by Arell Rivers
“You’re welcome, Rose. Oh, and enjoy the convertible.”
I laugh as she slams the door shut. I swear, she’s probably the only woman who has ever been mad about the free use of a convertible. I’m finding the prickly side of Rose fascinating.
Not to mention her cute ass.
A WEEK LATER, Platinum has signed off on all the songs for my third album. I need to be in the studio on Monday to start recording Moving Forward Slowly, as session musicians have already been brought in for the drum and guitar tracks. Before I start recording, I want to give both Dad and Jayson a heads up about the first single.
I walk into my music room and sit down at the piano. Once I’m settled, I dial Dad on FaceTime. “How are you doing, Dad?”
“I’m okay. Work is keeping me busy, and I’m going out to dinner with friends almost every night. Plus, your Aunt Doreen has me, Jayson and Carl over for Sunday afternoon dinners.” Other than having lost a little weight, he looks pretty good.
“Sounds like you’re keeping busy and out of trouble.”
Dad chuckles, which puts a smile on my face. “Dad, I called because I wrote a song for Mom that’s going to be on my upcoming album. It’s actually going to be the first single. I wanted to play it for you first.”
“What’s it called?”
“‘No One to Hold.’”
Dad’s eyebrows shoot up but he doesn’t make a comment, so I sing the song for him. After the last note on the piano fades, I ask, “What do you think?”
He nods. “It’s good, Cole. It’s really good. Your mom would love it.”
I exhale a cleansing breath. “Thanks. We’re donating the profits to the American Cancer Society.”
Dad rubs his hand over his mouth. “That’s appropriate,” he murmurs.
I nod. “It was Rose’s idea.” Her kindness adds to her allure. Allure? “Oh, I’m going to need some photos of her to include in the video. I’ll come home and go through them soon, okay?”
“It’ll be great to see you in person,” Dad says, smiling.
The front gate bell rings. “Sorry to do this Dad, but I gotta go. Someone’s at the gate. I’ll call you again soon.”
“Be safe, son. I love you.”
As I walk over to check the security camera, I reply, “Love you too, Dad.” Disconnecting the call, I check the feed. A delivery person waits at the road.
Pressing the intercom, I say, “I didn’t order anything. You must have the wrong house.”
“You Cole Manchester?” the teenaged delivery boy asks.
“Yes.”
“That’s who the package is for, at this address.”
“All right. Come on.” I buzz the gate, then wait at the front door for him to come up the driveway. After I sign the receipt and give him a good tip, I bring the package to my living room and sit down on my black leather sofa.
Who would have sent me a package? It’s not my birthday. I rip it open to find NYC Legends, a coffee table book depicting the music scene in New York City through the years. I flip through the pages and see great photos of legendary musicians who got their start in NYC, just like I did.
This gift is awesome. I still don’t know who sent it to me, so I search through the packaging until I find a card.
It says:
Cole,
Thank you for all your help with my car. I hope this book brings you some happiness. I look forward to another edition with your information included.
Thanks again,
Rose
My first thought is to wonder if I’m reading it correctly. I never imagined Rose would send me a gift. My next response is to feel flattered that she thinks my name belongs in here. Wow, what a thoughtful gift.
Before I get the chance to start reading my new book, my cell rings. Jayson’s profile appears on the screen. “Dad loves it and I want to hear it. Now!”
I smile even though he can’t see me over the phone. “Well, nice to hear your voice too, bro. How are Carl and your puppy?”
“We’re all fine. Now! I can’t wait another second!”
“Ever the drama queen, huh, Jayson?”
“You don’t want me to go all nuclear on your ass, do you?”
“Fine.” I sigh. I’ve missed this. It’s hard being so far away from my family, especially now. “The song’s called ‘No One to Hold.’” For the second time today, I sing the new single, this time a cappella. It still takes a lot out of me each time I perform it, but it’s getting easier.
I wait a full ten seconds for Jayson’s reaction. I can’t see him, so this is killing me. He finally says, in a quiet voice, “Cole, no wonder Dad was nearly in tears when he called me.”
Dad was in tears? He didn’t look upset to me. “Dad didn’t like the song? Why didn’t he tell me? I won’t release it.”
“No, he loved it. I love it, too. It’s just, so, I don’t know . . . personal. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“No you’re not. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Seriously, I’m fine.”
“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”
“Well, you’re the Queen of something,” I joke.
“Damn straight!” We both laugh. “Cole, have you taken Mom’s advice to heart? Is this what the song is about?”
I’m amazed that my brother can still read me like a book. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that, right?”
“Spill.”
“Fuck you.”
Silence.
“Fine. Yes. I’ve asked Dan and Suzanne to fix me up on some blind dates. I think it’s time I looked for someone seriously.”
“Cool. Have you been on any yet? Any good prospects?”
“Well, so far I’ve been out with a militant vegan, a giggler, a woman who only wanted to use me to meet another singer and a reality show hopeful.”
“Wow. My carnivore brother out with a vegan? I can picture how well that went!”
Jayson laughs for a solid thirty seconds while I strum my fingers on the cover of my new book, waiting for him to catch his breath. It feels good to hear him laugh, so I’ll let him do it, even if it’s at my expense.
“Are you done yet?” I finally ask.
“Cole, this is too rich! You should write a song about your dating experiences!” He continues to chortle.
“No way.”
“I got it! Let me put you on an Internet dating site. I’ll write you a great profile. It’ll go something like I love music and going to concerts. I will rock your world, literally. And I’ll use my green eyes and dimple to tempt you into my back room.” Jayson gasps for air, he’s laughing so hard.
“Glad you’re finding this so funny, asswipe.” I’m smiling too, but only because he can’t see me.
“Don’t like that idea? I think it would get you tons of dates. Oh, wait, I know! You should do a television dating show. Doesn’t Dan’s network produce one? I’ll call him up and tell him to put you on it. Imagine the ratings!”
“Fuck you.” I quickly hit mute so he doesn’t hear me laugh.
“Such language, Cole. For shame. What would your future wife say?”
Taking him off mute, I respond, “She’d say, ‘Who’s that prick you’re talking to on the phone? Come back to bed.’”
“Well, first things first, you gotta find a woman you like. From the sounds of your recent dates, I’ll bet you haven’t been knocking boots with anyone lately.”
“Knocking boots? Really? Does anyone say that anymore?”
“Well, I just did. Okay, now that I’ve gotten all that out of my system . . .” He trails off into another fit of laughter before getting himself back under control, then clears his throat. “I’m done now. Okay. Were your dates really that bad? I’m surprised Dan and Suzanne didn’t set you up with better people.”
“They’re always amazed when I tell them about my dating disasters.”
“Maybe they’re nervous being around you?”
“All of them? I don’t thi
nk so.” I walk over to the wet bar and pull out a bottle of beer. “I don’t get it. I have over a million fans on Facebook, and twice that many followers on Twitter. More than half of them are women. Have you checked out my official Facebook page, bro? I get proposed to on there a few hundred times a week. Why can’t I meet one woman who I want to take out on a second date? What the hell’s going on?”
“Seems like you’re the common denominator here, big brother.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I open the beer and down half of it in one gulp.
“You know that your fans literally worship the ground you walk on. Most would prostrate themselves to have sex with you. But just because you’re some famous singer doesn’t mean you can snap your fingers and your friends will magically produce the perfect woman for you. Although . . .”
I’m a little pissed at his attitude, but he has me intrigued. In spite of my reservations, I hear myself fill the pregnant pause by saying, “Although, what?”
“Is that little Rose still on your team?”
“Rose Morgan? Yeah.” My eyes travel to the beautiful coffee table book. “In fact, I helped her out of a jam last week and she sent me a nice thank-you gift.”
“What did she send?”
“A book about the New York City music scene.”
“Wow. Now there’s a woman who would keep you on your toes. You know, Mom always spoke highly of her. Dad likes her, too. He’s had a sweet spot for her ever since she suggested that you take Mom to the Grammys. That night was one of Mom’s best.”
“Yeah, we had a great time.” I smile, remembering her acting like fangirl with Adam Baret. My mind shifts to Rose. “I’m not sure if Dad told you, but she came up with the idea to donate all of the profits from ‘No One to Hold’ to charity.”
“That’s cool, man. Why don’t you ask Rose out?”
It’s not like the thought hasn’t occurred to me. It has, and way more than once. I’ve been noticing her lately – the way she plays with that damn earring, the expressiveness of her eyes, her quiet strength, her intelligence. But I tell him what I’ve been telling myself. “Not a good idea. She works for me.”
“So what?”
“So that’s the type of huge line you never cross.”
“Says who?”
“How old are you, Jayson?” I take another sip of my beer. “I can’t blur the lines between professional and personal. She knows more about my bad habits than I’d want any woman to know early on in a relationship. Besides, Gruesome has a strict non-fraternization policy—which applies to everyone but her, apparently. No way would Rose cross that line.”
“She’s sharp, funny, beautiful and thoughtful.”
“So are a million other women who don’t work for me.” I pause. “You think Rose is beautiful?” She had looked a lot more relaxed after she took her hair out of that damn ponytail. And her eyes are a very pretty shade of blue behind those glasses. Who am I kidding? She’s beautiful. Plus, she’s definitely smart and kind. She also has a good sense of humor, but she’s too professional to let it shine through all that often. Then there’s that odd feeling of connection with her. I can’t deny that getting to know the real Rose appeals to me.
“Cole? Are you still there?”
His words snap me out of my reverie. “Sorry, Jayson. Someone, er, is at my door. Gotta go. Glad you like the new song. Hi to Carl and your puppy. Love you.”
“Bye, Cole. Love you, big bro.”
I disconnect the phone and sink down on my sofa, in front of my coffee table. I thoughtlessly flip through the pages of the book Rose sent me.
Am I seriously considering asking her out?
Well, shit.
“COME ON, COLE, CONCENTRATE.”
I’m on my second rep of twenty toes to bar in my circuit-training workout with my personal trainer. I can’t fault him for chiding me about not being all there today; I’m not. My mind keeps wandering back to my date last night.
It was unique in that there was nothing wrong with Lori at all. She seemed like a good match for me, and I enjoyed our date. Just not enough to ask her out again. I finally met the kind of woman I should be interested in, and there was no spark. Nada.
“Go run 200 meters, and then do 500 meters on the rowing machine. Now!”
I drop from the bar, grab some water and hit the treadmill. The worst thing about it was that I kept comparing her to Rose. Lori had brown hair, but it didn’t have any reddish highlights. Her eyes also were blue, but not the right shade. Shit. Am I really this far gone? Over someone on my team?
“Are you going to keep messing around, or are you actually going to work out today?”
I switch to the rowing machine, renewing my effort.
“You do want your fans to drool all over your hard body, rather than look sad every time you drag your dad bod onto the stage, right?”
Damn. That’s hitting below the belt. I finish the set. Back to the bar. Three more reps to go. I refuse to let my mind wander any more during this workout. Fifteen minutes later, it’s over. I’m drenched.
“Man, where was your mind at the beginning of our workout?”
I like Zak, but I am not about to share my dating situation with him, so I keep it light. “Sorry. I was thinking about a chick I met last night.” Not a total lie.
“She must’ve been something. You’re usually a lot more into training.”
“She certainly gave me a lot to think about.”
“Well, go hit the shower and sauna. You’ll need the heat for your muscles.”
“Thanks. See you in two days. I’ll be ready for you on Friday.”
I head to the shower. Towel around my waist, I make my way into the sauna. I usually skip this step, but heat sounds really good to me today. As an added bonus, no one else is in here right now, so I’m left to my own thoughts, which take me to Rose.
On Friday, after my work out, she and I are going on a photo shoot. I think it’s just plain wrong when musicians and actors have professional photos on their social media accounts, so I managed to convince Greta the Gruesome that Rose and I can handle taking the photos for all my accounts. Of course, my fans believe I’m the one writing those posts and tweets, which shows what a great job Rose does. Some of her posts even fooled Mom.
This time’s different, though. It’s going to be my first date with Rose. Only she doesn’t know it’s a date, which is fine by me. If she had an inkling that I’m thinking about dating her, she would probably freak out. Not to mention bring along a photographer, some extras for the photos, a driver and probably a pit bull. I still can’t believe I’m taking Jayson’s advice.
I shake my head, and beads of water fly everywhere, which makes me think of Rose in a much more intimate setting than the photo shoot. She’s so buttoned up on the job that she has to let loose sometime, right? No one can be that prim and proper. Hell, no. I’ve seen glimpses of a different Rose when Gruesome’s not watching. Someone needs to break her the rest of the way out of her shell, and I’m just the guy for that task.
Now that my mind has gone down that path, I can’t stop. I picture her naked, her glasses off and her hair free from that damn ponytail. She’s going to look spectacular in my bed, with her nipples all pink and distended from my lips and her legs wrapped around my waist while I pump into her. I can’t wait to see the look on her face as she comes for me.
Damn, I’m starting to get a hard-on, and anyone can walk in here at any moment. I better get a grip. I’d like to get a grip on her nice ass, though. Okay Cole, stop it. I shake my head to try to clear the images that are bouncing around in it.
The door opens and two guys walk in. That’s my cue to leave. I don’t want to be stuck in the sauna with two Academy Award winning actors while sporting a woody. And I haven’t even kissed that girl yet. Damn.
FRIDAY AFTERNOON FINALLY arrives. I put on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt and then check my stubble to ensure it has the required two-day look. Grabbing my sunglasse
s, board shorts and keys, I head out to the Santa Monica beach where Rose and I agreed to meet. En route, Rose calls and tells me where she parked.
I pull into a parking space and look around for her car, which I identify based on my mechanic’s description. Turning off the ignition, I take a deep breath and remind myself to play it cool. After a slow, steady exhale, I’m ready.
Rose isn’t in her car, but I catch a glimpse of her near the beach. She’s watching a volleyball game. Her ponytail is blowing in the breeze, and she’s pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. A camera hangs from around her neck. She looks adorable, yet out of place, in her blouse and skirt. At least she ditched the blazer.
I start walking over to her, but as soon as she sees me, she motions for me to stay in the parking lot and walks over to join me. “I’ve been watching the volleyball game for a while and thought it might make for some interesting shots if you joined in. What do you say?”
I smirk. “Ever the professional, huh, Rose?”
One of her eyebrows rises. “I just thought your fans would like to see you score.” Both of her eyes widen and she puts her hands in front of her mouth to hide her laughter, exclaiming, “I can’t believe I just said that!”
I burst out laughing, too. “I promise to remind you every chance I get!” Smiling broadly, I put my arm around her and give her a one-armed hug.
She smiles up at me, her cheeks a gorgeous pink. “Thanks, Cole. A true gentleman would have helped me remove my foot from my mouth instead of rubbing my face in it.”
“Now that’s a mixed metaphor if I ever heard one.” I decide to cut her some slack. “So, where to?”
Rose glances back at the volleyball game, but it seems to be breaking up. “I guess my idea of the game is out. Let’s wander around and snap some candids.”
“Sounds good.”
We walk away from the beach, moving toward the street and its high-end shops and restaurants. Rose snaps some photos of me along the way, trying to be careful not to give away our exact location. Plus, we don’t want to give free advertising to the stores, especially if I can’t vouch for them.
