Page 103 of On the Power Play

"Great. Good luck, kid."

Good luck. Delia groaned. "We don't say 'good luck' Tony!" she hissed at the phone before putting it back in her purse. She turned to find Clara looking at her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud."

Clara swallowed the bite in her mouth. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"You heard?"

"He talks pretty loud."

Delia snorted. "Yeah. He does."

"You're singing?"

Delia nodded. "Looks like it. I'm so sorry to drop food and run." Her heart fluttered in her throat, but surprisingly, her thoughts were still. If she could get through the past day and a half, she could get through two national anthems.

Clara set her bowl down and followed her to the door. "Do you need anything? Lemon water? Lip gloss?"

Delia exhaled. "Unless you can download the lyrics of The Star Spangled Banner into my head, I think I'm good."

Clara winced as Delia bent to slip on her shoes. "Yeah, can't help with that one." When Delia stood, Clara stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "You'll be amazing." She pushed back and held onto her shoulders, stifling a yawn. "I'm really glad you're fake dating my brother."

"I'm really glad you're my fake sister-in . . . not-in-law. Now get some sleep." She wanted to force that woman into bed. After she had another two helpings of dinner.

Clara grinned and pulled her into another hug. "Break a leg."

_____

Delia adjusted the mic in her hand and looked up at the empty stands. The doors were set to open within the next fifteen minutes, which meant she didn't have long to rehearse. Mary had drilled her on the anthems on the way over. She didn't have time to make it fancy, and she would've preferred to bring her guitar.

As she waited for the accompaniment, it occurred to her that she was living her literal nightmare. Standing in a stadium naked. Not actually naked, but with thousands of people imagining her naked.

That video wasn't you. Her mom had said that at least three times when they’d finally connected in the car on the way over. Delia told her about what Jack had posted, how she’d kissed him, and how she was singing at the game.

Why she’d worried what her mother would think, she had no idea. Her mom had barely paid attention to the news about the deep fake and had skipped right to the kiss. After skirting the line between embarrassing herself with Alvin in the front seat and satiating her mother’s curiosity, Delia had ended the call.

The relief was as palpable as setting down a twenty kilogram backpack. She’d wanted to curl up in the back seat and weep. Instead, she’d clenched and released the muscles in her hands and feet, somehow managing to keep her tears from smearing mascara down her cheeks.

That video wasn't you. Delia squeezed her eyes closed and lifted the mic to her lips as the music burst through the speakers. Singing felt like lifting the lid off a pot of boiling water. All her stress and tension faded behind the resonance of her voice in that vast open space.

When she was a kid, she'd made noise purely because she loved the physical sensation. The warmth in her throat. The gentle buzz in her jaw. It was comforting and fascinating. That she could expel air from her lungs and make different sounds? It was pure magic.

In her mid-twenties, it still hadn’t lost its lustre even though she was constantly trying to complicate it. Delia relaxed and absorbed the waves of sound bouncing off the boards and plastic seats, hitting her from all angles. Listen to yourself, not the echoes. She'd learned that early when singing in baseball and football stadiums. On stage she had an earpiece, but not here, and she didn't want to get lost in the overlapping sound.

She finished with a lilting land of the free and the home of the brave, then moved on to the Canadian anthem. She almost blanked in the middle, but caught the words and added a stylistic pause to catch her breath. When she finished, she turned back to the marketing manager, Lisa, and the sound guy who'd handed her the mic.

"Perfect." Lisa clapped her hands. "Thank you so much for filling in at the last minute."

Delia walked back over the mat they'd laid out on the ice for her and returned the mic. "You're welcome. Thanks for the invitation."

Lisa winked. "So glad to have you. We put your pop-up appearance in all our socials, and we've already seen a last-minute ticket surge."

Hopefully they knew she'd be fully clothed. "Glad to hear it." Delia settled nicely into her performance persona. The one who didn't twitch her fingers or ask inappropriate questions. She'd played the part for so long, she hadn't realized how much her act compressed like restraints until she had something to compare it to. The last day with Jack was like crisp oxygen in her lungs. Even when she'd been breaking. Even when she’d wanted to crumple. She'd been herself, one hundred percent. The good and the ugly.

And he'd stayed when she asked.

Delia clenched and unclenched her hands as Lisa motioned to an area just off the main player tunnel. "You're welcome to wait here if you want to be in the middle of things, or we've got a room?—"

"I'll wait here." Delia smiled. "Could be fun to watch the stadium fill up." Not the whole truth. She wanted to see Jack the second he came out of the dressing room. The idea of him walking out in his hockey gear made her internal organs flip places.

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