Page 12 of Opening Strain

“Before he died.”

Boom. No arguing with me here.

Luke clears his throat. “Yes. Before he overdosed, B. Heoverdosed. That wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. Certainly not Jenna’s. She wasn’t even in the state.”

The sunroof provides a much-needed glimpse of the sky. “Fine. I agree Jenna had nothing to do with his death.”

We ride in silence for a full minute. The vehicle turns right, and he asks, “Do you know another physical therapist? Cause I don’t.”

My mind races. “No, but there has to be some website we can check out.” I fumble with my phone. “Here’s one: At Your Service PT. It has great reviews. Sounds good to me.” I flip through the website, clicking on About Us. “Fuck. This is Jenna’s company.” I toss my phone

“It’s the universe telling us something.”

A factoid niggles in the back of my mind. “Didn’t Jenna say she’s an administrator now?” I retrieve my phone and read, “‘Founded by Jenna Westfield, At Your Service PT aims to help yourecover from surgery or injury...’ Blah, blah, blah. Here it is: ‘Ms. Westfield is the administrator for the company, now in two locations.’ See, I was right. She doesn’t do therapy anymore.”

Luke shakes his head, causing his hair to brush against his shoulders. “How about this. We call”—he notices my stiffening posture—“Icall Jenna and tell her your diagnosis. Perhaps she can recommend one of her therapists to work with you?”

My cheeks pull inward. “I don’t think we should have anything to do with her, out of respect for Darren.”

Now my manager’s cheeks suck inward. “Do you really think Darren wouldn’t want UC to associate with his girlfriend?”

My eyes slam shut. “No,” I whisper. “He was proud of her, both as his girlfriend and as a professional. My guess is he’d be super pissed at us fornotwanting to use her services.” I watch featureless scenery pass.

Silence rings out for the remainder of our trip back to the hotel. I consider various pros and cons of working with Jenna. Pros: she’s damn good at what she does, witnessed by the undeniable fact she rehabbed Darren in record time. Cons: she’s local to New York City and my main base is in LA; she’s now an administrator and doesn’t practice anymore; she was Darren’s girlfriend. Perhaps overriding everything, she was the first—and only—woman to make me rethink my no girlfriend policy, instituted after Lissa’s betrayal in high school.

Somewhere deep inside, Darren gives me the stink eye.

Walking toward the elevators, I stop, causing Luke to halt his progress too. I take a deep breath. “If Jenna agrees to work with me herself, I’ll do it.”

Please, let her say no.

Chapter Five

We enter the hotel and Río’s boisterous voice floats from the lobby bar. Luke taps me on my shoulder with his cell. “You go ahead. I have a phone call to make.”

I lift my hand and enter the bar. “Bennett!” As if on an ancient episode of “Cheers,” the entire clientele greets me. I wave and join the band at a table, where a Manhattan is placed in front of me.

As I swirl the cherry, I remark, “Kinda early to get your drink on, guys.”

Río holds up a Gold Rush, a bourbon whiskey sour, his drink of choice ever since we discovered it a few years ago. “Hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He starts singing the Jimmy Buffet song, getting everyone singing the refrain. I even join his craziness.

Coop moves next to me. “What did the doctor say? Was Jenna right?”

I sip my drink, my stomach starting to churn. Perhaps it’s the fact I missed breakfast and spent the past few hours being poked and prodded. “Sort of.” I point at a menu sitting on the table. “Can you hand me that?”

Distracted for a moment, Coop passes it to me. Río, 007, and Triscrowd in the table. After I place my order for a cheeseburger and fries, sparked by Río’s choice of song, I explain, “Jenna hit it on the head. I do have a groin pull. She was wrong, though, about the grade level. It’s a three and not a two.”

Shit. The doctor said I need to ice it. When the server returns with a bottle of ketchup, I ask for an ice pack. All the while, the guys have been dissecting my proper diagnosis, and have learned about the recovery time, thanks to the internet and their cell phones.

“Yeah, so the doc said I can be on tour with UC as planned, so long as I ice it for a few days and then do these exercises.” I hold up the folder he gave me.

“Dude, there’s some serious exercises in here,” Coop pronounces after flipping through the pages.

Río elbows 007 in the stomach. “We can set up visitation rights to you in the gym.”

I rub two fingers across my nose. “Not exactly.” When I have eight eyes on me, I continue, “He prescribed PT.”

“As in physical therapy?” 007 shifts in his seat.

---