Page 32 of Opening Strain

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 thinkTheGodfatherpart 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 whoagrees 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.

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