VALLIE
I sat in a random white conference room for a meeting I'd been invited to with a potential client. The email I received came from the record label itself and specifically stated it would be a "strictly need-to-know basis" – so need to know that I didn't even know whom I was meeting.
Since my recent success with a chart-topping heartthrob, these meetings had gotten quite frequent. Though, not one had enticed me enough to take them on.
While I tapped my fingers on the glossy white table-top there was a bustle of male voices booming from down the hall, approaching the door. Instant disappointment fluttered in my chest - I wanted to take on a female client. I hadn't gotten the chance to really look over the label's roster to see whom they could possibly try to pair me with, but I sure was regretting it now.
Suddenly, the door opened, pouring in a flood of suit-and-tie businessmen followed by what I could only presume to be the talent; four tall, skinny men. Three with long past-shoulder length hair and one with slicked back short hair, all four adorned with ample tattoos. The last one to walk in had medium brown hair and tattoos trailing all the way up to his jawline. His fingers were wrapped in thick metal rings and his wrists with beaded bracelets. All four were in far from business attire; each with some variation of band tees, some with sleeves, some without and black jeans across the board. For a second I wondered if maybe they'd gotten me mixed up with somebody else.
I knew immediately what my answer would be before anyone said a word.
"Good evening Valerie." The most intimidating executive said as the rest took their seats around the rectangular table. Men like him used to intimidate me but it's amazing how success changes the way men treat you. Money is a powerful thing to hold in front of someone who wants it. The salt-and-pepper-haired man held out his hand, "I'm Richard Callahan, we spoke on the phone?"
"You can call me Vallie, or Val." I gave a tight-lipped smile and shook his hand, "Nice to meet you."
Richard gave me that ever identical overly enthusiastic smile that every businessman has before any big presentation. "This is my associate, Anthony." Pointing to another cookie-cutter executive, then gesturing towards the other four. "And this is the band, Bad Omens." Finally introducing the mystery men that had plopped into the office chairs at the head of the table opposite from me. "This is Jolly and Nicholas, the guitarists." Pointing to the other two long haired men. "Nick, drums." Motioning towards the slicked-back hair one. "And of course, this is Noah, the front man." The brunette man, whom I had already assumed to be the lead singer, propped his leather booted feet on the table. All of the men gave me a small nice-to-meet-you wave, except Noah.
Richard gave a nervous laugh, "Oh don't mind Noah." He waved away his actions, "He's just dramatic."
"Nice to meet you." I said professionally even though I was disgusted with his tactless act. Before the business brigade could speak again, "What kind of music do you make?" Speaking directly to the evidently pompous musician who hadn't even looked at me.
Chocolate brown eyes lined with thick lashes snapped up at me for the first time, "Metal." He said shortly. His voice was deeper than I anticipated it being.
"Uh - Rock." Richard clarified with a slightly anxious smile, "They're a rock band." Evidently trying to water down the genre for your regular wheelhouse.
"I'm sorry Richard, but I just don't represent 'rock' stars." I said curtly, closing the portfolio I'd brought.
He let out a sigh, lightly gripping the back of the tucked-in leather chair he stood behind, "Yes, we're aware. However, this could be a unique opportunity for you."
I raised my brows and picked up one of the various branded pens on the table, "Oh yeah? And what would that be?" Dragging my fingertips along the smooth generic plastic pen; the action could seem intimidating, but really it was just me fidgeting.
"Well, you see, Bad Omen's previous manager... quit." Your brows knitted at his careful wording. "Just after he left, the band started to go viral on Tiktok."
There it was, the magic word. The magic – money – word. It was like I was in a completely different meeting with different lenses on my eyes. Now that I was seeing things more clearly, I noticed a quite odd energy in the room, a sort of... tension? confliction?
I cleared my throat and intertwined my fingers on the table, "Now that's all fine and good, but anyone can go viral."
"Here's the thing," Anthony spoke up, spreading his olive-toned fingers out on the tabletop. "They went viral just days before they announced a new tour." My brow peaked in interest indicating for him to continue. "The tour sold out within minutes."
I tapped the plastic pen into my palm processing the words when Richard interjected again, "We had to book new bigger venues. We've upgraded nearly every venue."
"Uh huh..." I hummed watching the pen roll between my fingers taking in the details. "And why me?" Looking back up at Richard. "I know there are various publicists and marketing managers out there for alternative artists."
"Great question!" And the businessman's smile returned, "We want to-"
"They wanna sell us out." A raspy voice snapped from the long-haired singer.
Richard gave a nervous chuckle waving away his words, replacing them with business jargon, "We want to position the band to be the new 'mainstream rock band'."
"Uh...Huh..." My gaze landed on each pair of eyes looking at me, attempting to piece together the bizarre puzzle in front of me.
"We don't want to sell out." Spoke up the darker-haired guitarist, Nicholas. "We wanna be successful, of course, but we're okay with staying small if it means we don't sell out. If we can stay genuine."
While it presented a good challenge, it had been a while since a true rock band was on the radio stations. Trying to make rock mainstream was almost always fruitless, it just never happens the way it's intended. Especially metal, if this really was a metal band, it would be nearly impossible to do.
"I'm not trying to make it big." The lead dropped his booted feet off the table and to the ground with a heavy thud, "I'm just trying to make music that means something to people. I just wanna make music and perform, that's all."
"But you signed a contract no?" I spoke up from across the table, resulting in every face turning to me. The managers' expressions were surprised and excited but the musicians' not so much. "Contract" seemed to always be a dirty word in these sorts of meetings.
"Yes, exactly!" Richard praised me with enthusiastic hands, "They signed a multi-year contract with us." The energy between the managers and the band was intriguing, it was almost like they were scared of the band. Maybe their power or their fans? Or maybe their volatile reactions. But it was odd, nothing I'd ever seen before. These big-wig executive types typically aren't scared of anything, let alone 4 twenty-something-year-old boys. Perhaps they were just trying to break even on a bad investment. Whatever it was, it was something I wasn't seeing yet.
"That bastard signed the contract for us." Snapped Noah, dropping a concrete fist on the table reverberating the thump across the small conference room. I backed up at the loud slam as fear briefly trickled down my spine.
"I told you, it doesn't matter. He still made us put our signatures on the paper." Jolly tried to ration, his voice had a bit of an accent I couldn't quite place. Though, it was clear that he was the more even-tempered and logical one – maybe slightly older?
"Shut up Jolly." The talent retorted and waved away his reasoning, "We don't need another goddamn manager. We've done just fine handling ourselves."
"You know I'm not a full manager, right? I'm a marketing manager and I can handle some publicity, but I'm not a sheep herder." I peeked a brow at the men, my eyes following them each down the line.
"Yes, we will take over any management duties you can't fulfil. We just need you to bring people to them and keep the fans happy."
The sight before me was quite telling of what trying to manage and publicize this band would look like, that combined with the low probability of achieving their lofty goals didn't seem at all enticing, nonetheless lucrative. I got lucky with my current client who was an absolute joy to be around and direct but this – this just seemed like a giant headache.
"Listen, Richard," Making it a point to address him directly, "I just don't think I am the right fit for this...project."
"Just one concert." Anthony spoke up from the background, "They have a show tonight, just come hang out backstage. Watch the performance, watch the crowd, watch the merch sales. Then give us an answer."
My temple pulsed under my fingertips as they rolled in circles contemplating the overly forced pitch. Whether it was the eyes boring into me, the circumstances of their virality, the challenge, or all of the above, I didn't know – but I agreed. "Fine. One show. That's it."
-
A/N: Thank you so much if you took the time to read this. I didn't see many Noah/Bad Omens fics and wanted to contribute, lmk if u liked it🖤
Might cross post onto my Bad Omens tumblr -> concreteburialplot, if anyone is interested🖤