Page 8 of Resurrection
"Hey, we should jam while you're in town," Jon says. "Reunion tour." He smirks. "See if we still got it."
I laugh a little. "You think anyone remembers us?"
"The Rejects were the shit back in the day. No other high school cover band better than us. We sang those Poison songs better than Bret Michaels."
Obviously, it’s a lie. We were passable at best. "You talk to anyone else? Lee or Nestor?"
"Been a while. I know Nestor went to LA. To do stand-up. But we haven’t been in touch. I thought he would’ve reached out to you."
I shake my head. "Never heard from him. What about Lee?"
"Last I heard, he was in medical school," Jon supplies.
"Lee? Our lead singer Lee?"
"I know. I was also surprised when I found out. But I have no clue where he is now. His family moved somewhere too."
"Anyone around at all?"
"A few." He shrugs, keeping it casual. "Pratt, mostly."
I roll my eyes and let out a groan. "Pratt? Is he still a douche?"
Jon chuckles and leans back, the picture of confidence. "More than ever." He drinks half his beer in one go and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s already tipsy, so he’s not trying to keep up appearances anymore. "He’s been divorced twice. Got a son from first marriage. The boy lives with the mother. I think the kid spends weekends with Pratt. Asshole still strutting around like he owns the world, though."
"I’d expect nothing less." I let out a low laugh. "He’s always been a bully. Any woman willing to stay with him is either crazy or blind. Too bad fatherhood didn't change him."
Jon finishes the last of his beer, and I finish mine, and we sit there, empty glasses and full hearts. Then the waitress comes back with our food, and we dig in.
"Hey," Jon starts. "Are you still seeing that cute wrestler from Brazil?"
I shake my head. "That's been over for a while now."
"Pity. She was hot."
"We didn't click. Plus our schedules never worked."
He nods, then supplies, a little more serious, "It’s really good seeing you. You hardly ever visit."
Funny, he’s the second person who’s told me that today.
"Don’t get all mushy on me, man," I say. I mean it as a joke, but it doesn’t land like one.
"Just don’t disappear again, okay? Not like before."
I want to tell him I won’t, but I simply shake my head and laugh because I don’t know if it would be the truth. There’s nothing but the bad blood between me and the Medina siblings to keep me in this town.
3TYLER
Saturday afternoon,I’m standing in front of the Medinas’ house, my pulse uneven and loud in my ears. I glance at the property to the left—the one that used to belong to us. It's the same and it's different. Memories flash through my mind, but I push them down.
I’ve been lucky enough these past view days. Getting pulled over by Adri was the only unpleasant surprise, but now that I’m here, there’s no going back.
You can’t keep running, Ty.
With a deep breath, I finally step into the house
People huddle inside, whispering and clutching at their little cups of sorrow. My folks are by the makeshift altar at the far side of the room, helping with funeral arrangements while Naomi's mom speaks softly to a steady stream of mourners.
