Page 99 of Hold Still

I dart a quick look to Mom. “Don’t disrupt her rhythm.” With that, I return to the kitchen, praying Mom stays put.

Forcing a smile, I get my coffee and add creamer and sugar. Stirring the brew with a spoon that I drop into the sink, I say, “So, what do you want to know?”

He smiles back. “Oh, everything.”

His quip makes my heart flip. No way will I tell him anything more than about my work for the Project. And even that will be censored. “Then it’ll be a very short interview.” I offer a half-grin.

After pressing a few buttons on his phone and giving me a questioning look that I accept, he turns on the recording and flips open his notebook. “So, tell me, why graphic design?”

Exhaling at his softball question, I launch into my spiel about what brought me into the industry. From there, the interview goes on a rather predictable course and I find myself relaxing in his presence. Jeremy’s a very good journalist, judging by how he gets me to open up and share slightly more than I anticipated. But still in the safe zone.

“Rose was right about you. You are a bundle of energy,” he quips as he writes something down.

“Rose?”

Hazel eyes meet mine. “Yes. I met her, I don’t know, a year or so ago.”

Everything clicks into place. He was at Rose’s big introductory party after the Billboard Music Awards. “You’rethatjournalist! I knew you looked familiar but I couldn’t place you.”

His hand moves across his chest. “Guilty as charged. Rose calls me up from time to time with some scoops and stories of interest. She pointed me toward the Big Reveal, and talked you up. When you were named as the finalist, I knew I had to interview you.”

“Well, I’m flattered. Rose is a great friend.” The best.

He looks down at his notes. “Where were we? Oh right. Please tell me how you got inspired for each of the musicians who you created designs for. Starting with Ozzy Martinez.”

All of the good will we created dissipates. Standing, I dump the rest of my coffee down the sink, all the while trying to come up with some plausible tale. Rinsing the mug, I put it into the dishwasher, then retake my seat.

“He was the most difficult of the musicians to work with because he was in the process of writing new music. All of the other acts mainly used older stuff, but he wanted to introduce new songs.”

When I stop talking, he presses, “Go on.”

And he didn’t have a muse, until me. Until his lips covered mine and his body made mine scream in pleasure. Shaking my head, I reply, “So, I got to see him not only as a performer, but also as a creator. It was fascinating, really.” Inhaling, I continue, “It was fun to see how another creative-type works. Of course, he’s in a totally different medium.” I take us down the rabbit-hole of performance versus design. We move on to discuss the other musicians in my presentation.

“McKenna, I have only one more question. I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you about your relationship with Ozzy. Would you like to make a comment about it?”

I force out a laugh, hoping I don’t sound like a deranged Christmas elf. “Don’t believe everything you read in a tabloid. You, of all people, should know that.”

“Gotcha. Well, I think I have everything I need. I really appreciate your taking the time to meet with me—and for letting me crash your place.” He offers a wry smile while adjusting his glasses. He really is very cute.

“I’m sorry you had to hunt me down.”

He stands and rubs his hands on his thighs. “I hope you don’t think I’m out of line, but I really enjoyed talking with you. I’d love to take you out and continue our conversation.”

Before I can stop myself, the words, “Like on a date?” fly out of my mouth. I slap my hand over my lips.

His eyes fall to the floor. “Yeah. Like on a date.”

He’s a really good guy. Not the typical bad boys I’ve been with—well, Ozzy is the only guy I’ve been with since Matt, and both of them could win awards for being bad boys. Although, Ozzy’s great in so many respects and nothing like Matt. I shake my head. For his own good, I need to let him down gently. “Jeremy, I would like nothing else, but I’m getting over a really bad break-up. Maybe another time?”

His cheeks flush. “Sure. I get it.” After clearing his throat, he says, “Your article should be in this week’s magazine.” He turns his head. “Oh, and the magazine got photos from the event, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Great,” I croak. “I really did enjoy meeting you.”

Mom shuffles into the kitchen, Elaine at her back. Time to usher Jeremy out. Pronto. “This is my mother and her … friend, Elaine. Jeremy’s just leaving now.”

Mom nods at us and walks to the cupboard. I almost push Jeremy out of the room. “Sorry about the interruption,” I say as I urge him to the front door.

He stops and turns to face me, then hands me his business card. “In case you change your mind, my personal cell is on the back. Feel free to use it.”

---