Hard to Hold (The Hold series Book 2)

by Arell Rivers

  Finally, she turns on her heel and resumes her spot at the head of the table. Looking down, I exhale a long breath as quietly as possible while she gives us final instructions about tonight’s Evening with Eddie interview.

  “After last night,” I say, “I think Emilie should be onstage with Cole. It’ll validate what he’s been saying all along.”

  “She doesn’t need to be onstage. Emilie can be picked up by a backstage camera looking all lovey-dovey,” Kim argues.

  I’m about to further my argument, but Greta puts up her hand, signaling that whatever she’s about to say is final. “Emilie stays backstage. Rose, tell the producers she’ll be there.”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I add Greta’s latest decision to my list of things to discuss with the producer.

  Greta stops on her way to the door. “There will be no missteps today.” She exits the conference room in a swirl of blonde hair and expensive perfume.

  Left alone with the gloating Kim, I review the assignments for today. She stands. “I’ll get in touch with Emilie’s people and check in with your boyfriend. You can take care of all the paperwork, Rosie.” With a flip of her ponytail, Kim exits the conference room.

  I remain seated. Inhaling deeply, I hold the air in my lungs for a couple of seconds and let out the cleansing breath. With any luck, this will all be over soon.

  Taking my notebook, I go to my office and spend the next few hours communicating with the producer at Evening with Eddie and finalizing the press release to be distributed as soon as Lasso the Moon Chapel fails to file the paperwork for Cole and Starr. I also review the social media posts ready to be deployed for this auspicious non-event.

  When Shari appears in my doorway, I’m not even certain what time it is. “I figured you haven’t eaten even though it’s after two, so I brought you a sandwich and some coffee.”

  I push back from the keyboard and take her offerings with a smile. “Thanks, Shari. I really appreciate it.” I rub my neck, trying to ease the tension there.

  “Not long now, huh?”

  I take a bite of the turkey BLT. “No. Just waiting for Lasso the Moon Chapel. Should happen any minute now.”

  Shari gives me a quick nod. Moving closer, she says in an undertone, “Greta is threatened by you, you know. That’s why she acted like that at the pre-weekend meeting.” She offers a sympathetic smile. “If I don’t see you before you leave for the show, good luck with everything today.”

  “Thanks.” I hold up my sandwich. “And thanks again for lunch. You’re right, I never would have gotten any food.”

  She gives my shoulder a squeeze. Commotion from the hallway draws our attention. We exchange a look, and both of us hurry out of the office. The television headline screams: “Breaking News.” Reporters swarm outside what’s labeled the Clark County Clerk’s Office.

  Kim screeches, “Turn it up.”

  The volume is raised and everyone in the office, including Greta, stands transfixed by the circus onscreen. A man wearing a Lasso the Moon Chapel shirt disappears inside the courthouse after saying he is “filing wedding documentation for recording.”

  I rub my suddenly sweating palms on my skirt. Finally, the moment of truth. The rep leaves the building and walks over to the reporters. Clearly relishing his moment in the sun, he states and spells his name. Once all the preliminaries are out of the way, he says: “Although we typically file our wedding documentation electronically ten business days after a ceremony, as required by law, we at the Lasso the Moon Chapel felt we needed to file it by hand today. As you know, Starr Nelson and Cole Manchester were allegedly married at our wonderful chapel last Sunday morning, making today—”

  Melanie shouts, “Get on with it.”

  A reporter interrupts him. “Do you have copies of Cole and Starr’s wedding paperwork?”

  The Lasso employee gives the reporter a dirty look. “I want to state unequivocally that NO wedding documentation was filed for those two. We protect the privacy of all our couples, not just the famous ones, and we’d do the same for you.”

  Applause rings out across the office. Shari shakes me. Tears well in my eyes. It’s over. Starr’s been exposed for the fraud she is. Phones start to ring.

  Above the din, Greta’s voice booms, “Back to work. Execute!”

  Spurred into action, I race back to my office and send my pre-written press release to all my media contacts. Ignoring the pinging of incoming texts, I post the prepared statement across all of Cole’s social media platforms. Next, I call Jeremy Davis and give him the go-ahead to run his article.

  Sitting back, I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. I smile when I see Tarzan’s name first. Thank fuck. Now Kimmie can get off my ass so I can get onto yours. My smile broadens, and heat radiates through my body. I send him a heart in response.

  McKenna: Yay! You go girl! I reply with a smiley face.

  Jessie: Finally some good news is being reported. Happy for you two! I send her a smiley face as well.

  Mom: Saw the Breaking News bulletin. At least he was telling you the truth. I don’t reply.

  My office line rings. “Hi, Rose, it’s Jenny Novak from Hello.”

  Oh, wow. I knew this would be big news, but having the number one national morning show call me, rather than the other way around, tells me just how big.

  I take a deep breath. “Hi, Jenny.”

  “We just heard the news from Las Vegas and would like to book Cole for Monday morning. We’ll interview him during the eight o’clock half-hour, and he can sing his new single during the eight-thirty block.”

  Trying to remain calm in the face of such huge exposure for Cole, I complete the booking. His career has leapt even higher into the stratosphere. I’m staring at my handset when Greta walks in.

  “I set up an interview for Cole on an LA radio station Monday morning.”

  Still in shock, I blurt, “What time? I just booked him in New York City for Hello on Monday.”

  “You called them? They weren’t in our strategy.”

  “No, Jenny Novak called me.”

  Greta’s eyes harden, and they flicker between Marco’s prom photo and me. “The interview is for eight. Cole can call-in. With the time difference, it’ll work.”

  Barely containing my excitement for my boyfriend, I nod.

  “I’ll have Kim book him on a private plane to New York.” Is my response required? I nod again.

  “Davis’s article is trending.” I nod in understanding.

  “Be ready to head out to Evening with Eddie in ten. I want to be early.” I nod to her back as she exits my office.

  This is going better than I hoped. I grab my phone and call Cole. When he answers, I ask, “Are you sitting down?”

  “I am. After last night, can you?”

  I giggle. “Barely, Tarzan. Listen, the media is eating up the story. I just booked you on Hello for Monday. Be surprised when Kim calls and says she’s reserved a private flight for you.”

  “Cool. I like playing in New York.”

  That’s it? Doesn’t he realize how big of a deal this booking is? I open my mouth to tell him, then shut it. Maybe it’s better this way. Why make him nervous?

  “I arranged for tickets for your family as well as Emilie.”

  “Awesome. Thanks, Ro.” He lowers his voice, jolting my nervous system. “After the show tonight, I plan on officially celebrating. Long and hard. With you.”

  Excitement races up my legs, ending at my core. “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh.”

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Uhm, well, we’re leaving here soon. I’ll see you at the studio. I just wanted to tell you.”

  “I love you.”

  I close my eyes and say, “Love you, too,” reveling in how light I feel now that the truth is out. Well, this truth.

  Kim stands at the threshold. “How cute. But, we don’t have time for your pathetic personal life. It’s time for some hard core PR. Unless, of course, you’d rather say behind and make kis
sy-face sounds on the phone. I’m sure I can arrange that.”

  I give Kimmie a dirty look and toss my cell into my purse. If only she knew. Shoving my notes into my laptop case, I grab my blazer and join my annoying colleague and my boss at the office door. We walk to the limo that’s waiting to take us to the studio.

  SITTING ON WHAT looks like a living room sofa, Eddie leans in to Cole and points backstage. “I see you brought your beautiful girlfriend.”

  Cole follows the host’s finger and zeroes in on me before shifting his eyes to the model standing to my right. “Yes, I did.”

  He gives the camera a panty-dropping smile. The ladies in the audience collectively sigh. Eddie tries to get Emilie to join them onstage, but she shakes her head as if embarrassed. More likely, she’s too terrified to disobey Kim and Greta.

  Greta, Kim, Russell, Jon, Wills and I stay in the background. Jared is across the room. Both he and Wills are on high alert. So far, Starr has been radio silent, which makes our bodyguards anxious, although they’re doing an admirable job of hiding it.

  Cole’s excellent on camera, as Russell and Jon have proudly stated. The interviews taped yesterday were good warm-ups for today. He already talked about the non-wedding and Starr, portraying her as a fragile woman in need of help. He asked for anyone who sees her to call the hotline—set up by Nolan—to get her the help she needs. As in years of jail time.

  Eddie asks, “Did your mother get to meet Emilie?”

  “No.” Cole takes a deep breath and launches into his rehearsed speech about his mom and his newly released PSA. The segment is thrown to commercial, and Cole stands up to go to the piano to play “No One to Hold.”

  I want to wrap him in my arms so I can pour strength into him, but I can’t. Emilie watches me. “I can give him a hug from you,” she whispers.

  I smile and nod at her. She races to Cole and embraces him, much to the delight of the audience members. He says something to her and then they both smile. Cellphone cameras capture the moment before Emilie hurries back.

  “Good thing she got off camera before he started to play,” Kim grouses to Greta and me, her lips curled downward.

  Greta responds, “It was good PR. We finally can take advantage of positive social media.”

  She sounds indulgent toward Kim, something I’ve never experienced with her. I tune them out when Cole’s hands touch the black and white keys. He opens his mouth and his strong tenor voice fills the stage, mesmerizing me. I’ve heard the song many times, but never like this. So beautiful and poignant. He’s singing to his mother. And to me.

  Tears well up, but I force them down. No, Cole, you’ll never have no one to hold so long as I take breath.

  Friday evening

  COLE, EMILIE, OZZY and an unknown woman in a too-tight top and a too-short skirt clink glasses with Russell, Jon, Greta, Kim and me.

  “The truth is out.” Cole shouts.

  From opposite ends of the high-profile club, Wills and Jared watch over us as we hover near one of the bars. The cavernous room is dimly lit, but a light show is going on behind the DJ booth. The bass from the dance music booms through my body. Scantily-clad women dance to attract men feigning disinterest, although their wolfish glances give them away. Curtained alcoves offering sofas and bottle service line the walls.

  I must keep my distance from Cole and Ozzy. The former because I want to jump him—the latter because I want to jump at him. I can’t even process Ozzy’s date. McKenna deserves to find a guy who values her above all others. Like Cole. I take my first deep breath when the three of them, plus Emilie, drift off to form their own huddle on the dance floor.

  My group moves into one of the alcoves. Standing around the lit-up coffee table, Russell says, “Cole’s coverage was perfect. Great job, Rose.” Jon raises his glass in a toast to me.

  “Thanks.” I raise my white wine in a salute. From the corner of my eye, I notice Greta’s pursed lips. Time to make amends with Greta. Hopefully this whole probation mess will be over tonight, now that everything has wrapped up so well. Lisa’s exposed, Cole’s career is back on track, my name kept out of it.

  To Russell, I say, “Greta’s strategy worked perfectly, and it catapulted Cole’s career. Set the stage for his world tour.”

  Both Russell and Jon tip their glasses to my boss. Greta sips her dirty martini, clearly relishing the kudos from the two power brokers. Next to her, Kim basks in reflected glory, her bright white teeth flashing against her dark red lips.

  Jon lowers his glass. “Loved the interviews on Let’s Dish and In the Know. Coverage was wall-to-wall. Platinum’s been flooded with requests for Cole to make personal appearances.”

  “Email me the ones you’re interested in, Jon, and I’ll arrange his schedule,” Greta responds. She puts her hand on Kim’s arm and says something I can’t hear.

  Drawing attention to herself by running her hand down her free-flowing hair, Kim asks, “Did you hear that Cole is booked on Hello on Monday morning?”

  Russell responds, “Yes, Kim. Greta told us. That’s quite a coup.”

  Kim swells as if she had anything at all to do with that booking, earning a smile of approval from Greta. I take another sip of my wine, relishing its light numbing effect.

  Greta glances at Cole and his friends, then turns to me. “He needs to be all over that girl. Rose, go tell Cole to get into Emilie’s pants.”

  My gut reaction is to tell her no, but if I do, Greta will just tell Kim to go over there, or, worse, she’ll do it herself. Strike Two. I nod, take another sip of my wine for courage and leave the relative safety of my group. I choke down the suddenly bitter mouthful and leave my glass on an empty hi-top table.

  Knowing Greta’s watching my every move, I approach the group. They’re standing so that the two men have their backs to me. Before I reach him, Cole turns, his green irises darkening as they skim over my body. Even though I’m wearing my regulation professional attire—minus the blazer—and my hair’s pulled back in a ponytail, his eyes tell me everything I need to know.

  I raise to my tip-toes, careful not to touch him, and whisper in his ear, “You’ve been amazing all day, my love. Just a little longer. Greta wants you to give everyone a show with Emilie.”

  “I want to give everyone a show with you. I want to push you against that wall and fuck you senseless.”

  My core tightens at his words. “When we get home, Tarzan.” My voice comes out breathy. Be professional. I have to get off probation.

  Clearing my throat, I plead, “Just make Greta happy and maybe she’ll go sooner rather than later. Then we can celebrate privately.”

  He moves his arm as if to touch me, but I step back. “Ro, I don’t want to do that with Emilie. It’s wrong.”

  “I’m fine with it,” I lie. Softly, I add, “I need this job, Cole.”

  While I like Emilie and I know they’re just friends, I’m not about to sign up for front row seats to watch them making out. But Greta is right. He does need to pretend to be celebrating with his girlfriend. “How about I disappear for a bit? I’ll go to the ladies’ room.”

  Cole sighs. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’ll be fine.” I need to give him something positive to hold onto. “Think of all the ways you can make it up to me later.” Or is that something for me to hold onto?

  With closed eyes, he nods. “I love you. Always. Remember that for me.”

  “Yes. Always.”

  I leave him to do his job, then head to the bathrooms like I said I would. When I splinter away, Jared follows me. Suddenly, it all feels like too much, and I just want a moment to myself. I speed up, but I can’t outpace Jared, and before I know it, he has his hand on my arm.

  “Let me make sure the bathroom is safe.” Before I can respond, he precedes me inside the trendy, unisex bathroom and then tests the handles of the small row of stalls. The third one opens and he goes in, then holds the door open for me. “All clear.”

  With a nod of thanks, I burst into the sma
ll, dark stall and lock the door. Like a waterfall, flashes of the day pour over me. The positive press, Cole’s performance tonight. I smile until darker thoughts intrude—the way Greta’s treating me, Kim’s annoying interference into my life, Melanie’s catty comments, Lisa’s taunts. Mom’s reaction to Cole. Knowing my boyfriend has his lips pressed against a supermodel right now. Strike Two.

  Someone knocks on the door, pulling me out of my pity party. “Occupied.”

  Nothing good will come of my wallowing. I need to take charge of my life, and that starts with getting my career back on track.

  Wiping my wet cheeks with some bathroom tissue, I toss it into the toilet and flush. Then I square my shoulders, exit the stall and make my way to the long, rectangular, trough-like sink. Quickly, I rinse my face and reapply my lip gloss. Nude, of course, according to Greta’s rules.

  When I stare into the mirror above the sink, my reflection surprises me. My eyes don’t have a deer-in-headlights look; they look determined. When I go back out there, I’m not going to look at Cole and Emilie. I’ll walk directly up to my boss and her group with a smile. Head held high.

  Walking to the exit, I plaster the practiced smile back on my face. Club music bombards my ears. Jared follows me as I take measured steps back to the alcove, eyes trained solely on Greta. Time to retake my job.

  Jon is speaking when I rejoin Greta’s group. “It was perfect that you had all those interviews ready to roll when the chapel confirmed Cole and Starr never got married.”

  Empty-handed, I sit between Russell and Kim on a sofa. The curtain partially blocks us from the dance floor. From Cole’s group. Good.

  Kim mocks, “Starr must want to crawl back under her rock.” Heads bob in agreement.

  The mention of that woman’s name tightens my stomach. She’s truly a loose cannon now, with nothing left to lose.

  Russell notices my lack of a drink and motions for a server to bring me another round. I incline my head toward him, a silent thank you, and he responds with a wide grin.