Hard to Hold (The Hold series Book 2)

by Arell Rivers

  Gruffly, he says, “Just doing my job. Speaking of which, I’d better go check in with Kates. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for work. You’re all covered here.” He motions outside toward the guards at the front and back of my rental.

  “Thanks. We’re in for the night. Oh, just so you know, tomorrow I have to go to the office as usual, but then I’ll be going out to a studio for a taping. I’ll text you the address.”

  Once the dishes are away, McKenna places two mugs on the counter. “When are you going to catch a break, Rose?”

  I fill the teakettle with water and put it on the stove to boil. “I don’t know. Today was awful, and I’m not just talking about my car.” I give her additional details about Platinum, ending with the story of the women at the nail salon.

  “Man. If I could get my hands around Cole’s neck, I would strangle him.”

  “I want to do that sometimes, too.” I pull out my box of teas and offer her first choice.

  “And other times?” She selects Orange Zinger.

  I sigh. “Other times, not so much. Like when I watched him struggle to select photos for his video. He looked so sad, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him.” I put a peppermint teabag into my mug.

  “Kim would’ve loved that,” she giggles, prompting me to stick my tongue out at her.

  “I bet.” A distant ping alerts me to a new text. McKenna motions toward the coffee table, where I left my cell earlier. We both walk over to the living room. Sitting on the couch, I check the screen: How are you doing, Bella Rosa?

  I roll my eyes. “Great. Another man who doesn’t understand how to back off.”

  McKenna cocks her head. “Marco?”

  “Yeah. Greta wants to meet with him, so I’ll have to arrange that get-together. Boy, my life is just a laugh-riot.” The teakettle whistles, and we return to the kitchen.

  Pouring water into her mug, McKenna asks, “Why does Greta want a meeting with Marco?” While preparing our teas, I bring McKenna up to speed about Marco and his business. McKenna puts sugar into hers. She tastes it, makes a face and adds more sugar. We settle back into the sofa.

  “So he’s rich now.” I shrug. “If I remember correctly, your mom didn’t trust men, especially wealthy ones. Has that changed?”

  The awful dinner with Cole and Mom springs to mind. “Nope. But, she’s made an exception for her best friend’s son. She doesn’t think he would screw me over like my father did to her.”

  McKenna knows all about my father’s complete lack of involvement in my life. Mom’s financial struggles while I was growing up taught me the value of being independent. She made me who I am, which is why her refusal to see things from my perspective can be so frustrating.

  McKenna blows on her tea and takes a tentative sip. “But he did. I mean, Marco cheated on you.”

  “Yeah, but remember? I didn’t tell Mom. I was going off to college, so there was no reason to damage her friendship with his mother.”

  She cocks her head. “Are you going to respond to his text?” She sets her mug back down on the coffee table.

  “As this is at least his third one that I’ve not responded to, I guess I better. I’ll do it tomorrow, after I check Greta’s schedule.”

  McKenna waves her hand in dismissal. She wanders over to the bookcase, picks up a framed photograph that was facing inward and turns it toward me, a question in her eyes.

  “Cole took it of us on the beach in Santa Monica.”

  “This photo is amazing. I bet his fans would love it, too.”

  “Oh, no. His fans would flip.”

  Putting the frame back, right side out, she says, “I don’t know about that, Rose. I think people root for the underdog. I bet they would be excited to see him with a real woman, rather than all the models and actresses.”

  I meet her eyes. “I don’t think so, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Fine. I know I’m right.” She crosses her arms.

  “Now, that’s enough about me and my sorry excuse for a life. When are you planning on talking with your guy?”

  She takes a long sip of her tea. “He’s a lost cause, committed only to the next party girl. I need to move on. But I did get a piece of good news today.”

  “Do tell.”

  “My bid was accepted for this huge project in Las Vegas, at the Artist Avenue Adventure. I’m going to be the graphic artist for the next LED light show there.”

  “That’s awesome, McKenna! You should have shut me up and shared this news right away.”

  She shrugs. “It’s kinda a big deal.”

  “Kinda?”

  Her face breaks into a huge smile. “Okay, I fucking rock.” We both laugh. “The only bad news is that I have to be on site to start up the project. I booked a Saturday afternoon flight out.”

  My shoulders droop. I’m happy for her, yet I’m going to miss her. Desperately. Having her here has been amazing. Reaching out, I pull her into a huge hug.

  “I’m so happy for you,” I whisper into her ear.

  “It looks like we’re both starting over.”

  I raise my mug. “Here’s to a fresh start.”

  McKenna’s mug touches mine. “Without any asshats.”

  The doorbell rings. McKenna peers through the curtain and looks back at me. “Speaking of . . .” her voice trails off.

  I put my tea down and start to stand, but she shakes her head and bounds to the door. Opening it a crack, she says, “We were just talking about your kind.” I remain rooted to the sofa, out of sight.

  Cole’s voice sears my soul. “Is Rose here? I just heard about her car.”

  “She’s fine.” McKenna doesn’t open the door any farther.

  “Can I see her?”

  She looks at me for direction. I’m not ready to talk with him—not about today, and not about us. I shake my head. Her eyes widen for confirmation. I shake my head again emphatically.

  McKenna translates, “Not tonight.”

  In a strong voice, Cole replies, “Rose, we’re just changing melodies. I’ll leave because you need to figure out how we fit together after all of this. Because we still do. You make my world sing.”

  Friday morning

  ALL ACCOUNT REPS are assembled in the conference room for the weekly pre-weekend meeting. As usual, Greta eschews any social niceties and starts right in. “Shari, what events do you have planned for your clients this weekend?”

  Shari’s response is thoughtful, as usual. I like how she handles her talent and the creative ways she gets good publicity for them. When she finishes her presentation, Greta looks satisfied, too. She doesn’t ask any questions, which indicates her approval of the strategy.

  “Very good, Shari. Let’s hope your talent stays on target.” Greta gives me a pointed look before continuing. It’s been five days of this torture. “Melanie. Tell us what your talent is going to be doing this weekend.”

  Melanie puffs up. “I’ll start my presentation with my new talent, Jessie Anderson and Brandan Rogers.” My heart begins to race. “Brandan will be going to a red carpet charity event tonight solo. Tomorrow, he and Jessie will go clubbing, and Sunday morning they’ll have brunch al fresco in Malibu together.”

  I close my eyes and bite my lip to stop myself from blurting out that Jessie never does appearances on Sundays. It’s supposed to be her time with Amanda.

  Greta doesn’t look happy either. “Why isn’t Jessie going out with him tonight?” Crap. I’m the reason Jessie refused to be Brandan’s date.

  “Jessie told me that she had a personal engagement tonight.” Melanie rolls her eyes for effect. “I kept trying to get her to reschedule, but she wouldn’t budge. Brandan will say that she’s under the weather.”

  “If she keeps refusing to work with us, she’ll have a lot more time for personal engagements,” Greta says gruffly. Melanie laughs at the remark, but it only makes me feel worse. “But it sounds like they’ll be getting positive press this weekend. Good.”

&nbs
p; After Melanie finishes her presentation, Greta looks around the room and says, “Next up, Kim. Tell us what’s in store for Cole Manchester.” I force my expression to remain neutral. Kim’s been on Cole’s team for less than a week, and she is giving the update?

  Kim’s smile is so angelic, I know I’m in for it. “Actually,” Kim says, “Cole is going to lie low this weekend. After his wedding last weekend in Vegas”—Pow!—“and Monday’s drunken outing to Gorman’s”—Zam!—“I felt he shouldn’t be in the public eye. He’d only have to fend off questions about his wife.”—Ka-pow!—“Plus, Emilie Dubois moves in with him on Monday,”—Boom!—“so I put out the story that he’s spending the weekend getting his house ready for her. A decorator is delivering a new bed on Sunday.”

  He doesn’t need a new bed, I fume silently, ignoring the four direct hits to my heart.

  “That sounds like a very good plan, Kim. I better not see any photos of him in the media at all this weekend,” Greta states, looking directly at me.

  The meeting continues, but I stop paying attention. My thoughts have drifted, once again, to Lisa Nelson. She needs to go away, back under the rock from whence she came. But not back to her apartment with all those photos of Cole and me. I shudder, causing Shari to catch my eye. I offer her a small smile, letting her know I’m fine.

  “Okay, that’s a wrap. Keep your talent under control this weekend.” We start to file out. “Rose, a word.”

  Leaving the line of lucky account reps escaping the conference room, I walk over to Greta. Uninvited, Kim joins us. “Rose, I understand from Kim that you went to Platinum yesterday and helped narrow down the photo choices for Cole’s next video.”

  I clear my throat. “Yes. When I gave Kim the photos from Cole’s father’s house, I forgot to include our pictures from the Grammys. I brought them over immediately when Kim called.” I pause. “Cole asked me to stay and help, and I didn’t feel that I could just walk away.”

  Greta nods once before turning to Kim. “Kim, Rose and Cole have been working together for years now. It’s only natural that he would want a familiar face with him when making those tough choices.”

  Finally, my boss is standing up for me. “However, you’re on his team now, and you need to develop a relationship with him. I want you to go to the PSA shoot today, Kim. Rose, you stay here and work on keeping a lid on his wife.” Splat! I manage not to wince at her last word, but it’s a close call.

  Kim wears a triumphant look. I try to tell myself I’m happy she’s going to the PSA shoot. It doesn’t work, but I manage to keep my poker face in place. I hope.

  Since they are both looking at me, I say, “No problem, Greta. Kim, why don’t you come over to my office and I’ll give you the strategy I’ve worked up for the PSA release.”

  “No, Rose, you handle all that,” Greta said. “I just want Kim on set to take behind-the-scenes photos and make sure everything runs smoothly. Get some face time in with Cole. Rose, you can post the photos when Kim sends them to you after the taping is over.”

  In other words, I get to do all the heavy lifting. Business as usual.

  Looking at Kim, I force myself to keep my voice even and say, “Okay. I just need to get you the photo they’re using in the PSA.”

  Stewing, I return to my office. I’ve been handling all of Cole’s publicity alone, not to mention Jessie’s and Brandan’s, for years, and now it feels like I’m playing assistant to Kim and Melanie. I really want off this probation.

  The first thing I do when I get to my office is pull out the photo. Looking at it, I can hear Julie thanking me for suggesting that she be Cole’s date to the Grammys. I never asked her how she knew it was my idea, not Greta’s. Cole had believed me when I’d credited my boss. Well, he had at the time.

  “You can stop drooling over Cole and give me that damn photo. I’ll make sure to take lots of pictures today so that you can fawn all over him as you’re posting them on social media.”

  Placing the photo first into an envelope and then a folder, I turn to face Kim. Biting my tongue, I caution, “Be careful with this.”

  “We can always get another copy.” Kim plucks the file from my hands and struts toward my office door.

  Thinking about my damage control assignment, I call out, “Kim, can I see your notes about what you’ve been doing to prevent Starr’s story from getting out? And your strategy moving forward?”

  Without turning to face me, she replies, “I’ll email you the spreadsheet.” Then she’s gone.

  I collapse back into my chair. When I check my cellphone, I see Jessie sent me a confirmation about tonight. I text back:

  Yes, looking forward to seeing you and Amanda. McKenna is excited to meet you – thanks for including her. Are you sure it’s ok for you? Just heard you’re spending Saturday and Sunday with Brandan.

  Jessie responds immediately:

  All ok. No worries. Looking forward to tonite!

  I guess if she’s not upset about it, I don’t have to confront Melanie. I’ll ask her about it tonight, though. And also check in with Amanda, as Jessie’s publicity obligations affect her, too.

  My e-mail pings; Kim has sent me her strategy for controlling Starr. I open the file and review the spreadsheet and notes. It’s certainly not as in-depth or comprehensive as I had expected. The files read like dictation from Greta, with little embellishments by Kim. Did Greta reassign me because she wanted me to strengthen this strategy? She would sooner die than admit to a mistake, so maybe this was her way of saddling me with the work Kim didn’t do. Since I have absolutely no—zero—interest in seeing Cole right now, this is for the best, anyway. I rename the file “Operation Sideline Starr,” and get to work.

  “Knock, knock. Can I come in?”

  I look up. Shari stands my doorway. Smiling, I say, “Sure, Shari. I need a break.”

  “I wanted to know if you’d like to join me for lunch?”

  Wow. It’s lunchtime already? “You know what, that sounds wonderful. Where would you like to go?”

  “How about the salad bar on Melrose?” She dangles her car keys. “I’ll drive.”

  “Perfect.” I send a quick text to Roberto about my impromptu plans, then Shari and I walk toward the elevators.

  “You know,” she says, “I don’t usually leave the building for lunch, but I needed a break today. I’m glad you’re up for it.”

  “This sounds like fun. I don’t remember the last time I went out for lunch.”

  On the short car ride to the café, she says, “It was weird not hearing you present during the weekly meeting.”

  I lift my lips upward in what probably looks more like a grimace than a smile. “Probation.”

  She nods. “Where did Kim go looking like the cat who swallowed the canary?”

  “To Cole’s PSA shoot.”

  “Oh. The one against smoking?” She turns into the parking lot.

  “Yeah. Greta wants Kim to bond with Cole.”

  “More like Kim wants to bond to Cole.”

  A half-laugh escapes. I hope that didn’t sound wistful or pathetic. Shari turns to look me, but doesn’t say anything further. I decide to change the subject.

  “I liked your presentation this morning.”

  She beams. “Thanks. I hope my clients follow through.”

  “Fingers crossed. But then again, if they only got positive press, our lives would be dull.”

  We walk into the salad bar and place our orders at the counter. Soon, we slip into a booth with our lunches on trays. Roberto slides into a seat nearby. As I’m placing my purse to the side, the ping of a new text diverts my attention. “I’m popular today. Excuse me.”

  Shari nods and starts to eat her salad. I look at my phone. It’s from Cole. My breath hitches.

  Thought you’d be here. Why did you send Kim?

  I reach for my water.

  “Everything all right, Rose?” Shari asks. “You’re a bit pale.”

  “Yeah,” I respond automatically. Looking u
p at her concerned face, I continue, “I’m fine. Cole has a question that Kim can’t answer. Please give me a minute.”

  What do I tell him? The truth always works.

  She’s on your team now.

  Putting my phone away, I turn to Shari. “Sorry about that. How’s your salad?”

  “It’s really good. Is everything okay with Cole? Is Kim bugging the shit out of him yet?”

  I giggle. “She needs another hour or so, I think.”

  We eat our salads and reminisce about the big parties, premieres and red carpets our firm has created over the years. I’m not sure why we haven’t done this before, but I’m glad that we’re becoming friends now. Especially since McKenna’s leaving tomorrow.

  My cellphone beeps with another text. When I ignore it, Shari asks, “Do you have to get that?”

  “No. I’m sure Cole can muddle through.”

  Taking a last bite of her lunch, Shari asks, “Are you doing anything exciting this weekend, Rose?”

  “Tonight, I’m going out to dinner with some friends. Tomorrow, I’m dropping my friend off at the airport. She’s been staying with me for the past week.”

  “Some week she picked to visit. I’m sure you appreciated having her with you.”

  Placing my fork down onto the plate with my mostly eaten salad, I reply, “Honestly, I’m not entirely certain how I would have survived without her. It’s been a difficult week.”

  “Understated as ever, Rose. Greta has been so unfair to you.”

  “Well, it’s her company.”

  “I know. But I can still hate to see you being treated this way.”

  “Thanks, Shari. I really appreciate your support. But we’d better be getting back before you land in the doghouse next to me.”

  Shari drives us back to the office, Roberto on our tail. As we enter the office, she whispers, “Look.”

  I glance around, but nothing seems amiss. “What?”

  “The place is still in one piece and we both left for lunch.”

  Each of us is smiling as we part and return to our respective offices. That was nice. I need to go out with Shari again sometime soon. As I’m putting my purse back in my drawer, I remember the text that came in while we were eating. Checking my phone, I see it was from Cole, as I suspected.