Page 46 of He Has Pluck

Chapter Fourteen

JULIETTE

On the outside, I keep my cool in spite of the sharp and surprising stabbing pain in my chest as I shift my gaze from Jason’s to his little girlfriend, Brenna. She looks like she stepped off the high school cheerleading squad last week and is ready to step into the role of baby mama for her freshly minted NHL player. The boiling sensation stirs my blood, and my mind spins in an angry painful cyclone.

Some big questions for Jason thunder into my head like, I thought you said no girlfriends, no distractions, no promises, no relationships because hockey is the most important thing…? The possible answers soak like acid into my psyche. No way can I ask him those questions here and now, because I’m not supposed to know such intimate secrets about him, am I? So I turn to his girlfriend instead.

“Welcome to Boston, Brenna.”

“Thank you. I’m so excited to be here.” She turns to Jason. “I can’t believe I’m on TV. This is so crazy.”

“You’re not—she’s filming a documentary,” he says. Brenna turns back to me, her smile less sure. “We should go now,” he adds

“How about one question first?” I say, stopping him. “Is that okay, Brenna?” She nods. Jason stiffens. He knows me, and I smile one of those evil smiles because I want to slap his face, to scream at him, but I can’t. So I send him a message through his girlfriend.

“Brenna,” she smiles big, and I have her full attention, “What do you think of NHL players who tom-cat around when their girlfriends are out of town?”

Her face scrunches up in confusion, and Jason sucks in a breath.

I catch his expression on camera, the shock and outrage, and it should be satisfying, even triumphant. But it’s not. I still taste the acid and feel it burning a hole in my chest.

Jason takes Brenna by the hand. “Never mind. She’s joking.”

“But—”

“We have to go. I need to rest to make it an early night like Coach says.” He drags the girl who hurries along with him, a brilliant shiny smile returning to her pretty face, trumpeting the kind of innocence that makes me feel old and used up.

Or maybe just used. But how the hell could that be? I don’t need Jason Tansem. She can have him. We had a fling, and now it’s over. I spot Carlos as he’s packing away his camera, and I go over to him.

“I’ll see you back at the house. Tonight, we’ll do the editing together.” A need to get lost in work seizes me. “Or maybe, I’ll give you a break and do it all myself.”

He looks up at me, controlling his smirk. “About time.”

It’s a close enough cousin to I told you so because I know he’s talking about Hockey Boy, so I give him the finger and take off, filming forgotten and my camera dangling in my hand. We’ve never talked about who I spend my nights with, but Carlos is smart and observant and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s guessed what’s what. I’ve never admitted to anything between me and Jason to anyone. Hardly admit it to myself.

When I get to the house, I’ll regroup, give myself a short rest before getting to work because exhaustion vibrates through me, stealing all my energy down to my cells. Which is so strange, because ten minutes ago, I was looking forward to another energetic night with my lover, Hockey Boy.

In the equipment room I do a shit job of packing up my camera because my hands shake. Fuck. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I walk fast, punching through the exit door where I turn sharply around the corner. Then I stop abruptly, my gut seizing up, and I throw up against the wall.

Chapter Fifteen

JULIETTE

Carlos comes crashing into the room ten minutes after I sit down at the computer and hovers over my shoulder.

“Get out of here. This is my night to do the edits,” I say.

“Nowhere to go. I don’t mind staying to help.” He watches me, and I don’t care as I isolate the clip of Brenna and hit the delete button. “Hey, what’s wrong with that? It’s just the kind of drama they’re looking for. You’re not getting squeamish over a girlfriend complication, are you?”

I turn around and school my face though my gut churns in the exact squeamish way he’s accusing me of. No way am I giving him the satisfaction of knowing I’m affected by some third-rate hanger-on from wherever the hell she’s from—somewhere stupid.

“We need to talk to Jason before we include the clip of his girlfriend,” I say, my voice controlled but with a little more steel than it should have. “I’m not going to have another misunderstanding with him like last time when we included the fight after we said we wouldn’t.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you? A conscience? What happened to that ruthless film journalist who put truth first?”

I give him the finger. “This is a fucking hockey documentary, Carlos. There’s no truth. It’s meaningless. We’re not filming arms dealers or human slave traffickers here.”

“No. But we need to do it with the same attitude. Keep it in. If we need to, we can smooth it out with Jason. It worked out with the fight. Besides, it’ll be harmless. She’s his girlfriend, not his mistress. Come on. It’s the most interesting twist of the night. Reuniting with the girl from back home.”