Page 33 of Hold Still

Ozzy

I WAKE UPin my rental at eight in the morning and flip on the television. An exposé about Puerto Rico following the disaster of Hurricane Maria relives the horror of those days. Even after all this time, the island is still recovering.

I turn off the TV and pick up my cell. “Hola, Mamí, how are you doing?”

“Much better now that I’ve heard your voice, hijo.”

Hearing her say “son” in Spanish soothes my soul. “I was just watching some old news coverage of Hurricane Maria.”

“Díos.” I spent some serious cash moving her and my younger brothers and sister to a safe area before the hurricane hit, but they still have to deal with fallout like rolling electricity outages from time to time. I’m glad I did this before Teresa cleaned me out. “Did you hear Jorge made the baseball team?”

“Sí, Pablo texted me.” My younger brother couldn’t wait for the baby of the family to call before he told me the good news. That’s how it works in my family. “I’m excited for him. How’s Papí doing?”

“Oh, you know. He’s still working and driving everyone crazy at the shop.”

I’d love to tell him to sell the auto body shop, but I know he loves it too much to stop. “At least he’s out of the house and not drivingyoucrazy.”

She laughs. “Well, that’s true. So, have you had any word about your divorce?”

Never fond of my ex-wife, she asks me this every time we speak. I should’ve listened to her—would’ve saved me a boatload of dinero. “Actually, yes. Signed the papers the other day. It’s over.”

“Gracías a Dios. Good riddance.” When I don’t respond, she says, “So, tell me, hijo, when am I going to see you again? We can celebrate—it’s been too long. I have to resort to YouTube to catch glimpses of you.”

I close my eyes. I miss my family, but Teresa and Luis are back home and I don’t want to risk seeing those two ever again. Not to mention my commitments here. “I’m not sure. My contract with the Jade runs through the end of the year.”

“Well, hopefully, in January then. Maybe for Three Kings Day?”

Her hope springs through the phone. With everything so up in the air right now, I can’t commit. “I’ll try.”

Noise in the background like someone just entered her house filters through her cell. “Oh, Letzy is here with her little ones.” She says something to my sister, who pops onto the phone.

“Hola, big brother. How is life in Sin City treating you?”

“It’s great,” I half-lie. McKenna’s making life interesting. “How are my niece and nephew?” I don’t ask about their deadbeat baby daddy.

“They’re great. They’re growing like weeds and miss their Tío Ozzy. When will you come visit?”

This steady refrain—coupled with my desire to be as far away from my ex-wife and ex-best friend—is the reason I don’t call home much. Mom’s voice filters through—she’s playing with the kids. “I’m not sure yet, but I’m working on it. Listen, I have to go. Tell Mamí I’ll be in touch soon.”

The call disconnects and I flop onto my back. Last night’s show was good, probably one of my better ones in a while. That is, if I discount the night before, when McKenna was in the front row. I bet Mamí would love McKenna. She’s nothing like Teresa.Fuck. What is this woman doing to me? Despite my intentions, I didn’t have the desire to hook up with anyone after last night’s show either.

Hopping out of bed, I make my way to the kitchen where I down a protein shake. Then I strip and dive into the pool. Swimming laps always clears my mind. After one-hundred, I swim as far as I can go underwater and break the surface. I get out of the pool in roughly the same spot as two days before and check to see if anyone has joined me.

Well, hello there.

McKenna holds my towel out in front of her. Dripping wet, I saunter over to her, where she wraps the towel around my waist since I wasn’t about to do so.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

A light shade of pink stains her cheeks, but her chin goes up. “Thought I’d stop by to see how everything went last night.”

My pulse picks up and I run my index finger down her cheek. “And by that you mean you want to know how many chicks I hooked up with?”

“No. Not at all.” Biting her lip, she steps back. “I was actually wondering if you wrote any more of your new song.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

Turning, I make my way inside. “C’mon in. I’ll go change while you make us coffee.” I take another couple of steps and toss, “And the number was zero.” For some reason, I had to tell her the truth. I don’t look back and go straight to my bedroom. In minutes, I’m showered and downstairs again, led by the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee.

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