Page 26 of Not A Chance

Connor started making a list on his phone of all the places he wanted to go in the city.

“Listen, we should start with the St. Lawrence Market. Sounds like there’s a lot of good food there. They even have, ugh, kangaroo meat. Don’t they know you don’t eat your friends?” He wrinkled his nose.

I chanced one more look over at Theo. He was still looking in our direction, his lips pressed into a firm line.

Focused on his phone for the moment, Connor didn’t notice mydistraction. He continued to rattle off options as he scrolled. “Then there’s Casa Loma. I wonder if it’s haunted? And then maybe we should do something culture-y, like the Royal Ontario Museum. They have dinosaurs, at least, so it won’t be all boring vases.” He looked up at me briefly, maybe trying to read if I took his “boring vase” musing the wrong way.

“I’m game.” I could only chuckle. While I could appreciate art, I, too, preferred variety if I was going to a museum.

It was a struggle to keep my concentration on Connor’s growing list, my mind fixated on the man across the room. Theo could think whatever he wanted about Connor and me. The small, petty part of me I tried to keep reined in preened at the idea of Theo getting the wrong idea here.

He could be uncomfortable for a change.

The comforting feelings from my non-date with Connor didn’t last. When my phone rang at 8:30 a.m. the following morning, it could only be one person.

My father.

Everyone knew my workdays were late-night affairs. He just didn’t care. If he was ready to work at 5:30 a.m. San Diego time, he expected the same from everyone else. At least the time difference wasn’t reversed.

Stomach clenching with the knowledge I couldn’t ignore his call, I accepted the call and brought the phone to my ear. Usually I put calls on speaker because I hated talking on the phone to begin with, but the thought of my father’s voice booming through my private space made me ill.

“Hello?”

“Indigo. Why haven’t I heard from you?” My father had never been one for pleasantries in private. He only seemed to care about me falling in line. “Just because you are in another country doesn’t mean I don’t expect to be kept up to date. Tell me what they’ve got you doing?”

I’d assumed that when he’d asked whatever powerful friend he’d tapped to get me this job, the job description itself would have been explained to him. Or maybe he’d been so keen to force me out of my former job—since he was done “letting” me be an embarrassment by daring to be satisfied with my status quo—he’d felt that the association with the most valuable sports franchise in the NHL was sufficient to achieve his goal.

“Uh, right. Well, I am responsible for writing some of the game night social media posts during the home games. And my boss has me coordinating the players after the games for their media interviews.”

“Coordinating” was a generous word for Jermaine or the team lead, Lynn, sending me to snag players after the game finished.

“Make sure you’re actively seeking out every opportunity to excel. I don’t want to hear through the grapevine that Gerald Layne’s daughter is coasting her way through a cushy job in an attempt to catch the eye of some second-rate hockey player. It’s unthinkable to imagine a match between a Layne and asportsstar. My god.” Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I could hear the physical recoil he was experiencing in his voice.

There were so many things wrong with that statement it left me speechless.

“Anyway,” he continued as if my lack of response was inconsequential, “just remember what you’re there to do: learn some useful skills, impress the management, and stay out of trouble. The last thing weneed is a scandal, especially in this economy.”

Even though I’d flown under the radar my whole life, never once rebelling the way I’d truly wanted to, he apparently needed me to confirm I would behave myself.

“Indigo?” His tone became sharper. “I want you to think very closely about who you associate with during this next year. You are not there to socialize.”

“Of course. I would never do anything to hurt your reputation, Father.” Not yet, at least. He was in for a wake-up call once I was out from under his thumb and I could make my own choices.

“Good. Remember your place.” He hung up without a goodbye.

Holy shit. How did he know about my non-date with Connor less than twenty-four hours later? My stomach clenched at the idea he was having me monitored by someone in the Tempests organization. He seemed to have a way of getting information so quickly that TMZ would be envious.

I’d been an idiot to think that being a couple of thousand miles away would somehow put me out of his reach. I should have known better.

Reputation was everything to my father. It was an unsettling feeling to now be the focus of his attention. Every other time he’d tried to steer me in a certain direction, my obstinance had won out, and he’d just given up on me. This persistence of his was new when it came to me.

I didn’t know what he’d do next. It made me nauseous to imagine the possibilities.

He’d literally ignored me for the majority of my twenty-five-year lifespan. With the amount of disruption he’d caused in so little time, I would rather go back to being invisible to him.

All the contentment I’d been able to find since arriving in Toronto evaporated with that realization. His call took on a more sinistertone in retrospect.

It hadn’t been a “checking up on me” call. It had been a warning.

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