Page 20 of On the Power Play

Finally, she dropped her hand and silenced it, sending a metallic whisper through the amp. The room erupted. The people sitting at tables around them pushed back their stools and jumped to their feet. Clara joined them, shouting, “Wasn’t that gorgeous?” in his direction.

Jack grunted, not trusting himself to open his mouth. He didn't understand half the words of the song, but it had shifted him on his axis. He didn’t need to know the lyrics to feel the grief. The longing. That sank into his bones like vinegar.

Clara turned, and Jack was about to beeline for the washrooms in the back corner when Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder. "This way."

Tony strode ahead, expecting Jack and Clara to follow him and his assistant. Clara's eyes grew wide with excitement, looking like she was five years old and about to meet Santa Claus for the first time. He couldn’t back out now.

Pull it together. Jack clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth, forcing air into his lungs as he started walking. They wove through the still cheering crowd, who were probably hoping Delia would come out and do an encore. Would she do an encore? He hadn't been to enough concerts to know whether that was still a thing.

Tony nodded to the security guard standing at an unmarked door down a narrow hall past the staff entrances. They walked down an only slightly murderous-looking hallway. Clara leaned in and whispered, "Where do you think they'll hide our bodies?" when they reached the landing. And comments like that made him positive neither of them were adopted.

They reached the basement that smelled of damp garage floor mixed with stale cigar smoke. Tony knocked on a door painted half teal and half coral as if someone couldn’t decide between bubblegum and cotton-candy sponge paint. The door swung open, and a woman with hair like Jennifer Anniston in the nineties stood in front of them. Jack's heart sank. He hadn't realized he'd been hoping for that face to be Delia's until it wasn't.

"Couldn't wait for her to mop up her sweat first?" The woman raised an eyebrow.

Tony laughed. "Jack, Clara, this is Mary. Delia's manager."

"I like to lead with the title of best friend." Mary held out a hand, and Clara’s hand shot up first. After Jack shook her hand, Mary stepped back to let them into the room.

Delia sat directly ahead, seated on a stool across the room, leaning close to a mirror. She looked up, and her reflected eyes stopped on him just as they had in the ballroom. Now that he was closer, he could make out more details. The lights surrounding the mirror washed out her already fair skin, but she had light freckles across her nose. Her irises seemed to be three different colours—rings inside of rings—and her hair was less red than it had appeared on stage.

Tony nudged his elbow. “Jack? Would you like to take a seat?”

Chapter Six

Delia dropped her gaze from the mirror and grabbed a make-up wipe from the half-empty pouch to clean off her lipstick. She swivelled away from the tall, dark, and handsome man standing in her green room doorway and swiped her lips.

This had to be the most awkward experience of her life. Worse than the time a singing telegram showed up in her office and performed for her alone—dressed as a sexy Mountie—while the accounting team waited with a very confused Barb, the actual birthday girl, in the boardroom on the next floor up.

"Incredible show as always." Tony pulled a stool from the opposite wall and set it on the other side of the low coffee table for his assistant, then grabbed one for himself.

Delia turned from the mirror before she rubbed her skin raw. "Thanks."

"When did you start playing ‘Oubliet’ live again?" Tony asked.

She tensed. Why had she played “Oubliet”? It definitely hadn’t been an intentional choice. She’d planned on ending with “Trial” like she usually did. It was high energy and one of her top-streamed singles, but tonight . . .

Delia stole a glance at Jack who sat next to a woman with dark hair pulled into a low bun. They were obviously siblings, with the same dark eyes and features, but Jack had a stronger jaw and a deeper furrow to his brows. She wondered if their noses used to be the same before hockey.

Why was she looking at Jack? Right. Because something she’d seen in his expression had made her change the song. What had she seen there? Delia forced her gaze back to Tony and Kels. “You’re not going to pass that on, are you?”

Tony shot her a look. “I’m not a nark, but I don’t have to be. You know a hundred people recorded that performance and are already posting to their TikTok accounts.”

Delia pursed her lips, and Mary jumped in. “IndieLake knows you built a following on those old songs. Christian has never said you couldn’t play your personal stuff.”

“You wrote that?” Jack's voice was low, but not a full bass. More in a baritone register with a bit of fray around the edges. She loved a raspy voice. There was a TikToker, Ethan Hayes, from Calgary that had popped up on her feed a few weeks ago who sounded like a mix of Teddy Swims and Brian Adams. She was still working up the courage to message him and see if he wanted to collaborate. Of course, that would be a lot easier if IndieLake was open to any of her own music instead of purchasing songs from other writers.

Delia looked up. Jack was watching her. What was the question again? Right. He’d asked if she’d written “Oubliet.” She nodded. "It was one of my first.”

Jack’s eyes stayed locked on hers, and just when she thought he was going to open his mouth, Tony cut in. "This is Jack Harrison and his sister Clara . . ."

"Renault." Clara gave a small wave.

Delia tried to keep her lips from twitching. Was she smiling normally? "Nice to meet you."

Mary coughed next to her, and Delia was ninety-nine percent sure she was covering a laugh. If she'd been in Mary's position, she sure as hell would've been laughing. How ridiculous was this? To be checking out a fake hockey player boyfriend with her publicist and manager along with his sister?

Dread dropped in her stomach. Jack knew it was fake, didn't he? Did Clara? Her eyes darted to Tony, as if he could read her mind and answer her. What had he said about his conversation with Jack? Her memory was a blur, and she couldn't remember his exact words.

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