Page 58 of Extended Bridge

I can only imagine the comments. How people have jumped on the growing bandwagon of bashing me. I drop my fork onto my plate.

“We all know the truth,” Río says. “Don’t let them impact your life, Jenna. They’ll move on soon enough.”

Yeah. I’ve heard that before. Like weeks ago when we first went out to dinner. Or while checking out property in Aroostook. Since I’ve joined the tour, things keep escalating rather than quieting. I catch Luke’s gaze. “What can I do?”

He checks out the table. “I’ve talked with our PR team about this, guys. The media is like a dog with a bone with this story. It’s too juicy for them to be put off, no matter how hard we try. The best thing we can do is ignore them.”

Easier said than done. Especially for me, considering my previous exposure to reporters was when I was Darren’s girlfriend. Back then, the media seemed to slant in my favor. When he died, the stories focused on his drug use and out-of-control private life—which I didn’t challenge since I was dealing with his death. Now, however, their barbs prickle the guilt I feel over his death. Plus, I have a business to consider.

My fingers twist in my lap. Bennett says he wants me here with him, but all this negative press can’t be good for the band either. I whisper, “Do you want me to go?”

“No.” Bennett rushes to answer. “You’re helping me get over an injury the media know nothing about. You even told me I’m doing better and dropped my therapy to once a day. Fuck ‘em.”

I glance up, and the rest of the band’s glasses are lifted—coffee, OJ, water, or a Mimosa in Río’s case—and they clink. “Fuck the liars!”

Seems like I’m staying. If only I could figure out how to tune out the media.

“Besides,” Coop adds. “I bet the reporters are simply jealous. I mean, Jenna looks better than all of them put together.”

I’m about more than my appearance, but I do appreciate his sentiment.

“Yeah,” Río says. “Makes me want to hurt something so she can be my personal physical therapist too.”

Everyone, except Pierce, laughs. I try to join in, actually managing a light chuckle.

Not to be outdone, their manager teases. “She has a hurt wrist and pulled groin muscle covered. What are you thinking of pulling out of joint, Río?” He glances at the floor. “Your...big toe?”

The rest of the table erupts in laughter. For his part, Río takes off his shoe and sock and places his foot on top of the table, ignoring how disgusting a foot amidst our breakfast is. He wiggles his toe in my direction.

“What do you think, Miss Physical Therapist? Can you fix me?”

The absurdity of it all is impossible to ignore. “I’m not sure,” I toss back. “I’d have to shave the hair off to properly examine you.”

Río’s eyes go round. “No way are you shaving my manhood! Did you shave Bennett’s pubes?”

Eww. I scrunch my face back.

Tristan jumps in, shaking his head. “Too much, Río. Too much.”

“What?” the drummer asks, returning his foot to the floor. “I’m like Samson. You can’t touch a strand of my hair.”

Tristan smacks him upside the head. “On his head, dumbass.”

The band continues their playful squabble while Bennett whispers into my ear. “I would let you shave me down there if you want. Would be hot.”

Just like that, my attention is diverted from Río’s disgusting—yet funny—theatrics to the promise contained in Bennett’s eyes. “Not needed in your case, big boy.”Big boy?Where is this woman coming from? “I can evaluate your progress fine with all yourhair intact.”

He adjusts himself. “Sure you don’t want an up-close-and-personal look?”

Before I can respond, Tristan pipes up. “Hey, no hogging all Jenna’s attention!”

Breaking Bennett’s spell, I bring my gaze to the new keyboardist. “What did I miss, Mr. Polite?”

The guys around the table guffaw at my nickname for Tristan. They have to know I’m right.

“Luke asked if we want to go on a bourbon tour when we get to Louisville today,” Tristan explains.

“Oh,” I turn to face Bennett. While bourbon isn’t my thing, it’s his drink of choice. Before he can respond, I answer for both of us. “We’re in.”

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