Page 91 of Mic Drop

Luke jumps in. “What else happened today?”

“Thanks to Jenna, a news story broke discussing the details about the way Lissa and Michelle have teamed up.”

At hearing my wife’s name, I flinch. Then, pride in her surges. “She figured it out, huh?”

“Sure did, Bennett. According to this article, they were hiding in plain sight, so to speak. Michelle adopted a different persona on social media, and you can see Lissa interacting with the fake avatar. While it appears innocuous, once you know who’s actually behind the avatar, it takes on a whole new meaning.”

My cheeks inflate. Leave it to my ingenious wife to nail Michelle. However. “What do you mean this came out in a news article? Why weren’t you guys all over this from a PR perspective?”

“She didn’t contact us.”

I bolt upright. “Why not?” Luke places his hand over my forearm.

UC’s PR head replies, “Jenna figured this out all on her own. She didn’t need us.”

She didn’t need us. She didn’t needme.Pride mixes with longing. I want to hold my wife and share in her good news. Share mine. Instead, we’re in different states, trying to move forward against the media, with divorce papers between us. I squeeze my thigh in order to stop myself from doing something stupid. Like calling her.

Luke glances at me. “Great news. Thanks. I’ll take photos of these notes and the box and send them off to you.”

“Sounds good.” The line disconnects.

My wife figured out how Lissa and Michelle were communicating, which is good. However, the whole lie surrounding the prostitution ring still remains. “Jenna got halfway there.”

“I was thinking the same thing, B. We still need to get thereporters off the whole idea that her clinics serve up more than good results.”

I tap my groin. “She saved me.”

Luke nods. “And UC with it.”

I’m stewing over the meaning of my wife going it alone when we pass a sign for the town where Mom lives. Haven’t been here in a while. As a way to change the subject—or at least divert my attention for the moment—I note, “My mother lives here.”

Luke whips his head toward me. “I didn’t know that. You never talk about her. We have to visit.” He motions for the driver to roll down the window divider.

I raise my palm. “Wait. I don’t want to see her.”

“Why on earth not?”

Because she’s miserable. Mean. Mentally unstable. I shake my head. “I just don’t.”

“Come on, B. I’d love to meet the woman who brought you into this world.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Believe me, you don’t.”

“Come on, she can’t be that bad. We spent time with Darren’s mother. Nowshe’sbad.”

“She’s a walk in the park in comparison.” He continues to harp on wanting to meet her. Maybe she won’t be so bad, in front of a stranger? It has been a couple of years since I last visited in person. Jenna was always after me to reach out to my mother, until she had a conversation with her, that is. My lips purse.

“I’ve shown you my family home,” Luke wheedles.

It’s not his voice that convinces me to give our driver the address, however. It’s Dad’s. He loved my mother until the end, making me promise to look after her. As soon as I agreed, his last words were, “You’ve always been such a good—” He never finished his thought.

I owe Dad this much.

Shortly, we pull up to the large building with a sign ending with, “Mental Institution.” Our car parks in the side parking lot, and we get out. As we walk to the doors, I head off the inevitable questions. “Yes, I had to put Mom here several years back. She’s been diagnosed as mentally ill, with several conditions ending in -isms. She’s not a danger to society, but she has a sharp tongue.” I leave out the times she’s tried to self-harm. Given Darren’s overdose, I don’t want to delve into this now.

“I didn’t know.”

“I wanted it that way.” I stop. “Look, if you don’t want to meet her, I’d understand. I owe it to my father to check in on her, especially since I’m so close.”

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