Chapter 3

Jack"s bloodrushed 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.

"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."

"Delia"s interested in a contractual relationship for publicity purposes. With you."

Jack laughed out loud. "Shit, Tony, at least buy me flowers before you whisper sweet nothings." A contractual relationship for publicity purposes? Now he was positive he was dreaming.

"I know it sounds cold, but people do it all the time. Think about Celine and?—"

"Do NOT insinuate that Celine and René were in a contractual relationship," Clara burst out behind him.

"Who"s that?" Tony asked.

"My sister, sorry. She just got home."

"Hi, Jack"s sister."

Clara grinned as Oscar worked to keep her pinned to the sofa.

Tony continued. "On paper, it might not be sexy, but do you know what is? Bringing in more fans to the Saddledome for your games. Delia has thousands of followers. Specifically of the mid-twenties female variety, and they will flock anywhere Delia tells them to go. And you know who"ll follow if their designer jeans are planted in those bucket seats."

Tony didn"t wait for Jack to answer. "Guys. Beer-drinking, hockey-loving guys. Do you know who pays attention to stats like that? Team managers and owners. When they see the isolated variable that contributed to their ticket sales going through the roof was Jack Harrison being on the team, you better believe they"re going to re-up your contract."

At the mention of strategy, Jack dropped into business mode. All day he ran cost-benefit and risk analyses on product lines and distribution agreements. This was in his wheelhouse. "If my name is the number one search term like you mentioned, why would I need anyone else to help me bring in more fans?"

This question shut Tony up but only briefly. "You"re bringing in fans now, but if you"ve been paying attention to the NFL, you"ll know exactly what a love story can do to ticket sales. Not only that, but I"m guessing your contracted rate isn"t something to write home about. We"re prepared to offer you an all-expenses-paid vacation. On us. You won"t have to spend a cent while your contract with Delia is active. If you want, I can go into the social benefits of being seen with someone like Ms. Melise on your arm, but I"m sure you can do the math on that one."

Holy hell. The guy was serious. All expenses paid? Tony wasn't wrong about his pay with the Blizzard. He was only coming on to cover for the playoffs and had been offered a per-practice and game rate. He also worked for Big Rick, a ski and snowboarding company, and while his pay was good, he was recovering from ten years of making hockey his full-time priority without benefits. He wanted to buy his own place and avoid mooching off Clara and Oscar. With interest rates sky high, he needed to put twenty percent down, or he was going to eat it in his mortgage payments.

But all practical thoughts slipped as he realized what this would entail. Being out. On dates. With a woman. It didn't matter if it was real, just the thought of spending time alone with someone made his insides twist.

Jack turned to see Clara and Oscar staring at him like two baby birds. He knew exactly what they were thinking since they'd been pushing for him to get back on the horse and date since he'd moved in.

He tapped mute on the phone, then held out a hand, giving them the okay to give the advice that at least Clara was choking on. Oscar shrugged, then gave him a look like he"d eaten something bad at a Chinese restaurant. Clara, on the other hand, nodded emphatically and said, "You should at least meet her, don't you think? And take me with you!"

Jack pursed his lips. He was insane. A relationship for a publicity stunt? Three weeks ago he"d been the guy who was kicked off of two AHL teams, and now he signed autographs in the Ice Arena parking lot, slapped away media requests like mosquitos, and received requests from famous pop stars to be their contractually-obligated boyfriend?

He wanted to say an immediate no, but curiosity niggled at him. That and the pathetic plea in Clara's eyes won out. He turned off mute. "I"ll need to think about it, and I"d need to meet Delia first. My sister Clara wants to come."

_____

Delia sat glued to her phone screen, watching Jack Harrison in a post-game interview from a month ago. Or was it six weeks? Whenever he"d played the game that all of Canada seemed to be talking about. The one she"d only discovered hours prior, thanks to Tony. He was good-looking. Not in a traditional sense, more of a rugged, I've-been-working-on-car-engines-all-day kind of handsome, and she didn"t trust those long lashes and mussed hair. He had an uneven nose, probably from breaking it in a hockey fight or something. His smile was nice—humble and almost shy.

She jumped when the video disappeared and her phone buzzed in her hand. Tony. Delia answered the call. "Did you talk to him?"

"Waiting up for me, eh?"

Delia rolled to her side, folding her pillow in half so she didn"t have to prop herself up on her elbow. "No, I was . . . writing lyrics." That wasn"t a complete lie. She had been scribbling ideas in her notebook on her nightstand before she"d started stalking Jack Harrison online. The last thing she wanted was for Tony to think she'd been waiting up because she was nervous about this whole thing, or heaven forbid, that she was actually invested in the idea.

"I talked to him," Tony said, and Delia's mind splintered into a thousand directions. What had Tony said? What had Jack thought about what Tony said? Did he think she had proposed this idea, and if so, what did he think about her? Delia clutched her pillow tighter.

"He said he wants to meet you." Tony's words sank in like water over the soil of a potted plant. The sentence sat on the surface for a few seconds, then finally made its way to her roots.

He wants to meet you. Delia swallowed. "He's in Calgary, isn't he?"

"Yep, and he has a contract to sign and practice tomorrow, so there's no way he's coming to you. I've got tickets for you and Mary to fly out first thing in the morning."

Her fingers went cold. She hated flying. "Does Mary know?"

"I sent her the itinerary right before I phoned."

Delia tried to parse out the ramifications of this but couldn't see past the YOUR GETTING ON A PLANE TOMORROW neon sign in her head. She repeated the information back. "I'm flying to Calgary tomorrow and meeting this hockey player, Jack, after his practice?"

"Oh, you won't meet him till after the show."

"The show?"

"Right, I gave Mary the details. I called in a favour and got you a slot for your acoustic set at the Jukebox. You only need to pack your guitar, they've got the rest."

Delia clenched her jaw. She used to love last-minute gigs, but now there was so much more at stake. It was a miracle that people were finally paying attention. And also terrifying that people were finally paying attention. She no longer had to worry about jumping into a line-up and having nobody show, but her fans had expectations.

Thankfully, they'd done enough pop-up shows, people were used to her flying by the seat of her pants. They'd even come up with a secret code together on her socials. Every time she wanted to share info about a show, she posted about ice cream. She couldn"t remember exactly how it had started, but it had caught on and stuck.

Delia put Tony on speakerphone and added a quick picture of the Humber Bay Bridge she"d taken the other night with the caption, "Just had the best ice cream for breakfast (don"t judge). Yummy Yellowcake Confetti. Now to turn on the Jukebox and float till tomorrow." Delia grinned as she entered relevant hashtags, along with a few that had zero likelihood of being searched but brought her pure joy, like #coldoncold and #ithaseggssoitcounts.

"No comment?" Tony sounded beleaguered.

"Sorry, thank you. Just posting my ice cream code."

Tony laughed. "You found another fake flavour that corresponds with YYC? How have you not run out yet?"

"Well, if you"d stop booking me secret shows in Calgary, I wouldn"t have to reach so far into the depths of my creativity. Can"t you choose an airport code with a "C" first? Cookies, Crumble, Cheesecake—the options would be endless."

"The double Y is problematic."

Analyzing letters helped her emotions settle. Until she remembered why she was going to YYC in the first place. The show was a bonus, but she had to be there to meet Jack Harrison. Her heart did a weird jumping bean thing, then dropped so fast, she got woozy.

Jack seemed like a nice guy, and he was intriguing for a hockey-playing car mechanic, but she"d done enough online dating to know that none of that surface-level stuff mattered. If she was going to pretend to date someone for a few months, he had to be tolerable. Yes, she wanted to boost her visibility and get more streams. But would she be willing to smile and hold hands with just anyone? Especially when she knew there were men out there who could seem completely normal and then start begging for pictures of you rubbing lotion on your feet?

No. She wouldn"t do that. No matter how much Tony?—

The door to her bedroom cracked open, and her mom peeked in. "Mon chou, I"m heading to work." Her mother coughed. Delia hated it when she coughed.

She checked the time on her phone. Ten thirty.

"Is that Camille? Delia, say hello to your mother for me," Tony barked, and Delia held up her phone so Tony could see her through the camera.

Her mom laughed. "All?, Tony. Comment?"

"Ah, super, surtout maintenant que je te vois."

Her mother blushed. "Tu me flatte, Tony."

Delia mouthed a "sorry" as she pulled the phone back, then deflated as her mom left for her night shift.

How long ago had Dr. Kemp told her mother she needed to slow down?Her Lupus had progressed to the point that she had permanent pleuritis—inflammation that couldn't be managed purely by pain medication. Since her mother had called corticosteroids "Upjohn poison," the only other option was stress management.

Okay, so maybe she"d agree to it. If Tony's idea got her royalty statements pouring in so her mom could quit her jobs and live ten more years, she"d hold hands with pretty much anyone. Hell, she'd do more than that if she had to.

"Did you tell Camille about this yet?" Tony asked.

Delia scoffed. "When would I have told her about this? I"ve known for all of five minutes."

"Well, more like three hours, but I"ll accept your use of hyperbole. You are an artiste, after all."

"How generous of you." Delia pushed up on the bed and swivelled so her feet were on the floor. "Will you be there tomorrow after the show?"

"Absolutely. Someone has to convince this guy he wants to fake date you, and it"s sure as hell not going to be you or Mary."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Tony laughed. "See you in the morning. I"ll wave from business class."

"Goodnight, Tony." Delia threw her phone on the bed, then walked to the closet to pull out her carry-on. She needed to talk to Mary, but outfits had to come first. She needed something new for tomorrow night, which meant a little research since she didn't want to pay for a stylist.

Clothing had always been an extension of her songwriting. A mood. A piece of herself that she displayed for public consumption. Mary always helped with her show fits, but this time it wouldn't be just the two of them in the green room. She needed something that would communicate her feelings to Jack loud and clear.

Business only.

The title of her non-existent sex tape.