Chapter 3
Chapter Three
K enneth hands Luke a bottle of Dom. The cork springs free and glasses are passed around to the band, our techs, and roadies. While not my first choice of drink, this news calls for a special celebration.
Chico, our guitar tech, approaches me holding an ice pack. “Luke said you needed this?”
I toss back the bubbly. “Yeah. Twisted something out on stage. The ice should help.” He passes me the pack, and I return to my chair to put it in place.
“You all rocked it out there. It’s great for you to be back on the big stage. Where you belong.”
The pack keeps falling off my thigh, so I put the glass down on a side table and position it better, keeping my fingers on an edge. “Thanks. It was a great time.”
“You had the audience in the palm of your hand,” Chico notes. “Like old times, right?”
I pause for a moment. “It was heady, for sure. Hearing them echo our lyrics never gets old.”
“I can only imagine.” He points to the pack. “Is this helping? ”
Shrugging, I resist the urge to remove the ice pack. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really bother me when I’m sitting. It’s only when I’m up and moving.”
He looks like he wants to say something else, but the band joins us at my chair. Twirling his gold hoop earrings, Coop asks. “Leg still effed up?”
“Not when I’m sitting,” I reply. “If only it would stop hurting like a scorned groupie when I get up.”
“I bet it was that crazy-ass jump you did,” a shirtless Río pipes up. “Have to say, from my vantage point behind the drums, it was fire.”
I fidget with the ice pack. “Thanks. It certainly felt right in the moment.”
Tris fiddles with what appears to be a friendship bracelet. Never noticed it before. “Hope you didn’t do anything to your groin muscle, dude. That shit takes forever to heal. My uncle pulled his and wasn’t right for like a year.”
A groan from all of us goes up in response. 007 smacks him behind the head. He adjusts his studded belt—the one that used to be Darren’s—and in the worst Austrian accent known to mankind, says, “It’s not a tumor.”
The groans turn into chuckles. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I placate the band. “A little ice and some Advil and I’ll be on the dancefloor in no time.”
“Sure hope so,” Río chips in, then takes one step to the side. “On second thought, with you on the sidelines, that means more girls for the rest of us. Hope your leg is out of commission for a long while.”
I purse my lips. “Then I won’t be performing at the concerts.” I shrug. “Guess you don’t want to go on tour.”
Río scratches his nose. “Hope your leg is back after the weekend. I have no problem picking up the slack and entertaining the fairer sex for the next few days.”
He bumps against Coop, who agrees, “Yeah. We certainly can take a few additional ladies each to make up for your being missing this weekend. It’s not a hardship. ”
“Call dibs on a blonde!” 007 adds unhelpfully.
I turn toward Tris, who has yet to capitalize on his apparent good fortune. “Redheads are my favorite,” he murmurs.
I force a laugh over all their antics. “Sorry to disappoint you all, but my money’s on partying with you tonight. However, I might take my celebration to a private location and not share any of the women.”
Coop holds up his phone. “I know you think this is nothing, but do you want me to call anyone?”
“No.” Everyone who needs to know is right here in the room. I don’t have any other people in my life. It’s better this way. My small circle of acquaintances suits me.
Río frowns. “Are you sure? You never talk about other friends because, hey, when you have UC twenty-four seven, why do you need anyone else?” The group laughs. “But what about your mom? Shouldn’t she be notified?”
“There’s nothing to tell her. I’m fine.” I play with the end of the ice pack. In truth, she’s the last person on earth I’d call if I needed help.
Río replies, “Message received, buddy.” He hits me on top of the ice pack and shooting pain screams throughout my body.
“That fucking hurt,” I hiss.
“Sorry man,” Río says. “I thought it wasn’t so bad.”
Through gritted teeth, I answer, “When it’s left alone.”
Brows together, Coop leans toward me. “Are you sure you’re all right? Want me to get a doctor?”
“Luke is,” I pant, “getting someone.” I take several deep breaths.
Noise around me stops. One by one, each of the guy’s mouths shut. I follow their gazes to the threshold, and my own mouth seals.
All the air in the room disappears.
My brain seizes.
Why on earth is she here?
Luke ushers Jenna Westfield toward me. Our manager and Darren’s ex whisper between themselves. Tris’s head tilts. Río’s brows pull together. Coop’s eyes reach his hairline. 007’s face glows red.
I bite my inner cheeks.
Luke draws our attention. “Guys, we were lucky to have a physical therapist in the audience.”
“Administrator,” Jenna corrects him.
He continues without acknowledging she spoke. “We need to get Bennett checked out.”
Hands on hips, chest pumping in and out, a red-faced 007 stares her down. In a bellow sure to be heard several states over, he howls, “Get someone else.”
I don’t want Jenna to touch me.
I don’t want to revisit our initial conversation.
I don’t want to be gut punched by Darren, even from the grave.
Still, if Luke brought her to check on me, I’m pretty sure there were no other options. I need to take control of this situation. And fast. “Guys. I’m sure it’s nothing. Remember, Darren praised her work with his wrist injury. I’m going to let her take a quick look at my leg, and then we’ll all be on our way.”
Luke shoos the rest of the band away from us, muttering something about giving us privacy. He literally has to push 007.
Above the jackhammers pounding through my body, I manage, “Hey, Jenna.”
“Bennett.” She removes the ice pack from my thigh. Of course, I’m still wearing my black leather pants from performing, but they’re going nowhere. On the other hand, my torso is bare. Wonderful.
Over the leather, her hands skim my legs. She kneads my upper thigh. She manipulates my leg, causing a bit of discomfort. A bit? It fucking hurts! I remind myself she’s doing an exam, nothing more. To keep my thoughts away from the no-go zone, I imagine the most boring task I can—a meeting with my CPA.
This distraction works for a minute, until she tells me to stand. Unsteady, I rise out of the chair. Relying on my good leg, I stand before her and she continues running tests .
She pulls my leg away from my body and tells me to push against her hand. I try, and maybe succeed a little, but the pain is blinding. My ass lands in the chair again.
“What I thought,” she whispers to herself.
“What is it?” I ask.
Her pink tongue licks her lips. “I’m no doctor, but if I had to guess, you have a grade two groin pull.”
I repeat her diagnosis. “How long til I’m normal again?”
“Normal?” Her eyebrow quirks. She replaces the ice pack on my thigh, which is throbbing from all the work she put it through. Which honestly, wasn’t much.
Being in Jenna’s presence again after two years is playing havoc with my mind. She’s Darren’s. Was Darren’s. Seeing her in the movie was one thing, but now in person? It’s messed up.
“Assuming I’m right, you’ll be healed in no time.”
I melt into the chair and take a long look at her. She’s thinner than I remember. Than even in the movie. Her sandy blonde hair is longer too, which she’s wearing in a ponytail. Not the stylish cut she used to sport.
I can’t allow myself to chronicle her other changes. “What does ‘no time’ mean?”
“I think you should see a doctor.”
My clenched fist bangs on the chair’s armrest. “All because of a stupid jump?” From the corner of my eye, I notice Luke starting in our direction.
In a voice quieter than I remember, she says, “Injuries can happen anywhere, Bennett. People get hurt in their own homes all the time.”
“Whatever.” I wave my hand as Luke joins us. “I repeat my earlier question. How long until I’m better?”
Jenna glances from Luke to me. “A grade two pull usually takes three to six weeks recovery time.”
I suck in my breath. “No way! I have two weeks until our first sold-out concert!”