Read Decked with Holly for Free Online Page A

offered a spectacular view of the ocean from the privacy of my room.
    Oh, yeah, I could definitely get used to having all this space to myself.
    I was about to lazily flip through the catalog of activities to do in the various ports of call, when my iPad started ringing.
    Tim. The guy couldn’t go fifteen hours without checking in to make sure everything with the band was going smoothly. Most of the time I appreciated his compulsive need to be on top of everything. But it also made it hard for anyone to so much as breathe around him.
    Still, I answered the call, knowing that if I didn’t pick up he would only call me again fifteen minutes later. And fifteen minutes after that, too.
    â€œDude, you really need to get a life,” I told him, by way of greeting.
    â€œâ€˜Dude’?” he echoed. “I leave you alone for less than a day and you already sound like an idiot.”
    I grinned and lifted the iPad to give him a good look at my room. “Yeah, well, at least I’m relaxing in style.”
    Tim whistled. “Nice room! Wait, is that a balcony out there? Holy shit, you’ve got a suite?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œI hope the band isn’t paying for this thing.”
    â€œIt happens to be comped. They really want us to perform for the cruise line, and I don’t see any downsides to the deal from where I’m sitting.”
    â€œWhich would be a master bedroom, I see.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œWell, don’t enjoy yourself too much. I expect to hear those new songs you promised when I get back from Portland.”
    My stomach clenched. It was easy to talk a lot of game in LA, but it was going to be significantly harder to actually produce the damn things.
    â€œWhat is that?” I made loud, crackling noises and waved the iPad around a little. “We seem to be going through a tunnel. I mean . . . rough seas. I’ll call you back later, Tim.”
    â€œVery funny . . . I mean it, Dominic: I want to see what you write. And if at any point you need my help, just call, okay?”
    I stopped moving the iPad. “Got it. Now get a life.”
    He grinned back at me. “Oh, and one more thing.”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œNice outfit. You look like a demented fisherman.”
    And with that he disconnected . . . leaving me to pace the empty room as I tried to think lyrical thoughts. Tim’s stupid work ethic is infectious; that’s why Chris and I push ourselves so hard when the three of us are together. Apparently, it could still get me moving in a guilt-inspired frenzy on a cruise ship moving toward Mexico. I hadn’t thought any more about songwriting since I had opened my big mouth about it the day before.
    I wanted to get all of my responsibilities out of the way so that nothing would be hanging over my head when we finally docked near the sandy beaches of Puerto Vallarta. That gave me a window of two days at sea to hunker down in my suite, order room service, sit out on the verandah, and write.
    A shower to wake me up and I’d be good to go.
    Well, then a game of solitaire.
    And then my guitar would need to be tuned since I hadn’t played it in months, if not years. I was never all that good at playing it and since I could never tolerate being second-rate, I had dedicated myself to the piano and drums instead.
    Unfortunately, you can’t write a song on drums, and I couldn’t exactly pack a baby grand into my suitcase.
    I was still plucking at the guitar two hours later, no closer to musical genius than I had been when Tim had called me. My eyes kept wanting to close and I fought the urge to just call it a night. Clearly, my shower hadn’t worked. I needed coffee, stat. So clad only in my boxers, because it was my suite and I could wear whatever I wanted, I called room service to request more towels and two extra hot cups of coffee.
    Then ditching the guitar, I pulled out my drumsticks from my backpack and started