“Insulting—?” Damn it, where had Aubrey gone wrong? Did Nate think Aubrey was implyinghe’dgotten the job through nepotism? Talk about delicate. “Excuse me for trying to make conversation. You know, you could stand to loosen up,” Aubrey said, then added under his breath, “Someone needs to get laid.”
The set went dead quiet, and Aubrey remembered for the first time in twenty seconds that he was wearing a hot mic. Everyone had heard him.
The blood drained not just from his face but from the entire upper half of his body.Fuckhis stupid temper and his own sensitivity about being overlooked. Fuck, fuck,fuck.
The PA called, “Thirty seconds!”
Overton took a long, deep breath. He didn’t look at Aubrey. “We have an update on the Nielsen situation?”
Gina answered from just off camera. “Bob McKenzie is reporting the ask is Simmonds and a second-round pick. Not sure if they’re going to take the bait yet.”
“Keep refreshing his Twitter feed and get ready to call him if this goes through. I want a soundbite.”
“Ten seconds!”
Aubrey couldn’t even open his mouth to apologize, not that Overton would look at him anyway. Not that Aubreyblamedhim. Shit, was he going to ignore Aubrey unless the camera was on? That would make this even more uncomfortable. Probably only for the next two hours or so, though. Good thing Aubrey didn’t actually need this job.
The show’s theme played, and the teleprompter counted down the seconds to air. Aubrey sat up straight again. If this was going to be his only show, he at least wanted it to be an entertaining one. “Welcome back toThe Inside Edge. I’m Aubrey Chase. If you’re just tuning in, the Chicago Snap leads Toronto 2-1. Puck drops for the second in five minutes. Meanwhile, around the league….”
They played a few clips from yesterday’s and tonight’s games, including the Colorado-Dallas shocker, and Aubrey managed to find the same reserves of professionalism that let him get up and keep skating when he missed a jump, even though inside he was dying.
“I expect the Stars will announce a partnership with Cuisinart, as the coach gets out the line blender at the first sign of trouble,” Aubrey quipped.
Apparently Nate didn’t find that to be terribly substantive, but instead of trying to make an in-depth response, he just went with, “The line blender works.” Yawn. Boring.
Aubrey couldn’t let it go. “Yes, turning a 5-0 deficit into a 5-4 regulation loss is progress which—let me check—you still getzeropoints for.”
“And those are points the Avalanche need more than the Stars now,” Nate asserted. Was this guy joking? It was the second week of October. A little early for the playoffs race. But he doubled down with, “Let’s pull up the Central Division standings.”
It was going to be a long night.
NATE WASstill bristling when he closed the door to Jess’s office behind him.
Jess raised an eyebrow and gestured to the chair in front of her desk as she lowered herself into her own. “Have a seat, Nate.”
She was playing it cool, so Nate was probably about to have his ass handed to him for being a dick. And he probably deserved it. Who the hell talked about the points race not even two weeks into the season?
People who were so disoriented from having their show rearranged immediately after their divorce they didn’t know which way was up, that was who.
He sat.
But instead of taking him to task for the clusterfuck of an episode, or even better, addressing Aubrey’s heinously inappropriate comment, she just asked, “How was Houston?”
Damn it. Nate slumped in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. He could feel the makeup smearing. He should’ve taken it off first. Instead he’d sat in his dressing room, stewing.
“That good, huh?” Jess said sympathetically.
Nate pulled his hand away and drew a deep breath. “I mean, what do you want me to say, here? I went. I signed the papers. It was a long time coming.”
“It’s less about what I want you to say and more about whatyou needto say.” Jess loved to pull lines like that, ones that sounded straight out of a Psych 100 class. Unfortunately she actually meant them.
Even more unfortunately, Nate fell for it every time. “Marty’s getting married.” It didn’t hurt exactly. It didn’t feelgood—the ink hadn’t even touched their divorce papers when Marty made the announcement—but they’d been separated for years. Nate didn’t love him anymore.
But seeing his ex comfortable in his gorgeous new house with his gorgeous new husband-to-be, getting ready to start the family he’d put off having with Nate—Nate was never home, he said; they could wait until Nate retired, he said, except somehow they never made it that far—okay, Nate could admit it. It hurt.
“Ouch.” Jess winced. “And then I sprung these changes on you while you were gone. I thought I was giving you time and space to sort out some personal things, but I should’ve called. Are you okay?”
No, Nate thought. He was thirty-six and he’d spent the best years of his life with a man who’d left him as soon as Nate started being home more often. He’d done everything right, and it hadn’t mattered in the end.
