Hold On (The Hold Series Book 4)

by Arell Rivers

  While Gruesome’s talking, my ponytailed, bespectacled account rep Rose places some photos in the middle of the table. They’re the candids she snapped during the shoot. Some of them are hot, especially the ones of us on the beach. I pass a couple of those photos to Russell, whose eyebrows rise. He taps on one and mouths, “funnel cake,” earning a wink from me.

  Russell approves of the plan, “Smart, Greta. These photos will certainly make people want to see the video.”

  Greta nods and continues, “Cole, you’re in town for another week before heading back out on tour. Do you have any obligations?”

  “Other than house hunting, I’m pretty much open.”

  She nods. “Good. We’ll put these photos out on social media, and then you’ll go out on a publicity date tomorrow. Your date will also accompany you to the video premiere before you leave on tour again, which will be the reason given that you two don’t work out.”

  Although no one’s really asked for my agreement, I respond, “Sounds good to me.”

  For the first time, Rose contributes to the meeting. “Speaking of your tour, we have arranged for you to catch some more of the local sights, just like on the last leg of your trip.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tapping on her earring in a cute gesture, she says, “Like before, we’ll make sure to keep your trips under the radar, so you can enjoy them in peace.”

  I do enjoy my side trips, and appreciate everything Rose does to set them up. She’s sent me to some interesting places that I never would have found on my own. Like the Motown Historical Museum in Michigan and the Lunch Box Museum in Georgia. I smile my gratitude at Rose. She casts her eyes down at her papers.

  Before I can say anything else, Gruesome scowls at Rose and interjects, “Try to remember to maintain decorum in public. But don’t go all choir boy on us, Cole, or I’ll be out of a job.” Everyone in the room laughs at what must be considered a joke, although the chuckles sound forced. At least on my part. And what’s up with Gruesome’s obvious ploy to keep Rose quiet during the meeting?

  Jon throws out, “The timing for this video couldn’t be better. We’re submitting it for the Grammys.”

  I close my eyes. Shit. The Grammys. Echoes of the past slam through my body. I find myself remembering how I told my family I was going to win a Grammy someday. Is it really going to happen?

  Russell’s voice brings me out of my reverie. “That wasn’t by accident, you know.”

  “Oh, yes, we do know. Let’s see what happens when the nominees are announced,” Jon replies.

  Russell nods at me. I grin back at him.

  “And there’s my dimple,” Gruesome says, acting like she owns it, and me. Ugh. But not even she can derail my good mood.

  “Remember to smile like that on your next set of publicity dates,” she adds, giving me the once-over. “And Rose, set up another appointment for him to get his highlights touched up.”

  It’s no use arguing the point. I lost this fight a long time ago. Since no one is volunteering my latest date’s name, I ask, “And who am I going to have the pleasure of escorting?”

  Gruesome beams. “This is a great coup. Everyone wants a piece of her, but I got her. I set you up with Mimi Barker. Rose will give you all the details.”

  I look from Jon to Russell, both of whom are staring fixedly at the table. Neither of them has the balls to meet my gaze. After I went house hunting with Dan and Suzanne the other day, I did a search on Mimi Barker. By all accounts, she’d make a puddle look deep.

  As if sensing my hostility, Jon jumps in and says, “Greta, what a clever choice. Mimi has legions of followers who hang on her every, uhm, photo. Linking Cole’s name with hers will garner a lot of media attention. She’ll be perfect for the red carpet of the video premiere.”

  “I really had to be creative, since Meghann is out of the country.”

  No one seems to want to hear my opinion. But I’m going to give it anyway. “Isn’t there someone else that I can go out with? Anyone?”

  Gruesome responds, “Cole, she’s a media magnet. Your Q Score will go up immeasurably just by having your name linked to hers.”

  Under my breath, I mumble, “My Q is fine where it is.” Russell gives my arm a pat. Rose puts her hand over her mouth, as if to stifle a laugh. She won’t meet my eyes, so she doesn’t see the beseeching look I’m leveling at her. I may have to admit defeat, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy with this development.

  The meeting breaks up shortly after the Mimi bomb was dropped. When I turn on my cell, a voice mail from my realtor is waiting. I’m about to call her back when Rose walks over to me.

  Handing me a piece of paper, she says, “Here’s the itinerary and suggested outfits for your dates with Mimi. She’s very excited to meet you. I’ll email you with your hair appointment.”

  Oh joy. “Thanks.” I skim the contents. “Looks like it’s going to be a long week.” My eyes flicker to her face. “You don’t have to look so happy about it.”

  She offers me a big smile, one that steals my breath away. Where did that come from? “I’m sure the dates won’t be that bad. Let me know if you have any questions.” Her ponytail swings when she turns to gather the behind-the-scenes photos and her other papers, leaving me and my zapped emotions in the dust.

  “Suck it up, buttercup. You know the game,” Russell says, clapping me on the back.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

  In a transparent effort to derail any complaints, he asks, “How’s the house hunting going?”

  “It’s going all right. I’ve seen a number of houses, but nothing has caught my eye yet. A voice mail from my realtor came in during our meeting. Thanks for recommending her.”

  “Good luck with your search. With all my house purchases, I knew from the instant I walked through the front door. Trust your instincts.”

  “Good advice. I’ll definitely keep you posted.”

  “You better. I need to know where to send my invoices.” We both laugh and he claps me on the back. We exit Platinum’s office directly into the parking garage.

  I get on the road and access my messages via Bluetooth. “Hi Cole, this is CJ Greene. I’m calling about a new listing that just crossed my desk. I’d like you to see this one right away. Give me a call when you’re free.”

  Sounds intriguing. I press “dial” on my steering wheel and she picks up on the third ring. “CJ Greene. How can I help you find your dream home?”

  “Hey CJ, it’s Cole. Got your message.”

  “Oh, great. The new listing sounds like it could be perfect for you. When are you available to check it out?”

  “I’m free now, if you are.”

  “Actually, my last appointment had to cancel. Where are you?”

  “I just left a meeting at Platinum Records.”

  “Perfect. Why don’t we meet at the house? It’s in Beverly Hills.”

  She gives me the address and I pull over and program it into my GPS. I arrive at the outside gate within forty-five minutes, and park alongside her car.

  “Hi, CJ,” I say as I climb out. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

  “No worries, Cole. So, this is the property,” she says, giving a wave that encompasses the landscaped yard in front of me. After she punches in the code for the gate, I return to my car and follow her in. Nice driveway up to the house. I like the contemporary style. It’s big but not overwhelming.

  At the front door, I ask, “How many bedrooms does it have?”

  “Four. Five and a half baths, plus a pool and hot tub.”

  CJ opens the door and we enter into a foyer with high ceilings and a stone floor. “What kind of floor is this?”

  “Travertine.”

  I like it.

  We tour the living room, dining room and a half bath before entering the kitchen. It’s big and open. I like the house’s vibe.

  Showing me the family room and home office, CJ leads me out French doors to a patio. I look around. “Nice pool. This are
a is so private. I love the outdoor kitchen and bar area.”

  “You certainly can host nice-sized parties out here, without worrying about the neighbors.” Remembering Phoenix, I truly appreciate the privacy.

  We head back in the house and up the stairs. On one side there are three large bedrooms, each with its own bath. Leading me to the other wing, CJ opens the double doors and says, “This is the master bedroom suite, which occupies this entire wing. It has a walk-in closet and attached bath, much bigger than the other three bedrooms. And a view of the pool.”

  Looking out the window, I see the patio and swimming pool right below. “I really like this one, CJ.” Although I notice a few little things I’d like to change, for the most part this house hits all my requirements—and then some. “I just need to figure out where I’d put a recording studio.”

  “I was thinking you could convert the second family room.”

  I think about her suggestion. “That could work.” That room is tucked behind the kitchen and is a nice size. I’d have to soundproof it. “Does the furniture come with the house?” Since I hardly have any of my own, I could at least start out with the furniture that’s already here.

  “Everything’s negotiable.”

  Leaving her, I wander through the halls and down the stairs again, getting a feel for each room along the way. I like the flow. I’m going to trust my instincts, like Russell said and Suzanne stressed.

  Turning to CJ, I state, “I’d like to put in an offer.”

  WE PULL UP to the bright red front door of a larger-sized house in Calabasas, similar to the one next door I had toured with CJ, Dan and Suzanne. I savor my last few minutes of solitude by mentally running through the instructions Rose emailed to me earlier, which included not to greet my date at her front door for some weird reason. Not that I’m complaining. All too soon, the driver opens the door and Mimi Barker peers inside.

  “It’s not a limo, but I guess this will do.”

  We’re getting off to a great start. Plastering a smile on my face, I offer her my hand. “Hi, Mimi.”

  She places her palm in mine and plasters a determined look on her face as she enters the SUV. Her fingers tighten around mine as she balances on one stiletto-clad foot. Whatever. She didn’t want me on her front step, so I don’t feel compelled to get out and help her. Finally, she settles into the backseat beside me. “Hello, Cole. Nice to finally meet you.”

  The way she’s smacking her gum, some sickly-sweet flavor, is distracting. “It’s a pleasure.”

  “You know, when Justus picked me up, he had a white limo. And when Erik came, he used a black Hummer. I’ve never been picked up for a date in just an SUV before.”

  She’s obviously the type who likes name dropping. “Greta VonStein arranged this for us. She thought the Mercedes SUV would appear more intimate.”

  She chews her gum while considering my last statement. Popping a bubble, she cocks her head and responds, “Yeah. Maybe. So, we’re going out to dinner at Nobu?”

  I nod.

  “I love that place! Although the one in Malibu has awesome ocean views, the one in LA is pretty great, too. The waiters are so cute, and the food is ah-maz-ing! You’ll order us a bottle of Dom Rosé, right?”

  Does this woman ever take a breath? “I hadn’t—”

  “Of course you will. It’s the most expensive bottle on the menu. Oh, and make sure to order caviar.”

  “I don’t really care for—”

  She extends her index finger toward my lips. Her nail is painted black with some sort of design on it. “Oh, where are my manners? We can discuss the menu when we get to the restaurant. Now, ask me anything you want to know about me.”

  How do I turn you off? “Um, well, what type of music do you like?”

  “I love your album, Cole. Especially ‘Prowling.’ ROAR!” She makes a gesture like she’s going to attack me.

  I stop myself from recoiling too far into the seat. Forcing another smile, I ask, “Then you’ll be happy to accompany me to the video premiere next week?”

  “Oh, yes. When your offer came in through my people, I was thrilled. The red carpet loves me. It’s so much fun doing interviews and mingling with my peeps.”

  She is going to be a nightmare.

  “It’s only a music video premiere. I don’t know how big of a deal it will be.”

  Mimi squeezes my knee. “Once word gets out that I’m going to be your date, it will be a big deal.” And here I’d hoped the video was the big deal.

  “I guess we need to talk about how you’re going to react to seeing me on screen with Meghann.”

  “That’s easy. She’s not the one on your arm. She was just a hired actress.”

  “As opposed to what we’re doing?”

  “Cole, this”—she points her black fingernail between the two of us—“is us dating. The video shows you two playing a part. I’ll act like how any normal girlfriend would. A bit jealous that another woman got her grubby paws on my man, but confident because you’re going home with me.”

  Schooling my features into a neutral expression, I swallow my distaste. “Sounds like you got it all figured out.”

  “It’s not my first rodeo.” I’ll bet.

  The SUV pulls up to Nobu. Mimi wiggles in her fire engine red dress, adjusting her boobs to make sure her very ample cleavage is in my face. And that of every waiting photographer. “Now, Cole, make sure you walk around and open my door to help me out of the”—she pauses—“SUV. I’ll make sure the paps know we’re out on a date. Stick close by so that you’ll be in the photos with me.”

  Seriously? Despite her hot body, she’s one of the more superficial people I’ve met…and that’s saying something. How many more hours of this torture?

  Taking a deep breath, I get out and walk around the vehicle. The paparazzi spot me and start shouting questions.

  “Cole! Cole! Over here!”

  “When is your video coming out?”

  “The photos you put on social media are hot!”

  “Is Meghann with you?” If only… That last question makes me long for Funnel Cake.

  Shaking my head, I offer a big smile and open Mimi’s door. The paparazzi jockey to get their first glimpse of who’s in the SUV. Mimi waits a full minute before extending her hand to take mine. I assist her to the sidewalk. She’s surprisingly graceful on her exit. Gotta hand it to her, she knows how to make an entrance.

  I wrap my arm around her and both of us smile for the cameras. “Oh my, it’s Mimi Barker!”

  “You’re looking beautiful tonight, Mimi!”

  “Mimi, Mimi, this way!”

  “When did you meet Cole?”

  I try to guide her to the front entrance, but Mimi has other ideas. She pulls me toward the paps instead of away from them.

  “Looking good, Mimi!”

  She poses while I stand with my arm around her, smiling like the fool I am. She steps away from me and does a slow twirl for the cameras, stopping with her back toward them and throwing a look over her shoulder. A cut out on the back of her dress extends all the way to the top of her ass.

  Pretending to be jealous, I put my hand on her bottom cheek and lean down to her ear, whispering, “Time to go inside.” Knowing I have to give them something more, I place a kiss on her neck and usher her toward the front door, guiding her with the hand still cupped around her ass. Catcalls from the paparazzi tell me they’re loving our display.

  As soon as she plants her ample ass in the chair, I note, “You really enjoy working the line.”

  “Oh yes. The paparazzi usually take wonderful photos of me. And they’re funny with all the questions they ask. They want to know everything I’m doing, who I’m with, and where I’m going.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  She tilts her head to the side and purses her collagen-injected lips. Putting her gum into a slip of paper, she replies, “Why would that bother me?”

  “Don’t you want to keep anything private?”
<
br />   “Of course, silly. I don’t share everything. But most of my life is an open book and I’m happy to let my fans read.”

  I stifle the urge to shake my head…barely. Luckily, the waiter comes and hands us menus. Mimi taps on the wine list. I heed her earlier request and order a bottle of Dom Perignon Rosé. After the waiter leaves, she starts to tell me about all of the other times she’s been to this restaurant, sharing information about her dinner companions.

  The waiter interrupts her soliloquy with the champagne. He pours two glasses, tells us the specials and leaves. Faster than Jeffrey’s drumsticks, she whips out her phone, snaps a photo and drops the phone back into her purse. Without waiting to toast, she quickly knocks back her glass. I do the same. Why the hell not? Maybe it will numb the pain of having to share a meal with her.

  Pouring us each another glass, I look over the menu. “What are you going to have for dinner?”

  “I’m definitely having the caviar, and I think I’ll have Wagyu beef as well. Oh, with a Bluefin roll.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I only order the most expensive items on a menu. People like seeing the pictures I post online, and they all comment on what good taste I have.”

  What can I say to that logic? I bury myself in the menu while she prattles on about whatever. The waiter returns and we give him our orders.

  “So, Cole, I was super excited to hear that you wanted to go out with me. Tell me, what attracted you to me?”

  I take another long swallow of champagne. Might as well be honest. “My publicist set this date up.”

  As she contemplates my response, she downs her second glass of champagne. Making a face, she sets the empty flute back on the table. “Well, I’m still excited that we’re out together.”

  “Is something wrong with the champagne? You looked like you weren’t enjoying it just then.”