Page 37 of Mic Drop (Passionate Beats #3)

Jenna

A t my kitchen table, I scour Lissa’s social media platforms, searching for a connection between her and Michelle. They have to have teamed up against me. Bennett’s right—no way would Michelle have thought up this prostitution ring idea by herself.

Of course, simply putting her name, Michelle Kent, into the search bar yields no results.

I try to use variations of her middle name, Jasper, which I’ll never forget because I had a goldfish named Jasper in elementary school, and teased her about it.

Still nothing. She may be dumb, but she’s not stupid.

Think, Jenna. What alias could she be using?

Back in high school, she stole my boyfriend.

What was his name? I snap my fingers. Right.

Thaine. Thaine Bell. I search his names together with Michelle’s various names.

BINGO! A Thaine Jasper is a match on Facebook.

Similar searches on Instagram, TikTok and YouTube yield the same results.

Plus, Lissa’s been interacting with this “avatar” on socials.

All use the same profile pix of a stunningly gorgeous man, complete with a six-pack—on display because “he’s” only wearing a skimpy bathing suit.

ChatGPT must’ve gotten a workout the day she created the profile.

The fact she’s still fixated on the guy would be depressing, if she wasn’t so pathetic. We graduated from high school over a decade ago. Get a life, Michelle.

Now that I’ve pinpointed her pitiful avatar, how am I going to get her and Lissa to break their unholy alliance?

As much as I don’t want to think about him, Bennett did mention working on an angle with Curtiss to get Lissa off his back, so I should steer clear of his ex.

My focus has to be on Michelle. Besides, I’ve allowed this girl to annoy me for way too long. Time to rip her a new one.

My mind spins over my next step. Clearly, Dr. Marlow was ineffective. I need to attack her somewhere other than her paycheck. Although, one would think the paycheck would be the best option.

I go round and round, not landing on a single viable idea. Since my business isn’t under UC protection anymore, I decide to visit Court at the clinic. Maybe between the two of us, we can figure out a viable idea.

After I change into my scrubs, I toss my now lukewarm tea into the sink when the doorbell rings. Who could that be? Dread washes over me. I hope it’s not Bennett. With slow steps, I reach my front door and look out through the window, which causes the air to leave my body. Not Bennett.

I swing open the door. “May I help you?”

The guy bends down and picks up a vase of flowers I hadn’t noticed. “You Jenna Hardy?”

My mind forces me to remember my new last name. No guesses needed to find out the sender. “Yes.” After I sign some paperwork and give him a tip—positive Bennett took care of this but wanting to stand on my own two feet—I close the door behind me and walk over to the coffee table.

A gorgeous arrangement of gerbera daisies brightens the room.

My shaky hand reaches out and removes the card, while my traitorous body remembers all the flowers he sent me leading up to the wedding.

Ma used to be downright gleeful every time someone rang the doorbell.

I can almost hear her begging me to read the card.

Almost.

I rip open the tiny envelope and lyrics from “Crushing Blow” are written on it. They scream of overcoming the pain of unrequited love. Darren wrote this song—his last. The fact Bennett chose to put these words on this card has to mean something.

Perhaps he’s thinking I was better off with Darren?

Is he making a statement about his own feelings toward me?

Whatever. The card drops onto the table. I have more important things to do than try to get into the mind of Bennett Hardy.

Shortly, I pull into the nearly empty parking lot at the flagship clinic for At Your Service PT. Given that it’s midday, this place should be hopping. Damn Michelle. And Lissa.

Taking the stairs, I sneak into the back of the clinic. No one’s in the waiting room and only a couple of patients are with therapists. I need to right this ship. Again.

“Hey, Court,” I announce myself. “I’d love to put our heads together and get through this, ah, slump.”

“From your mouth,” she replies, tossing some paperwork from the sofa onto the floor. “Here, have a seat. Let’s talk.”

I get comfortable while Court gets us a couple of cups of water from the dispenser. “Should I scale back on the water delivery?”

“No way. This is only a minor setback. Keep the water flowing.” She grins.

My head bows. “I really thought we’d be over this hump when we shut Michelle down the first time. I was wrong.”

She places her hand over mine. “No one could’ve anticipated this newest, ah, allegation.”

“Still, I need to fix it. At least we have a few patients who didn’t abandon us.”

“We do.” She flips through the appointment book. “A core group refuse to leave.”

“That’s something,” I muse. “Not enough, though. Look, Bennett told me Michelle and Lissa have teamed up. I figured out Michelle’s using the fake avatar ‘Thaine Jasper’ on Lissa’s socials.”

“Thaine was your boyfriend in high school that she poached, right?”

“Good memory. Michelle evidently put his name together with her middle name, thinking no one would figure it out.” I blow on my fingers. “She was wrong.”

Court asks the question that’s been rolling around my brain all morning. “How are you going to out her to the world?”

“That’s the million-dollar question. I’m one hundred percent sure Thaine has no clue what’s going on.”

“Where is he now?”

I shrug. “Haven’t kept in touch with the guy who dumped me for Michelle.”

Court pulls out her phone. “Let’s see if he’s still around. Thaine Bell, right?” She punches a few things into her phone. “Looky here. Mr. High School Ex-Boyfriend lives two towns over.” She clicks a few more times. “Divorced with three kids.” She turns her phone around to show me.

“He still has all his hair,” I remark dispassionately.

Court studies his photo. “He’s not a bad looking guy. I mean, he’s no Bennett Hardy or anything.”

I wave my naked left hand. “He sent me flowers this morning. Gerbera daisies.”

Court’s mouth drops open. “What did the card say?”

“It had the lyrics from Darren’s last big hit on it. ‘Crushing Blow.’” I pause. “At least he went out on top.”

She pulls me toward her and gives me a hug I didn’t know I needed. Releasing me, Court cleans her glasses on her shirt. “What’s the best way to put them in their places?” At least she didn’t mention Bennett.

In the ensuing silence, my mind races. What would Ma counsel me to do? Probably choose the lowest hanging fruit. Which, in this instance, is a who .

Thaine.

I bet he’d be pissed to hear she’s using his name without his permission. He and Michelle broke up before he left for college, never to be seen together again. How can I use this to my advantage?

“I might have something,” I venture. Her eyes descend on me, and I swallow. “Michelle’s using Thaine Jasper as her avatar. I say I give my ex-boyfriend a little visit and tell him what she’s been up to.”

“Devious,” she nods. “I like it. Want me to come with?”

“No. I think this is something I need to do by myself.” I stand. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

“You better.” She gives me another hug for the road, and I set out to correct some of the wrongs Michelle has rained down on me. Doesn’t hurt it gives me a purpose besides dwelling on the end of my marriage.

Using Court’s newly gathered information, I plug Thaine’s work address into the GPS. As I’m driving, I can hear Bennett’s voice encouraging me to stick it to Michelle. Not that I need or want his advice, but it’s still nice to know I’m on the right track.

I pull into an office park and walk into the oversized facility. Turns out Thaine works in software development.

Straightening my shoulders and pulling out my ponytail holder, I approach the receptionist and ask to see Thaine Bell.

Not weird at all . I add that my business is looking to develop a customer relationship management program, and heard he could help us.

The receptionist buys it, because soon I’m escorted into a conference room and she’s getting me a tea.

The teabag dips into the hot water when Thaine walks into the room. “Hello,” a much lower-pitched voice says. “I heard you’re looking for a new CRM program. You came to the right place.”

I rise to my feet. Keeping my composure, I lift my chin.

“Thaine.” His name sounds odd coming out of my mouth after so many years.

“I actually have a good CRM program, but I needed to see you to fill you in on something Michelle Kent’s been doing.

” For the first time, I wonder if he did give her permission to use his name. Too late to go back now, though.

His brows come together as his gaze skims over my body. “Oh.” He tilts his head. “Jenna? Jenna Westfield, is that you?”

At least he recognized me. “It is.”

“Holy sh—” he cuts himself off from cursing. Bennett never had such reservations. “Wow. I haven’t seen you for how long? Ten years? More?”

“Something like that.”

His head shakes. “Wait. Didn’t I read somewhere that you got married not long ago? To that rock star, Bennett Hardy.”

My empty left hand fists. No need to go into my private life with him. “I did, but he’s not the reason I’m here.” Using my right hand, I point to the chairs. “Can we sit?”

“Of course. Where are my manners?” He pulls out a chair for me then sits, mumbling my name. “So you came here why again?”

I launch into an abbreviated version of Michelle’s campaign against me, the Black Widow graffiti, and finally her teaming up with Lissa to concoct the prostitution ring scheme.

He whistles. “That’s quite the story you have there. But I fail to see how I play into this?”

“Because Michelle’s using the name ‘Thaine Jasper’ on all socials.” I let this final revelation hang in the air while I take a sip of my tea.

I see the second a lightbulb goes off in his head. “Whoa. My first name and, if I remember correctly, her middle. That’s messed up.”

“It is.” I place my mug onto the table. “I thought finding out that Michelle’s using your name might be an incentive for you to help me stop her.”

Thaine leans back in his chair. Dark hair, almost black like Pierce’s, is cropped close to his face. Not a millimeter of scruff on his chin. He looks like he could be an insurance broker rather than a software developer.

“Michelle still pops up in my world from time to time. She got her boss to hire us for a new CRM system a couple of years ago.” His gaze drops to the table. “I’m sorry for how I ended things with you back in high school, Jenna. It was shitty of me to do, I see that now.”

“I have to admit, it hurt at the time. But we’ve both grown, I hope, and left high school in the rearview mirror.”

“You’re very kind.”

I can leverage his sentiment. Taking another sip of my tea, I ask, “So you’ll help me?”

“I guess I owe you one,” he says. “What do you have in mind?”