The band exchanged glances.The introduction settled something in the room—clarity about Mercedes’ role, combined with Slate’s endorsement, made her presence feel solid and intentional rather than mysterious.
They had a professional anchor in the room now.
And it felt exactly right.
***
Later that night, aftereveryone else had left, Vic and Benny stayed behind, seated on the studio couch, Vic nursing a beer and Benny a sparkling water.The control room lights were dimmed low, and the faint smell of fresh coffee still lingered from the long session.
“You’ve been carrying a lot lately,” Benny said quietly.“Stepping up when I went down.Holding the gear together.Now this...You’re not just the new drummer anymore, Vic.You’re part of the spine of this band.”
Vic shrugged, but the words landed deep.“Just doing what needs doing.”
Benny shook his head.“It’s more than that.I see how you are with Chase too.How you’ve been helping keep me steady without making it obvious.”He met Vic’s eyes.“Thank you.For real.”
Vic clinked his bottle against Benny’s.“We’re in this together now.All of us.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a minute, the kind that only comes after a long, productive day.Benny took a slow pull from his water, then glanced over.
“Hey...you ever play Marie’s before?”
Vic shook his head.“Never had the chance.Heard it’s a special spot, though.”
Benny nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth.“It’s more than special.Marie’s is...home base.Been around forever.The Rebels have had a stake in it for years.It’s where I played my first real gig with a real crowd.Where I fell on my ass more times than I can count trying to figure out who the hell I was supposed to be onstage.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, turning the beer bottle in his hands.
“That place kept me alive when everything else was falling apart.When I was using, when I was lost, when the label was breathing down my neck—Marie’s was the one room that always felt honest.No bullshit.No industry vampires.Just people who show up because theywantto be there.The Rebels protect it.The locals protect it.And every time we play there, it reminds us why we do this.”
Benny looked over at Vic, his expression serious but warm.
“So when we headline Marie’s in a couple of weeks...it’s not just another gig.It’s a statement.We’re saying we’re back, we’re solid, and we haven’t forgotten where we came from.I want you up there with us when it happens.Not as the fill-in guy.Asourdrummer.Because that room deserves to see what you bring to this band.”
Vic felt something settle in his chest—pride, responsibility, and a deep sense of belonging all at once.
“I’ll be there,” he said quietly.“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Benny grinned and tapped his bottle against Vic’s again.“Good.Because we’re gonna burn that place down in the best way.”
The bond between them had deepened.What started as professional respect had turned into real brotherhood.
OY was back.
Better than ever.
And as Vic drove back to Bear’s house that night, windows down and music low, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Hope.
The kind that came from knowing you were exactly where you were supposed to be—surrounded by people worth fighting for, making music that mattered.
Bonnie still haunted his thoughts.
But for the first time since she’d pushed him away, Vic believed he could keep moving forward.
The band was rolling.
And he was right in the middle of it, sticks in hand, heart wide open.
