Page 68 of Resurrection
"You're back!" Kenny yells, nearly tackling him with enthusiasm.
"Are you going to teach us some new tricks?" Asher asks.
"Yes, I'm back," Tyler confirms, giving them high-fives and knowing exactly who they are. "And I’d be happy to teach you." He glances at me. "If the boss lady allows it."
"Maybe if we have the time," I say.
"Please, Ms. Medina."
"Come on, Ms. Medina."
But I’m not going to make it easy on Tyler Brady.
Who does he think he is?
Instead of guitar lessons, I give him the glorious task of stacking music stands.
To my surprise, he doesn't seem to mind. I watch him chat with some of the teens, completely chill with the work I've thrown at him. The clipboard starts to lose its magic touch as everyone realizes they've got a famous musician helping out.
"I thought you'd have your own entourage," I tease when I pass by, noticing how he steals glances my way every chance he gets. There’s no mistaking why he wants to volunteer—he still hasn’t given up the idea that I’ll somehow forgive him for the seventeen years of misery he’s put me through.
"Left them in the limo," Tyler shoots back, hauling a set of folding chairs like it's a set of dumbbells.
Kenny and Asher are busy setting up on stage, and while Asher’s tuning his guitar, he’s fighting with Jamie over who's got the better solo. The names of the musicians they’re arguing about are lost on me. That’s Tyler’s department.
Later on, a few more kids show up at the community center. Someone probably posted something on social media about Tyler being here today, and now they’re cramming the back of the room.
When they see him, their eyes go wide like he's a walking and talking legend, and they immediately start whispering and pushing each other toward him.
"Hey, hey, can you show us something?" one of them blurts out, not able to contain himself any longer. "Anything? Just one riff?"
"The intro from Dreamscape," another kid pipes up from the back.
I see Tyler grin crookedly, the way he used to back when we were kids ourselves. "Only if you promise not to steal my moves," he says, winking as he takes a guitar from Asher.
The newcomers and the band gather around him, forgetting about rehearsal entirely, as he starts to play. It's not even a song, more like an impromptu jam session with hints of the material from the popular anime series. And they eat it up like it's candy. I stand back, my arms crossed, shaking my head at the scene. Trust Ty to turn grunt work into a rock concert.
One of the teens, a girl with neon hair and more piercings than I can count,points and says, "Your nickname was Strings, right? I think my mom went to high school with you. I saw your picture in her yearbook."
Tyler nods. "Could be. What’s your mom’s name?"
"Alicia. Her last name was Jordan before she married Dad."
I remember Alicia. She was loud and great at sports.
"Yeah." Tyler confirms. "We did go to the same high school. Tell her I said hello."
"Can you sign my T-shirt?" the girl asks.
The rest of the afternoon unfolds in a similar manner, filled with noise as teenagers bombard Ty with requests typical of what they'd ask their celebrity idol. It's somewhat exasperating to witness since my plans are completely derailed. But that's the Tyler Brady effect, and I have only myself to blame for this mess. I allowed him to take charge.
The failed rehearsal eventually winds down, the community center clearing out as evening approaches. Parents pick up kids, volunteers pack up everything from leftover pizza to extension cords, and Phoenix Down drag their feet out the door. The buzz of the day hangs in the air, and the only ones left are me and Tyler. And my trusty clipboard.
"Didn't scare you off, did it?" I ask when I see him still here, stacking up the rest of the chairs in the now half-empty room.
"Almost did me in," he jokes.
"That’s why I didn’t want you to think you could just show up," I explain, grabbing one of the boxes sitting on top of the pile in the corner.
