Hard to Hold (The Hold series Book 2)

by Arell Rivers

  That’s the first time I’ve seen him use his middle initial.

  Tuesday evening

  I ENTER MY rental to the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked goods. Two women are talking and laughing. McKenna and . . . I pause to discern the second voice. It’s my neighbor—Grandma Gertie, as everyone in the neighborhood calls her.

  “Hi, ladies,” I say, walking into the kitchen.

  Wow, it looks like a typhoon hit in here. The two are drinking coffee and eating the pastries they apparently made from scratch, judging by the measuring cups, baking dishes and various ingredients left out on the countertop.

  “Oh, there you are, young lady. ‘Bout time you got home. Now take a load off,” Grandma Gertie points to my low heels, then waves a tartlet in my direction. “Try one of these delicious pastries your friend made.”

  “They smell great. What’s in them?”

  “The round ones are cheese and those square ones have strawberry filling. Grandma Gertie came over to see you but got me instead.” McKenna giggles and snakes her arm around the grey-haired lady’s shoulder. They vie for the title of who can break five foot. I think McKenna wins, by a hair.

  I smile at the adorable, vertically-challenged twins. “I see.”

  “I was just checking in on you, girlie,” my neighbor says. “I saw something on the news about Hot Stuff and wanted to make sure everything’s all right.”

  Despite myself, I smile. She always called Cole that. Before I can answer, my stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me that the last bit of food I ate was my partial breakfast this morning.

  “Here, eat.” The strawberry pastry that I’ve been eying is placed in front of me. “McKenna’s filled me in.”

  I nod and take a flaky bite. Pure heaven. “This is amazing,” I say between mouthfuls.

  “Grandma Gertie gave me some pointers about how to make the dough lighter.” She beams at my neighbor.

  The older woman pushes a platter toward me. “Why don’t you have a proper dinner? I brought over some pork chops.”

  She always brings me her home-cooked delicacies. “I keep telling you don’t have to feed me. I’m fine.”

  “Missy, it’s been lonely around here for dinners since you’ve been spending time with that hottie. Now, I’m not saying that the reason why you’re back isn’t bad—‘cause it is and he has to answer to me—but I’m happy to have someone to cook for again.”

  “Her pork chops are to die for. I did manage to leave you one,” McKenna says with a twinkle in her latte-colored eyes.

  What can I say? I am hungry. “Thank you. I’m so lucky to have you as a neighbor.”

  I look at McKenna. “And you as a friend.”

  “Bestie,” McKenna corrects. I nod and smile while serving myself the pork chop.

  MCKENNA HANGS THE dishtowel on its hook. Grandma Gertie left a half hour ago. “I have something to show you.”

  “Not another pastry. I can’t eat another bite.” I clutch my full, distended stomach.

  “Nope, not a pastry. But something that I think you’re going to enjoy just as much. At least I hope so.”

  Intrigued, I follow her into the living room. “Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

  Sipping my tea, I realize I missed having another person here with me. Sharon and I used to have girl time when we lived together. Then she met her boyfriend, now her husband, and spent less and less time at the house until she moved. Tommy only lived with me for about a month before the robbery. I shake my head to clear those awful memories.

  “Here.” McKenna thrusts some papers at me.

  Blinking at her, I ask, “What’s this?”

  “Look.”

  I flip through the papers and give her a quizzical look. “It’s Cole’s marriage certificate.”

  “Look closer.”

  “Oh. How did you do this?”

  She raises her hands over her head, shrugging her shoulders. “Graphic designer in the house.”

  Pointing at the paper, she says, “I used Photoshop, and voila, it looks like the Right Reverend Frisco Lemmon officiated my marriage to Cole. Look at the next one.”

  I turn the page and see that “Rose Bloomer” is now married to “Cole Manchester.” Eyes wide, I look at her. I feel my heart expanding, like a weight has been lifted.

  “So anyone could have created this?”

  She nods happily. “You just need some basic skills.”

  “Wow.” My mind goes back to earlier today. “I saw his driver’s license at the office. He signed it using his middle initial. That must be his official signature.”

  “Let me get the marriage certificate for Cole and Starr from the internet.” She sorts through some papers and we both look at it. Sure enough, it’s for Cole Manchester. No middle initial.

  “She’s crazy,” I whisper. McKenna nods in agreement. “How could she think this would hold up?”

  “You said she’s been stalking you guys for weeks. I don’t know much about stalkers, but I do know they’re not rational.”

  “Yeah. In her note, she said something about him belonging to her, so I guess she wants the whole world to believe it’s true. Wait a minute.”

  I jump up from the sofa and race to my bedroom, looking for the autographed photo of Cole.

  Finding it, I return to McKenna and thrust it toward her. “Look. He doesn’t use his middle initial when he signs autographs.”

  “Starr probably used his autograph as a template when she faked the marriage certificate.”

  I nod. “And hacked into the County Court’s computer system to set up the online record.”

  McKenna’s eyes grow big. “At least she’s a thorough nutcase.”

  I huff in disbelief. “You know, she looked vaguely familiar to me in the photos that were posted online. I think she asked for his autograph a couple of times when I was with him.” I wait a beat. “Did you know that she’s trying to sell her story? We’re working to keep a lid on it.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  My phone rings, interrupting our conversation. I look at the screen. “It’s my mother, I better take it.” Accepting the call, I say, “Hi, Mom.” McKenna walks down the hallway to her bedroom, giving me a wave as she goes.

  “Hi, Rosie. How are you doing? Any better?”

  “McKenna and I just figured out how Starr faked the marriage certificate.” I look down at the versions McKenna made.

  “I guess that’s something.”

  “Mom, really? This is a big deal.” I flip to the fake certificate McKenna mocked up for Cole and me.

  “I guess so. So you have proof that the marriage was faked?”

  “We’re getting there. But, we do know that Starr is Cole’s stalker.”

  “The one who ran you down in LA before you came here?”

  Frowning, I put the stack of papers down on the coffee table and pick up my mug. “Yes.”

  “Where is she now? Where are you? Are you safe?”

  I swallow my tea. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m at home. Everyone is looking for Starr, but she’s in hiding.”

  “That pop star is still paying for your bodyguard, right?”

  “Yes, Mom. Roberto is with me in public and now I have two guys watching over the rental at all times.” Sighing, I replace my mug on the coffee table.

  “Thank God. At least he’s good for something. With that crazy woman on the loose, you better be careful. Stalkers can be deadly. Remember what happened to John Lennon, Selena and Christina Grimmie.”

  A shiver of cold runs up my spine. “Well, she hasn’t hurt Cole physically at all. She’s come at him through me.”

  “All the more reason for you to be extra careful. Now, you mentioned McKenna earlier. As in your freshman roommate?”

  “The one and only. I ran into her in Las Vegas. She lives there now, and owns her own graphic design business. She’s visiting me for a little while.” Hopefully, Mom’s animosity toward McKenna has dis
sipated over time.

  “I suppose it’s good to have someone with you, even if it’s that flighty girl. I’m surprised she was able to focus for long enough to form her own business.” I guess not.

  “Mom, she’s a really good person.” I take a final sip of my herbal tea, which doesn’t soothe me any.

  “If you say so.” She’s quiet for a moment, then mutters, “This stupid remote. I never can get it to work right.” Clearing her throat, she continues in a louder voice, “Now, what’s up with the video I saw online of you and Cole from last night?”

  I’d hoped she would miss that, but it was clearly wishful thinking, and I haven’t exactly had a hot streak of luck lately. “He came to the restaurant where McKenna and I were eating.”

  “And made a very lewd gesture behind your back. That boy is trouble.”

  Standing up, I walk back to the kitchen with my empty mug. “We’re not together right now.”

  “Good,” she says, and her voice instantly holds more warmth. “I think you should give Marco another chance. He’s a gentleman with a steady job, and he adores you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “Mom, really? Let me be perfectly clear. Marco and I are over. Stop trying to set us up.”

  “You don’t have to get all huffy with me, Rosie. You know I’m right about that singer.”

  To be obstinate, I huff. “You know what Mom? I have to go. McKenna’s here and you don’t want me to be rude to my guest, do you?”

  “Go ahead and spend some time with her. I’m sure she’ll flit out of LA soon enough. My show is on now, anyway. We’ll talk over the weekend.”

  It takes longer than usual for me to bury the anger Mom stirred up, but after disconnecting the call and depositing my mug in the dishwasher, I’m feeling a little lighter. Taking a cleansing breath, I join McKenna in her room. She’s fiddling with her phone.

  “How’s your mom?”

  “She’s good. We’ll talk more this weekend.”

  Her cellphone lights up, causing her face to do the same. “Got it.”

  I can’t see what she’s doing from my angle. “What?”

  “Just changing ringtones. I assigned Katy Perry’s ‘Roar’ to you.”

  I wish. “Wouldn’t ‘Stupid Girl’ be more appropriate?”

  McKenna scowls at me. “Stop that right now.”

  Maybe I should take McKenna’s advice to heart and be more like my new ringtone. Take control of my life. Starting with work. I’ll get to Mr. Manchester soon enough.

  Pulling out my phone, I ask, “What app are you using? I have some ringtones to change.”

  Later that night, I can’t stop tossing and turning. I miss Cole’s arms around me. He always made me feel special. I’m increasingly certain he didn’t lie to me about marrying that woman. Even blind drunk, he wouldn’t have done that to us. And, he’s kept the fact that Starr is his stalker a secret from Greta, which protected my job. I reach for my cell phone to let him know what we figured out tonight. Maybe there’s still hope?

  Before I pull up his contact info, still filed under my nickname for him—Tarzan—I remember that he still went to her hotel room. I scroll to the photo that was attached to the rock, showing her finger tracing his happy trail. I throw my phone across the bed.

  Wednesday morning

  IN MY OFFICE, my mind keeps running in circles. How can we prove that Starr faked the marriage certificate and somehow hacked into the Clark County website? The ping of a new text diverts my musings. It’s from Jessie:

  Fri. 7 pm at Café de la Reina in Marina del Rey. Bring your friend.

  I had forgotten about Jessie’s dinner invitation. The restaurant has a private room and it’s off the beaten track near my rental, so it should be safe from the paparazzi. And Greta. I’ll need to ask McKenna tonight, and type a quick response to that effect.

  Before I drop my phone back into my bag, I receive another text. Busy day.

  Paps are all over Dad and Jayson.

  Crap. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own drama that I didn’t stop to think about Cole’s family. Of course the paparazzi would be all over his dad and his brother. How could I have allowed his family to essentially become sitting ducks? Even though Greta added Kim to the team and they have been shutting me out of their shared strategy, he’s still my account. I should have seen this coming.

  Starting right now, I need to protect them. I respond: Sorry they are being harassed. Will get on it now.

  Unsure of how I’m going to be received, I dial his father before my nerves can get the best of me. “Hi Ken, this is Rose Morgan.”

  “Hello, Rose.”

  His usual warmth is absent, and I have to clear my throat before resuming our conversation. “Cole just let me know that you and Jayson are being harassed by reporters.”

  “They’ve been camped outside both of our houses for days now. Ever since the news broke about Cole’s supposed marriage to that Starr woman.”

  Three days ago. Shaking my head at my own oversight, I reply, “Ken, I’m very sorry it has come to this. Are they at your jobs, or just at your homes?”

  “Both.”

  “Okay. Give me an hour or so to make some calls. They should back off by this evening.”

  “Thank you, Rose. I told them Cole didn’t get married, but that didn’t stop them.”

  A small smile crosses my lips. “No, that wouldn’t do it, unfortunately. Again, I apologize for not jumping on this sooner.”

  He coughs. In a softer tone, he says, “You do know Cole would never run off and get married like that, no matter what was going on between the two of you.”

  My stomach clenches. What has Cole told him about Las Vegas? “Thank you, Ken.” He deserves to know my working hypothesis. “Last night, I figured out how Starr could have created that fake marriage certificate.”

  “Oh, great. You can just tell the reporters and everything will be back to normal.” His voice is closer to its normal timbre.

  “Well, it’s not quite that easy. We have to sit on it until next Friday, when the formal paperwork is required to be filed in Nevada. The chapel is under too much scrutiny to be bribed by her, I’m sure of it. When the paperwork isn’t filed, everyone will know what we know. Until then, we just need to keep denying the marriage and get Emilie back to this coast as soon as Fashion Week ends.”

  “That makes sense. No wonder Cole sings your praises.”

  His compliment shoots straight to my heart, but I shake off my reaction. Stay professional, Rose. “As I said, I’ll try to get the reporters to back off, but I’m not certain all of them will go away. If you talk to anyone, please let them know the marriage didn’t happen. Oh, and if you can mention Emilie, that would be great, too.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s my job to make you as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.”

  Ken is silent for a short time, then says, “Rose, I don’t know what was going on between you and Cole when you were here last week, or what happened afterward. But I do know that I’ve never seen my son like he was with you. I wish Julie could’ve been there to see it. He’s really hurting right now, and I just wanted to say that I hope you two can work it out.”

  My eyes fill with tears. As far as father figures goes, he’s pretty awesome. “Thanks, Ken. It’s . . . it’s been difficult for me, too.” I hope my voice doesn’t betray me.

  “I’ll let you get back to work, Rose,” he says softly. “Just know that I’m here for you in case you need to talk. Good-bye.”

  I stare at my phone for a couple of minutes. By the end of the call, Ken was back to his normal, warm-hearted self. Everything he said made me long for Cole, but nothing has changed. Cole still went into that room with Starr, and I’m still on the verge of losing my job because of it.

  Taking a deep breath, I dial Jayson’s number. “Hey, what’s up?”

  I begin, “Hi Jayson, it’s Rose.”

  “Haha, you’ve reached my voicemail. This is Jayson and I’m not
answering, so leave me a message. If you’re a reporter, my big brother did not get married in Vegas, end of.” BEEP.

  Shaking my head, I start over. “Hi Jayson, it’s Rose. I’ve heard that the paparazzi are bugging you, and I’m very sorry about that. I’m working on getting them to back off of you and your dad. If they’re still bothering you by tomorrow, please let me know. Thanks.”

  Prior to my probation, I would have devised a strategy to help Ken and Jayson, contacted the media outlets and then informed Greta. However, things are more complicated now, especially with Kim in the mix. The best way forward is probably to present my strategy to Greta before acting on it.

  Thirty minutes later, I walk to Greta’s office with my strategy notes, plus the copy of Cole’s driver’s license, McKenna’s faked marriage certificate and the Nevada law regarding marriage licenses. In response to my knock, she looks up and raises her index finger, indicating that I should wait.

  “That’s all well and good, but I don’t care. Find her,” she says brusquely and disconnects the call. She then focuses all of her attention on me. Drumming her long red fingernails on her desk, Greta barks, “Starr Manchester is still MIA. My private investigator can’t locate her. What do you want?”

  Entering her office, I clear my throat. “Cole let me know that his father and brother have been bombarded by paparazzi asking about his alleged wedding. I spoke with Ken, and they’ve been denying the marriage. I came up with some ideas about how to call the press off.”

  Closing my eyes, I continue, “Also, I have a theory about how Starr faked the marriage in Vegas.”

  “Was there a scheduled meeting that I forgot?” Kim asks as she sidles into Greta’s office.

  “Rose was just going to share a new strategy.”

  “By all means, don’t stop on my account.”

  As if I need Kim’s permission. Whatever. Ignoring her, I present my strategy for handling the paparazzi and my theory about how Starr created the marriage certificate. To illustrate my point, I also show her the copy of Cole’s driver’s license.