Page 57 of On the Power Play

I don’t know. Beat the shit out of them?

That sounds mean

I play hockey, Delia

That’s why I don’t watch

Your stance on luck statements is why I don’t listen to lyrics. It’s a picket line I won’t cross

Leaving now

It’s a good thing you aren’t a Bond girl. You’d be dead before you left the hallway

At least I wouldn’t be bound by a no-sex contract

Jack laughed out loud. When he looked up, he discovered that half the dressing room was empty. Only Lindholm and Monahan were still getting dressed behind him, and by the few creaks and slams the next aisle over, he assumed it looked much the same over there.

"Night, Jack." Monahan picked up his coat and waved as he headed to the door.

Jack hung his skates and left his dirty jersey and pads on the bench for cleaning. Again, it felt wrong not to be packing all his gear out to his truck. He closed his locker and walked down the aisle, nearly running into Liam as he stormed out of the washroom looking green around the gills. "Easy bud."

Liam muttered something under his breath and shoved past him. Jack didn't push back, though he wanted to. In the old days, something like that would've been enough for him to go to the coaches. Suggest mentorship or training to get a player straight. But that's what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. You think you know my players better than I do?

Hell, yes, he had. But the more he pushed, the less playing time he got.

Lace his skates. Zip his trap. Show up at the media spots and dance monkey, dance.

Jack exhaled and pushed through the dressing room door into the hall.

_____

"You're going to fall asleep." Jack dropped onto the chair in the living room next to Clara and Oscar. Oscar laid on the couch with his head propped up on the pillows, and Clara was draped over him, snuggled into his chest.

Clara grunted. "No I'm not. My shower was just too hot."

Oscar played with her hair, and Clara's eyes flickered every time his knuckles brushed against her temple. "Do you have a shift at eight?"

Clara nodded. "I only have two like that this week. Thursday's off so I can recover then."

"We can DVR this. You don't have to watch it live." Jack lifted the remote, but Clara put out an arm in protest.

"Stop it! I want to see your fake girlfriend on live TV!"

Jack gave her a look. "It's not even live. She was taping hours ago."

Clara put her finger in her ear and started humming. "Stop ruining this for me. I can pretend it's live if I want to."

Jack picked up his bag of chips and shook his head. "You're ridiculous."

"Shhh!" Clara pointed at the TV as the theme music started.

"Does the musical guest come on closer to the end?" Oscar asked.

Clara nodded. "Like after the first interview, and then they all sit together on the couch."

Jack threw out a hand. "What is this, you don't shush him?"

Clara waved him off as Ken Massey appeared through the midnight-blue velvet curtains to his band's version of Shiny People. Jack didn't know all of Delia’s songs, but he had been listening to them as he drove to practice. For research purposes.

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