Page 1 of Resurrection
PROLOGUE
"Tyler!"
"Tyler! Here!"
"Congrats, Ty!"
"Look this way, Tyler!"
The calls come from every direction, loud and eager, like the industry is afraid I might vanish if they don’t pin me down.
I blink at the glare of cameras as I move to the center of the red carpet. My smile is wide and press-ready. I’ve done this a thousand times before—pretended to care. And I think maybe at some point, I did. At some point, it was important. I had big shoes to fill. But the days of the mighty The Deviant, once the biggest rock band on the planet, are behind me. Behind us all. The four of us are going in different directions now.
Our lead singer, Justice, got married again. Became a father for the second time. He’s doing very well with his solo material.
Zander, our drummer, is in a relationship with some popular LA artist. He’s happy. He and Justice are still best buds and hang out often.
Cruz… Well, Cruz has always been a family man. Even when the rest of us were still assholes sleeping through the band’s willing female fanbase.
As for me, life surprised me by putting some people in my path who got me this latest gig. An extremely popular anime series that needed a visionary producer to write a score. I don’t know why the show execs thought that was me, but they liked what I did. I was invited back to work on the second season. Good money. No touring involved. A bit of creative freedom too. A nice change after playing someone else's material for almost a decade.
I’m supposed to love this—so why do I feel like an alien in designer jeans and a leather jacket?
"Tyler!" A photographer fromPulse Nationwaves at me to get my attention.
I rearrange my smile, pose some more, let them swarm, hiding the fact that these days, scrutiny makes my skin itch.
The PR girl on the edge of the red carpet fumbles with the printed sign with the name of the next artist, and I take that as my cue to leave the area. A couple of hands are thrust at me. I shake them as I walk further away from the cameras.
A sharp-dressed guy from the label gives me a thumbs-up. "Great work, Tyler!"
I chuckle back. "Thanks, Barry. Hope everyone’s speakers are ready."
Some model slides up next to me, whispering, "You really know how to light up a room." She bites her lip as her manicured fingers trace my arm. Five years ago, I probably would've welcomed this flirtation just to kill some time later in the evening. Now? I just offer a polite grin as I distance myself and brush her off with a quick "Sorry, hon."
I’m a little tired of all this plastic. The more these people try to pull me in, the more my mind drifts, caught between being here and being somewhere else entirely.
Maybe it's an age thing. I can't pinpoint any other reason.
A swarm of industry friends comes at me next.
"Tyler, man! You killed it!" says a guy with perfect hair and too-tight jeans. His name escapes me. After a while, faces tend to blur in this business.
"You guys coming to the afterparty?" my friend Kellan eagerly inquires. It seems there's a private gathering following the main event.
"Heard you’re working on some solo stuff?" asks another industry acquaintance, Joey. He’s an actor by trade but plays in a punk band too.
"Nothing solid. Just noise and chaos so far," I tell him, shrugging like I don’t have a care in the world.
I wish it were that simple. It’d be nice to have a solo album, but I haven’t had any inspiration for a while. Seventeen years, to be exact. Being in a band kept me on my toes. Being on my own is harder than I expected. Especially creatively.
"If you need a drummer, let me know." Joey claps my back.
"Will do."
The chaos has already begun on the red carpet with the arrival of the main cast of voice actors from the series.
"We better get inside," Kellan suggests, jerking his chin in the direction of the venue.
