Page 91 of Hold Still

“What a loaded question.” I run my fingers through my hair and eye the whiskey. I have a concert to give in two hours, so I better lay off. Well, one more can’t hurt. Striding over to the bar again, I respond to Aiden while pouring another shot, “She had a meeting today about the Project.”

He smiles. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t be nervous if I were you. I bet she kicked ass. That one’s a real fighter.”

I swig the shot. “She’s a real something, for sure.”

Aiden takes the shot glass from my hand. Walking toward the kitchen, he says, “C’mon, let’s get some food into you. You guys didn’t break for lunch so you’ll need some fuel before tonight’s show.”

I move to follow him, but stumble. Shaking my head, I check to see what I tripped over, but don’t notice anything out of place. Moving more deliberately, I sit at the kitchen table while Aiden puts some food onto a plate and turns on the microwave. “You have quite the choice in the fridge.”

I shrug. What can I say? McKenna and I ate well. While it lasted.

He places the dish in front of me and I choose to eat rather than engage in any conversation with my assistant. It’s none of his business anyway. As I’m finishing up the rice and beans, my phone pings. Maybe it’s McKenna telling me she had a slip up. Maybe she’ll have the decency to come clean.

I take my phone out of my back pocket. Sure enough, it’s a text from McKenna:

Meeting went well. I’m going to be wrapped up with finalizing my submission until the Big Reveal on the 14th. I’ll try to get out to see you, but I’m really swamped.

What the fuck is this? I toss my phone onto the table. “Take some advice from me, Aiden. Stay away from women.”

He sits next to me, a glass of iced tea in his hand. Sighing, he asks, “What happened with McKenna?”

I force a laugh. No way am I going to reveal that I was played—again. It’s bad enough he knows all about Teresa and Luis. No money has to be exchanged this time, so he doesn’t need to know all the gory details. “She was a diversion. She kickstarted my muse so I could write the album, but I don’t need her anymore.”

His eyes bounce around the room, but he remains silent. Smart guy.

“She fulfilled her purpose,” I mumble more to convince myself than Aiden. I reach for my shotglass, only to realize I left it in the bar.

He clears his throat. “So, then, do you want me to get you some towel girls tonight?”

Every molecule in my body stills. I should return to screwing all of the groupies, but my heart screams no way. “You know, not tonight. I haven’t been getting too much sleep lately, if you know what I mean?” Since when did I let my heart rule my cock?

He nods. “Okay. Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll make sure the Penthouse is in good shape.”

I shrug. “Well, I’m going to shower for tonight’s concert. See you there?”

He gives me the once over and taps his lip. “Sure.”

BACK IN MYdressing room after the show, I take a shower. It wasn’t a great concert, but the audience seemed to enjoy it anyway. All of the whiskey from this afternoon wore off before I took the stage, yet I couldn’t get my mind off of McKenna in some other guy’s arms. Who the fuck is he?

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a Jade T-shirt, I head to the afterparty. Jazz is the first to see me.

“Hey, Ozzy! You haven’t been back here for a while.”

I grab a beer off a table. “Yeah, well, I think it’s high time I corrected that.”

“Is McKenna with you?” He looks around.

“Nah. I’m done with her. Got what I wanted and it’s time to move on.” I wiggle my eyebrows for effect, hoping he’ll see that rather than hear the dull tone of my voice.

“Sorry, dude. Sucks.” His hand stills for a moment, beer hovering midway between his chest and lips, then continues its ascent. Swallowing, he says, “Plenty more out there, my man.”

I clink the neck of my beer with his and chug about half in one gulp. Looking around, I reply, “Don’t I know it.”

Three more beers in and I’m surrounded by a bevy of tall, willowy blondes. I made sure not to include anyone under five-foot-two or brunette in the group. Similarly, each of my band members has at least one girl on his arm—or attached to his face. This is the way things should be.

I smile at the women surrounding me. None of whom grab my attention, even the one next to me who’s rubbing her fingernails up and down my thigh. “You know what, ladies? I’m getting tired.”

The one with the fingernails coos, “I can wake you up.”

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