Page 18 of Hot Shot Rock Star
“And you must be Jennie,” I say to the little girl at coach’s side. “Coach talks a lot about you.” A bald-faced lie, but whatever. He should be talking about the sweet little girl the way her face lights up when I tell her the lie. Coach masks whatever he’s thinking and lets me shower attention on his little girl and as she warms up, I notice he does too, and his pride shows through the mask.
“We’ll be wrapping up here in a few. You two have a good evening.” He gives me another unreadable look and adds, “Say hello to Jasmine for me. Sorry she couldn’t make it.” Fuck. I say nothing into the beat of silence that follows because my brain freezes the instant coach mentions her absence.
“Will do, coach,” Dooley speaks for me because he knows coach just pushed a button based the lack of my usual polite response. You’d never guess I’m known for my poise right now. I’m fucking awkward. Shit.
After he walks away with his little girl and we head toward the gate to get off the ice, Dooley nudges my shoulder. I don’t even realize I’ve gone silent.
“What’s up with you? Is your coach an asshole or what?” I shrug.
“Who knows. I’m not sure what his expectations are or what he’s heard. Maybe he doesn’t like musicians. Or maybe he was just being polite and I’m paranoid.”
“I vote yes on number two! And paranoia takes it for the win!” I snort and nudge his shoulder back so that he almost goes down. I’m surprised he hasn’t fallen yet on the ice. There’s a crowd of people at the gate to go to the locker room, so we hang back.
“So why isn’t Jazzy here?” He asks the atomic question. I let out a deep breath.
“She’s working on her album.”
“I know. I also know for a fact that she’s been working on her album every single flipping day since she got to New York. Before you even got here. It’s Sunday. She can’t take a day off?” He’s a loyal friend and until now, I wasn’t sure who’s side he’d come down on since he’s close to Majik and Jazzy too. But we knew each other first and best. A wave of warm appreciation goes through me, but it fades quickly because it doesn’t match the intensity of my heartache about Jazzy’s absence.
“She has her dreams, Dooley. I can’t interfere with them.” I can only wish her dreams included spending more time with me, but how can I complain when I’m on the road half the fucking time. I don’t say any of this to Dooley, but he’s looking at me with his bug eyes and a finger in his chin like he’s reading a book on how to fuck up your life in two easy steps. The answer? Choose a career in the NHL and then choose a lover with career ambitions as a musician. Worst case of fucked up oil and water ever.
* * *
It'sthe Wednesday before Thanksgiving and we had a short practice today. Tomorrow’s off and we have a game Friday night, but if anyone’s worried about losing their edge over a big turkey day meal, they’re keeping it a secret. The prevailing mood in the locker room as I head for the exit is flat-out psyched for a fucking day and a half off with family. That includes me.
I’m first home, but I don’t care. I’m changing into flannel pants and a sweatshirt when my phone rings. Pulling my shirt over my head, I reach for the phone without checking who it is. When I hear Majik’s voice it’s like a gut punch.
“Where are you? Everything okay—”
“Save the drama. I swear you’re like an old lady sometimes.” My breath blows out in relief. “Can’t wait to see you so you can take some shots at me in person,” I say. “Where are you?”
“Outside of New Rochelle. I’m waving to your parents now.” I laugh and my chest tightens because I haven’t seen Majik in months and she’s as much family as my parents.
“Say hello to Dooley, but don’t distract his driving. I bet traffic is a bitch.” She grunts. She talked Dooley into driving though I told her I’d get her a ticket to fly.
“Jazzy home?”
“No. Not yet.” I know this isn’t casual conversation because Majik doesn’t do casual conversation. She’s not a shoot the shit kind of lady.
“So what’s that about? What’s with her manager? This guy Hal? And what knd of name is Hal? I don’t know if I trust him. What about you?”
“No, I don’t. What’s on your mind, Majik?”
“I want to know how you’re doing? How she’s doing? How your couple thing is working out.” No easing into it, with Majik. I’m shocked she took two sentences to ask.
“I think Hal is interested in more than repping her and she can’t see it. She won’t fire him.”
“Why the fuck not? Life is too short to put up with shit.”
“It’s more than shit. He scheduled an extra studio session for her the same time as my away game last time she’d planned to come with me.” I stop short of telling her about the scene I walked in on when I got home, mostly because I can’t stand thinking about it. I need to banish it from my brain. “It worries me that she has no friends, that she’s surrounded by men who want to exploit her.” Majik blows out a whistle.
“You talk to her.”
I snort. “For all the good it does. She’s afraid Hal is her only shot at the business no matter how much I try and tell her there are others. I asked my agent to see if there are any female managers who might take her on. But she has a contract, so it could be tricky now.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Hang in there with her, Ben. This music shit is important. Her identity is wrapped up in it.”
“Don’t worry about me quitting,” I say, leaving my worst fears unspoken. That she might be the one likely to quit—not the music—me. She might quit me.
