Hard to Hold (The Hold series Book 2)

by Arell Rivers

  I smile at my friend. “Okay, maybe just a little bit. Well, to be honest, it wasn’t hero worship so much as pure lust. I had just broken up with Marco over the summer and there I was, in New York City, going to NYU. And Cole was so . . .”

  “Freaking fine.”

  “You could say that.” I sigh. Even more so now.

  The waiter exchanges my glass for a full one. “Amen, sister,” McKenna says, and we both take a drink.

  She leans in. “When Cole came to Greta’s agency that first time, what did he say to you?”

  I roll my eyes. “Nothing.”

  She sits back. “At all?”

  “He totally forgot about our night together.”

  “Well, that sucks.”

  Shaking off memories of that depressing day, I slurp my latest margarita. This one is better than the other one. Or was it two? Before I can reply, the waiter brings our entrees. I dive into my burrito. After a few bites, I take my eyes off my food and look at McKenna, who hasn’t touched her meal.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. Glad to see you enjoying your food and not picking like you usually do.”

  Do I pick? “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”

  “It’s just good.” She grabs her fork and starts eating.

  My burrito is delicious. It’s probably the best burrito ever. I wash it down with my yummy drink.

  “So, how did the two of you get together this time?”

  I tell her about how Julie’s death made him question the way he was living his life. How he decided he wanted more than hook-ups. He wanted me. And I fell for him like a lovesick puppy.

  In between bites, McKenna asks, “Does your mom like him?”

  “Oh God, no. She hates him.”

  She grins. “Then he has my backing. One-hundred percent.”

  Sighing, I take a fortifying sip of my drink. “She’s been bugging the crap out of me to get back together with Marco.”

  “I say never copy a bad graphic. He wasn’t good to you.” She takes a bite of her enchilada. “So, the million-dollar question is: Do you want Cole back?”

  I lift my fork and then put it back down. Do I? Can I risk it?

  “I—he—we . . .”

  Running my fingers through my hair, I pull out my cell phone to check the time. I notice that Jessie texted me earlier:

  I plan on going out with you Friday, not Brandan. Melanie is a pain in the ass!

  “With everything that happened today, I forgot to ask you.”

  “Ask me what?”

  “A friend. A client . . . well, a former account of mine asked us out to dinner on Friday. Would you be interested in going?”

  “Sure!”

  With leaden thumbs, I start to type my reply, but McKenna interrupts me, wide-eyed. “Wait. Who is it? It’s not someone I’m going to be like ‘who are you?’ is it?”

  “No worries.” No one is seated at the nearby tables, but I still pitch my voice lower and lean in close in case someone’s eavesdropping. “It’s Jessie Anderson.”

  McKenna’s mouth drops open. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you Rookie? I can’t believe you are deigning to hang with the likes of me.”

  “Don’t be crazy, McKenna. Jessie is very sweet and we got closer when Cole and I were, uhm, together. We’ve worked together ever since she signed with Greta. That is, until this week when she was reassigned to Melanie.”

  “Ugh. That bitch.”

  A giggle escapes. “She is a total biotch. She and Kim are awful. Just today they were making fun of me, accusing me of having a crush on Cole and saying he would never give me a second glance.”

  “I hope you told them catty bitches aren’t his style.”

  “I wish. I couldn’t think of anything to say back.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop by your office and give them a taste of their own medicine.”

  Picturing McKenna taking on both Kim and Melanie makes me giggle. They wouldn’t know what hit them. And McKenna certainly wouldn’t get tongue-tied around them like I always do.

  “Wait a minute. Wasn’t Cole dating Jessie recently?”

  “You can’t believe everything you read, McKenna.”

  “Not even in grocery store lines?” She winks.

  “Especially there.” Looking at my cell, I ask, “So, are you in for dinner with her on Friday?”

  “Let me think. Um, yeah!”

  Smiling at her exuberance, I complete my text back to Jessie, confirming we’ll be there.

  “I’m going to meet the coolest actress on TV, Jessie Anderson. LA rocks! Whoop! Whoop!” She does a little happy dance in her seat. We clink our glasses.

  McKenna motions for the waiter to refill my empty margarita glass. Don’t mind if I do.

  She clears her throat and asks, “Getting back to what happened today. Was Cole a total dick?”

  I shake my head. “He was very sweet.” Grabbing my new glass, I take a sip, finishing with a lick of the salt on the rim.

  “Did he say he wants you back?”

  “Not in so many words. But he was trying to rear. Roar. Reach out.” I start giggling uncontrollably.

  “Well, his rear ain’t so bad either.”

  We both burst into gales of laughter. From across the restaurant, other diners look at us, but I don’t care. The waiter comes and takes our plates away, then returns and asks, “Would you like anything else?”

  “Gosh no, I’m stuffed like that burrito.”

  As soon as those words leave my mouth, I cover my face with my hands, trying to stifle my laughter. I feel accomplished until the waiter says, “I hope she’s not driving.”

  Thursday morning

  WHY DID I have that last margarita? Or the next to last one? I will never drink again. Melanie and Kim walk by my office, chattering at the top of their lungs. At least they don’t come in.

  From the hallway, Greta yells, “Rose! Kim! My office!”

  I blanch at the sound of my boss’s booming voice. I carefully make my way to Greta’s office, faithful notepad in hand. Kim’s already seated.

  Before my butt hits the chair, Greta starts, “I just got off the phone with our PI. The police have located Starr’s apartment. Of course we can’t get in there, but the PI found out that her real name is”—she picks up a notepad—“Lisa Nelson. She is a reality TV show wannabe who was cut from Single But Searching before it aired last season.”

  Kim laughs. “He sure knows how to pick them.”

  Lisa Nelson. Starr’s real name is Lisa Nelson.

  Smiling at Kim, Greta continues, “Very true. At least we finally got a break.” She tosses the notepad down on her desk and I manage not to cringe at the loud thud. “Now, on another subject, Cole’s manager, Russell Waldock, has reminded me that they’re ready to select the photos that will be included in the video for Cole’s next single today.” Cold eyes look at me. “He said that you have the photos from Cole’s house in New Jersey.”

  I modulate my voice to above a whisper. “Yes. They’re in my office.”

  Greta gives me an appraising look. “Good.” She turns and directs her attention on Kim. “I want you to bring them over to the studio, Kim, and help Cole and his team decide which ones to use in the video.”

  Seriously? I spent hours with Cole and his family trying to decide which of the photos to pick and now Kim is making the final decision? Probation sucks, even if I have absolutely no desire to see Cole again. Nope. None at all. Gruesome’s really getting to me. Shit. Gruesome is Cole’s nickname for Greta. I have to stop thinking about him.

  “Sure thing, Greta. What’s the address?”

  As Kim scribbles down the address, Greta says, “Rose, I want you to work on some publicity for when Emilie Dubois comes back to town. What’s been arranged?”

  Kim jumps in. “I’ve been the lead on this.” She gives me a sideways glance. “Fashion Week ends today. Emilie’s been told to move in with Cole as soon as she’s back in LA.”


  “Which is when?”

  “Monday.”

  “Good. Rose, start leaking the news to reporters and dropping hints on social media. When you’re done with that, I want to see the Public Service Announcement release strategy and the plan for Cole’s worldwide tour. Now, go get the photos. They’re expecting Kim within the hour.”

  I don’t have the energy to do anything more than nod. The clicking of Kim’s heels against the marble floors behind me is pounding stakes directly into my brain. At least she’ll be gone for the day as soon as I can get her out of my office.

  “Too bad you won’t be seeing your man-crush today. I’ll be sure to give him a big kiss on the lips from you.”

  Blank. I don’t have a comeback. McKenna would be disappointed in me. Well, the less I engage, the quicker she’ll be gone.

  Walking over to the shelf where I left Cole’s family photos, I grab the box. Without looking, I remember the one on top: Julie smiling and holding a tiny Cole right after giving birth to him. “Here they are. These photos are the originals, so they’re very precious to Cole’s family.”

  “Precious,” she mocks. “How quaint.” She reaches out an impatient hand.

  “Remember to keep all of the photos that aren’t chosen for the video,” I say, reluctant to hand them over. “We need to return all of them.”

  “I know how to do my job, Rosie. I’ll go make a music video. You stay here and play on the computer.” Kim grabs the box of photos and prances out of my office on her pointy stilettos. Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Closing my eyes, I collapse into my chair and reach for my now-lukewarm tea. After a few minutes, the throbbing in my temples reduces to a bearable level. Thankfully, the police won’t allow Greta or her PI into Starr’s apartment. My stomach ties into knots at the thought of what would have happened if she’d seen Starr’s photographs.

  Looking down at my notepad, I prioritize my assignments and begin emailing reporters about Emilie’s impending move. My heart flips when I think of them living together in his house. What room will he give her? I don’t want her in my Command Center. Or the master bedroom. Get a grip, Rose. It’s his house and he can let her use whatever rooms he wants.

  After I’ve drummed up sufficient media interest for this new development in Cole’s fake relationship, I turn to my notes for the Public Service Announcement and start arranging them in a coherent form. After concentrating on our strategy for a while, I’m pleased with the results and email them to Greta. And Kim.

  Next, I open my notes for his worldwide tour. Cole opens in Sydney on his birthday, November seventh. I was hoping to be there, with him.

  Shaking my head, I work on plans for interesting places he’ll visit under the radar, in addition to the public stops that will be announced beforehand. His tour will be amazing, even if he doesn’t deserve it. I send the updates.

  My final task is to start peppering social media with hints about Emilie’s return to LA and her new living arrangements. However, once I pull up all Cole’s social media sites, I can’t stop myself from searching his fans for a “Lisa Nelson.” Unlike the searches for “Starr Nelson” that I ran on Monday, this one returns just ten results. Two of them are in California. Looking at their profiles, I easily zero in on the stalker.

  Reaching for my cell, I dial Nolan. “Kates, PI.”

  “Hi, Nolan, it’s Rose.”

  “Is everything okay, Rose?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. And so is Roberto.” He’s back on my detail today, looking the picture of health, thank goodness. Frustrated about the doorbell incident, though. “I’m calling you about Starr. I’m sure you already thought to do this, but I ran a search of her real name on Cole’s social media accounts, and I found her.”

  “You know, I haven’t done that yet. I’ve been working through other channels now that we know her to be Lisa Nelson but there might be some helpful information on her profiles.”

  I give him the URL. “She liked his Facebook page, but her profile’s private. You have to be a friend to see her information.”

  He chuckles. “We’ll get past that, don’t worry. Thank you for the lead.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope it helps.”

  “Just so you know, I found out Lisa is from a very wealthy family in North Dakota. She has a trust fund. My bank connection told me that she withdrew a sizeable amount last Sunday.”

  “Great. An unhinged woman with unlimited funds.”

  “We’ll find her soon. Don’t worry.”

  I’m putting my cell back into my purse when a text pings on my phone. It’s from Marco. Before I open it, my office phone rings. Grand Central much?

  “Rose Morgan.”

  “You couldn’t help yourself, could you Rosie?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, you’re going to get your wish. Nice stunt.”

  My headache starts to make a comeback. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kim.”

  “The photos. Where are the photos of Cole’s mother with him at the Grammys? Those obviously need to be in the video, and they’re not in the box you gave me.”

  Shit. They’re in a separate folder in my drawer. “I’m sorry, Kim. I forgot all about them.”

  “Well, if you weren’t drooling all over Cole, you wouldn’t have messed up. We need them here right away.”

  “I’ll bring them to you personally.”

  “How magnanimous of you.”

  “You’re at Platinum, right? What room?” She gives me the details and we hang up. I dig through my purse and find an Advil.

  After tucking the file with the Grammy photographs into my bag, I text Roberto to let him know about this unscheduled trip to Platinum. I opt to drive myself and let him follow, hoping the time alone will help me steel myself to see Cole again.

  Before I know it, we’re crossing Platinum’s spacious lobby. Roberto presses the elevator call button, and it comes immediately. Moments later, I’m standing at the reception desk on the tenth floor, and Roberto is sitting next to Wills in one of the black leather reception chairs. I’m all out of time, and I’m no more ready to see Cole than I was twenty minutes ago.

  Instead of calling the conference room so Kim could come grab the photos, the receptionist takes it upon herself to lead me there, through a sea of cubicles. The oh-so-helpful receptionist opens a door, and I follow her into the conference room. After a short pause in which she openly ogles Cole’s backside, she leaves and closes the door behind her.

  No one in the room takes notice of my entrance, probably because Kim, Cole and the rest of his team are all staring intently at the conference table. They’re facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, their backs to me and the door. Immobile, I watch as he leans in and picks up various photos, only to immediately put them back down. Kim stands very close to Cole. She puts her hand on his shoulder, presumably for balance, when she reaches for another photo. Bitch.

  “What about this one? You were such a cute little boy.”

  Cole says, “I don’t know. I want these photos to showcase my mother so my fans can feel like they knew her too. I’m not sure this picture is right.”

  “Cole, you’ve said that to every photo we’ve suggested.”

  He runs his hand through his disheveled hair. “I know. I’m sorry. This is very challenging. I don’t know which ones to choose.”

  He sounds so forlorn. He’s clearly not handling this well. It was difficult enough for him to choose which photos to bring to LA when he was in father’s living room, surrounded by people he loved, and who loved him. Including myself. I shake my head to get rid of that thought. Get a grip, Rose. Be a professional.

  Kim looks up at him. “Look, Cole, we’ve been at this for two hours and you haven’t selected more than five photos. Would you prefer for me to choose the best ones?”

  She strums her fingernails on the table. Some of the crystals on her nails catch the sunlight.

  “No, I need to do this.” He picks up a few more photogra
phs and then returns them to the table.

  Despite everything that’s happened between us, I hate seeing this normally confident man looking so lost. I clear my throat and say, “Hi everyone. I’m sorry I forgot to include the photos from the Grammys. Here they are.” I lift up the file.

  Four sets of eyes turn and look at me. The two people from the label barely register my presence. Kim’s eyes narrow. Cole looks relieved.

  Speed walking toward me, Kim says, “Finally. Here, let me take those.” She seizes the file from my hand. Lowering her voice, she tells me, “You can go now. I’ve got this well in hand.”

  I nod to Kim while glancing over at Cole, who walks up to us. “Rose. I’m glad you’re here.”

  I stammer, “I . . . I was just dropping these off. I should, uhm, go.” From my peripheral vision, I catch Kim rolling her eyes.

  “No.” he says in nearly a panicked tone.

  Startled, I look up at Cole. Kim turns and stares at him with her mouth open.

  Dropping his voice, he backtracks, “I mean, Rose, if you have the time, I would appreciate your input on these photos. The more, the merrier.”

  Hostility emanates from Kim. Her attitude plus seeing Cole is too much, so I shake my head.

  Cole bends and murmurs directly in my ear, “I underestimated how difficult this would be. Please.”

  How can I say no to that? Does he mean the photo selection process, or something else? “Okay. I have some time to help out.”

  He smiles, although his dimple doesn’t make an appearance. “Thanks.”

  The three of us walk to the conference table, with Kim standing in between Cole and me. The new photos are added to the jumbled spread on the table. Everyone resumes looking at them.

  After a few minutes of silence, I ask, “So, how many photos do you want included in the video?”

  Kim says, “As many as we want. The number doesn’t matter.”

  She may be right, but Cole clearly needs some direction. “Why don’t we shoot for a new photo every ten seconds? Which means we would need, what? About twenty photos?”

  Cole repeats, “Twenty. Yeah, that sounds good.”

  I continue, “How about we arrange these photos in chronological order. That way, we can see how they break down, timing-wise, which will help us pick the best twenty.”