Page 8 of Mic Drop (Passionate Beats #3)

Bennett

S omehow, I manage to get through tonight’s performance. I’m not sure how, but Coop picked up on how I was faking it. Luke was well aware, given my session with the roadies’ punching bag.

Coop didn’t know anything about that, though. All he and the rest of the guys knew was Luke and I skipped dinner. At least he didn’t press me for more than I was willing to give, which wasn’t much.

Backstage, I strip off my shirt and take the clean one from Nese, who still is waiting for an answer about Jenna’s whereabouts. I hate the fact I went from dumping her—before she dumped me, I can finally admit to myself—to missing the shit out of her.

I need Jenna at my side.

“You’re on fire out there, Bennett,” Nese notes. “Almost like you’re trying to exorcise someone from your world.”

I must not have been so clever. She fusses with my shirt. “It’s been fucking awful.”

“He speaks.” She tugs on the hem of my shirt. “What happened? ”

I can’t bring myself to tell her the lie I’ve been telling the rest of the guys. Still, the truth isn’t in my orbit either. Instead, I settle for a half-truth. I’m still unsure exactly what happened. “It wasn’t pretty.”

She nods. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” That’s the truth.

“All right, guys. Your audience awaits your encore. Go give them what they want!” Luke riles us up. Or tries to, in my case. “Remember, there’s a meet and greet before the club tonight.”

A collective groan goes up from the band. Meet and greets are fine, but the more we do, the less enjoyable they are.

Luke gives us the evil eye. “No complaining. Besides, first round’s on me.”

The rest of the band cheers and we head back on stage to claps and screams from the crowd.

We perform the last three songs like we always do, garnering the proper response from the audience.

When I introduce the band, including Tris, the reception is as overwhelming as it ever is. But my heart isn’t in it.

It’s in the Hamptons with the woman who took it with her.

I walk off the stage, ever mindful of my thigh.

Thankfully, it’s the one thing that hasn’t been giving me problems all day.

Maybe I can call Jenna and ask her for more exercises?

Or jump on Jeb’s bandwagon and see if she can help them out?

Perhaps even get her to come back on tour and incorporate the crew into her sessions?

What am I doing? She’s through with me. She wanted to be home with her mother. Last I checked, I’m nowhere close to having a vagina. Although, I’m sort of being a pussy.

I change out of the leather pants and put on a pair of designer jeans. I also swap my wet T-shirt for a tour tee from The Light Rail and am ready to go. In the greenroom, I make idle chatter with the lighting and sound guys.

Tristan is the next to join us. Was I unfair to him before? Maybe. Maybe not. If I were an adult, I’d talk it out with him...but I’ve never been accused of being an adult. Ask Mom. Lissa.

Jenna .

It’s the last name on the list who forces my feet in the keyboardist’s direction. “Hey.” I clamp my hand around his shoulder, which tenses. “Relax. I’m not going to bite your head off.” I consider my options. “Not now, anyway.”

“Good to know.” His gaze darts around the room, but no one’s paying us any special attention.

“I think I’m ready to hear what went down between you and Jenna.” My body stiffens. If he so much as kissed her on the cheek, I’m going to lose it.

“Nothing untoward, I promise. She was in the lobby, dragging her luggage. She was in a bad way. When I approached her, she burst into tears. I held her while she cried her eyes out. She didn’t tell me what happened, but I’d have to be a blind idiot not to know you two had a massive fight.”

“That’s the thing, man. We did, but we didn’t.”

He tilts his head. “Come again?”

“We exchanged a few heated comments, but I didn’t think too much of them and took a shower. When I got out, she was shoving her clothes into her bag and couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Kept mumbling about her mother, about needing to go home. And somehow it was all my fault.”

He scratches his chest. “Something sounds off to me. If you two didn’t fight?—”

“We didn’t.”

“Then maybe something else intervened? Have you checked to see if the paparazzi has written anything else about her?”

His question brings me up short. “Not that I’m aware of, but who knows?”

He pulls out his phone, but a quick search doesn’t reveal anything new. “All I see is the regular stuff about her being a Black Widow. Oh, maybe this is something. There’s been graffiti at her clinics.”

The tiny spark of hope extinguishes. I explain, “Someone’s spray painting spiders on her buildings and sidewalks. She thinks she knows who’s doing it. ”

He says, “She should use UC’s PR team.”

“No shit.” I fist bump our keyboardist. “That’s what I suggested when she took my head off.”

He smiles. I chuckle.

“Have you tried to reach out to her?”

I rear back. “No.” I hold up my empty hands. “With what phone?”

“What happened to it?”

My head drops. “It met a concrete wall. Didn’t fare too well.”

“Oh boy.” He hands me his cell. “Want to call her from mine?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m not ready for that. Thanks, though.”

“Any time.”

Coop and 007 join us, chatting about the upcoming meet and greet. When Río finally joins us, Tris observes, “Nice of you to make it.”

He runs his palm over his hair. “Hey, it takes time to look this good.”

We slap each other on the back and make our way to the fan event.

Which goes about as expected. Some people were interested in meeting us and learning about our process.

Others wanted to hear about the tour. Most of the women, though, only want to hook up with a rock star.

The rest of the guys oblige them, while I turn down each and every one.

Including the two blondes I had specifically requested from Elias.

The head of security took my decision a lot better than the women. “Next time you place an order, should I check in with you an hour later, boss?”

“I’m not feeling them now.” He nods but I call him back. “Hey, can you get me a replacement cell phone? With all my contacts and shit on it? My old one had an accident.”

Elias doesn’t question me. With a nod, the former Marine carries out both duties—dumping the chicks and figuring out how to replace my phone.

If Jenna was as torn up as Tris says, what made her lose it?

Nothing new has hit the internet. I try to remember what she was saying as she packed, but all I recall is a bunch of gibberish about how I made her miss her mother’s calls.

I might have suggested she call her back when we weren’t busy, either with physical therapy or otherwise, but I never prevented her from talking with her mother.

There’s one unavoidable truth. Something bad happened.

When the last fan has left the building, I follow the band into the limo and we go to the club. I’m not into the scene tonight. My mind’s in Aroostook.

Luke passes me a Manhattan. “Here you go, B.”

“Thanks.” I sip the drink, noting a special flavor. “Hey, I recognize this whisky. Is it from Moray Distillery?”

“You have a good palate.”

“Damn straight.” I take another swallow. “I need to catch up with Callum.” We played at his family distillery’s grand opening in America a year or so back. His now-wife was the brains behind the rockumentary that revived our career after Darren’s death. He’s a great guy.

Luke says, “I heard the distillery is winning all sorts of awards.”

“That’s great.”

“So. About Jenna. Are you ready to talk about what went down with her?”

My shoulders lower. I knew he wouldn’t let it go. “I wish I knew. I was talking with Tris about it earlier, and we both think something is really off.”

Luke raises his hand. “Hold up. You and Tris were talking? No one needed to break you two apart?”

“Keep up or take notes.” I slap him on the back. “Yes, we were talking because, you know, we’re adults and shit.”

“Of course you are.”

My brows come together in a fake scowl. “We are. Anyway, we were discussing how Jenna left the hotel and none of it makes any sense. ”

“I agree with you there. What do you want me to do? Send someone out to her house? Check up on her at the clinics?”

My head shakes. I can’t outsource this recon.

“How about we post some positive stuff about her therapy?”

“Wrong track, Luke. When’s our next concert?”

“Tomorrow night in New Orleans.”

“That’s enough time.” This could work. It better.

“B, what are you cooking up?”

“I need to get to her. Talk with her. Find out what’s really going on.”

A grin breaks his face. “Never thought I’d see the day, but the great and mighty lead singer of UC has finally met his match.”

I don’t refute him. Why? He’s right. “I need her in my life, Luke. I can’t go on like this.”

“I can get the jet fueled and ready for you in an hour. But you have to promise me you’ll be in NOLA in time for the sound check at six tomorrow. Got it?”

“It’s enough time with my girl to figure out what’s happening and set her straight. She needs to be in my life as much as I need to be in hers. We’ll figure things out and make the concert—together.” I rub my palms together.

“I like your positivity. Let me get the jet ready for you.”

He pulls out his phone while I search for Elias. Our head of security stands by an exit door, his eyes on all the band members at once. Impressive. “Hi,” I approach him.

“Hello. Your phone should be here in about an hour.”

“Thanks. Change of plans, though. Can you have it delivered to the jet? I’m taking a quick trip and will need it with me.” I remember Jenna chastising me for asking the impossible. “Only if it’s doable, of course.”

“You got it. I’ll meet you at the jet with your new phone. May I ask where you’re going?”

“To get my girl.”

An hour later, the limo drops me off at the private landing strip. The UC jet is fueled and ready to head out, despite it being almost three a.m. I hand my luggage to the flight crew and watch as a black SUV approaches.

The vehicle stops, and Elias emerges holding a cell phone in his hand. He holds it up as he approaches. “As promised. All your contacts are in here, as are your photos and videos.”

I don’t ask how he managed to get all this done in such a short period of time. Or at all. “You’re a genius.”

“Don’t you forget that come bonus time.”

I laugh and shake his hand. With a wave to security, I climb the stairs to UC’s jet and we take off for the couple hour flight to the Hamptons. Because we’re on a private jet, we’ll be able to land at a private airstrip near Aroostook, and I’ll grab a car service from there to Secluded Rest.

Once again, I’m grateful I didn’t cancel the purchase when things went south with Jenna. I text King to let him know I’ll be crashing there, happy to still have the code. I’m also more than thrilled Elias is on my team. I’d hate to ever go against that guy.

As soon as I get onboard, I take my seat and am fast asleep. “Mr. Hardy. Sir.” My shoulder bounces. “Bennett, I need you to raise your seat.”

I blink, reading the flight attendant’s name tag, Ashley. My wits gather as I realize I’m going to clear the air with Jenna soon. I right my seat for landing.

When I enter the foyer at Secluded Rest, I’m struck with how empty it feels.

Because I’m the only one here. It only becomes alive when Jenna’s here with me.

I take the stairs carefully, so as not to aggravate my pulled muscle, preparing to crash for another few hours.

While I can’t wait to meet up with the woman who has taken up residence in my heart, I can’t do anything to scare her farther away—meeting her in the wee hours of the morning isn’t a good look.

Jenna’s as necessary to my life as air. I need her to understand this.

She has to come back with me. I won’t take no for an answer.

Before I pass out, I receive a text from King letting me know it’s all right for me to use Secluded Rest. Damn good thing, considering I’m already making myself at home here.

A few hours later my phone’s alarm goes off.

Rousing, I turn on the television and flip the channels, landing on the local news.

A story about the graffiti at Jenna’s clinics runs, mentioning her as the Black Widow.

They add in the whole Lissa sideshow. As an extra bonus, some industrious reporter cornered Darren’s mother, who refused to comment. Thankfully.

This has to stop.

The only saving grace is they didn’t show anything about Jenna’s whereabouts, so they don’t know she’s in Aroostook. If I have my way—which I always do—she won’t be here long.

After a quick shower, I put on fresh clothes and call for a car service to take me to Jenna’s house. We pass a florist shop, and I make a quick detour. Back in the car with a bouquet of calla lilies on my lap, we continue to her house.

It’s dark, but it’s still early. No lights are on and her driveway is empty. If she’s not here, where can she be?

I ask the driver, “Can you wait here?”

“It’s your dime.”

Holding the bouquet, I walk up to her front door and ring the bell. When no one answers, I bang on the front door but get the same result. She’s clearly not here.

I drag myself back to the car and give the driver her mother’s address, happy she gave it to me earlier. Considering Jenna was so intent on seeing her when she left me, perhaps that’s where she is now.

This time, when we stop, the house is bustling with activity. Two cars are parked in the driveway, including her Lexus SUV. “Found you.”

Now to convince her she needs to be at my side.