Hold On To Me

by Taylor Holloway

  I nodded. I did remember. Monopoly was my all-time favorite board game. We’d played at a party freshman year, and I’d absolutely obliterated the other players. Trina had cried when I tricked her into bankrupting herself in spectacular fashion. I hadn’t done it to be mean. I’d only wanted to win.

  I knew exactly what the behavior Trina was describing sounded like, and it was terrifying to me. My blood ran cold through my veins. My father and mother both behaved like life was one big game where only their feelings mattered. The thought that I would behave like that, and not even know that I was doing it, made me feel ill. Was I becoming like them? I never wanted to become like them.

  But I’d felt terrible when Trina had cried. I wasn’t like my parents. My dad wouldn’t have cared at all if his friend cried (which was probably why he had no friends). My mom would have thought it was manipulative. She would have assumed that Trina was trying to make her do something by crying and resented it. But I didn’t do that. I apologized. I saw her being sad, and it made me sad. That had to mean something, right?

  I hugged Trina, wrapping my arms around her and sending her staggering back a couple of steps. “Thank you for telling me,” I told her shocked face. “Please always tell me if I’m doing that. It’s the last thing I want. I’m so sorry if I freaked you out.”

  She gave a little relieved, strangled laugh. “There’s the Rosie I know.” Trina shook her head. “Come on, let’s go get lunch.”

  We ended up getting ourselves a couple of smoothies and looking at vintage clothes at the boutique next door. Trina insisted that I needed to new dress for my gig Friday night, and considering that I was re-wearing yesterday’s outfit, I couldn’t very well disagree. I needed way more than one new dress.

  The entire time we shopped, I was thinking about what Trina had said. The last thing I wanted was to become like my parents. They were both lonely, miserable people.

  My dad was hard to take and controlling, but in her own way, my mom might actually be worse. She approached every interaction like it was a battle for supremacy. If she didn’t feel like she could get something out of someone, they weren’t worth her time. She was smart, and hardworking, but that approach to other people had always made it hard for her to keep jobs. Or friends. Or for me to keep friends…

  My childhood had not been easy. My mom dragged us around every crappy town in Rhode Island, and we never stayed anywhere long enough to feel like we were really home. It sucked always being the new kid in the class.

  But growing up, my mom never turned her ugly side on me. Never. She was a wonderful mom. A bit strict, sure, but no more strict than usual. The only thing that ever came between us was my dad, and only because he took me away from her.

  It wasn’t until I hit adolescence and started having thoughts and feeling of my own that we began to butt heads. What started as a fight now and then became a daily battle of wills. It seemed like the more I asserted my independence, the more it angered her. She didn’t want me to be a real person at all.

  Part of me wondered if she understood my perspective—or anyone else’s perspective for that matter. An increasingly large part of me wondered if she even could. Maybe the reason that she’d been such an excellent mother was because when I was little girl, I was an extension of her. A little mini me who did whatever she was told. Now that I was an adult—a distinct and independent person—she really had no use for me at all.

  Thinking about my parents made me wonder if I had any chance at being a normal person. My genetics might have just doomed me to slowly develop their bad behavior like some people developed their parent’s physical maladies. Now that I’d met Ryan, I could only pray that I had had a shot at avoiding their fate.

  Ryan had the complete opposite of the sort of deceitful and controlling personality type that I feared might be destiny. He’d been nothing but kind, generous, and honest with me. And that was just in bed. I wasn’t planning our wedding yet, but I was totally smitten. I may have just found Ryan, but I definitely didn’t want to lose him.

  29

  Ryan

  I could recall entire years that felt shorter than that afternoon. Usually my work was interesting enough to easily hold my focus, but today I was unable to stay on-track. I flitted around from task to task, not completing anything, and getting pulled off-task from the slightest distraction. All I wanted was to see Rosie again. Being separated from her felt like torture.

  Last night had been incredible. Rosie had been so eager, sexy, and sweet. She exceeded my wildest dreams. I’d been terrified that I’d ruin the experience for her, but with a little trust and a lot of communication, I liked to think that her first time had gone pretty damn well. I was more than a bit proud of myself, actually.

  I was, in fact, daydreaming about the next few things I wanted to introduce Rosie to when Alexandra rang from the other room.

  “Mr. Ross is on the line for you,” she told me. She’d totally recovered from her earlier freak-out and now sounded just as disinterested as ever.

  I froze, and my heart sank right along with my libido.

  Fantastic. The very last person I wanted to talk to.

  “Ok, put him through.”

  Avoiding him would only delay the inevitable. Besides, we needed to talk.

  “Good morning!” Calvin Ross’s voice was chipper.

  “It’s mid-afternoon here,” I told him. I wasn’t even going to attempt to match his enthusiasm for this conversation.

  “Whatever. I think my plan for Rosie is coming right along,” he told me. “I can only imagine the impression that your brother and Victoria Priestly made on her last night.”

  I thought about them all laughing and talking into the early morning. “It didn’t go how I’m imagining you expected.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I can only theorize that Ross was hoping Rosie would be utterly overwhelmed and intimidated. He didn’t know her as well as he thought. Ian, of course, was already predisposed to like her, but Rosie held her own all night long, and she totally won over even Victoria.

  “Exposing her to a couple of the most prominent local artists has backfired. It didn’t have the discouraging result you were hoping for. And why didn’t you tell me about Rosie’s YouTube channel?” I told him, feeling excited for and proud of Rosie.

  I could almost hear him shrug on the other end of the line. “Rosie’s little internet channel is cute, but I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  “She has a lot of followers.” I worded my next statement very carefully. “Her music is unique, and she’s clearly something special. If Rosie were anyone else, I would tell you that someone with that much natural buzz could be worth the gamble. I’d tell you we should be shopping her to labels, not discouraging her.”

  “But Rosie’s not anyone else,” came Calvin’s grouchy reply. “She’s my daughter.” If Ross had any weakness, it was his inability to change his mind. I knew it would take a lot more than my opinion to sway him.

  “I’m well aware,” I told Ross. “But she’s got a fan base as well as a lot of natural talent. That hasn’t gone unnoticed. I just think you might regret your decision to give Rosie free exposure to the local music scene when she basically has a viral, public demo tape. Victoria has taken to Rosie—she seems intent on helping her.”

  Ross laughed. He laughed! All of a sudden, I felt ill at the sound of it. “Don’t be so quick to doubt my plan,” Ross answered. Worry was shooting through me in little waves. Was this gig part of Ross’ scheme? Had he somehow influenced Victoria? The idea made no sense. Was he that good of a schemer? I wish I could chalk up his attitude to bravado, but I knew Ross. I knew what he was capable of.

  There had been times in my legal career when I’d exhausted my ability to help my clients make choices that were in their best interests, get them exposed to the right people who could propel their careers forward, or break them out of contracts and deals that they’d gotten themselves roped into. Sometimes, facts and go
od motivations just don’t cut it. Sometimes, things just needed fixing. It was times like those that I was glad to know a man with the connections, loose attachment to facts, and drive of Calvin Ross.

  If I needed someone to arrange a ‘chance’ meeting between a label and an artist, or I needed a demo tape to find its way to a certain festival scheduler, Calvin Ross would make it happen. If I needed to make a point to someone, Calvin Ross would make it happen. If I needed someone out of the way, Calvin Ross would make it happen. He was eerily good at it all. It was almost like the entire world was a chess board for him, and because he didn’t mind sacrificing a pawn or two, he pretty much dominated the game.

  “What have you got planned?” I asked Ross, feeling positively nauseated.

  “Wait and see,” he replied. Something in his tone told me he was bluffing, but I wasn’t sure.

  “You know she really does have a lot of talent,” I tried. “I listened to quite a bit of her material she’s posted online.”

  “I know. I’ve listened to all of it,” Ross replied. “I’ve listened to all of it multiple times.”

  “And you don’t think she’s got the talent to make it?”

  A loud noise of frustration made me pull the receiver away from my ear. “I don’t care.” Ross was all but growling now. “Rosie needs to go to law school. She’s going to thank me for this in ten years when she’s running this firm.”

  I groaned internally. Ross was dynasty-building. Like a king looking to ensure his kingdom’s stability for years to come, Ross had decided that Rosie didn’t deserve to have a say in her own future. He was convinced that he knew what was best for her.

  Ross fundamentally didn’t care what Rosie wanted. He saw Rosie as his opportunity to cement the Ross name in the entertainment industry for the next generation. If that was the totality of how he viewed his daughter, if he really didn’t care what she wanted, I feared there was no chance that I’d ever be able to change his mind.

  Once again, I was filled with irritation and frustration on Rosie’s behalf. It was no wonder she played her cards so close to her chest. If she was going to hold onto her dreams, and if I was going to hold onto her, it was going to require me to be a better schemer than Calvin Ross. But there one thing that I had, and he didn’t: I respected Rosie.

  Rosie was smart, driven, and talented. She deserved more than a future as Ross’ pawn. The problem was, ensuring that Rosie had a shot at her career might end my own. I needed a plan, and quick.

  30

  Rosie

  I got to Ryan’s office at around a quarter to four that afternoon, a bit later than I expected. Still, I hadn’t been expecting such frosty welcome.

  “Mr. Conroe will be with you shortly,” the stern-faced receptionist told me. She gestured at the chairs in the waiting area.

  She reminded me of the assistant principal at my elementary school, Mrs. Windsor. Even a goodie-two-shoes like I’d been knew that you did not want to get sent to Mrs. Windsor’s office. The receptionist was about thirty years younger and a lot prettier than Mrs. Windsor, but their facial expressions—the look of powerful dislike and an even more powerful disdain and boredom—were identical.

  She hadn’t smiled when I entered and introduced myself. Not even one of those fake-nice smiles. Weren’t receptionists supposed to be all smiley and nice? Maybe she didn’t appreciate that I was late. I could have thrown off Ryan’s schedule, and hers.

  Even so, I didn’t appreciate the attitude. I frowned right back at her and took the seat closest to the door and farthest away from her. She immediately went back to filing her nails and that was just fine by me. I didn’t need her negative vibes rubbing off on me.

  Today had been a very good, very productive day. Yesterday I had no place to live, virtually no clothes, and no career prospects. Now I had all three. And Ryan. I also had Ryan.

  Last night had been totally perfect. And tonight, I was hoping to seal the deal with him. After all, I didn’t have a bed yet. But Ryan did, and if I was lucky, he’d invite me over to share it with him again.

  I zoned out and daydreamed about Ryan until the squishy chair I was waiting in became uncomfortable. I looked down at my phone in shock. I’d been waiting for almost an hour and a half.

  Reluctantly, I approached the reception desk a second time. The woman there looked even less pleased to see me the second time around, even though I’d been sitting less than twenty feet from her this entire time. She looked at me down the bridge of her nose and widened her eyes like I had an outrageous amount of audacity to interrupt what I suspected was the slowest manicure in human history.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Could you please check with Ryan?” I asked her. “I think he’ll want to see me. We were supposed to meet at three thirty.”

  She blinked at me. “Mr. Conroe be with you shortly.”

  Was she, like, a glitching robot or something? Had she even checked with him? I never saw her checking with him… I decided it wasn’t worth fighting with her. It was time to channel my dad.

  “Can you tell me where the ladies’ room is?” I asked politely. I’d had some time sitting uselessly in my fancy lawyer waiting room chair. Long enough to visually scope out the office. There were only two ways out of this room. One led directly outside. The other led to a hallway behind the reception desk.

  The receptionist jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “To the left.”

  I smiled sweetly at her. “Thanks so much.”

  I went behind her and down the short hallway, and knocked on the door on the right. I might have been a goody-two-shoes in elementary school, but I learned how to commit mischief in middle school. The first rule? Forgiveness is always easier won than permission.

  “Yes?” Ryan’s voice answered. I pushed open the door.

  Inside, sat the biggest rock star in the world, Jason Kane. My eyes had to be the size of dinner plates. No wonder I’d been relegated to the waiting room. Rock and roll royalty was hanging out in Ryan’s office this afternoon.

  “Hi Rosie,” Ryan said happily, easing perhaps one one-hundredth of my sudden burst of anxiety. He rose from behind his desk and came to hug me. “I was wondering where you were.”

  I leaned against him, soaking in his affection, and decided not to admit that I’d been banished to the waiting room by his mean old shrew of receptionist. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Rosie, this is Jason,” Ryan was saying. His voice was barely audible over the rapid thumping of my heart. “Jason, this is my girlfriend Rosie.”

  Girlfriend? The rapid thumbing redoubled. It was louder than a timpani drum. I smiled like an idiot and worried that my blush was so bright it could be seen from space. I had to be broadcasting my mortification to the entire galaxy.

  “Hello,” I managed.

  “Nice to meet you, Rosie,” Jason said pleasantly. He didn’t seem to notice that I was star struck. Maybe he was simply used to that reaction. Probably so.

  Jason Kane’s band, Axial Tilt, had pretty much been the soundtrack to my high school years. I owned every single one of their albums. Even the weird one that had a bunch of country songs on it. That one had only gone double platinum instead of triple. I loved it.

  And it wasn’t just me or people my age that loved Axial Tilt, everyone did. They were universally beloved in a way that few rock bands are and would be remembered for decades even if they only stayed together eight years. The majority of their fame was due to Jason Kane’s personal charisma. He was tall, talented, affable, intelligent, and sexier than anyone had the right to be. I’d definitely had a poster of him on my bedroom wall. And another, smaller one in my locker. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true.

  Yet now that I saw him next to Ryan, he just didn’t do it for me anymore. He didn’t have Ryan’s classically handsome face, his adorable glasses, or his nice fashion sense. Instead, Kane was wearing a schlubby t-shirt and jeans, a hat, and had grown a scruffy goatee (I’m a fan of Jason Kane, but not at all
a fan of that particular facial hair). If I hadn’t known who he was because of a serious high school freshman year phase during which time I stared at his picture for at least half an hour a day, I would not have recognized him. I’d officially grown out of my Jason Kane phase.

  “Rosie, I’m glad you’re here,” Ryan was saying as I gaped. “Maybe you can help me talk some sense into Jason.”

  “Hmm?” I said absently. Then his words hit a second later.

  Me, help Jason Kane? That’s rich. I bit back a tiny, hysterical giggle. The smothered laugh danced around the back of my throat, sending tickles down my middle. Help Jason Kane. Right. Help him clean the fourteen toilets in his gigantic mansion, maybe. Help him by fetching some coffee, maybe.

  “What about attorney-client privilege,” Jason groused, although he was smiling and looked relaxed and happy. The two were clearly friends. I couldn’t imagine having a friend as famous as Jason Kane. What did you get him for his birthday? He probably had everything already. Maybe he didn’t have the Chia pet that looked like him. I had one of those in high school, actually…

  “You can waive it if you want,” Ryan replied, rolling his eyes. “As your attorney, I honestly think it would do you some good to get a fresh perspective. You’re too close to this issue.”

  Jason shrugged. “Alright.”

  Ryan smirked. “Alright,” he echoed, but without the thick, rural Texas accent. Then, he turned to me. “So, Jason is originally from a small town in west Texas. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere. The sort of place that people move from, and not to.”

  I nodded. Dinalou, Texas. Population almost zero. Yeah. I knew where he was from. I knew more trivia about the stranger sitting in front of me than I wanted to admit. There was a time when I absolutely devoured any magazine article, Buzzfeed list, or news story about the man.