Page 1 of Hold Still

Ozzy

I HOLD THEkey up to my front door, but voices inside warn me it’s unlocked.Crap. Running my hand across my forehead, my after-sex buzz with Jenna seeps out of my pores even while remembering her shouts as she came. Hell, everyone in the Jade probably heard her. But now I just want some peace and quiet.

Opening the door, I whistle for Bans. She comes scampering over, tail wagging. I bend down to accept her kisses, which erase those from Jenna. I’m fine with that.

I extend my hand. “How’re you doing, girl?”

The golden retriever puts her paw in my calloused palm, barking her hello. At least one living soul in this house is genuinely happy to see me.

“Ozzy. There you are.” My rep from Platinum Records walks into my foyer, all legs and hair and makeup. Her skirt lands above her knee by maybe an inch. Respectable yet somehownot.

My eyebrow raises as I stand. “Ginger. Baby. How’s tricks?” I extend my tongue and wiggle it. Gotta keep her off-guard. Especially since I know exactly why she’s here.

“You,” she half-laughs, half-scolds. “I caught most of your show last night.”

My eyes slant to the other person in the house, my PA, Aiden. Why didn’t he tell me Platinum was at the show? Averting his gaze, Aiden snaps his fingers. Bans walks to him and rolls on her back. Traitor. As he rubs her stomach, I reply, “It was a good night.”

Ginger approaches me. “You had the audience eating out of your hand.” Smiling, she hits my pecs.

I grunt as if her puny tap hurt, which puts an even bigger smile on her face. “Glad you enjoyed.”

“So, I must have missed the part where you played your new stuff.” She crosses her arms across her ample, doctor-enhanced chest. “Right?”

No wasting time with this one. Directly for the jugular. I shrug. “Aw, Ginger. I haven’t seen you in what? A few weeks? And you don’t even kiss me hello before jumping right to work shit?” I grab her hand, making a show out of kissing it. “That’s better.”

She fans her slightly-pink face with the hand I just had my lips on. Not immune. Yeah, I can finesse my way out of this. Again. I start toward my kitchen. “Come on in, stay for a while. Hey Aiden,” I toss over my shoulder. “We’re all stocked up on prosecco, right?”

Behind me, Aiden clears his throat. “Of course. Top shelf of the wine fridge.”

“Let’s go out to the patio and talk like civilized folks. Mimosas for everyone,” I say, hitting my thigh twice for Bans to follow. Unlike all of the other women in my life, she follows my orders immediately.

“Ozzy, we have work to discuss,” Ginger reminds me. As if I could forget.

“And we shall. With prosecco and orange juice. Nothing says we have to talk business sitting around a stuffy conference table dying of thirst.” I grab a bottle of OJ and dig into my wine fridge, pulling out two bottles of bubbly. One for me and one for them. I nod for Aiden to take the glasses and head out.

On the patio, I pick up a ball, while Aiden makes the drinks. Bans barks and runs around, retrieving the ball and dropping it at my feet. I’d much rather play with her than deal with Ginger.

“Here you go.” Ginger hands me a glass and clinks hers against it. “To making more music together.” Emphasis on the word “more.”

My eyebrow quirks up. Last I checked, I was the one in charge of writing songs. Ginger’s only here to protect Platinum’s investment. Make me happy so I produce more songs that sell and make everyone—especially the label—more money. I know the game. Downing my glass in a couple of swallows, I hand it back to Aiden for a refill while tossing the ball for Bans.

Ginger’s eyes follow my dog’s progress, her face now pinched in annoyance. Maybe she’ll leave me alone if I keep playing fetch. “So, tell me, how’s the writing going?”

No such luck. “It’s coming along.” I offer Ginger the ball, but she shakes her head so I throw it deep into the yard. Bans races toward it, totally oblivious of my inner turmoil.

Ginger puts her half-full glass down on the table. “I’m here now. Let’s hear a new song. I’m excited to hear how your writing has changed since your last album.”

I smother a snort. It’s changed alright. I no longer have a writing partner. Nor do I have anything to show for my well over one-year break. That is, if you can call performing five shows a week at the Jade a hiatus. “It’s a different sound now. You know, reflects the current times.”

She claps her hands. “Great. We at Platinum want our talent to stay on top of, or even ahead of, the trend.”

“Yeah.” Bans drops the slobbery mess of a ball at my feet again, tail wagging furiously. Bending down, I flex my thighs and then my arms, and stand. Ginger’s eyes are somewhere south of my face. Time to change tactics.

Stepping away from my rep, I head toward the pool. This will work nicely.

“So, a new song? Your deadline’s right around the corner.”

Knowing full well the label expects me to record my next album in a couple of months, and my muse is buried in an iceberg in Siberia, I do what I always do when I don’t want to answer a question—deflect. I toss the ball toward the nearby pool, which Bans dives for and catches in her mouth before hitting the water. A huge splash ensues, to which I position myself to get drenched for my efforts.Perfect.

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