Page 14 of Hold Still

McKenna

“THANK YOU.” Iclose the door to the Uber and rush into Mom’s house. Well, my house again, since I sold my condo and moved back in so I could afford a day nurse for her. The flowerbeds under the window could use some TLC, not to mention the grass needs to be cut. At least it’s green. Mostly. I never seem to have enough time to keep up with everything.

Opening the welcoming red door, I wheel my luggage into the living room. Mom’s rocking chair is still and the television is off. Well, it is four in the morning. Not seeing her up is a good sign.

I roll my bag into my room and go to check on her. Quietly, I open her bedroom door. The light from the hallway illuminates her sleeping form. With a smile, I exhale, close the door and make my way back to my room.

Changing into my nightshirt—a concert T from one of Cole’s shows—I go into the bathroom to clean up from the flight. Tears mingle with the water as I wash off the wedding makeup.

I can’t get my final payment until the project is completed, and it won’t be done until I create the graphics for Ozzy’s new stuff. Of course, now he’s not speaking to me, which is awfully convenient for him and his dearth of songs. Why can’t anything be easy?

Toweling dry my face, I look at myself in the mirror. Thirty. I’m thirty-years-old, live with my mother, don’t have a husband or boyfriend. I emit a humorless laugh—Matt quashed those ideas. He broke me. I clearly have really bad judgment when it comes to men, so staying away from all of them is best. Besides, Mom is now my number-one priority.

While I put on moisturizer, I continue the litany of my failures. My career is hanging by a thread. It could be much better if only that asshole Ozzy Martinez would get off his ass—rather, get his cock out of some bimbo long enough—to actually do some work. I know the Project’s graphics I’ve put together for the other artists are better than most of the routine stuff I’ve been doing for my other clients lately. Working on Rose’s wedding stationery boosted my creativity. I was banking on Ozzy’s new songs to level me up, dammit.

Brushing my hair, my mind drifts to Mom. Her medical bills are piling up. I need my submission to the Project to carry me into the national competition so I can forge a name for myself. One-off paydays doing casino graphics won’t cut it much longer. Which means I need to jumpstart Ozzy into writing more songs.Damn.I hate having my career in someone else’s hands. Even if his hands still make my panties wet.

Hanging my towel back over the bar, I trek back down the hall and face-plant into my pillow. Maybe things will look better in the morning, like Daddy always used to tell me.

Yelling wakes me from a deep sleep. I jump up, only to find Mom screaming from my open doorway. Maybe things won’t look better. Ever. I take a deep breath and regulate my voice. “Mom, it’s me, McKenna.”

She quiets but wraps her fingers around the doorway. In a calm voice, I continue, “I got home last night but didn’t want to wake you up. You were sleeping.”

Her hands drop to her sides. “I was sleeping. Oh, right. I was sleeping.”

Like I was minutes earlier. “Yes, you were.” I drag my tired body out of bed and shuffle over to her, slipping my feet into my slippers as I move. “How are you doing today?”

Cloudy brown eyes greet me. “I’m fine. I think.” She looks down to the floor, then her head pops up. “McKenna.” Her eyes clear.

I smile and open my arms for her. “Yes, Mom, it’s me.”

She gives me a hug. “Want me to make breakfast for you? I could make French Toast. I know it’s your favorite.”

“Nah, I’m still a little tired.” I check the clock. It’s only eight o’clock. “I think I’m going to go back to bed for a while, okay?”

“Sure thing. Come out when you’re ready.”

She leaves me and I return to bed. Getting back under the blankets, I try to fall asleep. After tossing and turning for an hour or so, I give up. I need to light a fire under Ozzy, and pronto. Sleeping in won’t get me a much-needed paycheck.

I ENTER THEJade’s lobby, one of the newest casinos in Las Vegas. Although it’s barely after noon, the place is jumping with tourists and gamblers trying their luck. A huge crystal chandelier tinted green watches over everyone from high. I take the escalator past a mammoth digital billboard advertising a male strip show featured at one of the theaters here.I would’ve used a more legible font.

As I go up, the photo changes from a group of hot men, their ripped chests oiled up, to a close-up of Ozzy. His eyes are closed and he’s singing directly into a microphone, sweat beading around his forehead. My stomach clenches with want, but my brain engages right away to shut that down. No. More.

Crossing the expanse of the upper lobby to the concierge, I hope Shelia’s on duty. She and I went to high school together, and she’s often given me the inside scoop around here. Nothing to get her into trouble, but tidbits of info that make my life easier.

Two other people are at the desk, so I take my place in line. Shelia nods at me—thankfully, she’s here—and I wave. Good. I’m sure I’ll be up in Ozzy’s grill in no time.

While I wait, I pull out my cell phone and see I missed a text from Rose.

I can’t thank you enough for all of your help yesterday! It truly was the best day of my life, and you are one of the main reasons. I couldn’t have asked for a better maid-of-honor, or best friend, than you! I promise to call you when we get back from our honeymoon. I love you so much!! ~ Rose Manchester(couldn’t resist!)PS-saw you with Ozzy last night. Don’t think that got past me.

Rose’s joy practically jumps off the text. She’s such a sweet person, and I’m so happy she found her happily-ever-after. I reply by wishing her a wonderful honeymoon and ignore her reference to Ozzy.

“McKenna, come on over! What brings you to the Jade?”

Dropping my cell back into my bag, and leaving all improper thoughts of Ozzy with it, I walk toward the desk. Injecting my voice with a layer of positivity, I reply, “Hi, Shelia! I’m so happy you’re here!” I run around to the side and give her a quick hug.

“What’s up?” she asks as she returns my hug.

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