Page 21 of On the Power Play

Clara shifted on the couch. “Why haven’t you recorded that song? It was a total showstopper tonight. One of my personal favourites, for sure.”

Delia’s chest warmed. If it was one of her favourites, she must have known her music before IndieLake. That or gone down her TikTok rabbit hole after the fact. "Maybe someday it’ll be recorded. Right now I'm focused on finishing up a new album," Delia answered, noting the look of approval from Tony.

She gave him a See? I'm trying to be diplomatic grin. He knew her well enough at that point to predict what she wanted to say instead. Something like, My contract screwed me out of any creative control over my music or My label doesn't give a rat's ass whether I like the songs I'm producing as long as it makes them money. Something like that.

Tony slapped his hands down on his thighs. "Well, I really appreciate you coming down, Jack. Do either of you want tea or—Delia, why don't you have any snacks in here?"

Mary pointed to the counter. "There are almonds."

Kels frowned. "No Tim's or pizza or something?"

Mary laughed. "Since when does she eat donuts and pizza?"

"Since when do we have guests in the green room?" Tony turned back to Clara and Jack. "Sorry, apparently we only have squirrel food and tea."

Jack reached out and pulled a bottled water from the basket on the table. "This is perfect for me."

His shirt sleeve pulled up on his arm revealing a swirl of black ink. Interesting. It didn't look like a small tattoo, and Delia instantly wanted details. What was it? How far did it go up his arm? How long ago did he get it? When someone committed to a permanent mark on their skin, it usually had a story. And Delia loved stories.

Jack pulled up his sleeve a little higher before unscrewing the cap, and Delia realized she'd been staring. She tore her eyes away, but not before she noticed the side of Jack's mouth curl up. It was too hot in here. She needed fresh air after performing in that hot box upstairs and then sitting with five other people in a space barely bigger than a basement bedroom.

"Here." Mary grabbed a portable fan from the counter and plugged it in, then turned it toward Delia's face. How did she always know?

"Thank you," Delia murmured and reached for a bag of squirrel food. She wasn’t going to eat it, but at least then she had something to hold.

Tony hunched and grabbed a tablet from the bag sitting next to him on the floor. "Alright, then—" He started, then froze and looked between Jack and Clara. "Did you want your sister to be here for this?"

"For—“ Jack glanced down at the tablet. "Oh, right. Umm, yeah. That's fine. She can be my lawyer."

Clara's eyes widened, and Mary asked, "Wait, are you a lawyer?"

Clara laughed. "Only if you count watching Better Call Saul on slow shifts. I'm a nurse." She shifted on the couch. "I kind of forced Jack to bring me. I love your music, Delia, and couldn't believe he was going to get to meet you when he didn't even know who—" She stopped mid sentence and back pedalled. "I didn't mean—of course he knew who you were, but?—“

Jack's face was turning red, and Delia didn't know whether to be amused or jealous. When she blushed, her face went splotchy like she was about to break out in hives. Jack's skin was bronze and even, and when blood rushed to his cheeks, it only made him look . . . hot. Very hot. Possibly bothered. Especially when he reached up and rubbed his neck and?—

"I did know who you were," he clarified. Jack looked up, and Delia’s heart stuttered.

She waved him off, pretending she’d been thinking at all about what Clara had said. "It's fine, I don't expect everyone to be fans."

"It's not that I don't like?—"

"It's seriously fine." Now Delia's cheeks were on fire with him watching her, and she planted her face in front of the fan.

"Sorry," Clara groaned. "I only meant to say that I'm a massive fan, and it's impossible for Jack to match that energy. I wanted to meet you, but I don't have to stay for?—"

"Clara, you're staying." Jack set his water bottle on the table, then motioned for Tony to continue.

Mary shot Delia a look that said, This is already the highlight of my day. Delia mouthed, “I hate you,” and Mary's grin grew even wider.

Tony flipped open the case on his tablet. "Okay, then. I've got a contract right here for both of you to look over.“

"A contract?" Jack cut in. His hands were on his knees, his knuckles white.

"Right, we can make any changes the two of you want, it's just the safe way to do things. Make sure everyone knows what they're signing up for."

Delia’s palms started to sweat. Public Displays of Affection. She didn’t even know this guy, besides the fact that he had a tattoo, a story behind his eyes, and a decent relationship with his sister.

But . . . what was the difference between this and meeting with a writer or producer in a booth for the first time and being expected to pour out her soul through vocals? At least with Jack she wouldn’t have to open up anything other than her hand and her wallet.

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