McKenna

 

 

THE NEXT MORNING, I walk out of my bedroom and bump into Mom. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay, McKenna. I heard you up and was coming to see what you’d like for breakfast.”

I check the clock. Ozzy didn’t ask me over for a specific time, and I want to share a good morning with Mom, since it looks like she’s herself for now. Besides, Elaine doesn’t come for another hour.

“What are you having?”

“I was thinking scrambled eggs. You know, the ones you like, with the cheese in them.”

My mouth waters. She hasn’t made these in so long—and no matter how hard I try, I can’t replicate her recipe. “Sounds good to me.” I place my laptop case by the door and join her in the kitchen.

We talk about all sorts of topics, like we used to do. Before Mom’s memory started failing. Before Daddy was killed. Placing those awful thoughts back into their proper mental compartment, I engage about her plans for the day.

“So, I was thinking about going shopping for a new dress.”

I blink several times. She doesn’t get out much anymore—only to doctor appointments. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” She motions to the blue dress she’s wearing. “I like this one, but I need something new. Maybe in purple.” She picks up my hair. “Like this.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I can wear it tomorrow. It’s Thanksgiving, you know. We still need to go grocery shopping.”

How could I have forgotten? It’s my favorite holiday—but Ozzy’s been taking up so much space in my brain that there’s been little room for other things. Not even Mom. Better right this train, pronto. “You’ll look beautiful. I’m making us a turkey.” Thank God I ordered it a month ago. It’s been brining for a few days. “And I have a grocery delivery scheduled.”

She nods. “Great! I’ll make the side dishes today, so all we have to do is heat them up tomorrow.” Yes. Just like old times. Only now Elaine will be here to ensure there’s no mishaps.

Plating the scrambled eggs and bacon, she tells me to set the table then joins me with the plates. We both dig in. “This is the best, Mom,” I say between mouthfuls.

“I agree,” say says, enjoying her breakfast. “So tell me, what’s your new project all about?”

“I’m finishing up the graphics for the local charity that fosters art in schools. Working with a musician who’s writing new songs for it.” I take my last bite of my eggs. “I think it’s my best work.”

“Sounds great, McKenna. You’re going to have to show it to me when you’re done.”

Once we finish and clean up, I pick up my laptop case. Since she’s doing so well, I think it’s safe for me to leave before Elaine gets here. She’ll be here soon anyway. “I’ll be home around the same time as the past few days, around six or so. I might eat while I’m out, though. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Have fun with Mateo!”

I stop as if I hit a brick wall. With deliberate movements, I turn to face Mom, whose eyes have taken on a cloudy sheen. I remind myself she doesn’t know what she said. She doesn’t remember what my ex-boyfriend did to Daddy and to me. But I do for the both of us.

Inhaling air instead of gulping it, I reply, “Matt’s away.” Hopefully I’ll never have to see his face ever again. He still has years to go. Forever’s too short. Needing an escape, my hand reaches out for the doorknob. “I’ve got to get to work.”

“Oh, right. Of course, dear.” She smiles and sits down on her chair in front of the television.

Placing my work bag on the floor, I move to kneel at her feet. “You know, on second thought, work can wait for a little bit.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble with your boss.”

“Everything will be fine, Mom.” She forgot I was fired and started my own freelance career, and I’m sure she’s forgotten our breakfast conversation already. I stroke her hair. “Would you like to do some knitting?”

“Sounds delightful.” She looks around for her yarn and picks it up. “What would you like me to make for you?”

“Anything you make would be wonderful.”

“I think I’ll make you a hat. I’ve never made one before, so it might be a little funny, but you’ll like it, I hope. You’ll need something to keep your head warm since the weather’s changing.” She smiles and the knitting needles clack.

I have an entire drawer full of hats she’s made me, including one from a couple of nights ago. Stroking her hair, I reply, “I look forward to seeing the finished product.” Why can’t they find a cure for dementia? Closing my eyes, I count backward from ten.

The front door opens and Elaine pops in. I stand and greet her, motioning toward the kitchen. “Mom had a great morning, she even made us breakfast and knew tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. I was getting ready to leave when her mind flaked out.”

Elaine glances toward the living room. “She looks involved in her knitting. I’ll make sure to keep her engaged and hopefully this episode passes.”

“Thanks. Having you with her is a godsend.” I hug her, kiss Mom’s forehead and leave for Ozzy’s, my mind mourning the slow loss of the woman who used to be my rock.

Before long, I pull into his driveway and shut off my car. It’s later than I’ve come here before, so hopefully he’s done with his naked morning swim. Not that I minded the view. Damn, the man is hot. Scorching. I shake my head—get your head out of the gutter, girl.

No matter the kiss between us yesterday. He was just excited to have written a new song. Maybe now he sees he doesn’t need Luis. What a terrible position Platinum put him in, though.

Today has to be about creating graphics for his new song. No more kissing. No more wanting to rub my hands—and more—all over his perfect body. No more remembering how well he knows how to use his huge cock. No. More.

He’s reckless and only out for fun. And I’ve had enough fun. Look where it landed me.

My vow to Daddy resurfaces. Mom’s slow descent away from me is all the ammo I need to refocus.

I ring the doorbell and Ozzy answers. I muster some lighthearted wit to keep the darkness from taking hold. He certainly doesn’t need that. “And you’re dressed!”

He wraps his hand around his neck. “Yeah. Happens sometimes.” He opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

I walk down the tile floor toward the living room. His hand encircles my elbow, causing my breath to hitch. “No, wait. I want to work in the music room today.” He points to a different hall.

Tamping down my body’s reaction to his, I remind myself this is his gig. Wherever he feels comfortable writing is good with me, so I follow his directions. He leads me into a cavernous room, larger than the living room, which I thought was huge. His guitar is there, together with another, electric one. Keyboards and a small drum set also are set up. A round table covered in sheet music is off to the side. It easily could seat eight, maybe ten people. Recording equipment is across the room from the table. A sectional and other cushy chairs complete the room.

I wander from instrument to instrument, and run my fingers over his acoustic guitar. “Impressive, Mr. Martinez.”

He waves his hand. “It’s a music room.”

“I’ve only ever been in Cole’s, and I think yours is bigger.”

He smirks. My core tightens. Traitor. “That’s what all the girls say.”

I shake my head. “Not anymore.”

He snaps his fingers. “Rose. Right.”

Needing a break from his intensity, I walk over to the bank of windows overlooking the pool. Without turning my head, I ask, “Did you swim today?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t as much fun without you waiting for me, though.” His last words skim across my ear.

Closing my eyes, I remind my body who’s in charge. Me. I’m the one who needs to tamp down her feelings and overrule my urges. Swallowing sawdust, I reply, “Gotta keep you on your toes.” I turn my head, almost bumping into his nose. Taking a step backward, I say, “So, let me hear what you’ve got.”

“Right to work, huh? You know what they say about all work and all that jazz.”

“I’m excited to hear what you did to the song last night.” I pause. “Assuming you put finishing touches on it?”

He backs away from me. Good. I didn’t want him so close anyway.

Riiight.

He offers a shy smile. Shy, ha! Ozzy doesn’t have a shy bone in his body. Bone. Crap. I did not go there. His next words cut my thoughts off.

“Actually, I did work on it after the show.’” He retreats from me and picks up his guitar.

Smoothing my already straight hair with shaky fingers, I proceed to sit in one of the chairs. It swivels and rocks. Nice. I turn and give him my singular attention. “Can’t wait!” I smile and urge him to start singing. To take me away from the voices inside my head.

“Well, here you go.” He plays the now-familiar melody and then his baritone wades in. The hard-hitting song draws me in and I lean slightly forward in the chair. He stands in the middle of the room, eyes closed, performing for one. I breathe when he does. It’s like I’m hypnotized, under his sexy spell.

Finished, he moves his guitar to his side. Then he opens his eyes and seeks mine. The dark brown of his eyes appears deeper.

He stands in silence. Waiting.

“Ozzy, that was incredible!” I jump up but stop myself from racing into his arms. “I loved what you did, the changes you made. The amped-up Latin beat. It’s really, really good.”

“You think?”

“I know. I bet you’ll hit the top of the charts when it’s released.”

He makes a sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a snort.

I reach down and take my laptop out of its case. “Would you mind playing it again for me? I want to see what other graphics I can come up with to go with the song, now that it’s basically finished.”

As I power up the computer, he strolls right behind me. Yesterday’s piece pops up, which I analyze. It captures something intangible. The routine pieces I’ve been doing for clients over the past years fall away as sparks from Ozzy’s new music takes hold.

“This one’s pretty good but something’s not quite right.” If the couple were positioned differently…. Because the Project is a non-profit on a tight budget, I can’t hire a photographer to take pictures of models in poses I request, so off to stock photos I go. When I find a couple on a beach I like, I download it and then play around with the background and other stuff. Flip the models around. Add lighting streaks. It’s nearly there.

“Wow. You’re really good at this. What a great image to go along with the song. Like you’re taking my music and making it artwork.”

I jump, forgetting Ozzy was standing behind me while I was working. “Oh, thanks.”

“Want to hear it again?”

I nod. He starts the song and I keep refining this graphic. As I’m working, I glance at Ozzy, who saunters over to the keyboard. He plays some notes and writes down the music. We continue like this for a long while. It’s the most erotic experience I’ve had with my clothes on.

I’ve now created several graphics to go along with the feel of the song. I’m not sure what was going on inside of his head when he wrote it—I can guess but certainly am not going to probe—but these graphics tell a great story. I’m not done, but I’m starting to see a novel storyboard come together.

Holding up my cell phone, I ask, “Would you mind playing ‘Take Me’ once more so I can record it? This way, I can continue working on it tomorrow.”

Thanksgiving.

Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” Brilliant move, McKenna. It’s not like I can invite him over to Mom’s—what if she has an episode while he’s there?

“Yeah. Aiden invited me over to his family’s.”

My body relaxes. Close one. “Oh. Good. I wouldn’t want you to be alone on the holiday.”

He nods, his eyes searching mine. Does he want an invitation to my house? Well, that’s not happening. I incline my head toward his guitar. “The song?”

“Oh. Right.”

I press record on my phone while he sings the brand-new melody. Each time he sings it, he tweaks it a bit to make it even more perfect. When he finishes, I say, “That was the best yet.”

“Thanks.” He puts his guitar down. “Want to take a break?”

I peer over my laptop screen at the man who’s haunting my days and nights. A couple more weeks and I’ll be finished with this part of the Project. I won’t have any reason to spend more time with him. I can hang onto my sanity for that long.

“It’s not lunchtime yet.”

“Not everything revolves around food.”

Ha! He obviously doesn’t know me too well. I press Save. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, you took me on a dune buggy ride, so I was thinking—how about we up the ante and go skydiving?”

“I’m not an adrenaline junkie like you,” I squeak.

He chuckles. “Not from a plane. The indoor one, at the Jade.”

“Oh. I’ve heard good things about it.” When the Jade was built a few years ago, they put in one of these attractions.

“I have passes.”

I’m not the type of girl who hangs on Ozzy’s arm in public. Besides, I don’t want to be. Keep telling yourself that, McKenna. “As much fun as that sounds—” I stop myself. Fun. That’s what he needs in order to create. It worked yesterday, after all. I guess I have to suck it up if he’s going to write more songs. And I’m going to finish the Project. This is for work. “On second thought, sure. Why not?”

“Great. I’ll go put in a call and be back in a sec.”

While he’s making arrangements, I putter around his music room. Funny, it’s both lived in yet impersonal. It doesn’t have any personal touches. No photos, no knickknacks. I look over the sheet music, featuring scribbles and cross-outs. It’s a good song. A really good song. I can already hear it on the radio. See him performing it onstage to screaming fans. Tossing bras.

“Ready?”

Ozzy pops his head into the room, now in low-slung jeans and a Jade T-shirt straining over his broad chest and arms. His nipple rings protrude. Man, he’s too hot for his own good. And mine.

“Yup.”

We head to the garage and he backs his motorcycle out. I point to my car. “I’ll drive myself and meet you at the Jade. That way, you can stay there for your concert tonight. I have to prep for Thanksgiving, so I can’t make it.”

His jaw tightens, but he acquiesces and hops on his bike. Trailing Shirley, my eyes roam over him. He’s sexy as fuck. And creative to boot. My hands tighten on the steering wheel. Remember your priorities, girl.

Soon, we arrive at the Jade. We go into a side entrance, through the bell captain’s office. “Hey, Bobby,” Ozzy greets one of the workers.

“You’re here early,” he replies.

“Going to enjoy some of what the Jade has to offer before the show.”

Bobby nods and opens a door leading to another back hallway. At the end, we turn right and Ozzy knocks at a door marked “Concierge.” So this is how Shelia pops out of nowhere.

As if my thoughts conjured her up, Shelia opens the door. “Ozzy, come on in.” Her eyes seek out his guest. “Oh. McKenna!”

I give my friend a hug and whisper, “I’m working with him on the Artist Adventure Avenue Project.” Can’t have her thinking I’m his latest bedwarmer. Because I’m not. My eyes travel to his fine backside. Definitely not. I follow Ozzy into the office.

Shelia explains that we have to walk through the casino to get to the elevator bank, which will take us to the “Skydiving Extravaganza.” She says she’ll take us, but he’ll be exposed, so we need to move quickly. The skydiving people will call her when we’re through and she’ll return to escort us back down to the lobby.

Seems like a lot of cloak and dagger stuff to me, but then again, Ozzy is the resident star of the Jade, so he needs to be protected.

“Thanks, Shelia,” I say, earning a swift look from Ozzy. To him, I explain, “We’ve known each other forever.”

He nods. “I’m ready when you are.” He puts on his dune buddy baseball cap.

Soon, we’re crossing through the casino, the familiar bells and rings and dings of gamblers on the machines providing our playlist. We move at a good clip—not too fast so as to garner attention, yet by no means are we strolling. Actually, I need to do a jog every fifth step or so just to keep up with their longer strides. A group of people head our way and Ozzy keeps his head down. His arm extends toward mine and he entwines our fingers, pulling me close. I land at his side on a half jump.

My head knows he’s using me as a human shield. After all, no one would think the Ozzy Martinez would be out and about with a short, curvy girl like me. His ruse works as we pass by them without incident.

I try to release my hand, but his tightens around mine. Like he wants to hold it. I focus on maintaining my pace to keep up with theirs.

Finally, we arrive at the elevators. Ozzy’s hand goes from holding mine to wrapped around my shoulders. The bill of his cap hits the top of my head. He’s got this hiding in plain sight thing down really well.

The elevator cab arrives and the three of us hop on. Shelia presses some keys and the doors close before anyone else can get on with us. I step out of Ozzy’s one-armed embrace and try to hide my labored breathing over such a quick race through the casino. Of course, neither he nor Shelia are breathing heavy.

“You did great, Ozzy,” Shelia says. “When the doors open, turn left and we’ll be at the registration desk for the Skydive Extravaganza. You’re already checked in, and Kacey will take you from there.”

“Thanks so much, Shelia,” Ozzy says. He reaches for my hand again. I’m too focused on my breathing to register what he just did. “We appreciate it.”

We?

The elevator doors ping open and we turn left. A beautiful, tall, thin blonde—of course, why is everyone tall, thin and blonde in this town?—greets us. Not wanting to give Shelia the wrong impression, I catch her before she pops back onto the elevator.

“Seriously, Shelia. This is business-related.”

“Listen, if I could get that man to so much as wink at me, I would. You go enjoy...your business meeting.” She kisses my cheek and disappears.

Sighing, I trudge back to the skydiving reception area, but it’s empty save for some tourists filling out paperwork. I find Ozzy and the blonde around the corner.

“There you are,” Ozzy says, handing me a clipboard. “We have to fill this out.”

I make quick work of the paperwork and both of us hand it in to Kacey the Blonde. She looks everything over, her eyes halting on my response weight. I guess NOYB—None of Your Business—isn’t what she expected.

Her pen taps on my papers. I jut my chin, not giving an inch. She writes something and then says, “Follow me.”

We’re brought into a small room with a video explaining what we’re going to experience and gives us instructions about what position to maintain while we’re “skydiving.” Then we have to practice holding the “superman” pose.

“I’ll go first,” Ozzy volunteers. Maybe he’ll get a passing grade and can go gear up while I attempt to get into this embarrassing position.

Ozzy hops on the wooden table-like thingy and gets into “Superman” without any issue. His lithe form stretches into the pose like he was built for it. Damn. Kacey walks around him and declares, “Perfect.”

I’ll say.

Smiling, he stands and rubs his hands together to announce, “Your turn, McKenna.”

Great. I look around but the door to the room remains closed. No way out. Sighing, I flop like a beached whale onto the bench and stretch my arms and legs out. Kacey adjusts all of my limbs, puts her hand under my chin so I’m looking up, and places her hand on my lower back. I feel like pretzel dough getting ready to be rolled out.

“Now take a breath,” Kacey instructs.

Like anyone can breathe in this position. I try to force some air through my nose. Kacey moves my arm up, then my leg. I struggle to maintain the arch in my back while tipping my head up.

“Head up, McKenna.”

I close my eyes. Maybe this was a worse idea than I thought. And I wasn’t all that into it before.

Kacey says, “Okay, you’re good.”

I collapse onto the wood bench, my hands and feet hitting the floor and my chin resting on the hard surface. Seriously? How am I going to be able to do this?

“It’s much easier when there’s a fan pushing you ten feet up,” Kacey says.

I guess there’s that.

Ozzy chuckles and taps my back. I turn my head, still not ready to relinquish my position oozing over my bench. “Let’s go get our gear. I can’t wait to see you all bundled up like the Michelin Man.”

No worries about being mistaken for sexy here. I try to dismount gracefully, but my foot catches on the wooden leg and I fly forward, the bench turning over.

“Oh!”

Ozzy grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me upright. “Gotcha!”

I throw my head back and look into his sparkling eyes, so alive and filled with excitement. This. This is why I’m here, to bring fun back into his life so he can compose songs again. And then I can finish up the Project and get paid. Nothing else.

I smile and hold onto him while I regain my equilibrium. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t let me go, just holds me like he needs me to survive. I can’t move a muscle, I’m so enthralled. Kacey clears her throat and we disengage.

She hands us puffy suits, helmets, goggles and even boots and brings us to an office to change. “Normally, you’d get suited up in the lockers but because of your celebrity,” she looks directly at Ozzy, “we thought you’d be more comfortable in here,” Kacey explains.

“Appreciate it,” he responds and starts getting into the gear.

“Yeah, good call,” I say. Not seeing any other way around this, I put the jumpsuit on over my clothes as well.

Soon, we’re both dressed in the most unflattering suits ever. We both look like Weebles! I start laughing. I bet Ozzy’s never been compared to a Weeble before. Me, on the other hand, well…

Ozzy joins my laughter and grabs my gloved hand, twirling me around. He chest-bumps me and I go flying backward. He catches my arms and brings me back to him. “You look adorable.”

“And you look like a Weeble,” I manage to get out.

We’re laughing when the door opens and an unsuited Kacey enters, followed by a guy in a similar suit. “This is Brian, and he’s going to be your guide in the skydiving room. Have fun.”

Fun. There’s that word again. Yes, we are having fun.

We follow Brian into a padded room with a huge fan in its center. Brian shows us what to do and I generously let Ozzy go first. He flies up in the air like a pro, whooping it up. When he lands, it’s my turn. I dive into the Superman position over the fan and lift my chin upward like I was told. Brian yells instructions to me from the floor, and I self-correct, but I’m doing it. I’m weightless and flying through the air like Superman.

As I flutter near the ceiling, all of the weight of my worries falls away. I’m free! I wish I could stay up here forever. Thoughts of Daddy cheering me on bring a smile to my face, replaced by sadness that he’s gone. And my role in his death. I lose my balance and tumble to the floor. When it’s my turn again, I banish all bad thoughts and sail away.

After two more turns each, Brian cuts the fan and ushers us back into the office. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. We hand him our goggles and helmets and he closes the door for us to take off the rest of the gear.

“How fucking amazing,” Ozzy’s baritone booms. He unzips the jumpsuit and it falls to the floor. He kicks it to the side and takes off the boots, standing in stocking feet.

“I had a blast,” I respond. I unzip my jumpsuit and peel myself out of it.

Before I can stoop down to take off my boots, he picks me up and hugs me to his lean body. “Thank you.”

My arms go around his neck and I hold onto him, my booted feet dangling. “You’re welcome, crazy. Now let me get my boots off.”

He leans back, his eyes bouncing from my feet back to my face. No, not face. Lips. Oh no.

I shake my head. “Ozzy—”

He growls. “I’ll help you get something off, that’s for sure.”

His lips crash down on mine, his tongue seeking entrance right away. I keep my lips shut, so he traces them instead.

Sensations of feeling sexy and wanted ricochet through my body. Discounting our kiss yesterday, I haven’t felt like this since, well, the last time I was with Ozzy—over a year ago at Rose’s apartment. Maybe I can indulge him here for a minute. Let myself feel. I open my mouth a fraction and his tongue swoops in, punctuated by a low groan.

Still holding onto his shoulders as my feet haven’t touched the floor, I maneuver one hand upward to the thick curls at the top of his head. Our kiss deepens and he slants his mouth over mine to get a new angle.

Then the door opens.

“Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize—”

The door closes, but our moment is over.

I pull my lips from his. “Put me down,” I whisper.

Bending at his waist, he lowers my feet to the floor. Once I’m on steady ground, I pull away from his embrace, my heart going faster than the huge fan in the other room.

Am I already in too deep? Being with Ozzy is starting to feel a lot like jumping out of a plane and into thin air, all the damn time.