Page 42 of Mic Drop (Passionate Beats #3)

Bennett

A fter catching up with the Fanones—and finishing the pitcher of delicious pink lemonade—I promise to have tickets available for them to come to any UC concert they want.

I hug his parents and give Curtiss a handshake.

We are nowhere near the best friends of our childhood, but for the first time it doesn’t feel like this piece of me is missing.

When the chips were down, he came through.

Carrying the precious wooden box and all the notes and photos from ages ago, Luke and I get into the car. He flips the lid on the box, staring at its contents. “With today’s science, I think this will effectively take care of Lissa. For good, B. Forever.”

I review all of the evidence we have against her. “I think you’re right. When we get the DNA results back, we can prove her allegation against me is false. Bet she never thought I’d be teaming up with Curtiss to take her down.”

“Don’t forget his mother.” We chuckle. “There’s some form of poetic justice in there somewhere,” my friend says. Luke holds up his phone. “Let’s call the PR team and fill them in.”

I motion for him to place the call. A moment later, the head of PR picks up. We exchange pleasantries, then Luke tells her about the wooden box and the notes.

“Are you kidding me? The hits keep coming.”

Luke jumps in. “What else happened today?”

“Thanks to Jenna, a news story broke discussing the details about the way Lissa and Michelle have teamed up.”

At hearing my wife’s name, I flinch. Then, pride in her surges. “She figured it out, huh?”

“Sure did, Bennett. According to this article, they were hiding in plain sight, so to speak. Michelle adopted a different persona on social media, and you can see Lissa interacting with the fake avatar. While it appears innocuous, once you know who’s actually behind the avatar, it takes on a whole new meaning. ”

My cheeks inflate. Leave it to my ingenious wife to nail Michelle. However. “What do you mean this came out in a news article? Why weren’t you guys all over this from a PR perspective?”

“She didn’t contact us.”

I bolt upright. “Why not?” Luke places his hand over my forearm.

UC’s PR head replies, “Jenna figured this out all on her own. She didn’t need us.”

She didn’t need us . She didn’t need me.

Pride mixes with longing. I want to hold my wife and share in her good news.

Share mine. Instead, we’re in different states, trying to move forward against the media, with divorce papers between us.

I squeeze my thigh in order to stop myself from doing something stupid. Like calling her.

Luke glances at me. “Great news. Thanks. I’ll take photos of these notes and the box and send them off to you.”

“Sounds good.” The line disconnects.

My wife figured out how Lissa and Michelle were communicating, which is good. However, the whole lie surrounding the prostitution ring still remains. “Jenna got halfway there.”

“I was thinking the same thing, B. We still need to get the reporters off the whole idea that her clinics serve up more than good results.”

I tap my groin. “She saved me.”

Luke nods. “And UC with it.”

I’m stewing over the meaning of my wife going it alone when we pass a sign for the town where Mom lives. Haven’t been here in a while. As a way to change the subject—or at least divert my attention for the moment—I note, “My mother lives here.”

Luke whips his head toward me. “I didn’t know that. You never talk about her. We have to visit.” He motions for the driver to roll down the window divider.

I raise my palm. “Wait. I don’t want to see her.”

“Why on earth not?”

Because she’s miserable. Mean. Mentally unstable. I shake my head. “I just don’t.”

“Come on, B. I’d love to meet the woman who brought you into this world.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Believe me, you don’t.”

“Come on, she can’t be that bad. We spent time with Darren’s mother. Now she’s bad.”

“She’s a walk in the park in comparison.

” He continues to harp on wanting to meet her.

Maybe she won’t be so bad, in front of a stranger?

It has been a couple of years since I last visited in person.

Jenna was always after me to reach out to my mother, until she had a conversation with her, that is. My lips purse.

“I’ve shown you my family home,” Luke wheedles.

It’s not his voice that convinces me to give our driver the address, however. It’s Dad’s. He loved my mother until the end, making me promise to look after her. As soon as I agreed, his last words were, “You’ve always been such a good—” He never finished his thought.

I owe Dad this much.

Shortly, we pull up to the large building with a sign ending with, “Mental Institution.” Our car parks in the side parking lot, and we get out.

As we walk to the doors, I head off the inevitable questions.

“ Yes, I had to put Mom here several years back. She’s been diagnosed as mentally ill, with several conditions ending in -isms. She’s not a danger to society, but she has a sharp tongue.

” I leave out the times she’s tried to self-harm.

Given Darren’s overdose, I don’t want to delve into this now.

“I didn’t know.”

“I wanted it that way.” I stop. “Look, if you don’t want to meet her, I’d understand. I owe it to my father to check in on her, especially since I’m so close.”

“I get it, and I want to meet her. But only if it won’t stress you out.”

“Stress me out? No. Be prepared, though, for a torrent of accusations to stream out of her mouth.” I take a step, then stop. “The most common is that I killed my sister.”

His hand covers his open mouth.

“I didn’t,” I explain. “We were conceived through IVF. With that procedure, it’s common for multiple embryos to be implanted, with the hope one will stick.

I survived, while the other one didn’t. She’s decided I killed my sister in her womb.

She usually includes some snide remark about how, if my sister were still here, she wouldn’t do whatever I’m being accused of doing. ”

His hand lands on my shoulder. “B, I’m so sorry.”

The mask I usually only wear when performing starts to descend. “Her words can’t hurt me anymore. I keep reminding myself that she’s mentally ill.”

“I hear you.” He cracks his knuckles and stares into my soul. “I’m honored you want to introduce her to me.”

“You say that now.”

We enter the building and approach the receptionist to sign in. The poor woman recognizes me and fumbles with the paperwork, but manages to do her job. As we walk through the halls, I ask Luke to send some UC merch to the receptionist. He pulls out his phone and taps out a message.

We stop before her room, with a cheerful Mrs. Hardy on the nameplate. Please let her be lucid and happy today. I knock and wait for the door to be opened.

“How may I help you?” A short, round, middle-aged Latina woman answers.

I’d know her voice anywhere, even though we’ve never met in person. “Ramona? It’s me, Bennett.”

She swings the door wider. “Well, I’ll be. Come on in. Your mother and I were just about to play a game of parcheesi.”

I kiss her cheek and introduce Luke, and we both enter the suite. Mom’s sitting in the Florida room in the back, so I can’t see her yet.

I lean over to her nurse and whisper, “How is she today?”

“Good,” she replies. “She seems content and on an even keel.”

Thank God. Here goes nothing. I enter the room where Mom’s sitting, which has floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking a water feature in the courtyard. “Hi, Mom.”

She swings around and stares at me, her mouth agape. She tilts her head from side to side for a moment, then surges to her feet. “Bennett?”

Nodding as I cross the room to her, I pull her in for a quick hug. The doctors warned me against excessive touching, as it might trigger an outburst. “We were in the area, so I thought it would be nice to stop by and visit in person rather than over the phone.”

“I can’t believe it’s you.” She reaches to her tiptoes, and touches my cheek. “You’ve grown up to look so much like your father.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Remembering we have an audience, I introduce Luke. “Mom, I want you to meet Untamed Coaster’s manager, my friend Luke Allen.”

She extends her hand, which he shakes. If I hadn’t spent my entire life with this woman, I would think she was normal. The truth lurks right below the surface. Best not to let this visit go too long.

Ramona asks, “Mind if these nice gentlemen sit with you for a while?”

“I always have time for Bennett and his friend. Can you get us some refreshments, Ramona? ”

At least she remembered her nurse’s name. Another good sign. Luke and I join Mom at the table and he says, “You have a nice view here. Do you ever go into the courtyard?”

“Oh yes,” Mom replies. “We go to the nearby mall as well. Ramona cooks for me, and there’s a nice restaurant we visit quite often.”

Luke’s eyebrows pull together. I clarify for him. “The dining hall was quite a selling feature.”

Ramona comes in and gives each one of us a glass of iced tea.

Not quite as good as Mrs. Fanone’s pink lemonade, but still tasty.

Luke raises his glass to her in thanks, and I follow suit.

Mom doesn’t, simply sipping from her glass.

I can hear her brain working, which makes me nervous. Things could go south fast.

I’m about to suggest we cut our visit short, when Mom springs up. “Hey. Where’s your wife?”

“She wanted me to let you know she was sorry she couldn’t be here,” I respond smoothly, urging her to return to her seat. “She was, um, busy taking care of her mother’s estate. Remember, she recently passed away.”

Mom takes in this information with a nod and retakes her seat. “Then shouldn’t you be helping her deal with her mother’s death?” She leans over and smacks my shoulder. I don’t move. “I thought I raised you better than that.”

“Luke and I had some business we had to deal with that couldn’t be put off. We’re flying back out to the Hamptons later, so I can continue helping her.” The lie sounds convincing to my ears. I glance at Luke, who does a slow blink of support.

“I hope you bring my daughter to me soon.”

Thinking we avoided the worst, I agree, “I know she wants to meet you.”

“Of course she does. I’m her only living mother now.”

Luke steps in, “Mrs. Hardy, where?—”

Mom cuts him off. “Only when she comes, we won’t serve her any iced tea. Or I guess we could,” she muses, “So long as we made it. I don’t trust that Black Widow. First she killed Darren and now her mother.”

“Mom, I explained this before. You’re wrong. Darren overdosed and her mother had cancer.”

Mom waves her hand. “You’re fine with her, seeing as you already killed your sister. Like finds like, they always say.”

Here we go. Do not engage. Step away from the nuisance. I get to my feet and check my watch. “Look at the time. We have to get going before we miss our flight, right Luke?”

Luke’s watching us like we’re playing at Wimbledon. “What?”

I tilt my chin, urging him to stand, all the blood rushing through my body in triple speed.

He finally picks up my clue. “Oh, right. We are on a tight schedule.”

“Schedule, smedule,” Mom says. “If your sister were here, she’d find herself a nice guy and settle down in a house, with a mother-daughter suite so I could live with her. But not you. You dumped me here and never visit. No, you?—”

Her tirade continues as I usher Luke out of the Florida room. As soon as we’re away from her, my eyes close. I exhale through my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Ramona says. “She was in a good mood earlier.”

“It’s not your fault,” I answer her. “Have to admit, she went off the rails quicker this time, but it might be because I was physically here.”

“Perhaps. Do you want to visit her doctor? I can see if he’s in.”

“Thanks, Ramona, but I get updates from him regularly. I don’t think it’s important to interrupt his day.” Although, he may need to know I stopped by and set her back a little. “If you don’t mind, please tell him I was here before Mom’s next appointment.”

“I understand,” Mom’s nurse replies. “Can I get you anything for the road?”

Luke shakes his head. “No, we’re good.”

Heartfelt words pour out of my mouth. “I want to thank you for taking such good care of Mom. I know she can be a challenge, to put it mildly.”

Ramona replies, “Honestly, she either thinks of me as her maid or as her friend. Either way, I’ve learned how to handle her nasty. She seems to reserve her worst for you, though.”

“Happy to be her trigger point,” I mumble. I give Mom’s nurse a kiss goodbye.

Luke and I exit her room and walk through the calming hallway, trying to regain my equilibrium. “Wow. B, I’m sorry you’ve had to live with this. How often do you two speak?”

“Maybe once a week or so. Less if I can help it.” We wave to the receptionist and go outside into the warm, cleansing air. “It’s always best when the call ends.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulder. This tiny bit of kindness is my undoing.

Possibly it’s Jenna’s seeking a divorce.

Perhaps it’s my frayed nerves over Lissa.

There’s always Dad’s death lurking.

Or maybe it’s the encounter I just endured.

For whatever reason, my protective walls come tumbling down in this moment. Out here on the sidewalk, I turn into the arms of my manager—my friend—and sob.