Page 15 of Opening Strain

Luke’s head moves up and down in slow motion. “She was. Was. Past tense.”

My eyes shut. “She agreed? To help me?”

“She did. Took a long while, I have to admit. Her agreement does come with stipulations, though.”

“She’s dictating to us?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘dictating.’” He takes a sip of his coffee. “More like she has some conditions.”

I run my fingers through my hair. “Can’t wait to hear them. Isn’t it bad enough I need her services?”

Luke chuckles. “The first stipulation doesn’t matter to you. It was business.”

My head tilts. “Like what?”

“She negotiated a bigger payout for her services. Necessitated by her second stipulation.” He tips his cardboard coffee cup up to the ceiling, making sure toget every drop.

“Can’t wait to hear this.” I count the ceiling tiles as he switches his position in the chair.

“She’s building a business out on Long Island, as you know. She has two locations, both of which require her attention. She can’t afford to be away from them for any length of time.”

Dread washes over me. “What exactly are you saying?”

Luke straightens his shoulders. “She wants to work with you in her clinic out there.”

I swing forward, aggravating my inner thigh. I manage to contain my yelp of pain but not my grimace. For his part, our manager waits for me to get the pain under control. When it’s subsided, I say, “What if I don’t want to go?”

“C’mon, B. She’s out in Aroostook, which is in the Hamptons. Playground of the rich and famous.”

I let this sink into my brain. “I guess the party scene is hot out there.”

“In season it is.”

“Which won’t begin for months.”

We sit in silence until Luke adds, “King and Angie Hunte live out there year-round. I bet they can hook you up with a sweet rental.”

King is Braxton Hunte’s son, the lead singer of the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame band Hunte. I’ve met the band a few times and would loosely call them slight acquaintances. Also have jammed a couple of times with Braxton’s other son, Trent, of The Light Rail fame. Because we had nothing else to do between tour stops, UC watched “Battle of the Real Estate Matchmakers,” which featured both King and Angie. They seem like the real deal although I’m well aware of how the press can manipulate a story.

I shrug. “I’ve never met them.”

“His father and brother are with Apex Hits. I have friends over there who can introduce you to King, I’m sure.”

A slight grin touches my lips. “Imagine what Kenneth Dumont would say to such blasphemy.” Apex and my label Platinum compete for top spots on the regular. We have Cole Manchester, OzzyMartinez, and Adam Baret, so I think we’re on the winning side. But it’s close.

Luke spreads his hands wide. “Let’s keep this between us.”

Despite the levity, if I agree to this plan, I’m brought back to the fact I’d be working with Jenna. One-on-one. On her home turf. “How long?”

“Right now, we have twelve days until the UC tour starts. So, eleven days. Think you can handle it?”

The gauntlet has been thrown. Eleven days. Less than two weeks. I can do anything for such a short amount of time. Our manager sees my capitulation before I even utter a word. He leaps to his feet—show-off.

Rubbing his hands together, he says, “Pack your bags. You’re going on a short trip.”

I hope this decision doesn’t come back to bite me.

Chapter Six

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