, broad, and scowling. All in all, pretty intimidating. But he returned my smile with a nod and shook my hand without hesitation.

“This is Charlie Bennett, the poor sod that’s going to try and keep this tour on track,” Johnny said by way of introduction.

Kieran almost smiled. “Sorry about that, mate, sounds terrible.”

“It’ll be great.” And even if it wasn’t, it would at least be better than my father’s farewell tour. It had to be. My career couldn’t survive another implosion like that.

We waited a few more minutes for Ellis, but he didn’t show before we needed to head upstairs for the meeting with the label.

“Typical,” Kieran said softly, and with a surprising amount of contempt, before we boarded the elevator.

The receptionist manning the front desk of the label office led us to a conference room with large windows overlooking the city.

Four people were already sitting at the long table. One of them was a young blonde woman with short, side-shaved hair, wearing a cut-off t-shirt that said, “Live, Laugh, Lesbian.” Based on Johnny’s sour look and her triumphant smile, this was the new drummer for the tour.

Next to her was a woman who was probably in her sixties, with bright purple hair in two braids and a septum piercing. She was wearing coveralls and looked annoyed at even being in the room.

I recognized Karen Carlson immediately, the head of Echelon Records’ Fairview office.

We’d met several times over the years at industry parties.

She was known for being ruthless, but I’d yet to see that side of her.

She was in her fifties but looked younger, with thick black hair cut short and frameless glasses.

Next to her was a thin young man who seemed both terrified and smug, and who I suspected was Karen’s assistant.

“Charlie, good to see you,” Karen said after greeting Kieran and Johnny. “I was pleased when I saw your name on the tour.”

“Thanks, I’m excited to be working with such a talented group.”

“This is Grace Ridgefield. She’s going to be touring on drums with Velvet Howl. She’s based out of California most of the time, like you,” Karen said.

“Love the shirt,” I said, shaking Grace’s hand from across the table. She beamed.

“And this is Ursula, the tour’s creative director and production designer.” Karen gestured to the woman with purple hair. Kieran and Johnny both shook her hand as well.

“Can we get this show on the road?” Ursula said in a thick Fairview accent after the pleasantries concluded. “Some of us have shit to do.”

“Where is Ellis?” Karen asked Johnny tightly.

“I’ll just give him a ring.” Johnny scurried out into the hallway. Kieran took the seat next to Grace. I plopped down in the seat across from Ursula, next to Karen’s squirrelly assistant.

“So how’s your dad doing?” Karen asked with what sounded like real concern.

“He’s alright. He’s recovering better than the doctors expected.” I hadn’t seen him in months, but Mom was giving me regular updates. “He’s walking again.”

“That’s great to hear,” Karen said.

It was depressing, actually. No one wanted to hear about the legendary Dean Bennett, laid low by something so mundane as a stroke. I changed the subject.

“So, what’s the creative direction for the tour?” I asked Ursula. Complicated set pieces would require more complicated transportation, so it would be good to tackle that early.

Grace grimaced at me and shook her head while Ursula pinned me with a glare.

“It’s a work in progress. Which I would have explained if you’d been here for longer than a minute,” Ursula said.

I held up my hands in surrender and smiled. “Understood. We can talk more whenever you want. I’m staying just around the corner.”

The label had provided a beautiful furnished apartment that I definitely would never have been offered if I weren’t Charlie Bennett, king of the nepo babies.

Growing up, there had been some expectations that I’d take up the family business, so to speak.

With my dad as the frontman for North Portal, and my mother leading the Grammy-winning folk band Porchlight Choir, everyone had high hopes for my musical talent.

Too bad I didn’t have a musical bone in my body.

But I still loved being around the creative process, and tour management played to my strengths.

And, as much as I hated to admit it, having famous parents had opened a lot of doors.

The ass-kissing used to bother me, but now I just embraced it.

Plus, I needed help with rent; funds were running low, as usual.

I’d spent so long being too self-righteous to accept my parent’s money that I couldn’t ask for help now.

If anyone in the room had known that I worked as a professional heat Alpha to make ends meet between contracts, it probably would’ve blown their minds.

I forced myself not to think about my latest client, even though the anticipation of seeing her that night was almost unbearable.

Her citrus and ginger scent, more tangy than sweet, had embedded itself in my mind like a sexy parasite.

Working as a heat Alpha was never a hardship, but this was the first time I’d ever been tempted to keep in touch with one of my Omegas.

Luckily, I was saved from any further reminiscence on Jess’s large, dark eyes, or luscious curves, or hair that hung down to her waist in chocolate waves, by the arrival of the one and only Ellis Fox.

Karen jumped to her feet to shake his hand as he came into the conference room, followed by Johnny. “Ellis! So glad you could make it. And what a fantastic idea for the secret show this weekend. I’m being told that the numbers on social are exceeding expectations.”

Ellis nodded magnanimously. “I couldn’t get a coffee, could I?”

Karen’s smile faltered, but she recovered quickly. “Of course, Mitchell will get you one.”

He scurried out, and Ellis turned to survey the room.

“So, Grace and Kieran, you know, obviously, but this is Ursula, the creative director, and Charlie, the tour manager. Have you already met?” Karen said, gesturing to me.

“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Ellis drawled, his eyes finding mine.

Ellis was beautiful, of course. I knew that from the various award shows and magazine covers.

But being in the same room with him was like being in the same room with a nuclear explosion of charisma.

His black hair fell to his collar, framing a very pretty face.

One lock of hair fell artfully over his ice-blue eyes, which were surveying me with what I was pretty sure was interest.

I didn’t usually go for other Alphas, but in that moment, I had what I could only describe as a premonition that we would hook up before the tour finished. Even if that was a terrible idea.

I smiled and shook his hand. “Great to meet you.”

Ellis flicked up an eyebrow. “Likewise.”

Mitchell, the assistant, returned with Ellis’s coffee, which he presented to him like an offering, and the meeting finally got underway.

I outlined the route I’d worked out with Johnny and the booking agent he’d hired to secure the 30 stops on the first leg in the States.

He’d work out the European dates in the coming months.

No one had any concerns, which was gratifying.