Page 92 of Resurrection
"Expecting someone?" my mom asks, her eyebrows raised at my reaction.
I shake my head. "Nope. Just surprised, I guess." I pick up the phone andsee my manager’s name—the last person I want to talk to. "It’s Leif," I tell my parents, grabbing a slice of toast as I rise to my feet. "I should probably take this."
They both nod, but I can feel their eyes on me as I push back from the table and head for the patio.
The desert air hits me, warm and dry, and I pull the door shut behind me. "Hey, Leif. What’s up?"
"Ty!" Leif’s voice is loud, like he thinks he needs to shout all the way from LA. "How’s Sageview treating you?"
"Hot," I say, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Listen, I’m just checking in on that offer from the boys in Vortex."
I stay standing. My mind spins.
"They want you, man. We’re talking a full tour, big venues, the works. This is the kind of gig that puts you back on the map."
I let his words sink in, the weight of them pressing against everything I thought I had figured out.
"Ty? You there?"
"Hey, man, I’m already on the map," I say, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel. "It’s just…fast. I need some more time to think."
"More time?" Leif sounds incredulous. "They’re waiting for an answer, Ty. You can’t keep them on hold. I hear Andrews is next on their list."
"I thought he was taking time off?"
"It would suck to lose to that kid, if you know what I mean."
"I know, I know." I rake my hand through my hair. "I just—there’s a lot going on right now."
"Sure doesn’t sound like a lot going on," he quips. "You thinking about turning it down?"
"No," I say too quickly. "I’m just…figuring things out with the family."
"You need to get back in the game, Ty, before people forget your name. This is your shot. The boys aren’t going to wait forever."
"Just give me a couple more days."
There’s a long pause on the other end, like he’s deciding if he needs to be more insistent or let it go. "Okay," he says finally. "But don’t sit on this."
"I won’t. I’ll get back to you soon."
"Soon, Ty. Or we lose it."
"Yeah. Got it." I hang up, staring out at the palm trees lining the street. They sway a little in the wind, oblivious to the mess inside my head.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I return into the house. My mom looks at me expectantly, and my dad folds down a corner of his paper.
"Work?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say, sliding into my chair. "There’s a band that wants me to go on tour with them. Their lead guitarist is on sick leave."
"Isn’t that what you wanted?" Mom asks, setting her mug down, concern lining her face. "When we spoke on the phone last Christmas, you said you wanted to get back on the road."
"I thought so," I say, picking at the cooling bacon. Yes, despite the success ofDreamscape Diaries, I was missing the stage and the bus and the travel, but apparently, not enough to agree to this offer right away. "It’s just…complicated."
Dad’s eyes narrow a bit, like he’s seeing right through me. "Or maybe you’ve got other reasons to stick around."
