“Had to pop in and see the rehearsal.” John wound his way through the equipment to plant himself on the stage. “Everyone comfortable?” Country nodded, his face unreadable. John slapped his hands on the desk. “Based on this snippet, I can’t wait till Saturday.”
“It’s going to be a great show.” Glen’s smile wobbled. Jenna almost felt bad for him. He’d been the king of the rock for years and now found himself wiping his eyes and spluttering after Country had knocked him off into the lake. It felt odd to be on the same page as Kessler for once.
John turned and shaded his eyes, hunting for Jenna. “We done here, McAllister?”
Jenna straightened. “We can be. As long as Country doesn’t have any other questions.”
“I have a few thousand questions,” Liam muttered behind her.
Country nodded once. “I’m good.”
John clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Then?—”
“Drinks?” Glen stood so fast, Jenna expected his chair to topple. She wasn’t the only one who jumped when John called. He was worse than a lap dog.
John sighed and adjusted his belt. “I think you owe me after stealing Mary for the night.” That made sense of why he was still in his office. He had to type his own emails for once.
Glen's laugh sounded like a twelve-year-old girl. “Absolutely. I’ll get you two.”
“One for me, one for Archer.” John pulled out his phone and held it at arm's length. Jenna could almost read the enlarged text on his screen from across the room. He cleared his throat and held his phone to his ear. “Hey, Arch. Heading down to Pretty, Please. Discuss it over drinks?”
Jenna stiffened. Discuss it? Discuss what? And why was he willing to discuss whatever ‘it’ was in front of Kessler? John dropped the phone and pointed at Country like he was Uncle Sam. “You want to join us?”
Country pushed back from the desk, and Jenna turned, striding toward the booth as her hands started to tingle. She was an outsider. The thought echoed in her head as she closed in on the brass door handle. After years of working in broadcasting, she knew how to fit in. It was moments like this that reminded her she’d never belong. Where was Tasha and?—?
“Is she coming?” Country’s voice hit her just as her hand curled around the handle. “I had a question about the script.”
The cool metal pressed into her palm as Jenna glanced over her shoulder to find three glowing faces peering out at her.
John held up a hand to shade his eyes. “McAllister? Are you available?”
Jenna's stomach somersaulted. They were inviting her along? It felt like she’d just popped a Sour Sucker into her mouth. Drinks with John and Archer meant networking gold—but with Country there? Plus, the fact that John only thought to include her because Country thought of her first.
She wanted to say “hell, no.” She wanted to turn the knob and gripe to Tasha and Liam about being seen as second-rate. She wanted to be better than a mut curled up under the supper table, waiting patiently for John and Archer to drop scraps.
Jenna let go of the knob. “I am.”
John nodded approvingly. “Perfect. I’ll grab my coat from my office and meet you all at the elevators.”
Chapter Six
The air had not been successfully cleared by her text messages to Country earlier in the week. Though having a good shame-filled cry in her office had made her temporarily more stable, Jenna felt vacuum-sealed as the four of them rode down to the first floor in the elevator and exited onto the street.
Kessler and John were known to go out for drinks with Archer, if not regularly, then at least often enough that it didn't feel out of the ordinary. The point of going out for drinks with the boss was to build camaraderie, but Jenna feared that sitting there with the three of them would make it more obvious than ever that she wasn't a member of their boys’ club.
The icy air slipped into Jenna’s lungs, and she coughed. The temperature might be well below negative twenty, but at least it was a dry cold. She clung to that and any other comparative phrase Calgarians threw around, like Hey! Our winters keep out tarantulas! to justify why she still lived there. Country fell into step next to her and they crunched their way to the crosswalk.
John leaned over and said something to Glen because of course he did. Glen was excellent at being a yes-man, but Jenna? Abysmal. She was capable of playing hard to get or dumbing herself down enough to be mysterious, but she was not believable when engaging in conversation about opinions she viscerally disagreed with.
Glen, flying solo, seemed genuinely interested in her take on hockey and the show, but when he was with the execs, he morphed into something akin to British Prime Minister Chamberlain during the Second World War.
So. Her strategy had become to sit still and look pretty. She could handle that for an hour in the boardroom, but for two hours after work in a lounge? She didn’t enjoy drinking that much.
Jenna pulled her coat closer and buried her chin in the collar as they waited for the walk signal.
“Do you want this?” Country held out a toque that he pulled from his pocket.
Jenna was tempted but then remembered how many times that day she'd had to run lotioned hands through her hair to keep the static at bay. Putting on a hat would make her look like she'd just rubbed a balloon on her head at a child’s birthday party. “I'm good, but thank you.”
