Page 9 of On the Power Play

"You know the name?"

Jack blinked. "Your name?"

Tony laughed. "No, Delia Melise."

Right, dipshit. Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, no. I've heard of her."

"Then you know she's got three singles in the top one hundred songs in the country at the moment."

Jack nodded. "I've heard them. They're good." He winced. An overwhelming compliment. He hadn't paid much attention to her songs, if he was being honest. He listened to music mostly when he was at the gym, and that usually required a specific level of pump-up energy. Not the best place for acoustic guitar.

"She's a rising star, and anyone in her orbit is going up with her, you know what I mean?"

Jack frowned. No, he did not know what Tony Rusk meant. He sounded like he was canvassing for a political party, even though Trudeau's Liberals hadn't called an election yet.

"Sounds like she's accomplishing incredible things." Jack squeezed his eyes shut. What was this conversation? Why would a publicist who worked for a pop star on the other side of the country phone him to talk about her singles?

"It looks like your career is skyrocketing, as well. Did you see your name was the number one search phrase in five provinces and one territory this week?"

Jack blinked. What? "I didn't know that." His head snapped up as the front door opened and Clara walked in wearing scrubs.

"Hey! Are you—?" She stopped mid-coat hang at the expression on his face. Her eyes shot to the phone, and she gave him a questioning look. Jack shook his head, which meant she immediately came to sit down next to him.

"Babe, is that you?" Oscar strode down the hall and found her perched on the sofa next to Jack. Clara waved him over and patted the cushion on her left.

"Impressive data, Harrison." Tony rapped his knuckles on something that sounded expensive. "Seems like the two of you are Canada's grad prince and princess this spring." Tony chuckled, and Jack scratched the stubble on his chin.

Maybe that was it. Tony wanted to get some visibility for Delia by bringing her to one of his games or something. His inbox, or rather Sean's, had been flooded with requests for interviews and appearances since his appearance with the Blizzard. Just yesterday he’d talked with Clara about her screening his media requests. With new products launching at work, he barely had time to eat and make it to practice.

Jack exhaled. "Listen, Tony, I'm not sure why you're calling, but if it's for an interview or?—"

"Are you single?"

Jack blinked. "Barely." Where had that come from? That answer either read as an arrogant I'm only single because I want to be, or I just got out of a long-term loving relationship, and I'm heartbroken. Either interpretation couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was single because he hadn't put forth a modicum of effort not to be, and the last relationship he'd been in had ended three years ago. Had it ever ended for him?

"I'm going to leave the psychoanalysis on that up to your therapist, but you're cis-gendered? Not that I care either way, but for my purposes tonight, it's an important question."

Jack's hackles rose. "Yeah. Not exactly loving these questions, bud." Clara's eyes widened, and she leaned in, trying to hear what was happening on the other end of the line.

Tony sighed. "Understandable. Here's what I'm getting at. You and Delia are both garnering plenty of attention on your own, but I think this could be an incredible opportunity for synergy."

Jack shifted until he was climbing the arm of the couch. When Clara nearly crawled onto his lap, he relented and turned it on speakerphone. Clara clapped her hands with glee, and Oscar gave an apologetic head shake.

Jack cleared his throat. "That word doesn't sound real."

"What word?" Clara mouthed. Jack dragged his thumb through the air in front of his throat as Tony chuckled on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, kind of sounds like I'm selling snake oil, doesn't it? It means that I think the two of you could be better together. That your combined energy could be more than the sum of its parts."

Jack nodded. "Listen, if Delia wants tickets to the next game, I'd be happy to talk to the coordinator, but I can't?—"

Clara gasped out loud, her eyes darting between Jack and Oscar, then clapped her hands over her mouth just as Tony cut Jack off.

"No, no, we're not looking for a handout. More of . . . an agreement."

Clara grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and hissed, "Did he say Delia? As in Delia Melise?"

Jack snatched the phone from the table and stalked to the other side of the room, facing the wall so he could focus. "I'm not following, Tony."

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