Page 140 of Resurrection
"Did you hear what I just said?"
Mom nods ever so slightly before returning to her salad as if nothing explosive just landed on our table. "Yes."
"Then why am I getting the iceberg treatment?" I demand.
"This is not new to us, baby," Mom says with a shake of her head.
"You think we don’t know where you’ve been spending all those nights you didn’t come home?" Dad chuckles like it’s a given.
"And you said nothing?" I can’t believe them.
"What are we supposed to say?" Mom shrugs. "You’re an adult. You earn your living. You make decisions. Who are we to tell you what to do with your life?"
"Besides," Dad chimes in, waving his fork at me. "You and the Medina girl were always meant to be."
"Because why haven't you married someone else yet?" Mom adds. " And you’ve never brought a girlfriend home either. Even that girl from Brazil you were seeing."
It’s because I never really had a girlfriend. One-night stands? Sure. Friends with benefits? Guilty. But a serious relationship? Never. Isla was only an attempt to get over Naomi. And it didn't work.
"Anyway…" Dad drops his gaze to his plate and shovels more potatoes in his mouth, then mumbles out, "Don’t screw it up this time, son."
The following week, the engine of my Audi ticks like a heartbeat in Naomi's driveway while I’m waiting for her behind the wheel.
The quiet aftermath of Leif's recent call presses in around me, guilt whispering that it's not too late, not yet. He was pissed off and hung up on me when I told him I wasn’t going to change my mind and leave Sageview Ridge during his follow-up call.
Yes, passing up the Vortex gig is a mistake. A big blow to my career. But I’m not going to jeopardize what I’ve built here with Naomi these past few months. Even if the temptation the stage has always had is stalking me like the devil is trying to seduce me into another screw-up.
My phone buzzes in the inner pocket of my jacket, and I pull it out. An LA area code.
I pick up out of habit.
"Hey, Tyler?" the man on the line asks. He sounds familiar, but I can’t place his voice. "It’s Lennox. Briggs. From Vortex."
It hits me then. The lead singer. I remember him now. We did a couple of festivals together a while back when I was still with The Deviant. They were young and fresh with one album out.
"Hey, man," I reply, glancing at Naomi’s porch to see if she’s coming. "What’s up?"
"Sorry I’m calling out of the blue."
"No worries."
"I thought maybe if I talked to you myself, we could figure something out. Your management keeps saying you’re not available."
Oh shit.I take a deep breath, then supply, "Yeah…no…sorry, man. I’ve got some stuff going on right now, and I’m not able to commit to a long gig. What happened to Andrews? I thought you were taking my offer to him?"
"He’s got some other project with his own band. Couldn’t make it work."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Would you reconsider? We can match whatever you ask for."
"As tempting as it sounds, I’m gonna have to decline."
"Come on, dude… It’s an easy gig."
"I’m sure there’s someone else."
"Not with your skills. I can count the people who can play our stuff on one hand."
