Page 39 of Resurrection
The room is silent except for the phantom echo of Phoenix Down still buzzing in my ears. We’re perched on the edge of the stage, our legs dangling, Tyler’s guitar filling the space with lazy notes. The moment feels familiar, like stepping into a memory. Like time hasn’t changed us, even though I know it has. I’m aware of every breath, every beat of my heart as I sit next to him.
"Feels like another lifetime, huh?" Tyler says.
"Feels like yesterday," I reply, my voice softer than I intended. I want to hold on to this, every detail of being alone with him again. Because I know it won’t last.
He stops strumming for a moment and looks around like he’s trying to take it all in. "You think those kids know how lucky they are?" he asks, giving me that crooked smile.
"I think they know how lucky they are today." I nudge his shoulder, and the touch lingers in the air between us. "I can’t believe you still have time for small-town talent shows."
"Hey, don’t knock it." His fingers find the strings again. "Gotta keep it real somehow."
"So is LA as wild as they say?" I ask, shifting the conversation away from how much it means to me that he showed up.
"Crazier," he says with a laugh. "Recording sessions that go all night, parties that last even longer. I think I’ve slept a total of ten hours in the past ten years."
"And you’re still alive?" I tease, leaning back on my hands. "Impressive."
What are you doing, Naomi?
"You should see the studio we recorded at once," he says, getting animated. "It’s this old converted theater. Crazy acoustics. We did a whole week without stepping outside."
There’s a long pause. I don’t know what to say.
"So how much is true?" I finally ask, trying to keep it light. "I mean, with all the rumors. Did you really jump into a pool from a hotel roof?"
"Half true," he admits, a little sheepish. "It was a second-floor balcony. And it wasn’t just me. The whole band did it." He shakes his head. "We were a little less rockstar about the landing."
I laugh, imagining the chaos. "Wish I could’ve seen that. Your less-than-perfect landing, that is."
"You're asking about LA like you've never been anywhere," he supplies.
"All in passing."
He keeps playing, switching from one familiar tune to another. I ask about that year that got him noticed, if he’d had any idea it would change everything. He’s honest, almost vulnerable, telling me he didn’t expect anything but a good time. He auditioned because he thought he had nothing to lose.
"Is it true…" I ask carefully. "About you and Justice?"
"The tension, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Yes and no." He shrugs. "How do you replace a man’s best friend?" He stops talking as if needing a few moments to gather his thoughts. "You gotta understand that the dynamics in the band are always complex. The moremoney the band brings, the more muddied it gets. Especially since we write our own songs…I mean wrote."
We remain silent again for a several heartbeats.
"You ever think about what it was like before the craziness?"
"All the time." He gives me a look that’s both warm and a little sad. "I miss it."
There it is. The thing neither of us wants to say out loud. It hangs in the air, daring me to respond. Instead, I shift back to safer ground.
"You never answered my question. How long you’ll be in town for," I note, like the answer isn’t more important to me than it should be.
"Long as I want. I may have some studio work in LA if the producers want me back on the show for the next season, but it’s nothing solid yet." He hesitates. "I wanted to see you."
I’m glad I’m sitting down, because I don’t trust my legs. "Guess you found me."
"Guess I did," he says, looking relieved. "Wanna grab some food? Ernie’s is still around, right?"
