Page 4 of Mic Drop (Passionate Beats #3)

Bennett

I can do this. I’ve done it thousands of times .

I don ripped jeans, toss a blue T-shirt over my head, and add all my hardware: rings and bracelets.

The mirror tells me I look as good as ever.

Even my scruff is once again the perfect length.

My hands twitch to remove the necklace with the UC pendant on it, but the band promised each other we’d never take them off.

Doesn’t matter who gave them to us originally. I lower my arms.

Luke meets me in the hallway, craning his neck around me. “Where’s Jenna?”

The hazards of keeping to myself all yesterday—the need to tell everyone what’s going on since they didn’t witness it. In this case, it’s a good thing. Wouldn’t want them to see the God-awful way things ended between us. My throat tightens.

“Gone.” My voice is gruff to my own ears.

“Huh? What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“What I said. Like Elvis, she left the building.” I take a couple of strides. “I dumped her.” Not exactly, but close enough.

I realize Luke’s not at my side and turn around. He’s wearing a puzzled expression. “You broke up with her? ”

My hands land on my hips. “That’s the polite way of putting it.”

“Why?”

“Why what? People break up all the time. Lots of different reasons. Money, sex, values. Take your pick.” I continue toward the elevators.

“You two seemed like the real deal. She was sticking up for you with the whole Lissa ordeal.”

Maybe I should seize on this as an easy out? Sounds better than saying she was homesick. I shake my head. Nah. Not going to lie to cover up her screwball tendencies. Better they come out now than if more time passes.

“She missed her mother. She went home. End of.” I stab the call button for the elevator. The doors open and without checking to see if our manager’s at my side, I storm inside.

Luke presses the button for the garage, where we’re meeting the rest of the band. I stand with my arms crossed, daring him to ask anything further. Utilizing self-preservation skills, he does not.

The door pings at our floor. “I think you should tell the guys.”

“On it.” I stalk to the waiting limo, and am the last band member to climb in. As soon as my ass hits the leather seat, I’m handed a bottle of beer. After taking a much-needed sip, I announce, “Jenna’s gone.”

My work colleagues stare at me with varying degrees of surprise. All except 007, who has the biggest smile stretched across his face. “Finally!” He extends his fist toward me to bump, which I force myself to do. “She doesn’t belong with UC. Glad you kicked her to the curb.”

My lips tick upward. “Thanks man. Sorry to make you all spew the shit defending her in Louisville. Thinking we don’t mention it again, and the hype will die down.”

Coop shifts in his seat. “We defended her to the world, Bennett, because she was cool. Why did you dump her?”

Thankful he thinks I broke up with her, I reply, “Turns out she was crazy. I didn’t see it before, although I should have picked up on it when we went out to celebrate her birthday with her mother. Yesterday, she was crying about missing her mother, so I cut her loose.”

Coop’s head bobs. “Wow.”

Río blurts, “Darren thought the chick was sweet. So did I. I can’t believe she turned out to be a psycho.” He leans across the bench seat to whack my shoulder. “You’ll bounce back. Plenty of other fish in the sea.”

“Yeah.” I tip my chin toward our drummer. After tonight’s show, I’ll choose a couple of blondes to take the edge off. Let Jenna stay home with mommy. I’m better off without her.

I chance a look at our new keyboardist, who doesn’t look surprised at all by my announcement. Perhaps my assessment of their relationship was spot on? I stare him down and he stares right back. When I can’t take it any longer, I snarl, “What’s your problem, Tristan ?”

“Me?” His gaze darts throughout the limo. “She seemed broken up when I helped her into a taxi, that’s all.”

Like I guessed, she ran to the little prick when she left my room. I pitch forward, fists at the ready, but unable to get proper leverage against Tristan in the limo. “How long were you shacking up with her?” Coop places his arm against my chest.

Tristan slinks back against the seat. “I wasn’t, dude. I was only an ear.”

“Yeah, well, she can use your ear anytime she wants. Mine is off limits to her.” Coop removes his arm when it becomes clear I won’t start a fight in the confines of the limo.

Stepping into the breach, 007 holds up his bottle. “To the Black Widow. May she never darken our threshold again!” A second later, everyone—except Tristan—toasts.

The beer trips down my throat in starts and fits. I manage to swallow and keep it down, which I consider a win. Why doesn’t it taste like victory? I sent her packing. Rather, she was packing, and I told her to leave. Same diff.

The limo stops in front of the stadium. I let the rest of the band get out before maneuvering out of the vehicle, aware enough not to do anything to strain my groin muscle. After all, I didn’t have any physical therapy today. I can keep it in check all by myself.

The rest of the band is nearing the back entrance when my feet hit the pavement. Unlucky for me, Tristan waits by the door.

“Not going to discuss this with you,” I snap.

“Fine by me. Don’t talk. Listen. Whatever went down between the two of you devastated her, and I have the wet shirt to prove it. The woman was crying so hard on me, I felt like a human Kleenex.”

I ignore the pang in my chest.

I ignore the longing in my heart.

I ignore the yearning in my soul.

Instead, I say, “It’s what happens when your crazy is exposed.”

I walk around him, toward the band entrance, taking no heed of his murmured, “I don’t think she was the crazy one.”

By the time I reach the stage, my lead singer mask is more impenetrable than ever. I run through the sound check like the pro I am, interacting with the band as required. All except Tris, who can play his keyboards on the side all night without a mic or spotlight for all I care.

Luke must’ve taken pity on us, as this has to be the quickest sound check ever. I follow the rest of the band off the stage. “Great job, guys,” our manager says. “I made a dinner reservation. Limo should be here in thirty.”

We mumble our thanks. While food is the last thing on my mind, I will need fuel to get through the concert tonight. If the prick Tristan is there, I’ll make sure to sit far away. Maybe put him at another table. With the crew. Or send him out to greet crazy fans.

One of our crew stops moving some stage items as I approach. “Hey, Bennett, Got a minute?”

“Of course, Jeb.” I always have time for the crew and roadies, as they keep our show running. “What’s up?”

The huge, tatted man pushes his long sleeves up. “I’ve been looking everywhere for Jenna. The exercises she gave me have been great. I did as she told me and shared them with the rest of the crew, and we’re all feeling better.”

Bully for them. “That’s good.”

When I don’t elaborate, he presses, “I was hoping to ask her if she could do a group session with all of us. That way, she can correct our form if someone’s doing something wrong.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Listen, I’m happy she was helping you, but she went back home.” Not a lie.

He persists, “When will she be back?”

My control snaps. “She’s not coming back.

I sent her packing, all right?” I stalk in the opposite direction, fighting an urge to punch a wall.

Jeb. Or Tristan . He would do. Why do I have to keep telling this story over and over?

I open my mouth to yell that she’s gone, but shut it just as fast. I’m the cool, collected, cocky lead singer of Untamed Coaster, not the hot-headed band member.

I’ll leave that honor for Río. I fight for a semblance of indifference.

Our stylist approaches me, pierced eyebrow bouncing. “Where are you hiding Jenna? I want to dress her for the concert tonight. I picked up something in town that will look amazing on her?—”

“For fuck’s sake,” I growl, at the end of my rope. “I broke up with the crazy bitch. Let it go!” My arms fly around my head as I leave Nese and slam into the hallway.

I need to get a hold of my emotions. Blowing up at our crew isn’t the answer, I know. Until I can force memories of the bitch out of my head, I have to rein it in. I walk in circles around the cement hallway until my breathing resembles normal. I can do this. Alone. The way it’s always been.

My phone rings in my back pocket, blaring “Cleanin’ Out My Closet.” The ringtone doesn’t register as I answer it. Even a telemarketer would be a welcome distraction. “Hello?”

“Nice of you to answer my call. Are you finished with the friend who answered your phone before?”

Mom. Shit. Anyone but her would be welcome. Guess I only have myself to blame for answering my stupid phone. “What are you talking about?”

“I called you yesterday when I saw Lissa on TV. A girl picked up and said you were taking a shower. I knew she was the Black Widow.”

Mom’s use of the nickname strikes me as wrong. “Jenna’s not out to ruin UC, nor did she kill Darren. If anything, she tried to help him through his injury and addiction.” Why am I sticking up for the physical therapist who just left me?

“I set her straight, don’t you worry. Told her about how lovesick you were for Lissa in high school after she dumped you for Curtiss. Then how you disappeared right after your father did.”

My eyes close. I don’t need this shit. “Mom, that’s not how things went down.” Well, it may be from her point of view, but I don’t have what it takes to deal with her now. “You know I got the offer to join UC and couldn’t turn it down.”

“It’s exactly how I remember it. You spent how many hours with the Lissa girl, fawning all over her? Have to hand it to her, though, she stuck it out longer than I thought possible. Rather, she strung you along as long as she could. Ditching you for Curtiss was her crowning achievement.”