Hold On To Me

by Taylor Holloway

  “Wait!” I pleaded. “Mom, please don’t hang up.”

  It was too late. The line had already gone dead. I tried calling her back, but it just rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. I listened to the recording. It was sad but listening to her voicemail message was practically the only way I got to hear her voice anymore.

  You have reached the voice mailbox of Cecelia Young, the recording told me. I’m sorry I’m not available to take your call right now, but if you leave your name, number, and a brief message, I will call you back.

  I’d left my name, number, and a number of brief messages over the past year and half. Aside from today’s call, my mom had never once called me back. She’d promised me that she would cut off all contact with me if I accepted my dad’s offer to pay for my education. She said as soon as I stepped on the plane to LA, we couldn’t have a relationship anymore. I hadn’t believed her. I should have.

  My mom wasn’t the sort of parent who ever made empty threats. She never had been. She said what she meant, and she did what she said. The moment I flew out to LA to talk to my dad, my mom began treating me like a stranger. It was like I’d died. Hell, Soon Yi—who was actually dead—got more of her attention than me.

  I was her only child. Since my aunt Irene died, I was her only living relative in this entire hemisphere. Yet my mother had no problem cutting me out of her life with surgical precision when I made her angry.

  Feeling helpless, confused, motherless, I sat on the bed of Ryan’s guest room and cried.

  23

  Ryan

  When Rosie shot of my bed like she was on fire, I knew that her call had to be important. I gave her space. But when I heard her sobbing in the other room as I passed by a few minutes later, I couldn’t stay away.

  “Rosie?” I asked, pushing the door open. She was face down on the bed, sobbing like her heart was breaking. I approached hesitantly. “Are you ok?”

  The answer was obviously ‘no’. Still, Rosie sat up, rubbed her tears away and tried to put on a brave face. She was such a stubborn little creature. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  I compared her reaction now to the way she broadcasted ‘go away’ at me twenty-four hours ago over pancakes. I decided to gamble and ask: “What happened? Who called?”

  Rosie stared down at the phone in her hands. “It was my mom. My great-great aunt Soon Yi has passed away.”

  I blinked. Not what I expected. To be honest, I expected it to be her father that caused the tears. I sunk down next to her on the guest room bed. It sagged under our collective weight. Well, mostly mine. I probably outweighed Rosie by a good fifty pounds. She was tiny. “Oh, Rosie. I’m so sorry. Were you very close?” They must have been, because Rosie looked completely heartbroken. The tears made little tracks down her face.

  Unexpectedly, she shook her head no. “I’ve actually never met her. She lives in Korea.” Her voice was soft. “Well, lived in Korea I guess.” She dashed her tears away again.

  I was now deeply confused. Still, even if Rosie hadn’t been close to her aunt, everyone reacts to death differently, and losing family always sucks. Plus, Rosie was a lot more sensitive than she wanted the world to know. I reached out my hands and took both of hers. They were so small, so fragile. I squeezed them, trying to impart some strength to her. In response, Rosie leaned her head on my shoulder and the little show of trust made my heart slam against my ribs.

  I wanted her to trust me. For the first time in my life, I wanted a woman to depend on me, so I could protect her. It was a strange, vulnerable feeling to want to be strong for someone else. But at the same time, I liked it.

  “I’m really sorry, Rosie,” I told her again. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She sighed. “I’m not even really sad about auntie Soon Yi. I mean, it sucks that she’s dead, but we’ve never met. I’m sad because my mom hates me and only speaks to me now if someone in our family dies. That’s what it takes to get her attention—the death of a family member...” she trailed off in dismay.

  The last time I’d asked Rosie about her family, Rosie had bit my head off. I hesitated. But as always, curiosity got the best of me.

  “You mentioned yesterday that your mom wasn’t speaking to you. How long has that been going on?”

  Rosie bit her lip, turning it a deeper, darker pink around where her white teeth dug in. “Basically, since the moment I started talking to my dad.” She shook her head in frustration. “I thought she was bluffing. Clearly, I was wrong.”

  The extraordinary insecurity and immaturity exhibited by Rosie’s mom made me angry on Rosie’s behalf. I couldn’t imagine a world where my mom just straight-up didn’t speak to me. Literally. It was beyond my powers of imagination. If anything, I had the opposite problem. I shook my head in disbelief.

  “She must really, really hate your dad to do something like that.”

  “Oh, she does.” Rosie smirked. “And he really, really hates her right back.”

  “Do you know why they hate each other?”

  She sighed. “I don’t think they even know why they hate each other. They’re both extremely dominant, stubborn personalities. They don’t like to talk about their feelings, hate sharing details about anything, don’t feel burdened by empathy, and genuinely enjoy a good fight. When two people like that get together, the result is inevitably horrible.”

  She was ridiculously wrong. “The result was you, Rosie. You’re not horrible at all.”

  She rolled her eyes and frowned. “You’re sweet. But you know what I mean.”

  I did. I knew the apple hadn’t fallen far from the trees when it came to discussions about feelings, which was clearly just about Rosie’s least favorite thing to do. I could tell this conversation was emotionally exhausting to Rosie. She ran her pale hands through her hair in frustration. It was still mussed from our lovemaking the night before and hung around her hair in a dark, wild cloud.

  “Why can’t they just get along?” she wondered out loud. “I mean, how hard could it possibly be to for them to just be civil to one another”

  Pretty damn hard because they’re textbook narcissists and total imbeciles, I thought to myself. Considering that the woman who raised her seemed like an emotional dumpster fire and immature jerk, and her biological father was possibly an actual psychopath, Rosie was incredibly well-adjusted. She’d really defied the odds by being a normal, nice person.

  I hugged her to my chest and she wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face against my throat. She clung tightly to me and it made my heart throb. “I’m sorry your parents create so much drama in your life,” I whispered.

  The sad truth was that there was nothing that I could do to fix any of it for Rosie. There was no fixing it. People like Rosie’s parents couldn’t be fixed by outside forces. Unless they wanted to change and put a lot of effort into things like therapy and attempting to be empathetic, they were probably never going to be any different. But if there was something I could do for Rosie, no matter what it was, I’d do it in an instant. As it was, all I could do was hold onto her. So that’s what I did.

  “Hugging me helps,” she told me after a moment. Her voice was thick with tears of frustration. I hugged her tighter.

  “You got it.”

  24

  Rosie

  My morning might have been a bit of a disaster, but at least Ryan held me through the worst of it. After twenty minutes of snuggling against his chest, wrapped in his strong arms, I felt much better. It was like a tiny miracle. I’m sure sex would have lifted my mood even more, but there wasn’t time. Ryan was a real grownup with a real grownup job. When he went to work, leaving me unsupervised in his house, it was all I could do not to dissolve again.

  Instead of being a morose and grumpy mess, I attempted to focus on my homework and be productive. The math homework assignment didn’t hold my interest long. The angles and lines weren’t speaking to me at all. It wasn’t half an hour before I got distracted from
geometry by my guitar. I’d neglected it for over forty-eight hours and it was calling my name. Besides, there was a new song I was working on, and this morning I felt more inspired than I had in a long time.

  It was a sad song, set in a minor key and with a lilting, range-stretching melody. The song had a vibe that was somewhere between a less melancholy, quirkier version of The Decemberists and a melancholier, less quirky version of Regina Spector. Throw in a bit of the folksy charm of all the Kasey Musgraves I’d been listening to lately and it really had a unique feel. I was loving the way it had developed while I’d been incubating it my subconscious. But before I could finish charting out the chords for the refrain, I was distracted a second time over by an incoming text.

  Victoria Priestly [10:03 a.m.]: Hey Rosie, it was great meeting you last night!

  I’d been expecting a text from Trina. Not Victoria-freaking-Priestly. I could barely believe she was talking to me. I agonized over my response for an inordinately long time.

  Rosie Ross [10:15 a.m.]: It was great meeting you too. I really had a lot of fun.

  Ok, so it wasn’t Shakespeare, but I successfully replied with a coherent sentence and not just a bunch of excited emoji. It was an achievement.

  Victoria Priestly [10:16 a.m.]: Hey, so I was wondering if you want to open for us at the Lone Star Lounge on the Friday after next. Our usual opener cancelled. Do you know it?

  Rosie Ross [10:16 a.m.]: Really?! OMG yes. I’ve heard about that place. It sounds like a cool venue. Thank you so much for the opportunity!

  Victoria Priestly [10:17 a.m.]: Awesome! And you’re very welcome. I’ll let the bar owner, a guy named Ward Williams, know you’re coming. Your set will be starting at seven.

  Rosie Ross [10:18 a.m.]: I’m so excited! Thank you again.

  Victoria Priestly [10:19 a.m.]: You’re doing me a favor. Your stage name is Rosalind Soon, right? Like on your channel?

  Rosie Ross [10:19 a.m.]: Yes. I can barely type I’m so excited.

  Victoria Priestly [10:19 a.m.]: You’re gonna do great. See you then.

  I stared at my phone, hardly believing my good luck. Victoria really wanted me to open for her? That was a HUGE deal. I did a little, painfully terrible happy dance.

  I had a gig. A real gig. A gig that could lead to more gigs. And a record. And a tour. And then, after a little while, an actual career in the music business. My dream.

  Victoria’s first band, Edelweiss, might be dead, but the new group Victoria had formed with members of her own band and Axial Tilt, was obviously destined for stardom. The group, which I learned last night had been dubbed Moonstone, had more combined street cred than could possibly lead to lasting stability (probably too much talent in one place). They had the built-in audiences of several successful groups, and one mega-trendy lead singer. Just one night of opening for Moonstone was basically skipping forward in time about five years. It might be a small, local bar, but the Lone Star Lounge would have actual, living and breathing humans in it tonight. For once, I was going to play for a live audience.

  I texted Ryan with shaking hands. He called about two seconds later.

  “Congratulations Rosie!” I could hear the smile in his deep voice.

  I beamed, sitting on Ryan’s fancy-ass leather couch and feeling like I could take flight at any moment. Two days ago, I was sitting in my apartment, crying over a dead betta fish and feeling like nineteen was going to be the shittiest year of my life. And look at me now.

  Is this what it feels like to have my dreams come true? I wondered. Because it definitely felt like all my dreams were coming true. My parents might be determined to make me fit into their mold, but I was doing just fine despite their best efforts to turn me into something I wasn’t. It felt so good I could barely stand it.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” I told him. “I’m so excited!”

  Then, I heard Ryan take a deep breath. “What’s your cut?” he asked. There was a hesitant tone to his voice.

  I blinked. “Cut?”

  “Are you splitting the door fee with Moonstone?”

  “I don’t… I don’t know. Should I know?”

  Was I supposed to get paid for opening? I’d never been paid for singing before, although obviously that was the eventual goal. But Victoria hadn’t mentioned that…

  My conversation with Ryan turned awkward in an instant. I felt profoundly confused. Ryan knew so much more about the industry than me. He understood way more than I did about the business of music and what questions to ask. Were we two people who’d slept together, that were maybe more than friends, talking about my exciting career development? Or, were we an agent and his client? Could we be both? Was that even a possibility?

  I suspected that Ryan didn’t know the answers either. The moments stretched. It lengthened. It became worse than merely just awkward. It became uncomfortable.

  Finally, Ryan spoke. “Rosie, I think you need an agent.”

  “You’re the only one I know.”

  He sighed. “I’m going to get so fired for this.”

  “Ryan, I really don’t want to make things hard for you. You can say no.” I meant it. That was the last thing I wanted. I hated the idea of him getting in trouble over me.

  “I could say no, sure, but I really don’t want to.” I heard him sigh. “Can you come down to my office Ms. Ross? I think we need to talk.”

  I nodded into the phone. “Ok. I’ve got some apartment hunting to do with Trina. She can drop me afterwards. How about 3:30?”

  “Sounds good. See you then.” Ryan’s voice took on a curious quality that I didn’t know how to interpret. “There are a few really important things I really need to tell you, Rosie, and they really can’t wait any longer.” Was this his business voice? It was… different.

  25

  Ryan

  From behind the reception desk, I could feel Alexandra watching when I emerged from my conference call to get coffee. The other parties on the call were talking about something so very specific, and so mind-numbingly boring, that I was free to zone out on mute for a few minutes. I’d been listening to Rosie singing on her YouTube channel and had decided that the only thing that could improve the moment was some coffee.

  My mood was promptly shattered by the expression on Alexandra’s face. She’d been weirdly quiet this morning. And, even more bizarrely, she’d also been precisely on time. Something was definitely up with her.

  “What is it?” I finally asked. She was practically vibrating in her seat and radiating waves of discomfort. I couldn’t enjoy my coffee, Rosie’s singing, or the blissful afterglow of getting laid last night with her staring at me like that.

  She pursed her lips. “Mr. Ross called me yesterday evening.” Alexandra sounded like she was confessing to doing something horrible. “He wanted me to do something… kind of weird.”

  Now that I was thinking about it, I wasn’t all that surprised. I knew someone had been the conduit of information between my brother and Calvin Ross last night. The only logical person to do that, besides me, was Alexandra. It was a good thing that Calvin Ross was in California, because I really wanted to punch him. He could mess with me, and I couldn’t seem to be able to stop him from messing with Rosie, but my staff was off-limits.

  “What did he want?” I asked her. I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible. I didn’t want Alexandra to think I was angry with her.

  She stared down at her long, pointy, red manicure. “It was really weird. He asked me to figure out where his daughter was—like cyberstalk her basically—and then send that information to your brother with a message that you wanted him to meet her there. He also asked me to send his daughter’s YouTube channel to your brother.” Her frown deepened. “I didn’t feel comfortable doing it, but he’s the boss… right?”

  Right. I nodded miserably. “I’m really sorry Alexandra. I know he’s technically the boss of everything around here, but he shouldn’t have dragged you into his weird schemes. He’s a really strange guy.
”

  Her expression wavered. “He told me it was part of your plan. That you asked him to reach out to me.”

  “Yeah, well, he lied.”

  More likely, he couldn’t get anyone from the LA staff to answer the phone. Calvin Ross was extremely good at scheming, and extremely good at delegating, but executing on his devious plans required the assistance someone that could actually use technology. Last night Alexandra had been that unlucky someone.

  I was seriously getting annoyed at Rosie’s parents. It felt like Rosie and I couldn’t spend five minutes without at least one of them throwing us a curve ball. This was one more thing I’d have to tell Rosie when her Uber dropped her off. I pinched the bridge of my nose. The afterglow was officially gone.

  Alexandra looked up from her manicure. She seemed torn. “If he asks me to do something like that again, what should I do? I don’t like stalking people. I especially don’t like getting involved in whatever weird thing is going on with him with his daughter. I mean… tracking his adult daughter’s movements on a Sunday night and arranging meetings between her and strange men? That’s… well, it’s just not ok.” She sighed. “I really don’t want to do anything like that ever again, even if it is my job.”

  “It’s not your job,” I reassured her. “You report to me, not Calvin Ross. You know I’d never ask you to do something that weird, right? If he calls you again, tell him you have to talk to me about it and then get off the phone as fast as you can.” This was all getting wildly out of control.

  Alexandra’s head bobbed up and down. “Ok.” She looked slightly less upset. “I can do that.” She even smirked after a moment. “Shutting people down on the phone is kind of my thing.”