Page 12 of Mic Drop

“You’ll only need this one. Have your records sent to this office.” I give her the contact information. “I’m sure you’ll have a new outlook after we meet with him tonight.” I can’t believe I was able to get him to agree to meet us at six o’clock. I think he likes working with challenging cases, though it’s hard to admit Ma’s case is “challenging.”

She forwards her medical records and reclines in her chair. “Would you mind making me some tea, Sweet Pea? Then I want you to go to your clinics and sort out all of the ruckus Michelle’s been raising.”

I make us both cups of herbal tea. In the living room, we drink and discuss all sorts of meaningless topics, from the royal family’s latest scandal to the upcoming summer season in the Hamptons. Shetakes special interest in hearing about the new park overlooking the water.

After an hour, her eyelids droop and she falls asleep. I take her mug and bring it, together with mine, to the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher. Since we still have hours before her appointment, I decide to take her advice and go to the clinic, making sure to leave her a note so she knows where I am.

Court rushes to my side and gives me a big hug when I enter the building via the back entrance. No need to tip off the media of my whereabouts. She catches me up on the business, which has fallen off quite a bit, approaching the eight percent mark. My entire body plummets.

“Court, we have to get these numbers back where they were. I’m afraid I might lose the funding for the third clinic if they stay at this level.” Not to mention funding for the fourth one was contingent upon my completing Bennett’s therapy, which is off the table now.

“I know. I’m sure it’s only a blip, thanks to the graffiti.” She sighs. “I had the sidewalks cleaned and everything seems to be fine now.”

“How’s our contest going?” She fills me in on the details. Quite a few people have already entered, but not as many as we had hoped. We have to do something bigger to fix this sinking ship. Why is every part of my life in freefall?

CNN plays a segment featuring Lissa, and my heart leaps to my throat. With a calm I don’t feel, I hit the power button.

Court asks, “How did Bennett take your coming home?”

“He told me to come.” Not repeating his exact words.

“That’s good. I’m glad he’s supporting you.”

A sob catches in my throat. Court is my best friend, and I need to share. The floodgates open. “Not exactly. Bennett wouldn’t let me explain, thinking I was mad at him for suggesting we use UC’s PR team to handle Michelle.”

“What? Why would you turn that offer down?”

“We don’t need them.” I fix my already perfect ponytail. “We got this contest going. You’ve cleaned up. We’ll befine.”

“There’s fine and then there’s moving forward. I’m sure the PR team could give us some good pointers.”

“I can’t be beholden to him or the band for my livelihood.”

She squares some papers on her desk. “I don’t want to say this, but it’s not only your livelihood we’re talking about here. You have several physical therapists working for you. Felipe, Greyson, Sylvia, and Austin are all managers, or soon will be. And me. We’re in this together. If a top-notch andfreePR team could give us new ideas, I think we should listen to them.”

She makes sense. “I hear you, Court. I really do. But I think the situation’s changed now. Bennett’s no longer at my side. Besides, the PR team has his debacle to worry about.” I point to the TV. “We’ll muddle through. We always do.” I muster up more bravado than I feel.

Court stands and walks over to me, reaching down to give me a hug. “You’re right. I was only trying to lighten your load. Are you sure things have truly ended with Bennett? He was good for you.”

She makes it sound so final. I guess it is. Ma is more important to me than living the high life with a rock star on tour. “We both knew it wouldn’t last. I’m not cut out for his life. More importantly, he can’t understand mine.” I suck in air. “Ma’s dying, Court.”

“What?” She rushes to pull me into a warm hug. “Talk to me.”

Between tears, I tell her about the diagnosis and how she’s handling things. My best friend doesn’t try to sugarcoat it for me, rather lets me cry it out.

“Why don’t you take a walk on the boardwalk and clear your head?”

“Do I look that messed up?”

She gives me a pained smile. “Fresh air will help.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I grumble. Slipping into the back elevator to go down, I take a quiet route to the ocean and breathe in the salty air.

My number one priority has to be getting Ma back to full health. I can’t even focus on my clinics until this goal is achieved. Court hasthe graffiti well in hand—so long as Michelle doesn’t pull anything else, we should weather this storm. I can’t focus on Bennett’s PR disaster as well. His team can clean his mess up.

An image of Lissa pops into my mind. With her perky boobs, girl-next-door baby blues, and long, bleached blonde hair. How could I compete with the likes of her anyway? Seems like love means one thing to me, and another to rock stars.

I sit on a bench and watch the waves roll in. The weather is perfect for spring, meaning it’s too cold to enjoy the beach, which serves me fine. In the summer, this place is packed with sun worshippers. Today, I have it all to myself.

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