Page 19 of Hold Still

I cross my ankle over my knee, the towel flipping open to reveal my hairy thigh. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

She runs her hand down her arm, which draws my attention to her nice-sized tits. Too bad she’s turned me down. It would have provided a nice diversion rather than admitting my failure to her. One of them, anyway. “But you had six number ones on your first album.”

“That was then.”

“What happened?”

She’s the first person to ask me this question. Usually conversations like these go from “what have you written lately” to “we need your songs by the end of the year.” No one ever goes any deeper. Not even Aiden. Am I ready to share? I scratch my knee. Shrugging, I start, “Actually, a lot.”

She leans forward. “Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

“I doubt it.”

“Let me try.”

Suddenly I feel naked before her. “Let me go change and we’ll talk, okay?”

“Sure.”

I bound up the stairs to my bedroom. Tossing the beach towel off my body, I hop in the shower and try to calm my nerves with liquid soap and shampoo. I change into a pair of shorts and a Jade T-shirt, then walk down the stairs. It has to be a good idea to share some of my truth with McKenna. Nothing else has worked.

Before I turn the corner, I hear her sweet voice. “I’m going to stay over here, and you stay over there. Got it?” In response, Bans barks. McKenna now pleads, “Please. I never did anything to you. Well, I did kinda invade your house, but your master invited me in. Sort of. Oh, I know.” Rustling from inside the room makes me wonder what’s going on, and then a doggie toy sails past me and lands in the kitchen. “Go get it!”

Bans races out of the living room to get her toy. Doesn’t McKenna know the dog’s going to pester her forever to keep playing? Before I can take control of the situation, McKenna barrels into my chest.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

I wrap my arms around her and inhale her unique fruity scent. Mouth watering, I say, “I knew I’d get you to forego the professionalism eventually.”

At my feet, Bans barks and McKenna jumps. Keeping the woman snug to my chest, I address my dog. “Go lie down.” The golden retriever whimpers, but turns and goes to her bed. I better remember to give her a treat for making me look good in front of company.

McKenna tilts her head up so she can look at me. “I didn’t realize you were done getting ready.”

Dropping both my voice and my head, I suggest, “I can get out of these clothes in no time. I remember when you preferred me like that.” I nuzzle her hair. “And I’ll not say ‘no’ to you joining me.”

With a dry voice, she steps back and retorts, “Let’s go to the living room and finish our conversation.”

I let her go and follow her into the room, watching as she gives Bans wide berth. I grab our now empty glasses and refill them. Handing her the bubbly, I consider crowding McKenna on the sofa but opt for the chair. I’m going to need the distance to spill my guts.

McKenna directs all of her attention to me. Why did I think this was a good idea? Right—I need to break the cycle somehow. I clear my throat. Where to start? “So, when all of the songs for my first album were written, I was living in Puerto Rico. Where I was born. It took a couple of years to get each song the way we wanted them.”

“We?”

I inhale. “Yes. We. If you check the record sleeve, you’ll notice I co-wrote all of the songs with Luis Garcia. He used to be my best friend.”

“You wrote the music and he wrote the lyrics, or vice versa?”

“Good question. Actually, we both did everything. He’d come up with a riff and I’d add the words. Or, I would hum the melody and he’d put lyrics to it. It was a real collaboration.”

“Why don’t you call him up now and do it again?”

My hands go cold. “It’s not that easy.” No way am I telling her about him screwing Teresa while I was being faithful to her out on tour. Apparently, he thought the nature of our collaboration extended to my wife.

She takes a sip of her drink and asks, “Why not?”

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