Page 74 of Extended Bridge

“Oh, you know what graffiti’s like.”

Her vague answer sets off even more alarm bells. I try a different tact. “Do you have photos? You must—text one to me.”

“It’s nothing really.”

Abandoning my tea, her evasiveness is what makes me pace around the room. “I’m sure. But it is my building, so I’d like to see what we’re dealing with. Do you think it’s kids or something more serious?”

“The police didn’t say it was gang related, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“So, it’s more directed?” As in specifically aimed at me.

“No. I mean yes. That is to say, it’s nothing. Really.”

My stomach churns at how she’s failing at being evasive. “Court, send me a picture.”

“I never could keep things from you. Fine.” Tapping tones reach my ears. “Sent. Just keep it together when you see it.”

“When am I ever off-kilter?”All the time since Bennett. I’m not even “with” Bennett. I mean, I haven’t been with him yet. But he’s given me how many orgasms already?Great, now you’re arguing with yourself.

My fingers open the text she sent and I collapse into a chair. “This can’t be happening.”

On the side of my building is a massive black spider with the words, “Don’t leave your health 2 a Black Widow.” I drop my phone into my lap, screen facing upward.

This is more than graffiti. Graffiti is some random letters and symbols. This is a message. God, I hate the Black Widow nickname. I didn’t cause Darren’s overdose. I’m not hurting UC now, either. Well, they do have this mess to deal with because I’m here. But it’s the media’s fault, not mine.

From far away, I hear, “Jenna. Jenna. Are you still with me?”

Swiping tears off my cheek, I retrieve my cell and press the speaker. I don’t even have the energy to hold the phone to my ear. “Sorry, yes. I’m here.”

“Painters will be here tomorrow, or as soon as the police give me the go-ahead.”

Wonderful. Aroostook gets days to take in this “graffiti.” “Which wall is this?”

Please don’t say the one facing the road. With any luck, they put this on the side—or better still, the back.

“It’s next to the front door.”

“Of course it is.”

“Of course what is?” A sleepy, sexy Bennett enters the living room area, wearing only a pair of shorts hanging low around his hips.

I can’t. I just can’t. First the band has to deal with the article and now my business does too. It’s too much. My head shakes with all the pent-up rage.

His expression morphs into concern. “Jenna,” he slides on the couch next to me. “Talk to me. We can handle whatever this is. Together.”

From the speaker, Court yells, “Take care of my girl!”

His eyebrows pull together. He reaches over and plucks my cell out of my hand. His distinctive tenor voice rings out through the suite. “Hello?”

“Bennett?”

“Yes. And you are?”

“Courtney. Remember me, from the clinic? I’m taking care of things here while Jenna’s working with you.”

My gaze doesn’t stray from his as I remember their scant interactions. “Right. You’re her manager at the clinic I got my PT from in Aroostook.”

“You got it. I was catching our girl up on what’s been happening out here.”

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