Page 80 of Mic Drop

“Yeah, well, I think I need to shut Lissa down. Michelle seems like the hanger-on type. I’d bet Lissa concocted this whole story about Jenna’s physical therapy clinics as a way to hurt me, and Michelle went along for the ride.”

“Sounds about right.” He clears the scraps off our plates into the garbage, then rinses them. “Have you heard any more from Curtiss?”

Curtiss. My former best friend who got Lissa pregnant. “We’ve been keeping in touch, but he hasn’t had any luck finding what he’s looking for yet.” I sigh. If he can’t find the proof, it’ll be anotherhe said, she saidsituation. “He did say he was going to his parents’ house this weekend, though. Proof has to be there.”

“Want me to call Hayden?”

“Desperately. But Jenna probably already hit her up. After all, she was the driving force with the Black Widow shit before.”

“You’re likely right, B.”

I place the dishes into the dishwasher. “Mother Hilliard’s comments in the article didn’t help matters either. I so want to set that woman straight.”

Luke closes the dishwasher’s door and cracks his knuckles again. “You know what? How about we hit her up? Obviously, our visit to her house before didn’t do the trick.”

My head tilts. “Think we could change her mind?”

Luke rubs his hands together. “Jet’s still here. Let’s pay her a visit.”

Chapter 22

Jenna

At my kitchen table, I scour Lissa’s social media platforms, searching for a connection between her and Michelle. They have to have teamed up against me. Bennett’s right—no way would Michelle have thought up this prostitution ring idea by herself.

Of course, simply putting her name, Michelle Kent, into the search bar yields no results. I try to use variations of her middle name, Jasper, which I’ll never forget because I had a goldfish named Jasper in elementary school, and teased her about it. Still nothing. She may be dumb, but she’s not stupid. Think, Jenna. What alias could she be using?

Back in high school, she stole my boyfriend. What was his name? I snap my fingers. Right. Thaine. Thaine Bell. I search his names together with Michelle’s various names. BINGO! A Thaine Jasper is a match on Facebook. Similar searches on Instagram, TikTok and YouTube yield the same results. Plus, Lissa’s been interacting with this “avatar” on socials. All use the same profile pix of a stunningly gorgeous man, complete with a six-pack—on display because “he’s”only wearing a skimpy bathing suit. ChatGPT must’ve gotten a workout the day she created the profile.

The fact she’s still fixated on the guy would be depressing, if she wasn’t so pathetic. We graduated from high school over a decade ago. Get a life, Michelle.

Now that I’ve pinpointed her pitiful avatar, how am I going to get her and Lissa to break their unholy alliance? As much as I don’t want to think about him, Bennett did mention working on an angle with Curtiss to get Lissa off his back, so I should steer clear of his ex. My focus has to be on Michelle. Besides, I’ve allowed this girl to annoy me for way too long. Time to rip her a new one.

My mind spins over my next step. Clearly, Dr. Marlow was ineffective. I need to attack her somewhere other than her paycheck. Although, one would think the paycheck would be the best option.

I go round and round, not landing on a single viable idea. Since my business isn’t under UC protection anymore, I decide to visit Court at the clinic. Maybe between the two of us, we can figure out a viable idea.

After I change into my scrubs, I toss my now lukewarm tea into the sink when the doorbell rings. Who could that be? Dread washes over me. I hope it’s not Bennett. With slow steps, I reach my front door and look out through the window, which causes the air to leave my body. Not Bennett.

I swing open the door. “May I help you?”

The guy bends down and picks up a vase of flowers I hadn’t noticed. “You Jenna Hardy?”

My mind forces me to remember my new last name. No guesses needed to find out the sender. “Yes.” After I sign some paperwork and give him a tip—positive Bennett took care of this but wanting to stand on my own two feet—I close the door behind me and walk over to the coffee table.

A gorgeous arrangement of gerbera daisies brightens the room. My shaky hand reaches out and removes the card, while my traitorous body remembers all the flowers he sent me leading up to thewedding. Ma used to be downright gleeful every time someone rang the doorbell. I can almost hear her begging me to read the card.

Almost.

I rip open the tiny envelope and lyrics from “Crushing Blow” are written on it. They scream of overcoming the pain of unrequited love. Darren wrote this song—his last. The fact Bennett chose to put these words on this card has to mean something.

Perhaps he’s thinking I was better off with Darren?

Is he making a statement about his own feelings toward me?

Whatever. The card drops onto the table. I have more important things to do than try to get into the mind of Bennett Hardy.

Shortly, I pull into the nearly empty parking lot at the flagship clinic for At Your Service PT. Given that it’s midday, this place should be hopping. Damn Michelle. And Lissa.

---