Page 8 of On the Power Play

"Got an interesting call a few minutes ago."

Jack frowned. "What kind of call?" He couldn't think of a single reason Sean would be receiving a call involving him unless it was something he didn't want to hear. A league fine or complaint. He steeled himself.

"It was a publicist looking for you. He'd searched online for contact information and already sent you a Facebook message."

Jack shifted on his feet. "I don't check Facebook."

"Which is why he ended up calling me."

Jack connected the dots. "I'm listed on the Snowball's roster and your contact info is on the Elite league page."

"Bingo."

"What did he want?" Jack started to pace.

"Well, that's the thing. I'm not sure I’m buying what he’s selling."

"And that is?"

"That he’s the publicist for Delia Melise."

The furrow in Jack's brow deepened to a chasm. "The singer?" He’d heard her songs on the radio. André had been singing along to one in the dressing room.

"That's what he said."

"Why would he want to get in touch with me?"

Sean exhaled. "Your guess is as good as mine, bud. Said he had something he wanted to discuss. I didn't give him your number, but he left his contact info. I had Tyler do a quick search. The name he gave me matches up, but I didn't wait to hear if the dude actually works for her."

"Text it to me?"

"Yep."

"Thanks, bud."

Sean hung up, and Jack watched his screen. A moment later, ten digits showed up in a text from Sean. A few seconds after that, a text from Tyler followed.

> The guy's legit. Found a picture of him with Delia at her show in Vancouver a couple of weeks ago

"Everything okay?" Oscar asked as he transferred the now seared steaks to a cutting board.

"Yeah. I just need a minute." Jack couldn’t quell his curiosity. He hit the number, then strode into the living room as the phone started to ring.

Chapter Three

Jack's blood rushed as a voice answered on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

He cleared his throat. "Hey, this is Jack Harri?—"

"Jack! I'm thrilled you were able to get back to me tonight. How are you doing?"

"Uh, good. Thanks." Jack sat on his sister's creamy white sofa, which he never fully relaxed on. He held up his hands to avoid leaving a grimy fingerprint. She'd know it was his. "This is Tony?"

"Right, Tony Rusk. I head the publicity team for Delia Melise."

Jack's mouth went dry. "Mmm." He couldn't think of anything to say. He felt like he was in the middle of a nightmare-curious dream and any second he'd wake up, head to breakfast, and let Oscar analyze his twisted psychiatry.

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