Page 100 of Hold Still

I take his card. “Thanks.”

After he leaves, I toss the card into the trash. I bet he’s a great guy, but I’m not in the market for one. No. I need to focus on my responsibilities. I can’t get sidetracked ever again. Every time I do, someone gets hurt. Especially me.

DAYS GO BY,which I spend interviewing potential evening shift nurses. I click with Mandy, and go through all of the paperwork associated with hiring her. Tossing my pen onto the kitchen table, I clap twice. “I really like her.”

Elaine replies, “It’ll be good to have your mother with full-time care. You’ll be freed up to live your life without worry.”

“Mom’s my responsibility. I just need some help with her.” I make a neat pile of the paperwork. “Besides, it’s not like I have a life,” I mutter.

Elaine puts her hand on my shoulder and walks toward the living room. “Good things are about to happen. I can feel it.”

Rolling my eyes, it’s all I can do not to laugh out loud. Elaine believes the best for everyone, but I’m a realist. Looking at the holiday cards adorning the kitchen walls, my mind roams to the upcoming holiday. I already got presents for everyone. Except Ozzy. I snort—no need to get him one now. The past few days proved that to me. Not to mention an online photospread of him at his concert last night. He had some red-headed slut hanging off his arm. I really have to stop torturing myself by googling his name.

Pulling out the flour and sugar, I start baking some more Christmas cookies. Everyone enjoys them, and it usually calms my nerves to bake. But not today. Every cookie reminds me of what I had to give up. Rather, who. Thanks to Matt and the bad decision to date him I made all those years ago. Not to mention calling Daddy to be my knight in shining armor that fateful night.

Elaine walks in as I’m mangling a Nutella chip cookie. “These were just dropped off for you.” She hands me some magazines.

“Thanks.” I wipe my hands and open Jeremy’s, theRecord News. Sitting down, I flip the pages until I find the one with the headline, “Local Graphic Designer Finals in Competition.” There’s a photo of me at the Big Reveal.

Taking a deep breath, I start reading. Jeremy’s words jump off the page and paint a picture of me I don’t recognize. Of a woman in charge, taking control of her career and putting her best foot forward. Well, I guess that’s me. I certainly put everything I had into the presentation.

I finish the article and toss the magazine to the side. A supermarket tabloid is underneath it. Looking on the cover, my heart cramps at a huge photo of Ozzy, half naked and walking backstage at the Jade. I trace his torso with my finger, wanting it to be real. But, it isn’t. The caption under the photo catches my attention next: “Rockstar Dumps Murderess!”

What?

I flip the pages and land on a huge photospread—of me! The photo of Ozzy with me taken by the paparazzi now sports the headline: “Ozzy’s ex tied to her father’s murder.”

I can’t catch my breath. “Oh my God,” I say to no one. My eyes greedily read the words, trying to make sense of the story. The writer focused on my testimony at Matt’s trial. It paints me as a total party-girl who was into drugs and alcohol with Matt. They even dug up some old photos of me out on the town with him, which they must have scored from an old Facebook reel or something. I deleted my account in the aftermath of the case.

“It seems that James’s father caught wind of the extreme partying his daughter was doing and drove over one night to stop it. A fight ensued, at the end of which her father was dead. During the trial, the defense argued that Lopez acted in self-defense, and that Ms. James herself provided the knife that killed her father. Lopez was convicted of manslaughter, based on James’s self-serving testimony. Seems to us that Ozzy is well rid of this modern-day Lizzie Borden.”

I scream, “No, no, no!”

Mom rushes into the kitchen. “What’s up, McKenna?”

Wiping the tears streaming down my face, I pick up both magazines and jump to my feet. Not wanting to share this horrible story with her, I lie, “I thought I burned the cookies, but they’re all good.”

“I’m sure we’ll love them.” She nudges me and winks. “Your father loves everything you cook, even if you burn a couple. You know that.”

I suck in my breath. It’s too much. I toss the oven mitt to Elaine as she enters the room. “Can you get the cookies out? I’m suddenly not feeling well and have to go lie down.” I don’t wait for her response but rush into my bedroom and close the door.

How could the magazine print such lies? What can I do to stop this story? The tabloid is dated today. I hop online and the story is plastered all over. I’m too late to do anything about it. Even if I asked Rose to intervene, there’s nothing she could do.

I didn’t give Matt that knife. I didn’t want Daddy dead. How could they print utter lies? I put my face into my pillow and cry, sobs making my whole body convulse. The whole world knows my secret—even though it’s all wrong.

My cell phone rings. Out of habit, I check to see who’s calling. It’s the President of Project. “Fuck.”

Sniffling away the tears, I croak, “Hello?”

“McKenna, this is Peggy Laswell.”

I lift my chin, trying to stifle my sobs. “What can I do for you?”

“I just finished the most disturbing article about you. The other board members read it as well, and we’d like to give you the opportunity to come in to the Las Vegas office tomorrow to explain before we send the second place finisher to the national competition.”

I suck in my breath. This can’t be happening. “Peggy, it’s all lies.”

She cuts me off. “Save your explanations for the full board meeting. You’ll be there, correct? We start promptly at ten.”

I clear my throat. “Yes, of course—” Before I can get the full sentence out, the call disconnects.

Another sob escapes, followed by countless more. I try to catch my breath—I have until tomorrow to get my thoughts in order for the meeting of my life.

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