No One to Hold

by Arell Rivers

  My attention is diverted from Rose to Jon, who says, “Gotta hand it to you, man. That song is phenomenal. I agree with Russell, it has to be the first single to drop. Without a doubt. And I haven’t even heard all of the other tracks yet.”

  I smile in relief. The song takes a lot out of me, but I’m proud of it. I make a mental note to run it by Dad and Jayson.

  Rose snags my attention again when she brings her hand up to her ear and starts playing with her earring. She says, “I’ll work up a publicity strategy for the song that centers on your mother and how much she meant to you. I can pull up some footage from the Grammys, and maybe you could supply some other photos. It’ll be nice to give your fans the chance to connect with you on a more emotional level.”

  Her suggestion hits me in the gut. It makes sense as a publicity strategy, but I don’t want people to think I’m taking advantage of Mom’s passing. It would destroy me.

  Rose continues, “Of course, I’ll have to run the idea by Greta.”

  Russell pipes up. “Rose, that sounds like a very good idea. Cole’s fans were so supportive when she passed. It’ll be a way to honor both Julie and the fans.”

  I can’t keep silent any longer. “This song is very personal to me,” I say. “I don’t want it to seem like I’m capitalizing on my mother’s death.”

  The room goes silent for a full minute. Rose, still fiddling with her earring, wades into the silence. “Perhaps your profits could be donated to the American Cancer Society.”

  I suck in my breath. “Yeah. That’s good. That’s right. Thank you, Rose.” Mom always said Rose was the “secret sauce” of Gruesome’s operation. Over the past few months, I’ve come to think she was right. I offer her a smile of appreciation.

  She looks down at her notebook, but her cheeks seem to be a little pink. I don’t have time to ponder Rose’s reaction, though—the topic has already shifted to the logistics of recording the album. Afterward, we start preliminary outlines for the world tour. I’m going on a fucking world tour. If only I could call Mom to share the news with her.

  Another hour and a half later, the meeting comes to a close. Jon and Russell have other projects to discuss, so Rose and I head down to the lobby alone. In the elevator, I turn to face her. “Your ideas were brilliant in there.”

  Rose looks down and a blush colors her cheeks again. She adjusts her glasses and says, “I really liked your mother, Cole. She was a great lady, and I think your song is a wonderful tribute.”

  Now it’s my turn to flush, and the heat in my cheeks takes me by surprise. After filming music videos half-dressed and having panties thrown at my face at nearly every concert, it takes a lot to faze me. Needing to lighten up this mood, and fast, I joke, “I’m beginning to think you’re the brains of Greta’s operation.”

  Rose’s eyes grow wide with . . . fear? Trying to put her at ease, I lean down to her and whisper, “Your secret’s safe with me, Miss Morgan.”

  We arrive at the lobby and walk out to the valet station to get our cars. Rose and I hand in our tickets. A couple of guys stand near the side entrance, and one pulls out a pack of cigarettes. My whole body clenches.

  Stalking over to them, I growl, “Don’t do that.” I throw the repulsive thing on the sidewalk.

  “What the hell, man?”

  “My mother died of lung cancer, asshole. Don’t do that to your family.”

  Rose places her hands on my arm, gets on her tiptoes and whispers in my ear, “You’ve done a good deed, but now it’s their decision. Let’s leave them to it.”

  Rose’s words, or maybe the calm tone in which she delivers them, diffuse my anger. Recognition flashes through the eyes of the guy whose pack I tossed. He knows who I am, so he probably knows what I’ve been through. It was well publicized, thanks to Rose, that I quit smoking the day Mom got her diagnosis. He throws the pack into the garbage. I nod and walk back to the valet station with Rose.

  Taking deep breaths to calm down, I say, “Thanks. My temper gets away from me lately.”

  “I understand,” she says softly. I believe her.

  My car arrives, but I decide to be a gentleman and wait for Rose’s car to pull up. After a few minutes, her valet returns on foot. “I’m sorry, miss, but your car won’t start. I tried to jump it, but it’s not turning over.”

  Rose’s eyes flicker from her watch to the valet to me, then back to the valet. She mumbles, “I have another meeting in thirty minutes.”

  “Where?” Turns out, she’s going to a building across the street from Dan’s office.

  “I’ll take you.”

  Her blue eyes widen in surprise. Shit, I’m sort of surprised, too. But she’s done so much for me, and I want to do this for her. Something deep inside me needs to do this for her.

  Rose shakes her head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll call a taxi.”

  “Rose, you and I both know that a taxi will take twice as long. Let me take you to your meeting. My best friend works right across the street. I was planning to touch base with him anyway.”

  Maybe because my solution is practical, she relents. For some reason, it’s like I climbed Mount Everest. Twenty minutes later we’re in front of the building. “Call me when you’re finished, and I’ll pick you up. How long do you expect the meeting to take?”

  “Two hours. But you don’t have to pick me up. This is my last meeting of the day, so I can get a car service.”

  “No arguments, Miss Morgan. Call me when you’re done.” With an exasperated look, she nods and leaves the car.

  Once she’s safely inside the office building, I call Dan. Luckily, he hasn’t eaten yet, so we arrange to meet at a nearby café for a late lunch.

  I’ve only just sat down across from Dan when I hear someone shriek, “Oh my God. It’s Cole Manchester!!!!”

  I sigh. So much for a quiet lunch. Dan shakes his head good-naturedly, muttering something about ivory towers, and sits back to watch the show.

  Five women crowd around our table. They are all chattering at once, and it’s obvious they have no intention to leave without talking to me.

  “Ladies, my friend and I are starving.” I fake hunger pains. Dan turns his head and I swear I hear him snort. “If you have anything for me to autograph, or if you’d like a photo, I’m all yours for the next five minutes.” I say this with a wink in their general direction. Luckily, they take the not-so-subtle hint. After I pose for a group shot and sign a few napkins, a take-out menu and a bra, they go on their way, giggling.

  “Dude. I seriously need to get you on my network pronto. You’re a natural!”

  “You’re a dick, you know that?”

  “Well, this dick holds your dating life in his hands. How did it go with Gretchen?”

  “You mean the giggler? She made those five look like amateurs. That was one long date.”

  “Better or worse than Alicia?”

  “Are you and Suzanne keeping score of who sets me up on the worst dates?”

  Dan gives me a wicked smile. “No, dickhead. We’re in competition to see who sets you up with the girl who steals your heart.”

  “So far, Emma’s winning.”

  “Stay away from my baby girl. It’s bad enough that your songs are the only thing that’ll calm her down when she’s on a crying bender.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  Dan throws a straw wrapper at me. “So, how’s work going?”

  We start discussing my meeting and plans for a world tour.

  “Guess your dream of world domination is coming true,” he teases. “I remember that you used to talk about studying abroad in Spain when we were rooming together at NYU. At least you’ll get your chance to visit.”

  “Yeah, I love performing live anyway, and now I’ll finally get to see Europe and Australia.”

  We continue chatting while eating our sandwiches. After a while, Dan checks his watch and says, “I hate to break this up, buddy, but I have to get back to the office. Some of us work for a living.”


  It’s my turn to snort. “I’m going to stay put. I need to make a couple of calls, and it’s pretty quiet in here now.” We stand and give each other what my brother Jayson has termed our patented man-hug.

  After Dan leaves, I grab my cell and call my mechanic. “How’s the car that was towed to you?”

  “It needs a new part that I don’t have in stock. The fastest I can get it here is two days.”

  I hope Rose is okay with this. “That’s fine.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to get a new car? This one is almost nine years old, and it’s been patched up quite a bit already.”

  “It’s not mine. Go ahead and order the part, and put it on my bill.” The fact that her car is so old surprises me, as I pay Gruesome’s firm quite a hefty sum.

  Since Rose is going to be without a car for at least a couple of days, I don’t stop to question my protective instincts toward her and call a rental company. “What car did you have in mind, Mr. O’Connor?” I have a credit card in Dan’s name for times like these when I don’t want to give out my true identity.

  “I’d like a BMW hard top convertible.”

  “Sure thing. What color?”

  I think for a second and respond, “Light blue.” It’ll match her eyes.

  “Do you want to pick it up, or should we deliver it?”

  “Deliver, please.”

  “No problem, Mr. O’Connor. What’s the address for the car to be dropped off?”

  That question pulls me up short. I want it dropped off at her house, but I don’t know her address. “I’ll call you with the address later.”

  Now that the car issues have been mostly settled, I order another coffee and a bottle of water while I wait for Rose to call. A blonde woman comes over and asks for my autograph, but other than that small interruption, no one pays me any attention. My phone finally rings. “Cole, I’m so sorry, this meeting ran way over. I literally just finished. I understand if you gave up and went home.”

  “Rose, I told you I’d wait. I’ll be there in five.”

  She sighs. “Thank you.” Wow. No fight? That must have been some meeting.

  Five minutes later, I pull up to the curb and Rose scrambles into the front seat. The hem of her blouse comes untucked as she juggles paperwork, notebooks and her purse. I’ve never seen her look so frazzled.

  “Thank you,” she repeats, rubbing her hand along the back of her neck. I’m glad I thought to buy her a bottle of water. She gratefully accepts and drinks about half of it in one gulp.

  “Where to?”

  “Venice.” My eyebrows raise, but I steer toward that part of LA without saying a word. It’s a mixed neighborhood, with some luxury homes next to streets filled with much less desirable ones. Her car’s a beater, but hopefully that’s only because she spent her money on one of those luxury homes. She leans her head back against the headrest and winces.

  The ponytail probably gave her a headache. It looks painful to me. “Why don’t you take your ponytail out?” I suggest.

  “Greta doesn’t like anyone to be out of uniform with a client.”

  Wait, what? “Does her dress code actually dictate how you wear your hair? Well, Greta the Gruesome isn’t here, and I promise not to tell,” I whisper conspiratorially. I throw in a wink for good measure.

  Rose bursts out laughing. “Greta the Gruesome? That’s hysterical!” She catches herself and turns to me, wide-eyed. I chuckle to set her at ease.

  After a brief pause, she pulls her hair loose. I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her without that signature ponytail. Her thick, brown hair looks nice around her shoulders. It’s not a flat color; reddish highlights dance in the sunlight. Somehow my hand finds its way into her hair and I wrap a lock around my fingers. Her eyes close for a minute before she jumps forward. “Turn here!” she exclaims way too loudly, pointing to my right.

  Returning both hands to the steering wheel, I turn. Something about the way she looks with her hair down niggles at the back of my brain, but I can’t figure out the connection it’s trying to make. “Have we met before?”

  Rose gives me a quizzical look. “Um, we’ve been working together for the past five years.”

  Smart ass. “I just had this feeling of déjà-vu, like I might have met you before that.”

  Rose turns and looks out the window. “I’d remember meeting you.”

  Shaking my head, I change the subject. “I had your car towed to my mechanic. He says you need a new part, and it’ll take a couple of days for it to arrive. I’ve already arranged for a rental car to be delivered to your house tomorrow morning. Unless you need it sooner?”

  “Cole, you didn’t have to go so much trouble. I can take care of it. Tell me where my car is, and I’ll get it to my guy. There’s no need for a rental.”

  “Do you have a second car you can use?”

  “Well, I might be able to borrow my roommate’s. If not, I can take the bus. I’ve done it plenty of times before.”

  “Listen, Rose, we’re in LA. Having a car is a must.”

  “I don’t need a rental.” She sounds pissed. At least her headache seems to have gone away.

  “You do. Let me take care of this for you. It makes me feel good to be able to fix something for you, since you’re always mopping up my messes.”

  “That’s my job.”

  “Well, I’ve made your transportation my job.”

  “Have your mechanic send me the bill. I don’t need the rental.”

  “No, and you do. How do you plan on getting to Gruesome’s office tomorrow? I don’t remember seeing a bus stop near her office.” Rose cracks a smile at the nickname, just as I hoped she would.

  “I can use a car service.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  Stubbornly, she raises her chin, her blue eyes blazing through those coke bottle glasses she wears. Once again, I’m plagued by a feeling of déjà-vu. “Send me the bill.”

  “Fine.” I agree, but only because she won’t let it drop. No way in hell I’m letting her pay. After all, she’s an essential member of my team. I should be covering her expenses.

  In a huff, she turns on the radio. The tail end of my first single, “Prowling,” is playing. After it finishes, the female DJ remarks, “That was Cole Manchester. Rumor has it that he’s getting ready to record a new album. It will be nice to hear some new songs from him, right, ladies? Speaking of ladies, remember that he was dating Jessie Anderson a while back? Well, I know someone who saw Cole and Jessie together at a local restaurant the other day. In a quiet back corner, very friendly-like. Maybe they’re rekindling their romance? I, for one, hope not; I don’t want to lose my chance with that hottie!” The DJ laughs and throws to a commercial.

  I glance at Rose, who has a pensive look on her face and is once again fondling her poor gold hoop earring. Somehow I find that trait endearing. “Did you do that?”

  “No. I guess Jon leaked the news about your new album. At least he was smart enough not to mention the world tour.”

  “I meant about Jessie, not the album.” Intrigued by her line of thought, I ask, “Though, why would it be bad for him to have spilled about the tour?”

  “The tour will take a lot more finesse than a simple call to a radio station. The venues need to be lined up first, so we can go in and get your fans worked up for your shows. We’ll need to do advance press online, work with local media, hype it up here in the US so that your fans can choose their favorite city and arrange flights, develop contests, that sort of thing.”

  I get it. Again, I wonder how much Greta actually contributes to her own publicity operation. “Okay, makes sense. Now, what about Jessie and me?”

  “Were you out with her recently?”

  “No. We’ve talked about getting together, but her schedule is so tight while her show is filming.” I pause. Maybe someone saw me out with one of my blind dates? “Maybe they just saw me with someone and assumed it was Jessie.”

  “Is there somet
hing more to that story, Cole?” she asks, frowning. “Do we need to do damage control?”

  “Nope.”

  “You’re sure?”

  No fucking way I’m going to tell her I’ve been out on blind dates. “Positive.”

  Fingers firmly wrapped around her earring, she says, “Maybe it would be a good thing for you and Jessie to get back together, so to speak. It might be a way to ramp up the public interest in your new album, especially since the rumor mill is already running. Jessie’s been seen out with her co-star recently, and a love triangle always plays out well in the media. It’s something to think about.”

  “Do you want my opinion?”

  Rose turns and looks at me, as if only then realizing she had spoken her thoughts out loud. “What?”

  “Do you care what I think about this whole publicity stunt?”

  “Not really.” I glance over at Rose, who’s trying to hide her smile by looking at her lap. So, she wants to play?

  Smirking, I quip, “Too bad, missy, I’m going tell you anyway.” I turn off the radio. “Jessie’s a great friend, and that asshole co-star you’ve linked her to drives her nuts. Anything I can do to help her and Amanda out, I will.”

  Rose’s head snaps around at me. “You know about Amanda?”

  “Of course. What did you think Jessie and I did on all those publicity dates you set up? We certainly didn’t fool around. We talked, like normal people. She told me all about her girlfriend, and the three of us have had dinner together several times.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed.”

  “See, I can keep a secret. You should be happy about that, since I think I’m up to keeping two for you.”

  “Good to know. Oh, turn right at the stop, and my place is on the left.”

  I pull to a stop in front of a modest house with an attached garage. The landscaping out front could use a green thumb. I’m taken aback at her neighborhood, which most definitely is not the part of Venice I was expecting, but I keep my mouth shut.

  “Cole, really, thank you for the save today. I meant it when I said that I want your mechanic to send me the bill.”