Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
T he hostess takes one look at me and ignores the rest of the customers, including Jenna and her mother. She scribbles something onto a notepad and rips it off, passing it to me. Without checking it’s her phone number—because all these notes are the same—I stuff it into my pocket.
“For later, okay?”
I’m used to this type of behavior, yet I know it’s not welcomed by Jenna or her mother. I lean toward the young lady. “We’re here celebrating her birthday.” I tip my head toward Jenna. “Can you please check your reservation book?”
“What?” Glazed blue eyes meet mine.
“Our reservation,” I persist.
“Oh.” Her pen slides down the book. “For Westfield, right?”
At least she remembered this part of her job. “Yes.”
Fake eyelashes bat at me. She picks up three menus and instructs us to follow her. If her hips swayed any faster, she could get a job as a metronome. She escorts us to our table and makes a show of giving us our menus. When she gets to me, last, she bends over and whispers in my ear, “I get off at eleven. I can make your evening better than your sister and mother ever could dare imagine.”
I shake my head and tilt my head back to her ear. “She’s not my sister.” Her cheeks hollow and she scurries away.
Laughing, I take the napkin off the plate and flick it before putting it on my lap. When I look at the table, both my dinner companions are staring at me with identical expressions. I keep my mouth closed.
Mrs. Westfield—Faith—is the first to break. “I have to know. What did you say to that trollop?”
I like this woman. “Only the truth.”
She starts to open her mouth, but Jenna barges into the breach. “Believe me, you don’t want to know. Don’t forget, Bennett here is the reckless one.”
I scowl at my physical therapist. Her mother pats her daughter’s hand. “Oh yeah. I remember now.” They both turn toward me.
“I’m not reckless. I may have done some stupid sh— stuff, but I’m not irresponsible. I’m the one who handles all the band business, after all.” That’s the truth.
“Fine,” Jenna acknowledges. “You’re sort of the ringleader. The guys all follow your lead.”
Somehow, I’m not sure she means this as a compliment. I don’t get to question her because she receives a text. “It’s from Kara,” she tells her mother. “She wishes me a happy birthday.”
Her mother’s smile could be seen all the way to Manhattan. “Did you tell her you’re out to dinner with me?” Grey eyes, so like her daughter’s, swing toward me. “And Bennett?”
“I said we were out celebrating. I didn’t mention anything about Bennett.”
“The man is right here, Jenna. Tell your sister,” her mother tusks.
Jenna blows her hair out of her eyes. “How about I take a photo? Speaks a thousand words.”
Faith replies, “Good thought.”
The server arrives and Faith asks him to take a photo of all three of us, which he obliges. Drink and meal orders given, he disappears. Jenna taps on her phone, then places it on top of the table. “Sent.”
I remember Jenna telling me she and her sister aren’t close on account of the fact she’s ten years older, married, and lives in the City with her two kids. I address Faith. “What does Kara do?”
“She’s an anesthesiologist in Manhattan. Her husband’s a cosmetic surgeon.”
My eyebrows raise. “Health care is in your family’s blood.”
Faith preens. “Sure is.” She taps Jenna. “My little Jenna already has two physical therapy clinics and is working on another. I’m so proud of her.”
Faith’s obvious pride in her daughter’s accomplishments is in stark contrast to how my own mother is with me. For a moment, I long for such a loving relationship. In my next breath, I shut it down. It is what it is—no use in wanting something I’ll never have.
After the server delivers our drinks and leaves a bread basket, Faith asks, “So tell me, Bennett. How did you come to be part of Untamed Coaster?”
Her question makes the tips of my ears heat. Do I tell her the version we share with the media or give her more of the real scoop? I don’t know what Jenna’s told her, so I start with the sanitized version.
“It all started when we worked together at an amusement park ages ago. We met because we were assigned to a rollercoaster ride called Untamed Coaster. Formed a lifelong bond and here we are today.”
Like magic. No problems. No difficulties to overcome. Except she knows we lost Darren.
Jenna doesn’t let my story stand. “Now, Bennett, that’s not the full extent of it. I remember Darren telling me he had to practically beg you to drop out of high school and join the band.”
Yup. Like that, I slink lower on Faith’s ranking scale. Her daughter’s an anesthesiologist, her son-in-law’s a cosmetic surgeon, her other daughter owns two—soon-to-be three—physical therapy clinics. Me? I’m the deadbeat dropout rock star at the table. Wonderful .
“Seems to me you made a good decision,” her mother says. Her eyes are clear and steady. She’s not lying.
“I’d like to think so.” I fiddle with the fork at my place setting. “I got my GED, though. The band all got into prepping me.”
Jenna tucks her hair behind her ear. “I can only imagine how Darren helped. What was his specialty? Annoying teachers? Music theory?” She pauses. “How about creative writing.” The gleam in her eyes extinguishes as she travels down this dark path.
I decide to lighten them up again. “No, he was a hardass over history.”
Jenna sits back. “History?”
“Yup. He used to hold up the GED study guide and quiz me on dates. He did this for hours. He didn’t know a single one of them himself, but he made sure I knew them. I remember he used to make up songs for the major battles of the Revolutionary and Civil Wars.” I chuckle, still able to hear echoes of his crazy lyrics.
Faith joins me with a light laugh. “I can only imagine. Did he have one for the Gettysburg Address?”
I tilt my head. “All I remember is ‘Four score and seven years, oh what the heck time is that? Who talks like that anyway? Guess it doesn’t matter cause Abe boy said it. Oh-ah.’”
All three of us are laughing when our server delivers our meals. Before we dig in, Faith wipes a tear from her eye. “‘Abe boy’?”
I shrug. “Darren liked to personalize historic figures. George Washington was Georgie. Martin Luther King, Jr. was Marty.” More laughter, even from Jenna. It feels good to talk about Darren without having such a dark cloud associated with his name.
Faith regains her composure. “So Darren convinced you to drop out of high school to join the band. What did your parents think?”
My good humor is short-lived. I pick up my fork. “My dad had passed away a few weeks before. My mom and I aren’t too close, so she didn’t mind.”
Faith’s smile falls off her face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m sure it was a difficult time for all of you.”
I need to right this ship. Without looking at Jenna, I say, “Well, over a decade has passed. I’ve always taken care of my mother, so I think she forgives me.” For cutting out of town, sure. Not for the other. Never for that. I lean on my forearms. “The guys and I get together and play music. We’ve added Tristan on keys, but otherwise, we’re still the same group who got together and played since high school. Except now we have fans.”
Nice whitewash. No mention of the groupies. Or boasting about our platinum records and awards. We all dig into our meals. The flavors are delicious.
Jenna swallows. “Darren used to say UC was a cohesive unit. Don’t you all still hang out even when you’re not performing? He said you were the quintessential band of brothers who also rocked the house.”
“Maybe in Darren’s eyes, that’s how UC was. He was best friends with 007”—I look at Faith and amend—“Our bassist, Pierce DeLuca. They were almost inseparable.” I leave out the part about them sharing everything , until Jenna came along. “They were the ideal you’re talking about.”
“Darren talked about hanging out with you guys on the bus, going from concert to concert. He had lots of great things to say about you and the rest of the band.” Jenna addresses her mother. “He didn’t lie to me about that, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Faith responds. “Maybe Bennett here has a different outlook?”
I don’t want their pity. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead. I don’t want to be thought of as antisocial. I’m not. Simply like to keep things close to my vest, as the saying goes. “Listen, Darren’s version of UC is a nice ideal. Something we should all strive to achieve.”
My response satisfies Faith, who puts her glass down on the table. “Seems to me the band is a great group of friends who are enjoying the high life. Nothing wrong with that.”
A flicker passes between the two women. Something unspoken. Jenna changes the subject to our lunch today. “Then Michelle came out of nowhere and hip-checked poor Bennett, hitting his injury point-blank.”
“Oh no,” Faith’s grey eyes sear me. “Are you alright? Jenna’s told me all about your progress.”
I rub my thigh. “I’m good now. Rest and icing it helps. Of course, so long as your demon daughter isn’t making me stand on one leg and do tree pose.”
“I do no such thing!” Jenna roars, her fork landing on her nearly empty plate.
I wink at her and direct my attention to her mother. “Did you know your daughter has no sense of compassion? I begged her not to make me hold the yoga pose for longer than thirty seconds, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Jenna!” Faith accuses my physical therapist. “Tell me you do no such thing. Bennett needs to heal, not be sent to the hospital.”
I place my hand over my heart. “I swear.”
Jenna gets a wicked glint in her eyes. “I only told him to do the pose because he said my exercises were too easy for him, considering what good shape he’s in. I didn’t want to disappoint.”
Gauntlet thrown. “I never made such a statement. You were the one who told me to take off my shirt so you could massage my thigh better.” Take that.
“Oh yeah?” Jenna counters. “I’ve seen better six-packs in liquor stores.”
Faith intervenes. “So he has a six pack?”
Busted . I lean back and watch Jenna try to squirm off this hook. One of her own making.
“It’s not too defined,” she starts. “I mean, if you squint real hard, you might see a few dips and divots.”
I cross my arms. This is getting interesting.
She glances at her mother. “Besides, he was sweating after doing squats. I only suggested he take off his shirt—” She stops talking.
“So you could ogle my goods?” I supply. Love that I got her to lie and say she told me to take off my shirt.
“No, you pervert.” She tosses her crumpled cocktail napkin toward me. “For you to rest comfortably.”
“I think that clears everything up,” her mother quips. Returning to her daughter, she asks, “I do need you to back up a little. Did you say Michelle was the person who bumped into him during lunch?”
Jenna sighs. “Yes. She showed up at the restaurant.”
“From out of nowhere,” I supply.
Faith nods. “I can only imagine. That girl’s been a thorn in your side since forever.”
I wait for further explanation, but none comes. So I ask the obvious question. “Why?”
The two ladies look at each other. Standing, Jenna excuses herself to go to the bathroom and her mother dives in. “Jenna and Michelle went to school together—from elementary through high school. She always was jealous of my Jenna. When they were seniors, Jenna had this boyfriend. Thad? Theo? Tim? Something like that.” She shakes her head.
When she doesn’t continue, I prompt her. “So Jenna was dating this guy?”
“Oh right. Yes. They were dating a few months when all of a sudden Michelle got a makeover. Highlighted her hair, fake lashes. Changed up her makeup and started wearing tight, tight clothes.”
“Still does.”
Faith continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “Before the senior prom, Jenna was convinced Thaine… That’s it! Rhymes with rain.” She taps her brow as if to congratulate herself. “Anyway, she was positive Thaine would invite her to be his date. Only the invite never came because Michelle went over to his house and asked him first.”
I can only imagine what her invitation consisted of—probably at least a hand job. No horny seventeen-year-old would turn that down. Hell, I wouldn’t at that age. The thought of Lissa giving me one would’ve sent me over the moon.
“My Jenna was devastated. Especially when the photos came out and the couple was all over each other. ”
“So Michelle stole Jenna’s boyfriend. Seems like Jenna was the one who would have the axe to grind.”
Faith takes a final sip from her drink. “I don’t know all the details, but I think Jenna might have done something, because one day, Michelle showed up with a brand new, short haircut.”
I rear back and laugh. Only Jenna. “Oh my. Remind me never to get on your daughter’s bad side.”
“Anyway,” her mother elongates the first syllable. “Soon they both went away for college. Michelle got an art scholarship, but it apparently didn’t go anywhere since she now works as a receptionist for a local doctor. She does do everything in her power, however, not to refer patients to Jenna’s clinics.”
All her trash talk about Jenna makes sense. “Guess she never got over the school rivalry.”
Jenna slips into her seat. “Everything alright here?”
“Of course, Sweet Pea.” Faith turns toward me, the last bite of her entrée on her fork. “Please finish your story, Bennett. Where is your mother now?”
I won’t give up too much information, even to such a nice lady. One who calls her daughter Sweet Pea. “She lives in New Jersey.” I stop, then add “Where I’m from.”
“I’m sure she has a great support system around her. Like I do here in Aroostook.”
“The people around here seem nice,” I deflect. Faith is so different from any of the other mothers I’ve known. To be fair, I don’t have much of a relationship with the band’s mothers, except Mother Hilliard—who’s faded into the background since Darren passed. “Present company included.”
“Why, thank you.” Her stomach gurgles, causing her hand to land on top of it. “Oh my. Please excuse me, I think it’s my turn to use the ladies.’” She gets to her feet and leaves.
“I like your mom,” I admit.
“She’s pretty awesome. I’ve been through so much with her. She always gives me the best advice.” Jenna tucks her blonde hair behind her ear. “Ma’s had it rough, though. My father split when I was only five.”
Words fail me. I reach out and clasp her hand.
She stares at our joined hands. “Thanks. I was young and don’t remember much. Kara resented me for the longest time about it, saying I broke up her family. Since she’s gotten married, I think she has a different perspective on things.” Her hand moves from mine to the salt and pepper shakers on the table.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I feel compelled to tell her.
“I know. Babies don’t solve problems underlying a marriage.”
Wow. That’s some deep shit. “Shrink?”
“Years,” she admits. She moves the remnants of her food around her plate. “Ma’s an amazing woman. I hope to be worthy of being her daughter someday.”
“You already have two physical therapy clinics under your belt. The way she talks and looks at you, I’d say you are more than worthy.”
“Thanks.”
The woman of the hour returns. “Guys, I think I’m going to head out. I ate something that didn’t quite agree with me.”
Jenna pushes away from the table. “I’ll get the car brought to the front.” She opens her purse to look for the valet ticket.
I’m about to stand when her mother says, “No. Stay. We haven’t had dessert yet, and you and I both know that’s the best part of the meal.”
“Ma, I don’t want you to go home by yourself.”
“Nonsense, I do it all the time. Can you please order me a car service?”
Sensing Jenna’s dilemma, I whip out my cell and call one up. Selfishly, I want to spend alone time with my physical therapist. “All ordered.”
“Aren’t you sweet? Thanks.” Her mother bends down and whispers something in her daughter’s ear, to which Jenna seems to disagree. I’m sure it’s about her ducking out early. In any event, the pair end their standoff when I say the car’s out front.
With a hug for her daughter and a small wave to me, Faith exits the restaurant.
“Everything okay?” I finish my drink.
“Yes.” Jenna plays with her hair. “I don’t like Ma leaving early.”
“I’m sure she’ll feel better soon and you two can go on a makeup date.” Something in her demeanor tells me she’s not sharing the whole truth. “Sweet Pea.”
Jenna’s scowling at me when the server comes and clears the plates. She drops a dessert menu for us to share, so I slide into Faith’s abandoned chair. Not without aggravating my pulled fucking muscle, though.
Ignoring the throbbing, I ask, “See anything you like?”
I sure do.