Page 4 of On the Power Play

Delia nodded. "Excellent. Crowd was great, and no dead mics, so win-win."

Tony chuckled. "Well, you're probably halfway to sweatpants and donuts right now?—"

Delia frowned and gave Mary a look. Was that what Tony thought they did after shows? Donut shops weren’t open at this time of night. Mary rolled her eyes.

"—but I was talking with the guys at IndieLake. I know you’re concerned about promotion for the new album."

That was the understatement of 2024. Her music had gone viral on social media twice since the fall, each time catapulting her singles into the top ten in the Canadian charts, but then . . . nothing. No added media tours. No public appearances besides the previously scheduled shows. No contests or meet-and-greets.

It was like IndieLake had made the unilateral decision to collect regular checks from their various represented artists instead of trying to maximize any one of them. Her TikTok channel was the reason for the success of those singles, and that was her baby.

She could've done all of that without them.

It was not a thought that served her. Especially since it wasn’t true. She couldn't have bought her house without the advance, and that was what she'd needed at the time. A price had to be paid.

"What did they say?" Delia asked.

"Not much, besides the fact that they loved my new idea and were fully onboard as long as you were."

Delia shifted on the stool and flicked her eyes to Mary. What idea was he talking about? "I'm getting nervous, Tony."

He laughed. "No, it's a good thing, I promise. Better than good, actually. Probably one of the best ideas I've ever had."

Delia's stomach dropped. He was talking this up too much for it to be net positive. The last time he'd had one of his “best ideas,” he'd convinced Mary to schedule her for a three-night stint at a casino outside of Orillia, Ontario that still allowed indoor smoking. She'd sounded like Marge Simpson for a week.

"Just spit it out." Delia set the phone on the counter and pulled her hair back with a clip.

"So, you know how certain pop stars and athletes have been making huge waves south of the border?"

"You can just say Taylor Swift."

"Right, I didn't want to get political."

Mary threw out her hands with a What the hell is he talking about? look. Delia stifled a laugh.

"But it’s a fantastic strategy for garnering insane press," Tony said.

Delia sighed. "Perfect, I'll hit up one of those hot professional athletes lining up outside my venues that keep pestering me with friendship bracelets."

Mary snorted.

Tony sighed. "Ha. Ha. But no, you don't need to find a professional athlete because I know one for you."

Delia froze. "Are you trying to set me up with one of your friends, Tony?"

"No! Hell, no. All of my friends need intensive therapy. This is more of an 'I know of him' situation."

Delia scoffed and pulled her shirt over her head, then reached for her favourite combed-cotton hoodie. "You know of an athlete, and you want me to, what, call him up cold and see if he'll date me for the press?"

"Exactly."

She threw her arms out in panic, and her head got stuck in the hood. As she scrambled to free herself, her clip flew off and shot toward Mary’s head. She dodged, then picked it up and handed it back. Delia tsked. The clip had lost one of its teeth. "Hilarious, Tony, but I’m only twenty-five, and I've had enough blind date disasters to last a lifetime, thank you very much."

"That’s the beauty of it. It wouldn't be a date."

Delia frowned, reaching over to the sink to wet her hands and calm her hair now that it looked like it'd been rubbed by a balloon. "You want me to date an athlete, but have it not be a date?"

"Right."

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