Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
I adjust my regular clothes and stand, walking around the room. When Jenna doesn’t appear after a couple of minutes, I throw my shoulders back and saunter toward the connecting office. Well, saunter would be the accurate term if I didn’t have this big fucking knot on my thigh that refuses to let me walk like normal.
My knuckles rap on her door. A discombobulated voice says, “Come in.” I take note of the undercurrent of resignation, but it doesn’t stop me.
Opening the door, I throw her the smile I use during all our concerts. One that ends up with roadies clearing the stage of bras and panties. Jenna, however, doesn’t appear moved. “Hey, thanks for a good session earlier. I think I made progress this morning.”
Her brow quirks, questioning whether my normal tone now is the real Bennett, or the earlier, flirty one was. I’ll never tell.
“Yeah,” she clears her throat. “Yes, you did well.”
I nod, resting my good hip against a bookcase. “I did learn my lesson from yesterday. I can’t leapfrog ahead in my recovery or else I’ll suffer the consequences.”
“I tried to warn you.”
“Yes, I know. At least I learned quickly—only one try.”
An unwilling laugh comes out of her mouth, which makes me relax against the bookcase. No lasting harm done. “I thought you were going to do five reps.”
“I’m man enough to admit I would’ve been on the floor.”
She walks around her desk and leans against it, mirroring my posture. “Any plans for your afternoon off?”
“I was thinking of checking out the arcade game store. Want to see if I can beat some of the people on the leaderboard.”
Her eyes turn a lighter shade of grey. “I used to spend hours in that place playing Donkey Kong. My sister knew to pick me up from there before dinner.”
“Sister?” This is the first I’ve heard her mention a sister. I thought she was an only child.
“Yeah. She’s ten years older than me, so she’s more like an aunt. Kara’s married and lives in the City with her husband and two kids. We’re not close.”
I take in this new information. Tit for tat. “I’m an only child. Sounds like you were one as well, more or less.”
“Aside from birthday and big holiday texts, we don’t have much to do with each other. I like her though, even if we don’t have much in common.”
“I get it.” I push away from the bookcase. “I don’t want to take up more of your time. I’ll hit the arcade and see you back here in a few hours.”
“Enjoy.”
I don’t push my luck, rather slip out of her office, the workout room, and take the back elevator to the street. Jenna’s filled with mysteries. The more I unpack, the more I enjoy spending time with her.
I stop at the arcade store and play a couple of games of Asteroids Deluxe. By a “couple,” I mean like twenty. My name—rather, “Benjamin Howell”—now sits in the top nine. The scores ahead of me are fierce. I’ll get there. I still have a good week before UC needs me.
At six, I return to the clinic where Jenna leads me through more exercises. She keeps adding repetitions or weights or seconds to holds, so my body continues to improve. If by improving it means not screaming in pain, that is.
She puts the medicine ball away. “You did good tonight. Hop up on the exam table and I’ll get you an ice pack. You’re going to need to elevate your leg as much as possible at home.”
I salute her. “What’s in store for me tomorrow?”
A devious grin crosses her face. “Remember the exercise you tried with the towel on the floor?”
I run my hand through my hair. “Yeah.”
“You’re going to do it for real tomorrow. If these were normal circumstances, I’d have you hold off for a good week but?—”
“These are anything but ‘normal circumstances,’” I finish for her, forcing my heartbeat to not explode from my chest. That exercise fucking hurt. If Jenna thinks I’m ready for it though, I’ll do my best. For her .
Correction: For. Me.
“True. We need to work on your lateral movements. Onstage, you don’t walk in a straight line when you’re performing.”
I extend my fist. “Thanks.”
She bumps it, then retreats into her office. I force my attention to the ice pack, blanking my mind. I don’t need to dwell on the interesting woman making the injury I brought on myself go away. At least, making it lessen.
Shortly, the whisper of a new song echoes in my mind. The lyrics are about seeking help from unlikely sources. I snort. This couldn’t be any more unlikely.
I grab my phone and open the notes app, then put down my thoughts. Perhaps one of these lines will make it into a song I’ll present to UC. Maybe.
The connecting door opens and Jenna reenters the room. “Let me take the ice, and you’ll be free to go for the evening.”
I pass her the pack and fix my grey sweats. I probably should wear shorts tomorrow so the ice will have direct contact. I move my hands next to my hips and swivel to get off the table. Not as painful as the first time, for sure.
“Are you leaving too?”
She nods in agreement. “Let me get my bag and I’ll walk you out.”
“Take your time.” My words are to her retreating back, and by the time I make it to the elevator, she’s already there.
“You may not feel it, but I can see your progress, Bennett. Keep focusing on your recovery.”
“Not like I have much else to keep me occupied.”
“Well, you’re not wrong. Aroostook in the late winter is anything but a bustling metropolis. Focus, and you’ll be ready to go in no time.”
“Meaning a little over a week.” The kickoff of UC’s tour looms above us both. “Do you think,” I cough. “Are there any moves you could teach me to hide my injury from the public when I’m performing?”
“Why don’t you want people to know? It’s not like a major injury or anything.”
“I know. It’s a stupid one. And after we lost Darren, I don’t want to cast a shadow over the band.”
She’s quiet as she takes in my words. “Want a lift?” She stands next to her white Lexus SUV.
“I’d love one, thanks.”
A short time later, she stops at my rental. “Good job today, Bennett,” she praises. “See you tomorrow at eight.”
I don’t want our evening to end, so I think fast. “Do you still think The Godfather part two is better than the original?”
Her hand goes to the back of her ponytail. “It is.”
I sigh. “Too bad. I was going to invite you out for dinner, but I can’t be seen with someone with such bad movie taste.” I hold back my grin.
“Oh well. I’m sure you can find someone who agrees with you.” As soon as I shut the car door, she locks it. “See you in the morning.” The car drives away.
I enter my rental and grab a bottle of water, downing it in a few long swallows. I wish she had taken me up on my dinner invitation. Again, Darren’s face makes an appearance. I get it .
My phone rings with “Cleanin’ Out My Closet.” I can’t bring myself to talk with Mom now. She doesn’t get to stomp all over me twice in one week. Someone else will call if there’s a true emergency.
After a quick change, I walk around the block which, thankfully, is well lit. About three-quarters of the way through the impromptu workout, my groin pull starts to act up. First Jenna, then Mom, and now the injury. Why won’t all this shit go away? I limp to the same restaurant that King and I enjoyed on my first night in town.
At a table for one, I order a hangar steak with garlic mashed potatoes. When the server disappears, Michelle takes her place. “Wow. Twice in one day, I should play the lottery.” She giggles.
The chick’s not too terrible. Her long, brown hair is nice. Her glossy, pink lips look suckable enough. Or they would look nice wrapped around my cock. Still, there’s something off-putting about her. Maybe Angie’s assessment?
Michelle points to the empty chair at my table. “May I join you?”
I guess she’s better than no company. Even if I did want to work more on the new song. “Sure. It’s your death warrant.”
She slinks into the chair. Leaning toward me, she asks, “Are you making progress with your PT?”
Warning signals go up. While she hasn’t said anything to the press—yet—she’s a wild card. I wave my hand. “I am. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal in no time.” I keep my hands on the table instead of rubbing my thigh.
She licks her glossy lips. “My offer still stands. I can get you with a much more reputable physical therapist.”
What does she have against Jenna? My back straightens. “I don’t think it would be good to switch therapists now. I have a program all set, and things are in place. ”
Michelle’s chest juts forward, highlighting her ample rack. “What are your plans when you leave Aroostook?”
This I can answer. “Going on tour with UC. We’ll be on the road for months.” Where I love to be. Performing is amazing, not to mention the adoration of our many fans. Being on tour also means we don’t stay in one place for more than a couple of nights, so anyone who gets too clingy is left in the dust.
Her pointer finger traces her lips. “I bet you do lots of damage to ladies’ hearts.”
I offer her a lopsided grin. “I think we all get what we want.”
She places her forearm on the table. “Sounds intriguing.”
My server chooses this moment to appear, delivering my Manhattan and taking Michelle’s order. A moment later, she reappears with a glass of bubbly.
I lift my glass toward her. “To an entertaining evening.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she giggles.
Michelle and I flirt throughout the night, eating bites off each other’s plates. To be fair, she eats more of my hangar steak than I steal from her Waldorf salad. Why must women always order rabbit food?
After the dirty dishes are taken away, Michelle’s hands land on her flat stomach. “I’m stuffed.” She pauses. “At least my stomach is full.”
This is where I should invite myself into her room and panties. She’s gorgeous and knows how to use that mouth of hers, judging by the way she handled the cherry garnish from my drink.
Several facts counsel against this plan of action. One, the doctor prescribed no sex until I’m healed. Two, I have an early wake-up call for PT tomorrow. Three, Michelle’s not real. Like all the rest, her plastic looks good on camera and is about as deep as her profile pic.
For the first time, I realize I want a true connection with someone rather than a fleeting moment of pleasure. To be with someone who sees beyond my rock star persona. I freeze. Why on earth would anyone want to see the real me? There’s nothing but disappointment and failure lurking beneath this well-groomed surface .
I guess I’m doomed to be with chicks like Michelle forever. Jenna pops into my mind, and I dismiss her—such a multi-faceted brilliant woman would have nothing to do with me, even if Darren weren’t floating between us.
I gaze at the chick sitting across from me but can’t muster any passion for her. I need to let her down with care, so she doesn’t blab to the world about my whereabouts and why I’m here.
“I had a great time with you, Michelle. I wish this evening could continue, but I’m under strict doctor’s orders to remain celibate until my injury is healed. I hope you understand.”
Her plump lips purse. “Jenna imposed a no-sex rule on you? Seriously?”
I shake my head. “The order came from my doctor in New York City.” Not a lie.
“Well,” she coos. “There are plenty of other activities we could enjoy without going all the way. I could lick your six-pack.” Her eyes skim down my torso. “You could lick my...” She cups her tits.
“As enticing as your offer is, Michelle, I think I’m going to have to pass tonight.” I reach into my wallet and leave a wad of cash on the table. Standing, I walk to her chair and pull it back. “Who knows? Perhaps another time?”
She scrambles to her feet. “Watch and drool.”
Hips swaying, she walks out of the restaurant. Not a drop of saliva enters my mouth. Under my breath, I mutter. “Or not.”