Page 74 of Mic Drop

“Jenna, I’ve never heard you talk like this. You sound so...callous.”

“I’m not being callous. Not at all. Merely realistic. What Bennett and I had was a lovely interlude in an otherwise awful situation. He agrees.” I hold up my bare left hand. “He took back his rings and everything. I’m sure he’ll be able to return them and get most of his money back.” Since I didn’t pay for his wedding ring, I didn’t have to deal with this minor detail, on top of handling all of Ma’s loose ends.

Court grabs my left hand. “Oh my God. You’re not lying?”

“Why would I lie? We gave a dying woman her last wish, and now we’re getting out of it.” I point to the list of attorneys. “Who should I pick?”

Court pulls back. “I don’t agree with what you just said. I was there at the beginning, remember? You fell for him, I know it. You were happy at your wedding. Glowing even. So was your mother. Bennett was beside himself with joy. You can’t mean this.”

I pat her hand. “Believe me, it’s the truth. The sooner I can put this whole episode behind me, the better. Did you know my father showed up at the funeral?”

“What?” Her head flips from side to side. “No. Why was he there?”

Our discussion moves away from my misguided marriage to talk about the man who left Ma when I was five. We eventually move on to discussing the clinics’ patient load.

“I did have a lunch meeting with Dr. Marlow,” I remind Court. No need to mention it being cut short because of the phone call from Kara about Ma. “He promised his office would be sending more of his patients our way. Michelle has to listen to her boss.” I lean back, crossing my arms. “Checkmate, Michelle.”

Turns out it was more like check.

Two days later, I’m sitting at my dining room table sorting through Ma’s accounts. She squirreled some money in one bank, more in another, with another five I still need to check. Rubbing my eyes, I plead for help. No one responds.

My phone chimes with an alert. I finally turned all of my alerts back on last night, thinking the worst would have passed. Over a thousand texts, voicemails, social media messages, and notifications proved otherwise. So I did what any normal person would do, and ignored all but a very select few.

The divorce attorney I selected to represent me.

My sister.

Court.

All the rest can fly off into the ether, for all I care. The Google alert chimes again, and I consider disabling it as well, but it’s set for At Your Service PT and I need to know if there are any hits on my business. I click on the alert.

The headline says it all. “At Your Service Gives Happy Endings.” I skim the article. “Sources say” my physical therapy clinics are fronts for a massive prostitution ring in the Hamptons. Even Darren’s mother is quoted.

I jump to my feet. You have got to be kidding me. Seems like Bennett was correct on this one thing—Michelle couldn’t have cooked this up on her own. Lissa had to have helped. Darren’s mother simply added fuel to their fire.

I pace through my kitchen, trying to figure out a way to shut this story down before it gains legs. Besides the obvious denials and patient testimonials, I need to clap back. I might have a relatively easy target against Michelle, considering she works for Dr. Marlow, who seemed to be on my side.

The wildcard is Lissa. Bennett’s ex. How can I get her to back off? Hell, I’m no longer with Bennett, so what does she want with me anyway?

It hits me. The world doesn’t know we’ve called it off. All I need to do is alert them to our upcoming divorce and everyone willleave me alone. I have an initial meeting with the attorney later today and we can discuss this. More settled than I have been in a while, I return to focusing on Ma’s accounts.

At two o’clock, I walk into the legal office and am escorted into a nicely appointed conference room. Important-looking books line the walls with titles likeNew York Divorce LawandThe Statute of Limitations. Clearly exciting reading.

The attorney, Suzette Pounds, enters the room carrying a notebook and we discuss my short-lived marriage. When we’re through most of the details, I say, “Sorry to put a rush on this, but I have a situation that needs to be addressed, and I thought getting my divorce out there would be the best way to handle it.”

“What’s going on?” I explain to her about Lissa and Michelle’s vicious attack on my business. “That certainly puts a spin on things,” Suzette notes. “If the divorce is as amicable as you make it sound, as soon as we serve Bennett with the papers, we can go public. The reporters should get off your back.”

“I hope so.” Lissa and Michelle don’t seem the type to back away, but if the media loses interest in me, they won’t have any other option. Besides, Lissa’s only after me because of Bennett. When she realizes we’re through, she’ll try another tactic.

“To expedite things, how about asking Bennett where we should serve him,” Suzette says. “The documents will be ready to go in the morning. You have a straightforward case.”

“I’ll reach out to him.”

I open the messenger app and, ignoring the long list of unopened texts, search for Bennett. The number seventy-six sits next to his name. He texted me that many times? Frowning, I open the first one:

ROCK STAR

Jenna, I love you so much. Don’t do this to us. You need time to process everything that’s happened. Call me when you want to talk, day or night.

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