Page 3 of He Has Pluck

“So,” I turn to ask Juliette, “you’ve done some top-notch documentaries—anything I might have seen?”

“I doubt it. Not unless you watch Vice TV or—”

“I do, as a matter of fact.” Now I’m intrigued. “You’re not the one who—”

“Let’s stick to the topic of our meeting.” She waves a hand in dismissal and avoids my gaze. She’s still cool, but there’s something not quite right, a flash of vulnerability like she’s hiding something. Like the answer to why an award-winning, serious photo and film journalist who specializes in exposés has been demoted to a Brawlers hockey documentary.

Delaney clears her throat. “We thought a Brawlers, behind-the-scenes documentary would be especially interesting if it were told from the perspective of the new guy just up from the minors trying to prove himself.” She gives me a shark-eye look. “Because you’ll be especially hungry.”

I gulp down a gallon of trepidation and nod because I know a warning when I hear one. My previous euphoria all but evaporates. I don’t know Delaney, but I’m wary. I feel more like a guinea pig than a teammate. She holds clout, and I need to make sure she’s a friend, not an enemy, so I nod. Message received. Play nice with the documentary lady, ice chip or not.

“You’re serious?” Juliette says to Delaney. “I’m going to focus on… him?” She gestures in my direction, barely bothering to spare me a glance. “What about the captain of the team?”

“The documentary follows the player who, according to your boss, will make it human and as dramatic as possible. We start with Jason’s first day called up from the minors and—”

“We start with me?” I don’t know a thing about this organization. I don’t even know where the fucking locker room is right now without a map.

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?” Ice Chip steals the words from my mouth.

We exchange a quick uncomfortable glance.

“Drama,” Delaney says, giving a hard stare at Juliette. “Weren’t you listening? I thought you were a pro at this.”

“Surely there’s drama in following the team captain.”

“She’s right,” I say. “Rafe Lemaire is not only the captain but he’s worked hard—”

“He’s won the cup before. Most of the guys have. You’re the best candidate for drama. The decision’s already been made and approved by management.” Delaney looks between us. “Now, stop your whining and move on.”

Shit. I feel like I’m back in second grade in the principal’s office.

“Besides, I talked it over with Rafe Lemaire, and he agrees,” Delaney says. “He’ll also be involved, of course, as will all the players to some degree. But Rafe will take the role of Jason’s mentor for the purposes of the film.” She talks about me like I’m not in the room.

“Maybe he can play my mentor in real life because we’re trying to win the Stanley Cup,” I say. It’s an unfortunate fact that I have a tendency toward sarcasm, and I’m not shy about speaking my mind. Both women look at me and communicate with their unique styles exactly how unfortunate my big mouth is.

Delaney does a scowl-snarl with those dead-serious shark eyes, and Juliette looks like an angry cat—the killing kind, like a tiger—who wants to claw my face off. Great.

I clear my throat. “I mean, from what I know, Rafe is a stand-up guy and a good team leader, so I think he would mentor me to some degree whether we we’re being filmed or not.”

“Of course he would,” Delaney says. She goes to her desk, picks up a couple of folders and slides them onto the conference table like she’s dealing cards, one to each of us.

“This is the outline,” Delaney says, “the script, the schedule of practices and other things the team has going on.” She glances at the scoreboard-style clock taking up half of one wall. “Looks like your boss isn’t going to make the meeting because I’m just about out of time.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute,” Juliette says. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. That we’re not taking this project seriously.”

Delaney raises one brow and throws the kind of glare that would make most ice chips melt. But not my little glacier. She lifts her perfect creamy chin.

“Nonsense,” Delaney says. “We both know you’d rather be filming in a jungle or some squalid ghetto somewhere. But you’re here, and I expect a top-notch job.”

Her brows drew together. “That’s what you’ll get. I don’t do anything else but top notch.”

Delaney nods. “You’ll be shooting photos as well as film.”

“Right.” Juliette gives me a side glance. “I’ll make sure the film is as interesting and compelling as I can make it.” She sounds doubtful the patient will survive, and she’s only trying to make him comfortable. Worse, she thinks she’s wasting her time on a half-dead carcass and should be somewhere else.

“You’ll follow the team everywhere, capture the lifestyle, the intensity, the daily routine and the games, of course, the wins and the losses—hopefully, not many of those.”