Page 82 of Extended Bridge

Bennett wipes his face with this forearm. “How are you doing, Louisville?”

Screams echo throughout the stadium.

He jokes, “That good, huh?”

More clapping ensues.

“Well, the whole band is up here not because we want to sing for you, but because we have something we want to discuss, if that’s all right?” Bennett’s statement is met with more positive energy.

Río leaps in front of Bennett. “We don’t know how many of you read gossip sites, but there’s a new article about our boy Bennett that we simply can’t let slide.” He places his hand on the lead singer’s shoulder. “Asshole journalists got it all wrong.”

“Maybe notallwrong,” Bennett says. “Just like ninety-nine percent. I did date a girl named Lissa Baker in high school.” He shakes his head. “No accounting for teenage taste.”

Coop walks to the front. “Want to share with the class what happened back then?”

“Not really,” Bennett replies. “But I guess I have to.” He smirks, and several people—women—whistle. “The short story is she dumped me to go to the senior prom—mind you, I was only a junior at the time—with my best friend.”

The crowd boos.

“That’s rough,” Pierce pipes up. I appreciate his participation.

“Yeah, well I got over her when you brought me onboard Untamed Coaster!”

As if on cue, the audience yells their approval.

Bennett continues, “I hadn’t seen this girl since high school, until a few weeks ago when she showed up at a restaurant where I was eating dinner in the Hamptons, New York. We talked, briefly, and she slithered away. Where she belongs.”

Hisses emanate from thecrowd.

“And then she sold a fake story to the tabloids that you two hooked up,” Pierce finishes. “She sucks.”

Coop repeats, “They’re all lies!”

Yells rise up from the masses before them.

“Let that be a lesson to you all,” Río proclaims. “Lying to reporters is a dangerous business.”

The audience screams.

Man, they have these people eating out of the palms of their hands. Amazing. If only they didn’t need to go on to the next part. When Tristan takes the mic, my stomach clenches.

“But that’s not where the story ends, folks. Our guy here,” he places his hand on Bennett’s shoulder. “Has been seen out with Jenna Westfield, Darren’s girlfriend at the time of his death. The media has unfairly dubbed her a Black Widow, insinuating all kinds of crazy shit against her and UC. They’re wrong.”

My weight shifts from foot to foot. At my side, Nese tugs on my elbow. “They’re doing great,” she whispers.

I can’t move my head from the stage. “I hope so.”

“Tell us, ladies and gentlemen,” Río asks the crowd. “Does it look like we’re going anywhere?”

A roaring, “NO!” resounds throughout the stadium. Río flicks his arms up in the air to egg them on, and they amp up their denials.

“Anyone who’s met Jenna knows she wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Coop’s support buoys me.

Pierce stands at the forefront, causing me to hold my breath. He lifts his mic. “She wasn’t responsible for Darren’s overdose, no matter how the media spins it.”

All the air whooshes out of my body and I collapse forward. Nese strokes my back as tears freefall down my cheeks. Pierce stood up for me. In front of thousands of people, many of whom probably are recording the band’s performance.

I’m still bent over when Coop adds, “We don’t normally address stupid stories like this one, but we felt it was important to put an end to it tonight.”

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