Page 25 of Hold Still

Ozzy bends down and picks up the bras. “Maybe I was wrong. Looks like at least three of you are ready to party.” He holds the bras up to his chest and laughs. Attaching them to the end of his guitar, he says, “Let’s get ready to ‘Hit the Streets!’”

The first strains of his most popular hit bounce off the walls. Thumps from everyone jumpingen massepulse through my body. Smiling, I bounce up and down with the rest of the crowd. He plays the upbeat guitar solo like he does everything—with total abandon. The song ends but the musicians keep playing, riling up the audience even further. Damn. His show is honed to perfection.

Ozzy takes the mic one last time. “From here at the Jade, I thank you, Las Vegas, for partying with me tonight! You all rock!” He sings the last verse of the song again, takes his bow and disappears off the stage.

About a minute later, the house lights come up. My heart races from the high-octane energy of the show, and my ears ring from the sudden silence. Around me, people gather their things and talk about how incredible the show was.

A couple sitting next to me points to the towel. “Lucky girl.”

I smile. “Thanks.” Maybe I can use this time to do some recon. “Did you enjoy the show?”

The guy of the pair wraps his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder. “It was great.”

His girlfriend agrees and adds, “I agree. Just wish he had some new stuff.”

I nod and let them exit. His old stuff—and by “old” she meant from two years ago, when his last single hit number one—is great. The void is in the here and now. I sigh. I really need to get him back on track.

Making my way backstage, a throng of people wait outside an unmarked door. A huge guy in a security uniform steps outside and bellows, “Only those with backstage passes can enter.”

Ahead of me, the trio elbow their way to the guard. I can’t hear what’s being said, but they show him something and walk inside. Great. Others follow suit, while a few are turned away, grumbling. When it’s my turn, I show the guard my pass and join the somewhat smaller group inside.

A Maroon 5 song plays, which released last month. They seem to be able to write and put out songs regularly. When the song ends, a Cole Manchester hit starts. His latest album is amazing. Even though he’s on his honeymoon now, I know for a fact that he’s been writing new stuff. The pressure to produce hits me, and I’m not even a musician. How much harder must it be for Ozzy?

I glance around the room but I don’t see the man of the hour yet. Walking to the side table, I pull up next to Aiden. “Hey,” I say, holding a beer up to him.

“Hey.” He grabs one for himself. “Everything alright?”

I don’t pretend not to know what he’s talking about. “Yeah. Didn’t give you up.”

He bends his head. Opening the bottle, he brings it to his lips. “I see you got the towel tonight.” He reaches into his back pocket and offers me a keycard from the Jade. “Take this up to the penthouse. 8H.”

What? Now I know what the trio meant about wanting to get the towel. Do he and Ozzy have a secret handshake that the woman he throws his towel to is his bedmate for the night? My stomach clenches as my heart speeds up. No matter what my heart wants, my brain is winning this argument. “Keep it. We’re not sleeping together.” My voice is higher pitched than normal.

His eyes widen. “Sorry. My mistake.” He stuffs the keycard back into his pocket.

Leaving a sheepish looking Aiden behind, I make my way to a relatively uncrowded part of the room. As I walk past the tall and leggy blonde of the threesome, she puts her hand on my arm. She stares at the towel Ozzy tossed to me and crows, “You may have caught the towel, but just so you know,I’mthe one who’ll be sharing Ozzy’s bed tonight.”

My stomach tightens. “Is that so?” I snap the material between my hands.

“That man is a beast, and I need my fix. Besides,” her eyes travel my full length, “I think I’m more hisstyle.”

This bitch is getting under my skin. It’s not like I’m sleeping with Ozzy, but if I were, she’d be no competition. I tap my foot. “Don’t you think Ozzy should be the judge?”

“What do you want me to judge?”

Ozzy appears at my right, causing me to jump. The blonde next to me smirks. Two can play this game. I shrug. “Thisladycalled dibs on your penthouse tonight.”

Ignoring me, the blonde bimbo reaches out and traces his tatts with a manicured fingernail. “I know what turns you on, Tiger.”

He places his finger under her chin. Since they both are so much taller than me, I have to crane my neck to take this all in, no matter how revolting. Ozzy chuckles. “Jenna, you’re one insatiable piece.” He kisses her lips. “Why don’t you go grab us both a couple of beers, babes?”

“Be right back,” she says in a sickeningly-sweet voice. She throws me a triumphant look before heading toward the bar area.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

My spine bristles at his use of the name “babes” for another woman. A reminder that I’m strictly here for business. Professional. It doesn’t matter to me who he sleeps with, especially since it won’t be me. “If you’re talking about the one that just went down before my eyes with—what was her name?” I snap my fingers. “Jenna.” Rolling my eyes in the direction she went, I continue, “I have to say, I wouldn’t pay for a ticket. However, if you’re talking about the show you did on stage, then yes. I have to admit it was a great performance.”

He grabs a lock of my hair, wrapping the white around his finger. I’m going to dye it purple tomorrow, the color I’d like his face to be as I’m strangling him. “Performance has never been a problem for me.”

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