“I’m fine,” he lied. “Let’s talk about the show.” Because yes, she should’ve called, though he knew why she hadn’t. The internet gave people a forum to show their whole asses, John had done it, and Jess had to react to that in a certain period of time or risk being seen as endorsing his behavior. And obviously she didn’t want to bother him while he was taking personal time toget a divorce. The timing just… sucked.
“Wow, you really don’t want to talk about it.” Jess shook her head. “Fine, let’s talk about the show. You want to tell me what your problem is? I could tell you had a chip on your shoulder even before it all went truly to hell. I thought you’d be grateful to get rid of John, move up to the lead role.”
“I am. But is Aubrey Chase the right guy to replace him?”
For a long moment, Jess held herself absolutely still, inscrutable. Then she slowly leaned back in her chair. “You know I can’t comment on the discussion I had with him, but I promise you that I’ve addressed it, and if it happens again, he’s gone, no questions.”
In his three years in the industry, Nate had heard a lot of horror stories. “Thanks.” Aubrey didn’t strike him as that kind of problem—more like a guy who sometimes had trouble holding his tongue—but it comforted him to know Jess had his back.
“I’m more concerned about his qualifications,” she went on shrewdly. “You think he doesn’t know hockey?”
“I’m just saying—I know John had to go, he was awful, I hated working with him. But we already alienated a lot of people when we got rid of him, and now….”
“Now I’ve replaced a conservative windbag with a flamboyant figure skater?” Jess suggested.
Nate had to be on the only mainstream sports news show with two gay hosts—and probably the only gay guy to question whether that was the right decision. And he couldn’t figure out how to object without feeling like an asshole. Withoutbeingan asshole.
“Look, we’re not alienating anyone by hiring Aubrey that we didn’t already piss off when we let John go.”
With a slow exhale, Nate admitted to himself she probably had a point. But in the meantime, Nate’s divorce was bound to become a minor news item in the near future now that they’d signed the paperwork, and he knew it wouldn’t take much for people to jump on Aubrey as a possible reason. Marty and his new fiancé weren’t famous; they’d easily fly under the radar.
People online will think we’re dating and that annoys mewould not fly as a legitimate objection, unfortunately. “All right,” he said finally.
“And we’re hoping to tap into a new market,” she reminded him. “Young, left-leaning viewers who are tired of hockey being an old boys’ club”—he wondered if she were throwing Aubrey’s words back at him intentionally—“and want a little less xenophobia with their sports commentary. Not to mention Aubrey’s got a horde of Twitter followers from his skating days, and hey, maybe they’ll follow a new sport if we get a hip, hot, visibly gay athlete to feed it to them.”
“You’re a mercenary,” Nate said glumly, nonplussed at the implication that he was neither hip nor visibly gay. Then, “Things are that bad?” Because he loved this show, but with video-streaming services on the rise, with entertainment budgets in the tank, advertising revenue took a hit, and so did their profit margins.
For the first time, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He’d been so involved in his own problems he hadn’t even seen them. “Things aren’t great. But that’s why we’re making changes, okay?”
He nodded, mostly because he could tell she needed him to believe her for now. “Yeah, of course. I trust you.” And if the show flopped, it wasn’t like he’d be out on his ass. He hadn’t been the best-paid hockey player of all time, but he’d played professionally for over a decade and managed to avoid major financial disaster. He didn’t need to work. “Just keep me posted, okay?”
“Promise,” Jess said, flashing a quick, brittle smile. “All right, that’s it. Get out of here. Let’s go home.”
Chapter Three
MIRACULOUSLY, AUBREYdid not get fired, even if, as he stood on the sidewalk waiting for his Lyft ride, he could still hear Jess’s clipped words ringing in his ears.
Or maybe that was his phone.
He barely glanced at the caller ID before picking up just as his car arrived. He got in and confirmed his destination with the driver.
“Jackson,” he said finally, doing a little mental math. Just after ten thirty on the West Coast. “Shouldn’t you be on the ice right now?” They’d been giving score updates during the show.
“Game’s over. We won. No points for me, but Fishy scored on a penalty shot, so I ducked out while everyone was talking to him to call my best boy. How’d it go?”
Aubrey leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling of the car. “Well, Jess Chapel didn’t pull me into her office immediately after the show and fire me, so I guess it wasn’t that bad.” She did bawl him out for inappropriate conduct, though, which he deserved enough that her anger actually made him feel better.
“What! Man, I am glad I set my DVR. What did you do?”
Aubrey explained in as much detail as he dared while sitting in the back seat of a car where he might be recorded. Fortunately the drive only took a few minutes at this time of night, so by the time Aubrey was waving goodbye to the driver, he’d only just gotten to the good part.
“And I just kept… trying to make conversation, but it was like talking to a wall, like the guy had the world’s biggest chip on his shoulder. So I figured, fuck it, he doesn’t want to talk.” He waved to his doorman as he went inside. “And that would’ve been fine! Okay! But it was my first day of work, and I was kind of hoping to actually get along with my cohost, and when I got frustrated I, uh, I did something dumb.”
There was a pause as Jackson digested this. Aubrey thought he was thinking about what Aubrey might have said—it wasn’t a secret that Aubrey hated to be ignored, and while Aubrey had been working on how he handled that, sometimes he backslid—but instead Jackson asked, “You managed to piss off Nathan Overton?” His voice hit a register that indicated extreme incredulity. “That guy isso nice.”
Oh hell.“Youknowhim?”
“Yeah, didn’t I tell you? We did that PowerPowder Camp—God, that must’ve been, what, six years ago? I was still green as grass, couldn’t keep weight on to save my life. Donut gave me a couple tips, helped me get the hang of altitude training.”
