Page 41 of Mic Drop

“The usual. Ready to run through sound check?”

No mention of the shitstorm swirling around me from outside. Not wanting to cause anymore headaches or discuss my fiancée—I have a fiancée!—I reply with the expected, “Of course.” I hop onto the stage and run through the regular ritual.

After the sound check, we enjoy an amazing catered meal from one of New Orleans’s famed restaurants in one of the rooms tucked away in the bowels of the stadium. “These people really know how to cook down here,” Coop notes.

The rest of the band chimes in with their favorite dishes. The discussion gets heated over gumbo versus jambalaya. I let their talking swirl around me, with our opening act providing the background music. My mind’s firmly in the Hamptons, hoping Jenna’s mother is all right. She still hasn’t texted me.

007 asks, “Which do you prefer, Bennett?”

“Huh?” I glance around the table.

“What are you looking at?”

“I’m waiting for a text from Jenna, if you must know.”

Our bassist runs his palm over the table. “Gotcha.”

On edge from waiting for Jenna, I can’t take his passive-aggressive shit tonight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

007 raises his hands. “No offense, man.”

Yeah, right. He’s had it out for Jenna since she first set foot backstage following the movie premiere. I erupt, “You better get used to her. Jenna’s my woman. We’re getting married.”

Five sets of eyes home in on me. Luke is the first to find his voice. “Come again, B?”

I toss my napkin onto the table. “There’s a lot of shit going on.” I spring up and take longer strides than usual, ignoring the tiny twinges from my pulled muscle.

Luke comes up next to me. “How about we save this for after the show? You guys are on in twenty.”

I hang my head. Since when have I been led around by a woman’s fingernail before?Since you fell in love. I force my body to face the table. “Sorry, guys. Jenna’s mom is sick. Like, really sick. Right before sound check, she fell. I’m waiting to hear a status update from Jenna.”

The table stills. “Jeez, Bennett, we’re sorry to have been busting your balls,” Coop, ever the wise peacemaker, says.

My eyes close. “You didn’t know.” I suck in air. “Let’s go and show NOLA what UC can do.” Even to my own ears, my pronouncement sounds hollow.

The guys finish their plates. I take a final swig of my tea, which doesn’t produce its usual calming effect. Sneaking a final check of my phone, it still shows no new texts. I do something I haven’t done since my father died. I issue a prayer that her mother’s all right.

Luke gives us a much-needed pep talk. “All right, guys, let’s hit the stage and show the crowd how good UC is!”

We return to the greenroom and after Nese gives us her final approval as well as confiscates our phones, we huddle. Knowing I need to get my head into the game, I try to muster my usual performance mask. It doesn’t quite fit tonight.

I glance from Coop to Río to 007 to Tris with their fists raised into the air. I yell in a way that’s intended to rile all of us up, “Strapped, locked, and loaded, are you ready to roll with Untamed Coaster?” Our usual collective whoop bounces off the cement walls and we make our way to the now black stage.

The show is going well. I hit all my marks and the band, as usual, sounds phenomenal. I take off in a run to cross the catwalk, and a ping from my right thigh reminds me why I haven’t done this since the tour started. I pull up short next to Coop.

Sensing I’m off my game, he walks toward the audience, sliding his guitar across his hips. The ladies in the crowd scream their appreciation. I take the opportunity to give everyone my back, trying to get this pain under control while my band takes up the slack.

007 makes his way over to me. “Are you okay?”

“Kicked up my groin pull,” I answer through gritted teeth.

“Shit.” He circles around me, tilting the neck of his bass toward some women in the front row. “What do you need?”

Jenna. Ice. More Jenna than ice.

“Give me a minute.”

“We got you covered.” He makes a show of returning to “his” side of the stage while Coop returns to me.

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