Chapter 26 Naomi #2
Ty politely shakes her hand and thanks her for the support. It’s all very nice but very clinical since he’s used to strangers talking to him in public.
"I knew that kid was trouble," the woman grumbles under her breath once the exchange of niceties is over. She turns to me again. "They worked so hard. It’s not fair that their performance is ruined because someone can’t commit."
"Don’t worry, ma’am," Ty reassures her. "Naomi always has a solution."
"Where on earth are you going to find another guitar player on such short notice?" the woman whines.
"We got it." Ty smiles at her and then motions to the teens gathered in a circle across the room. "Why don’t we go see if they need anything while we’re working on fixing the problem."
The woman thanks him and heads over to where the band is to check on her sons.
"Thank God," I mutter, rolling my eyes.
"She seems like a handful," Ty whispers.
"She is," I confirm, "But Kenny and Jamie are IVF babies. I can understand her concern." Pause. "Anyway, let’s get you a guitar. I think we have some extras in the music room."
"Ms. Medina?" another parent calls. "Any news about the Stone kid?"
I open my mouth, but Ty’s fingers graze my shoulder as he turns around and heads toward the parents.
"It's all under control, folks," I hear him say to the group.
I let myself breathe, just for a second, before diving back into the madness.
It's been almost an hour since I called Adri, and my head throbs in sync with the bass beat coming from the stage. It’s another dance routine, this time from the girls on the gymnastics team.
We’ve already seen two magicians, three poetry reads, and a short play.
We have plenty of acts tonight, which gives us some extra time to figure things out.
The kids from Phoenix Down shuffle nervously in the corner of the back room, the heat making tempers short and my shirt damp.
"What do we do?" Miranda asks, her voice a tight string.
I gather them close and say, "We have a plan B." It sounds more convincing than it feels.
"We're canceling, aren’t we?" Kenny mutters, kicking the floor with the tip of his boot.
"We're not canceling," I insist. "We're working it out." My gaze darts across the room, searching for Ty, who disappeared a little while ago with Mr. Brixton, the school’s music teacher.
What if he ditched us?
What if it’s below him to play covers in a teenage band?
He left before.
What’s stopping him now?
Parents and kids exchange sad looks that stab at my chest. The air is so thick with disappointment, you could cut it with a knife. I pull the clip out of my hair and redo it.
That's when I see Ty taking a selfie with a group of grown-ups on the other side of the room. He’s holding a beat-up electric guitar and grinning from ear to ear.
I wave at him.
He gives me a nod, excuses himself, and heads over.
"Tyler?" Jamie shouts excitedly.
"Are you plan B?" Miranda asks.
"Sick," Kenny chimes in.
"Hey, guys." His smile is bright and wide and too damn charming. "Yes, looks like I’m gonna have to step in for Asher."
Both the parents and the kids seem very happy with that solution.
Ty tunes the guitar as the kids watch, a doubtful half-circle that makes my heart flutter, makes it ache.
I remember watching him the same way when we were both in high school.
Watching him prepare for a show. That frown of concentration—it’s still the same.
Time and age haven’t changed that about him.
The room’s a furnace of murmurs and restless bodies. The crowd’s like a pot about to boil.
Seemingly satisfied with the instrument, Ty runs a hand through his hair, looking awkward in a way I’ve never seen. Vulnerable even.
Then his hands move fast, a flick of his wrist and music bursts from the strings. Suddenly, he’s a rockstar again, commanding and sure. The kids gawk, and he smiles.
Kenny whispers something to him, still skeptical but less so.
"We've got this," Ty tells the teens from Phoenix Down. His voice is steady and warm, melting away some of the tension in the room. "You guys just do what you’ve been doing, and I’ll go alone with it," he instructs.
They all nod.
I glance at my watch, and it’s almost showtime.
That’s when my phone buzzes. Adri. I pick up and move to the side, away from the noise and foot traffic. "Any news?" I ask.
"No one’s home," he says. "I talked to some neighbors, and they don’t know what’s going on. One of them said he saw the family leave the trailer park late last night. The kid was with them too."
"And?"
"Nothing more I can do right now, sis."
"Darn it."
"I’ll keep you posted if there’s an update."
"Okay. Thanks."
"Yeah. No problem. Later."
"Bye."
I put the phone away and walk back to our group.
Miranda is looking at me expectantly, like she knows I just got news about Asher. I squeeze her arm, a promise and an apology all at once. "This is gonna be amazing," I say, and I mean it. No need to alarm anyone right before the set.
We hurry toward the stage entrance, everyone cramming together, anxious and excited at the same time.
"Break a leg," Ty whispers as I draw a deep breath and ready myself to announce the band.
The crowd in the auditorium is buzzing as I head toward the mic, the distance between me and it stretching like taffy. The instruments are being hauled out by the parents and volunteers. It’s all been rehearsed and done a thousand times, and it’s quick and efficient.
My mouth is dry as I wrap my hand around the microphone stand.
"Thanks, everyone, for being here today," I say.
My voice booms through the speakers, and the room quiets, a thousand eyes on me.
"Our next performance is from Phoenix Down.
Please welcome Kenny, Jamie, and Miranda.
" I pause to take another breath. "We've got a last-minute change for you.
Filling in for Asher is someone who's been helping us behind the scenes.
" I shoot a sideways glance to my left where Ty’s hiding in the shadows. "Tyler Brady!"
His name hangs in the air, and for a second, there's silence. Then whispers. Recognition. Surprise.
The kids are at their stations, looking nervous but eager.
Ty walks across the stage last and waves at the audience as I retreat.
The band strikes the first chord of the Led Zeppelin cover, and the sound is electric. Alive. Ty plays with an intensity that spills into every crack and crevice, and suddenly, they're transformed. He finds the beat, and their voices catch up, and I can see it—the moment everything clicks.
Ty's guitar weaves through the music like a thread, stitching it all together, and my chest swells with pride.
I can't take my eyes off him. Off them. They're more than I hoped for. More than they hoped for.
The auditorium erupts with applause after the first song.
Ty glances my way, and our eyes meet across the stage.
He winks, the gesture so familiar, it makes my stomach do somersaults.
I think of how he looked that morning when I stayed over at his place, asleep and at peace, and I can't believe he's the same person standing here, larger than life.
Larger than any stage. Larger than what this tiny town can hold in its hands.
He was always meant to do this, to share his music, his talent with the world. The best thing that happened to us was him leaving.