Hold On To Me

by Taylor Holloway

  If I considered Rosie to be old enough to make decisions about her life (and of course I did), then I really shouldn’t have said anything about her getting drunk. She wasn’t wrong that she didn’t need another person in her life trying to dictate what she did. My head was starting to hurt.

  I had been hungry, tired, and not at my best at midnight when we argued. Now that I was removed from the situation, I regretted everything I said. Every single word of that conversation had been a mistake. My head was pounding, but my heart was hurting more. I feared that I’d pushed Rosie too far. I’d pushed her away from me.

  Late that afternoon, I received a call from Rebecca, who of course I never emailed. I'd been too busy obsessing over Rosie.

  “I’m in town,” Rebecca said by way of a greeting. “Come pick me up?”

  I blinked in confusion. “You’re still at the airport?”

  “No. I’m not that helpless and needy. I’m at my hotel. Come pick me up and we’ll go to Rosie Ross’ show together. You were right, of course. I am interested in her. She’s really something.”

  Yes, she was. I looked over at the clock and realized Rosie’s show started in an hour. Adrenaline shot through me, and I stood straight up. Alexandra must have gone home without saying anything. The whole day had gone by and Rosie had never called.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I told Rebecca.

  Part of me wanted to call Rosie, but we were barely starting our relationship; it was still delicate. If I was going to be true to everything that I’d told myself was true about respecting Rosie, I had to let her call. I couldn’t call her. If she never called, then she never called. That would be it.

  But if she never called, then she’d never know that I was in love with her.

  49

  Rosie

  After an hour or two of math on a Friday afternoon, Trina declared victory on her homework with only about eighty percent completed. She went off to grab dinner with Chris, leaving me alone in the apartment for a few hours before my show. As soon as the door closed, I instantly regretted not telling Trina about the fight that Ryan and I had the night before.

  The entire day had been spent debating calling Ryan and then chickening out. I skipped all my classes and stayed home, frantically writing music. I felt like I’d just been run over by a train. I was embarrassed, still angry, and hurt. Not necessarily in that order.

  Although I still felt the same emotions that I’d felt the night before, when I woke up with a hangover the next morning, everything felt duller and achier than white-hot and sharp. It was hard to work up the same passionate anger that I’d felt before. Mostly, I just felt bad. I channeled that feeling into songwriting, but it didn’t kill the pain.

  I should’ve kept a closer eye on the clock when I as at Victoria’s. I shouldn’t have let hours go by without letting him know what I was up to. I was rude.

  Then, when I finally did text him, I shouldn’t have picked a fight. He clearly hadn’t wanted to get in an argument with me. He tried to get me to call him, so we could actually talk. Instead, I insisted on a means of communication that prevented any tone from being easily understood. I was stubborn.

  On top of everything, I’d jumped to conclusions. But now that the damage was done, I was too ashamed to call him, and even though I hadn’t been one hundred percent right, I wasn’t sure I wanted to apologize. He hadn’t called me, either. That couldn’t be a good sign. I definitely shouldn’t have said those things about his dead girlfriend.

  Rosie Ross [4:00 p.m.]: Ryan and I got in a big fight last night.

  Trina Schmidt [4:01 p.m.]: What? Why didn’t you mention that when I was there? I knew something was up with you.

  Rosie Ross [4:02 p.m.]: I might have broken up with him by text.

  Trina Schmidt [4:02 p.m.]: Rosie! OMG I’m coming back.

  Rosie Ross [4:02 p.m.]: You don’t need to do that.

  Trina Schmidt [4:03 p.m.]: Bullshit. I’m on my way.

  My phone rang a moment later. Startled, I pressed it to my ear.

  “Hi,” I answered. “You didn’t have to call. I’m really ok.”

  To my shock, it was my father’s voice that answered. “Rosie?”

  I blinked. “Oh, sorry dad, I thought you were Trina,” I told him, “I was just texting with her. So, when you called, I thought it was her.”

  “Oh.” My dad’s voice sounded confused, but he quickly got over it. He laughed a bit and I could imagine him shaking his head. “Well guess what? My trip next week got moved. I’m in town right now.”

  I blanched. Right now? He was here, in Austin right now?

  “That’s great news,” I choked out. My heartbeat had jumped up and was galloping away against my ribs. It was not great news. It was horrible news. It was the worst news possible.

  “I’m not sure yet when I’ll be free from my meetings,” he was telling me. I was zoning in and out of the conversation as my panicked mind tried to find a solution. “Probably around six. Do you still want to get dinner?”

  My mouth was moving up and down, but no noise was coming out. I snapped it shut and took a couple of deep breaths. “I have a gig tonight at a local bar. You should come. We can get dinner afterwards.”

  As I waited for his reply, my heart pounded hard. I was holding my breath. I hadn’t intended on telling him the truth, but I wasn’t willing to just continually lie to him, either. I wasn’t much of a liar.

  My mom may have her issues, but she’d always imparted on me the importance of telling the truth. She might be hard to take, but my mom was honest. Sometimes to a fault. She never had any problem telling her truth to people, no matter how rude it was. It contributed to more than a few of her firings over the years. One time a boss asked her if the pants she was wearing made her look fat. My mom said no, instead it was the fact that she was objectively obese and needed to go on a diet. She got fired. Things like that happened to her a lot.

  “That sounds nice,” my dad said carefully. I could almost tell he was making a decision not to express his disappointment over the phone. My dad never liked to have the big discussions over the phone. He liked to have them in person. At least that meant I had a few more hours to figure things out.

  “Great,” I replied. My voice was breathy from holding it for so long.

  “Great,” he echoed. I could almost believe that he felt as lost as I did. Then he cleared his throat. “Ryan and his girlfriend are going to come to dinner with us afterwards, at least that’s the plan.”

  Ryan and his girlfriend? I coughed. No... My heart hurt.

  “Ok.”

  “Ok,” he repeated my monosyllabic reply. “Well, I’ll call you when I’m free.”

  “That sounds good. Talk to you then,” I said. My dad said something about loving me and being excited to see me and then he hung up too. I barely registered his words. A headache was coming on. Now, with only hours until my show, everything had gotten a thousand times more complicated.

  50

  Ryan

  When Rebecca and I got to the Lone Star Lounge, it was already busy. There were people everywhere. I could see a combination of the business-casual happy hour crowd and the student population mingling around the space. We managed to snag a table in a good section near to the right of the stage by carefully stalking the prior occupants until they paid and got up.

  “So, tell me,” Rebecca asked as we settled in, “where did you happen to find Rosie Ross?”

  I took a sip of my water and frowned. Although I was still very much absorbed in my worry over Rosie, I needed to wear my game face for Rebecca. Regardless of whether or not Rosie wanted to date me, I was still her agent. She deserved my best. “You know Calvin Ross, right?” I ventured.

  She made a face. “Yes. Unfortunately.” Then she figured it out. “No. No. His daughter? Niece?”

  I nodded. “I’m afraid so. Yes. His daughter.”

  Her disbelieving face melted into a smile. “No wonder you want to get her a different
agent. And no wonder you’re working so hard for her.”

  “It’s not just that,” I admitted. “We’re dating.” I wasn’t going to lie about my relationship with Rosie, even if was a bit up in the air at the moment. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I had to believe it would work out.

  Rebecca’s eyebrows looked like they might disappear up into her hairline. “Is that so?”

  I nodded and shrugged in reply. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if it was so anymore. Rosie still hadn’t called.

  Rebecca was kind enough not to follow up. Still, her eyes narrowed in a way that made me worry. “Have you given any more thought to joining me in my new venture?” she asked. She was probably thinking that I was going to need a new job.

  I shook my head at her. “I’m not moving to California.”

  We’d been around on this topic before. I couldn’t just uproot my life and march out to the west coast. I had no interest in doing so, and even if I wanted to, my family situation wouldn’t allow it. Ian needed me. And if I was being entirely truthful with myself, I needed him too.

  She looked around herself, taking in the vibe of the bar. “I can see why you like this town,” she said after a moment. “What if you didn’t have to move?”

  I blinked. That had never been an option before.

  Rebecca took in the change in my expression and pushed forward. “I’m not saying that you wouldn’t ever have to travel, and I’m not saying that some of that travel wouldn’t be to California, but the truth is that LA doesn’t have the same cache it used to. It used to be the center of the universe, but now there are a ton of other trendy music scenes, not the least of which is Austin.” She rolled her eyes as if it irritated her. “Maybe it wouldn’t be a deal killer for you to be here instead.”

  It would be a deal killer for me not to be here. “What about you?” I questioned, feeling like this might be some kind of a trick. “You’d be in LA?”

  She laughed like I’d just asked the world’s stupidest question. “Wild horses couldn’t pull me away.”

  I appreciated the Rolling Stones reference, but I was confused. “How would we be able to run a business like that?”

  She shrugged. “Skype. Email. Letters. Smoke signals. Carrier pigeons.” Her eyes rolled back dramatically. “Come on Ryan, you know that’s not a real stumbling block anymore.”

  I was confused. She’d always said that it was the stumbling block. “What changed?”

  “I just don’t feel like going the rest of my life reporting to somebody else,” she told me. “Do you?”

  God no. Especially if it was Calvin Ross. “I see your point.”

  “So, let’s do this,” she told me. “I’m willing to compromise on you being in Austin to get this off the ground.” She laughed again. “Nothing good comes for free. There are always drawbacks.”

  The idea was growing on me. I’d been an agent since graduating from law school. It hadn’t been my ideal career path—I just sort of fell into it. Originally, I’d wanted to be a prosecutor. But when I graduated and took a look at my student loans, the meager salaries of the state of Texas wouldn’t make a dent. So, I found something that would get me out of debt, and fast.

  The plan worked, but at the cost of being professionally fulfilling. Other than the really weird, really big deals that followed around clients like Jason Kane, I spent a lot of time doing things that didn’t exactly make me excited to get to the office each morning. Maybe it was time for a change.

  “There’s no guarantee that I’ll be any good at running a record label,” I told her.

  “You won’t be running it,” she replied with a smirk. “I will. You’ll only be the Vice President and Chief Legal Officer.”

  Ha ha. Only that. “You know what I mean.”

  “You have a great eye for talent, the patience of a saint, and all the industry connections money can’t buy,” she finally said. “You’ll be fine.”

  “If we did this, what would the next step be?” I asked. I kept my composure, but inside, I was a lot less confident; I knew I was about to need a job.

  “Well, there are a few,” Rebecca answered. I could tell that she thought she had me hooked. She was probably not that wrong. I was at least eighty percent convinced. “We can put the boring stuff to the side for now. How about we focus on signing our first artist?” She pointed up at the stage where Rosie would soon be performing. “We can start right now.”

  Worry shot through me again. Just for a fraction of a second, I’d forgotten about Rosie. Even though it had only been a few hours since we’d last spoken, and less than a day since we’d seen each other, it felt like ages. What should have been nothing but a small argument had become something much, much bigger.

  Rosie had good reasons for hating it when people tried to control her. I had good reasons for disliking underage drinking. But if I could go back in time, I’d smack the phone out of my hand and scream that my reasons were my own. They had nothing to do with Rosie and I shouldn’t impose them on her. Otherwise I was no better than her dad.

  Rebecca said that I had the patience of a saint. Right now, I needed every ounce of it. Because waiting to know whether or not Rosie would ever speak to me again—let alone want me in her life—was killing me.

  51

  Rosie

  Ryan had sent me pictures of the Lone Star Lounge and the real thing looked just like them, only absolutely packed full of people. My breath froze in my lungs as I took everything in. I was suddenly doubly grateful that Victoria had made me perform in front of all those strangers on Thursday, because at least it wasn’t a totally unfamiliar experience.

  I saw Ryan before he saw me. He was wearing a bright white button down that made his blue eyes and dark hair pop all the way across the room. He was so handsome it was impossible not to notice him. My heart leapt and then plunged. He was sitting at a table next to a woman with long brown hair. She was faced away from me, but from my angle, they seemed to be deep in conversation.

  Who was she? Why was she here? A feeling of jealousy grew in me, thick and toxic. My already anxious mood mutated to become even more foul. I had a plan, and her presence didn’t change it, but it didn’t help, either.

  I didn’t approach Ryan and the mystery brunette. I just didn’t have the courage. Instead, I headed over to the bar to introduce myself. Getting up on stage suddenly seemed a million times less intimidating.

  “You, get out,” the bartender said, taking one look at me and deciding that I wasn’t old enough to be in the bar. “You shouldn’t have made it past the door.”

  Even a scolding from a gigantic guy like him didn’t intimidate me at the moment. Which was something, because the bartender was like six and a half feet tall. Talking to him was like talking to Shrek. I felt like I just stared up and up forever.

  “Excuse me?” I snapped.

  “Don’t even show me your pathetic fake ID,” he replied. “If you’re twenty-one, I’m fifty.”

  I frowned at him. “I could believe that. You’ve got the thinning, grey hair and the limp.”

  He blinked in shock and hid a smile. He was definitely no more than thirty-five, but I didn’t appreciate the attitude. He probably thought he was scary, but I knew there was a difference between big and scary. By the way he drew a self-conscious hand through his not-thin and not-grey hair, he was pretty clearly one and not the other.

  “Ok, mean girl. Show me some ID then.”

  I brightened and extended a hand over the bar. “I’m Rosie Ross—um, Rosie Soon—your opening act this evening.” My handshake showed him the black exes that I’d unceremoniously had sharpie-d onto the backs of my hands to denote my underage status, and then I lifted the guitar at my side to prove why I was there. It had already taken a ten-minute conversation to get past the bouncer (the bar apparently converted to a twenty-one and up space after sundown), my nerves were shot, and I was in no mood.

  “Oh!” The bartender at least had the good graces to look chagrined. “Sorry.�
� He rounded the bar to shake my hand. “I’m Ward Williams. This is my bar. You’re welcome here Rosie, unless you try to buy a drink.”

  I shrugged. “It’s ok. I know you’ve got rules. Do you mind if I start setting up?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. Just come over when you’re ready and I’ll kill the house music.”

  “Ok.”

  “I think Ryan’s over there if you’re looking for him,” Ward said, nodding in his direction.

  I know. I resisted turning my head for fear that Ryan might glance over. It hurt not to look.

  “Ok.”

  “Oh, and Victoria called a few minutes back to say she’s running late. You’ll need to double your set.”

  What? “Ok.” Objectively I knew that was good for me, but it still scared the shit out of me. I’d need to play virtually every song I had in my repertoire. “Should I just start playing now and keep going until she gets here?”

  Ward shrugged. “It’s totally up to you. I can keep playing music over the speakers for a while if want. Victoria’s not exactly a very punctual person.” He frowned deeply. “If person is even the right word to describe her.” It didn’t take a genius to perceive the fact he didn’t like her much.

  I took a deep, cleansing breath. “These people didn’t come to hear me, but I feel bad not providing them some live music.” I made myself smile. “I’m here after all.”

  Ward smiled back at me. “Great. Once you’re set up, give me a signal. You can put anything you don’t want up on stage in the office around the corner.”

  “Ok, thanks Ward.” I mustered up another smile. “Here goes nothing.”

  I hopped up on the little stage and arranged things the way I wanted, tuned up, got the pick up on my guitar where it needed to be, fiddled with the microphone… all without looking up. My brain was working overtime, trying to juggle all the problems. Ryan, who maybe hated me now, was sitting with a mysterious female stranger. Victoria was late, and I’d need to play for twice as long as planned. My dad would be here any moment. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my teenage hero Jason Kane and his impossibly beautiful wife watching.