Decked with Holly Read Free Page A

stomach twisted. I couldn’t back down. Not again. Not this time.
    â€œI need a break,” I repeated firmly.
    Tim blinked at me in confusion. “We can take five if you want. Starbucks is on me.”
    That’s the way Tim works; someone’s having an off day and he steps in and tries to fix it. Even though he’s usually oblivious to the problem.
    Chris eyed me and shook his head. “I don’t think he’s talking about a coffee break. What’s going on, Dom?”
    â€œI think that we should take a break for a while . . . try something new.”
    Tim frowned. “I don’t understand.”
    Christ, I felt like I was trying to spit out the dreaded “It’s not you, it’s me” breakup line.
    â€œI can’t keep working at this pace! I want to get out of the recording studio at a decent time for a change. Get a full eight hours of sleep. Have a day to relax. Go out on a date. I want to enjoy what we’ve got going! Take a well-deserved break. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even try my hand at songwriting.”
    The guys nodded silently while I spelled out exactly what I wanted; neither of them looked the least bit fazed, until I mentioned that last part. At least they hadn’t seen that one coming.
    Chris stared at me as if I had just announced I wanted to go to all our interviews in drag. “You want to write? I had no idea. Since when, Dom?”
    I shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ve considered it for a while, but . . . we’ve always been rehearsing or performing or giving interviews and . . . I never found the time.”
    Pathetic excuse. “My dog ate my lyrics” would have probably sounded better. Sure, being a member of ReadySet left me with little time to sleep, let alone to do anything else. But as the photogenic band frontman, Tim had to do even more of the publicity stuff than Chris or me combined—and he always came through with fresh material.
    Then again, not everyone could be like Hollywood golden boy Timothy Goff.
    If it weren’t for the fact that the guy was my best friend, I’d have a hard time keeping my competitive nature in check.
    Still, I wasn’t lying when I said that I had considered composing songs. I just couldn’t seem to do it when I knew that one of the best lyricists in the U.S. would be breathing down my neck the whole time. It was kind of like a high school student working on writing his first horror story with Stephen King reading over his shoulder. Not exactly the most conducive atmosphere for a first timer to create something great, or even halfway decent.
    Tim nodded cautiously. “Look, Dom, if you want to write songs I think that’s great. Hell, it’ll ease up my workload.” He flashed his famous grin, the one that had landed him on People ’s Most Beautiful list for two consecutive years; Chris and I had teased him mercilessly about that. “But now just isn’t the time for a break.”
    â€œNow is the perfect time,” I argued. “We’re a week out from Christmas. If we split up our existing obligations—and don’t add any new ones—we can actually enjoy the holidays. Relax for a change. Maybe even get real social lives!”
    Chris and Tim exchanged looks, and I forcibly shoved my hands back into my pockets before I could rake them through my dark brown hair and make it look like I’d recently shoved a fork into a light socket. That’s how a photographer had once described the look I’d accidentally created when I’d gotten frustrated near the end of his photo shoot. Everyone hanging around had a good laugh except the hairdresser, who scurried over to fix the damage.
    â€œUh, you don’t seem like yourself right now, man,” Chris said finally.
    Which was absolutely true. I couldn’t maintain the easygoing, laid-back drummer persona I had carefully packaged for the public. Even knowing that everyone