Page 14 of Conquest

“You know, Jesse, Mike’s right. Music is your life and that’s great, but the rest of us have lives besides this. I don’t need to be talked to like this for something that’s supposed to be fun.” Ben stood and moved for the door.

Jesse turned his back to him. “Fine! Go! I don’t need somebody that’s only going at this half-assed dragging me down!”

Silence filled the break room.

Jesse ran his fingers through his hair, still wet with sweat from the evening’s performance. He clasped his hands behind his head and stared down at the floor.

“That was really brilliant,” Kenny said.

“Shut up, Kenny,” Jesse muttered.

“Well, we’re right back where we started. Again. Just the two of us. Again.”

“I know what the situation is.”

“It’s like you have it on a timer or something. Same shit, just a few months later.”

“I—”

“You know, screaming like that is a real good way to trash your cords,” a voice from the doorway interrupted.

Jesse and Kenny both looked toward it.

Jesse gasped and spun around, instantly recognizing Evan Arden. Evan leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest, a confident smirk on lips. Jesse’s breath caught in his throat as he looked into Evan’s azure eyes. It was really him. Evan Arden. The man, the singer he had admired for so many years stood right in front of him.

“Jesse Alexander, right?” another man said, walking inside the break room.

Jesse’s attention stayed on Evan. He didn’t look any older than when he had been putting out albums. His hair was longer now, falling close to the bottom of his neck in back, and didn’t have the artificial highlights of gold and copper streaking through the rich chestnut color like he used to wear when performing, but it still looked incredible with how he had it styled in a slight wave.

Two small gold hoop earrings dangled from Evan’s left ear. He wore a white shirt with silver buttons running down the front and enough left undone to reveal his smooth, fit torso. He held a Yankees cap in his hand and silver rings of various designs adorned nearly all his fingers, though the ring on Evan’s right index finger looked to be older, more worn, and appeared to be made of white gold featuring an eagle set on a square piece of onyx clasping a marquise-cut ruby in its talons.

Jesse drank in every detail of him, unable to pull his eyes away. Evan met his gaze, direct and unwavering.

Greg stood holding his hand out to Jesse. “I’m Greg Hansen. I’m a producer with Phoenix Records. This is my assistant, Tim Polanski, and I’m sure you recognize Evan Arden. That was some show you put on tonight. Your energy overrode the mistakes the drummer and keyboardist were making.”

Realizing there were other people in the room, Jesse snapped himself out of his stupor. He brought his attention to the man speaking. He looked to be in his mid-forties, a few strands of silver peppered his brown hair near the temples. Jesse flicked his gaze to the other man, who appeared to be in his early thirties with sandy colored hair.

Jesse took Greg’s hand in a firm grip. “Thank you, I appreciate it. We always try to do our best.” He gestured to Kenny. “This is Kenny Cooper, lead guitar.”

Jesse shook Tim’s hand, then turned to Evan. He swallowed hard, meeting his eyes again, and took Evan’s hand. Heat surged through him as his skin met Evan’s, his heart thumped faster. Unlike Greg’s solid grip or Tim’s crushing one, Evan clasped his hand gently, holding it more than shaking it.

Jesse smiled at him. “At the risk of sounding like a rabid fanboy, I’ve admired your music for years.”

Evan chuckled warmly, his hand lingered in Jesse’s before he slowly drew it back. “You don’t sound like a rabid fanboy. I’m flattered to have the respect of someone as talented as you are. You put on a great show tonight, but you always do.”

“You’ve seen us before?” Jesse asked, shocked.

“Yeah. I really like the sound you’re trying to go for.”

Jesse paused, his mind stuck on the word trying.

“And you certainly have crowd appeal,” Tim said. “You perform much older than you look.”

“Yeah, how old are you anyway, kid, like twelve, thirteen?” Evan said, grinning as he lifted his beer to his lips.

Jesse rolled his gaze down Evan’s body and back up to his face. “No, I’m legal.”

Evan lowered his beer without taking a drink, his surprised eyes staring at Jesse.