Page 42 of Extended Bridge (Passionate Beats #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

T he murmurs among the restaurant patrons rise. On camera, the hosts look at each other, their mouths gaping.

Next to me, Bennett growls. He doesn’t form words, just paces around the restaurant. Other patrons’ heads swivel to follow him.

I need to do something to help. Without thinking, I grab the phone from his hand. “You’re a liar. You never were pregnant with his baby.”

Francis blinks. “Who’s this?”

“Jenna Westfield.” Crap. What have I done? Have I made this even worse for Bennett?

“As in Darren Hilliard’s former girlfriend?” Logan pipes up. “Seems like the rumors that you’re with Bennett are true.”

Bennett steals the phone from me and refocuses the conversation. “Everything Lissa told you is a lie. Well, she might have had a miscarriage, I don’t know, but the kid wasn’t mine.”

My phone chimes as Lissa bursts into tears again. Luke’s name is displayed.

Get him off that show!

He wants to defend himself

Make the PR team do their damn job

I don’t reply, simply tug on Bennett’s arm during a brief lull on his end. When he glances at me, I hold up the text messages.

“We were together last month in Aroostook,” Lissa whimpers. “ She tried to come between us, but he rebuffed the Black Widow. He told me he didn’t want to get caught up in her web, which he knew would end UC.”

Francis stares into the camera. “Is that true, Jenna? Have you marked Bennett as your next victim?”

Anger propels me to reach for the phone again, but Bennett holds it above his head.

He swivels on his heel, and presents his back to me while he says, “I called in to correct Lissa’s lies.

Have you watched any of the videos from UC’s concert in Louisville?

The whole band agrees with me. Did you even fact-check her story? Do your job.” He disconnects.

My body vibrates. “How were you ever with such a vile creature?”

“It was high school. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, and I was horny.”

“She didn’t even help you out on that score.”

“Lucky me.” His arms encircle my body, allowing some of my ire to seep out. Given his loosening posture, he’s probably feeling the same.

“Thank you.” I drop my head backwards. “For defending me. I’m impressed with how you combated her ridiculous claims.”

“Truth is an absolute defense.”

I smile. “‘I respect those who tell me the truth no matter how hard it is.’ ”

His eyes light up. “You’re quoting the first Godfather . See, I told you it was the best of the series!”

Just like that, the tension between us breaks.

I become aware of the stares we’re receiving in the restaurant. “Let’s sit down.”

Bennett’s hand lowers to the middle of my back and directs me toward my abandoned chair. Once I’m settled, he sits across from me. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“You can say that again.” I rearrange the silverware at my place setting. “What’s up with her?”

His fist bangs on the table. “I have no fucking clue.” He pushes against the chair. “I wish I never met the bitch.”

I drop my hand on top of his fist. “I thought your talk with the fans last night would have stemmed this.”

“Yeah. I hoped so too. Looks like we’re going to have to do more damage control.” His gaze locks on mine. “We need to get the truth out there. How dare she say I got her pregnant and left her high and dry! Damn girl refused to have sex with me.”

Frustration rolls off him in waves. “We’ll break through. Your fans will know what happened, and who cares about the rest of the population? Like you’ve told me before, all that matters is we know the reality of a situation.”

For the first time, his face relaxes. “How did you get so smart?”

“Sort of had to grow up when they started calling me Black Widow.”

“Hey, we need to fix that too. You didn’t kill Darren, and you’re not breaking up UC. If anything, you’re bringing us closer.”

His words settle over me. “This means a lot to me.” I lean across the table and kiss him.

Someone near us clears his throat, causing us to break apart. “Hi.” A young man in his early twenties stands at the end of our table. Must be a fan.

Bennett stands and extends his hand. “Hello. I’m Bennett Hardy. ”

“I know.” With his head, he gestures toward the back of the restaurant. “I’m here with my family. We couldn’t help but watch the talk show.”

Bennett spews, “Lies.”

“Well, from where we were sitting, Lissa looks like the wronged one. Here you are kissing the Black Widow while the mother of your dead child is forced to cry on national TV. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Not a fan, then. Bennett starts to defend himself, but I toss a bunch of money on the table for food we didn’t touch and put my arm around his bicep.

In my not to be crossed voice, as Court dubbed it during school, I say, “You have your so-called facts wrong, but we’re not going to convince you.

Good day.” I yank on Bennett’s arm and, after several tries, he leaves with me.

As soon as we reach the sidewalk, I pre-empt his tirade. “Call the limo. We’ll regroup in the hotel.”

We walk around the corner and duck into an alley so as not to attract any more attention while we wait. A couple of minutes later, the limo arrives and we scramble inside.

“That guy! How could he believe her?”

“Lissa painted you in a pretty awful light.”

“She made it all up! Maybe all the plastic surgery went to her brain.”

“Luke and the PR team will sort this out.”

My phone rings.

“Don’t answer it.”

I glance at the caller. “It’s Ma.”

He crosses his arms across his chest. “Unless she’s been accused of breaking up the governor’s marriage and having his love child, I think she can wait.”

He needs my attention more than Ma. I dismiss her call. “There. I’ll make you explain this to her later.”

“Fine.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what makes me madder. The fact I never touched her in high school and no one believes me, or her saying she lost my nonexistent baby.” After a second he adds, “Or her spewing about you ruining UC.”

There’s no way around any of it. “It all sucks.”

“It does.”

We pass by Graceland, all the excitement from earlier in the day a distant memory. His phone rings this time. “It’s Luke.”

“Put the call on speakerphone.” If the allegations against me are going to be included in this conversation, I need to be made privy.

Bennett does and Luke launches directly into his speech. “What the hell were you thinking, B? By calling in, you gave her story more legs. The PR team now has to work twice as hard to make her disappear.”

“I had to defend myself. Almost everything she said was lies, except I was a stupid kid who told her I loved her.” He seethes, “I never got any from her though—not for not trying—but the frigid bitch wouldn’t let me.”

“I don’t care if she became a nun. What was the first rule I ever told you guys?”

Bennett stares at the carpet covering the limo’s floor. “Never engage,” he mumbles.

“What was that? Speak up.”

His head levels. “You said never to engage. That was your job.”

“What did you do?”

Although I understand the situation, I can’t take the way he’s berating Bennett. I interject, “He didn’t mean to make things worse, Luke. He thought he could correct the record.”

“Look how well it went for him. And as for you, Miss Black Widow. Your nickname is now stuck like glue.”

I wince, shoving guilt downward.

“Hey,” Bennett sticks up for me. “She’s innocent in all of this. If you hadn’t meddled in the first place and made me go to her for physical therapy, she would be back in Aroostook living her life.”

Boring life I amend. Because life with Bennett is anything but dull. Filled with angst, true, but not dull. Not to mention passion. And love. So much love.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Luke’s resigned voice fills the air. “Meet me at the hotel.” The call disconnects.

I join Bennett in resting my head on the headrest, staring at the limo’s ceiling. Without moving, I say, “Kinda like one of those reality shows on television.”

“Yeah,” he replies, equally keeping his head unmoved. In a fake broadcaster voice, he says, “Join us for another season of Fucked Up Island . Where lies lure you in and paternity tests await at every corner.”

Despite everything going on, I giggle. “Sounds like you have a big hit on your hands.”

His face swings toward mine. “I only want to play music and see the world through your eyes.”

A buzz tingles through my body at his earnest declaration. I turn my face to him. “We’ll get there.”

“When?”

“Soon.” I hope.

Without the traffic from earlier in the day, the limo soon arrives outside our hotel. Bennett thanks the driver while I scoot out and onto the sidewalk. Behind me, he hops out of the car and stops stock-still, his face a mask of pain.

His groin pull. I race to his side, not wanting to draw any attention to his upper thigh, especially in a public area. Lowering my voice, I instruct, “Wrap your arm around my shoulders and let me take the brunt of your weight. As soon as we get to the room, I’ll ice it and help you work this out.”

A second later, his arm snakes over my shoulder. To the outside, we appear to be a couple in love. Which, I guess we are. However, I’m the only person on earth who knows his muscle throbs with each shuffle he takes. I keep as upright as I can, considering I’m assuming a large portion of his weight.

The doorman opens the door for us and we maneuver inside, not noticing the ornate foyer or clerks standing at the ready along the wall. “Let’s get you to the elevators.”

“I can do this.”

“Of course you can,” I babble. “You can do anything. You’re the lead singer for one of the hottest bands in the world.”

He stops. “One?”

I almost collapse, knowing his sense of humor—and trademark cockiness—is returning. “There’s Hunte. The Light Rail. Backdoor Clouds. Plus solo artists like Cole Manchester and Ozzy Martinez. So, yes, one.”

“You know how to wound a guy.”

“Keeping it real.”

We continue down the hallway toward the elevator, with Bennett holding more of his own weight. He even shakes out his right leg, not too hard, another good sign. Keeping our heads down, we get on the elevator with a few other people, none of which seem to notice us. We’re the last to disembark.

A grim-faced Luke lurks in the hallway.