Page 40 of Mic Drop (Passionate Beats #3)

Jenna

I get into my car and drive away from Thaine’s software company, new plan at the ready to take Michelle down once and for all. I press Court’s number.

“How’d it go?”

“Better than expected.”

“Spill everything.”

“Thaine said Michelle got Dr. Marlow to hire his company for CRM help, so she’s still in his orbit somewhat.”

Court interrupts. “Are they still together?”

“Nope.” I get onto the highway. “Turns out, he dumped her after high school, when he didn’t want anything to do with the scene anymore. He wasn’t the one to pitch her boss for his business either, but wasn’t about to turn away a new client. Thaine was pissed about Michelle’s using his name online.”

“I bet.”

“So we decided to go to the press. Rather, he’s going to reach out to a friend of his who is a legitimate reporter, who will get the ‘scoop.’”

“Awesome. Once reporters sniff out this story, they’ll dig into how connected the avatar Thaine Jasper is with Lissa Baker. I bet there’s much more to their story than what you’ve already uncovered.”

“No doubt. I don’t know if the media can get into their DMs or anything, but we bet there’s a treasure trove there. The mere fact of her fake avatar smells bad. For both of them.”

“I love how devious you can be.”

A smile starts to form. “Feels good to be on the offense.” My phone beeps with an incoming call from my sister on the other line. “That’s my sister. I’ll call you back when I get more details.”

“You better.”

I switch the call. “Hi, Kara.”

“Hi. How’s your day been?”

“Good. Better than good. I might have uncovered the way Michelle and Lissa have been communicating.”

“Really? Wow. Good on you.”

“Thanks.” I put on my blinker. “What’s up on your end?”

“I had some free time today and decided to spend it at Ma’s, going through her stuff and making piles. Think you could join me? This is so much fun.”

“I can only imagine.” I enter the next highway. “I can be to Ma’s in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks. See you then.”

She clicks off and I concentrate on the road. Leave the highway and navigate the smaller roads of the Hamptons. When my thoughts become too loud, I turn on the radio. UC’s “Refocused Destiny” plays.

My hands clutch the steering wheel tighter.

Bennett’s pitch-perfect voice reaches across the airwaves and wraps around my throat, choking me.

I shut off the stupid radio as tears stream down my cheeks, which I brush away.

I had him in my life for one reason only: to please Ma.

Now she’s gone, there’s no reason to maintain our ruse. Right?

Our time at Graceland flits through my mind. I remember doing physical therapy with him, and how hard he worked. The way he was so professional at sound checks. How he made my blood sing.

My breathing becomes more erratic. I spot a strip mall and turn into the parking lot. In a corner spot, I throw my car into park, raise my palms to my face, and sob.

Weep for the memories we share.

Scream for the vows we exchanged.

Despair over the vast emptiness extending before me.

A knock sounds on my window. I wave my hand in front of my face, urging the bystander to walk away. Another knock. Can’t they take a hint?

I suck in air and press the button for my window to roll down. My hand stays in front of my face.

A concerned female voice asks, “Are you okay?”

Never better . “Fine.”

“It’s . . . I saw you crying.”

My hand lands on the steering wheel and I face my inquisitor—a woman in her early twenties. In probably a more forceful voice than needed, I reply, “I’m all right.”

She puts a hand over her chest. “I wanted to be sure.” Her eyes widen. “I know you. You’re that Black Widow, aren’t you?”

I lean forward and press the button for the window to go up.

She places her hand on the half-raised window. In a rush, she blurts, “No. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I don’t believe what the media has written about you.”

I release the button. She’s the first person outside my immediate circle to say this. So young to boot. “You don’t?”

She shakes her head. “It seems made up to sell tabloids.”

I press the button and the window lowers again. I swallow. “It was.”

The young woman looks around the parking lot. “I think you’re safe from prying eyes here, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out in public like this. You can’t let them see you sweat. ”

Her last comment brings a reluctant grin to my face. “I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

She nods. “You know, you’re the reason I’m going to be a physical therapist. My father needed help after his knee replacement and went to your clinic. He raved about the work you did, and I decided I wanted to be like you. Helping people get better.”

I was this girl’s role model? While I’ve been wallowing about Ma’s death, others have held me up as someone to follow?

“This means so much to me. Being a physical therapist is the best job in the world, if you ask me. There’s nothing better than working with someone through an operation or injury, and seeing them improve. ”

She stands a bit straighter. “I even got into your alma mater . I start physical therapy classes next year.”

I swipe a stray tear away. “I’m sure you’re going to do great. Give me your contact information and when the time comes, I’ll set you up with an internship with At Your Service.”

“Really? Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to hit you up for a job.”

“Which is why I’m offering it.” As I get my phone out to put her contact info in my phone, I spy the gift card to the arcade Bennett gave me for my birthday—a present I’ll never use.

“Make sure you keep in touch with me. I want to hear all about your studies.” I flip the card in my hand once.

“Here’s a gift to remind you to always do your best.”

Eyes shining, she hugs the gift card to her chest and promises to keep me posted. “Before I leave, I want to be sure you’re really okay.” She leans forward.

I go for the truth. “I’m not. But I will be.” She waves me on, and I get back on the road, hating myself for lying to her. Nothing will ever be okay again.

Ten minutes later, I pull up in front of Ma’s house. Car in park, I sit in the driveway as more misery washes over me. Will I ever find lasting happiness?

The front door opens, and Kara brings a big black trash bag outside. No more procrastination . I’m here. I turn off the ignition and join my sister at the trash container.

“You made it.”

I pick up the lid for her. “How’s it going?”

She stuffs the bag into it and sighs. “There’s so much to do. Selling her house is the right thing to do, but there’s so much stuff in here.”

How can she appear so resigned to the chore? Another sob begs to be let free, but I refuse. I need to be as strong as Kara and get through this. “I’m here now. Put me to work.” I struggle to put the lid back on, which finally falls into place. Too bad my life never will do the same.

We walk inside the house—really, only an empty shell.

With lots and lots of things piled everywhere.

Kara explains how she’s been dividing up all of Ma’s stuff, and I’m reminded of the scene with the Ghost from Christmas Yet to Come from A Christmas Carol, when the people come to take Ebenezer Scrooge’s possessions away.

I square my shoulders. I’m not like those unnamed characters. I loved Ma. She was my world.

Kara suggests, “How about we do her office? I’ve been through her closet and gave most of her clothes to charity.”

“Not the silk scarf?” It was my first gift to her after I got a job. She always wore it with pride.

“Of course not. I kept the things with sentimental value attached.”

“Thanks.”

With dragging feet, I follow my sister into the office. The desk has bills set into an upright calendar system. Kara takes one look at it and asks, “Why didn’t Ma do online banking?”

“I tried. She said she didn’t trust the banks and wanted to remain in control of her finances. Can’t say that I blame her.” Control . That’s a concept I can get behind.

“I’ll go through the filing cabinet while you sort through her desk,” she suggests .

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kara opens a two-drawer filing cabinet and pulls out a file. “Think we need to keep the electric bill from two years ago?”

“I think it’s safe to shred,” I chuckle. She points out a variety of other memorabilia—if her stuff can be described as such—and throws it into the shredder.

On an inhale, I focus on my assignment. In no time, I have the top of her desk cleared, with most of the papers being shredded except for a few get well cards from her friends. All of whom were at her funeral. I swallow nothing and toss the cards.

My mind settles on Ma’s funeral, and a lingering question. “So, Kara, are you letting our father back into your life?”

She turns toward me. “What?” She puts down some paperwork.

“Listen, I had ten more years with him than you did. We have more of a history. Truth is, though, he’s been out of my life for more years than he was in it.

I told him I’d add him to my Christmas card list, but not to expect anything more from me. ” She comes over and hugs me.

In her arms, I say, “Thank you.” We break apart, “I’m not willing to do even that, but I respect your decision.”

“You got it, kiddo.” Her hand waves toward the rooms. “Back to it?”

“Yeah.” My sister and I are building a relationship with each other.

She can keep communicating with our father while I don’t have to, but it won’t affect us.

I mull over this truth as I busy myself by opening the right desk drawer, which contains pens, paper clips, post-its, and other assorted office products.

While it would be smart to keep this stuff, I only want it to disappear, so I throw it all away.

The middle drawer boasts paper products like notepads, her passport, and even some old romance books featuring Fabio on the cover.

I hold up one for Kara to see and giggle. “Ma was a closet romantic.”