Conquest by S. J. Frost

“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.
     
Jesse faced the others. He couldn’t believe what he had just said. “I’m twenty, creeping up on twenty-one this October.”
    “That’s about what I thought,” Greg said. “It looks like you’re short a couple bandmates.”
Jesse forced a grin. “Yeah well, conflicting personalities, you know.”
Tim let out a loud snort. “From what we heard, just about anybody would conflict with that.”
    Jesse glared at Tim at the same time Greg did, but his irritation slipped as the scent of the most enticing cologne he had ever smelled touched his nose, like flowers and spice melded into one tantalizing fragrance; delicate, and yet it struck his senses with arousing potency. He felt a warm presence close to him and turned his head slightly. In the periphery of his vision, he saw Evan standing less than two feet away behind him and to the side.
Kenny snapped his fingers. “Wait, Phoenix Records. We sent you guys a demo last year. You rejected it.”
     
Jesse pulled his focus back at Kenny’s voice.
    “I hope you didn’t take it too personally,” Greg said. “Unfortunately, we get so many demos, sometimes a good one falls through the cracks.”
“Maybe if you sealed up those cracks, your label wouldn’t be going under,” Jesse retorted.
     
Kenny sucked in a horrified gasp. Greg’s mouth dropped open.
     
Tim flew into an instant rage. “What the hell would you know about our label?”
    Kenny recovered and put his arm around Jesse’s shoulders. “Just ignore him. Sometimes he talks without thinking. It’s like his brain takes a nap and leaves his mouth in charge. It’s a bad situation for him and everybody around him.”
“He’ll know what a bad situation is when he realizes he blew his chance at—”
     
“That’s enough, Tim,” Greg said. “Do you guys have a manager or agent that’s working with you?”
    Jesse heard Evan laughing and ground his teeth at his own stupidity. He shook his head in answer to Greg’s question. “I handle all the managing and booking for us.”
    “That’s the way it works a lot of the time when you’re getting started. Well, we just wanted to pop back here and tell you we liked your show. We should be going now.” Greg paused in the doorway. “You don’t by chance have a card or a number where I could reach you in case I should want to get in touch, do you?”
    “Yeah,” Kenny said, moving to his guitar case. He pulled out a business card with their band name and information. He walked back to Greg and handed it to him.
Greg stuck it in his pocket without looking at it. “Great. Come on, Tim. Evan, you coming with us?”
    “Yeah.” Evan