Page 130 of Resurrection
When I check my messages, there are two new texts from my contact at the local tour company. The time is confirmed, and the team is on board. I’m still missing a few critical pieces, but I have until Friday to plan the rest.
Naomi's gift has to be perfect. This time, I won’t leave anything to chance.
The girl at the counter gives me a knowing smile as I order—she’s got The Deviant tat on her wrist. I’m glad she doesn’t ask for an autograph. Maybe she’s an original-lineup fan. Maybe Chance Hollowell will be the only guitarist she’ll ever love.
I don’t know why I have all these thoughts in my head.
Is it because I’ve been on break for too long?
Is it because I’m starting to feel irrelevant as a musician?
Or is it because I’ve always had this doubt inside me about my own abilities.
That’s why I’m only good enough to step in when the real star isn’t available.
In any case, I’ve been writing the hell out of my music this past week. Mostly because all these feelings I have need to be processed somehow, and writing is the only way I know to cope.
A few minutes later, I leave the coffee shop like I’m making a getaway, drinks in hand and no time to lose. This place also sells doughnuts, which means there's always a chance of bumping into Adri here.
By the time I’m at the casino, my heart’s pounding like a teenager about to get caught in the act. It’s early, and the restaurant is just opening up. There’s one customer at the bar, drinking coffee and eating eggs, and I look a little stupid with my own drinks.
I scan the back area through the glass wall until I spot her, right where she belongs, owning the kitchen like it’s an extension of her.
I hover at the bar, watching Naomi call out orders to her staff. Her hair is tied back, and she moves like she’s in a beautiful dance with the organized chaos around her. I don’t know how she does it, keeps everything from spinning out of control.
I fumble for my phone, check it for the thousandth time, and my nerves tighten another notch. There's more to this worry than just a simple date planning. The memory of the ring that I accidentally saw in her bedside drawer the morning Adri chased me out of her place is seared into my brain like a brand new tattoo. She kept it. She kept it for seventeen years when I thought it was forever lost.
When Naomi finally sees me, I give her a wave.
The guy behind the bar tips his chin at me but doesn’t approach. He’s already figured out I’m not here to drink. I’m here to see his boss.
Several minutes later, Naomi comes out from the kitchen and walks over to the bar.
"What’s this?" she asks, gesturing at the coffee I brought with me.
"Fuel."
She takes one cup and takes a sip. "Not bad… You do know we have coffee here too."
"I know." I lower my voice. "It's just an excise to see you. Now that we don't get to spend several hours a week together in the community center, I miss you."
"It’s always hectic before graduation. Most parents want their kids to concentrate on their grades at the end of the semester instead of extracurriculars," she explains. "Once school is out, they enroll them into summer programs. I’ll be giving cooking classes this year."
"Can I join?"
"Cooking classes?"
"Yes. If you need someone to wash dishes or sharpen knives." My phone vibrates, and I look at it quickly, hoping it’s my missing piece. It is. My Rancho Mirage reservation has been confirmed.
"What are you up to?" she asks.
"Just a lot going on right now," I say.
Naomi raises an eyebrow. "Like?"
I lean in, lowering my voice even more, as if we're planning a heist. "Can't tell you yet."
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. "You’re a terrible secret keeper, Ty. Always have been."
