“Did you need me to come back up, or?—”
“No, no need to worry your pretty head about it. I just wanted to put a bug in your ear about this meeting tomorrow.”
Jenna tensed. “Tomorrow?”
“The meeting with the TIkToker.”
That was a bit presumptuous. “Right. I’m reaching out now. I’ll let you know when I have a time with Gentry.”
“Gentry?”
The blood drained from Jenna’s face. “Or was it Country? Whatever his name was.”
John didn’t flinch. “I’d like you to do some research. Find the content on his channel that’s generated the most interaction so we can pitch it for the segment.”
“You want to repurpose it?”
“Why reinvent the wheel? Rylen consolidated data on our social media presence, and our interaction is down by 20 percent from last year. You know I’m no good with any of that stuff but you are.”
Jenna sighed. “I don’t understand why you think that being under forty makes me adept at social media.” Hiring and coordinating with a social media manager was technically part of her job description, but ever since being promoted to producer, she’d hoped they’d find someone else to take that on. It’s not that she couldn’t do it. She just didn’t want to.
John chuckled. “So modest. Love that about you, McAllister. Anyway, get a list for me tomorrow by three.”
“Will do. I’ll have it to Mary?—”
“On second thought, just bring it to my office. You can join us. I’ll get Kessler and Archer there, too. It can be a family affair.”
“Wait—you mean at the meeting? With Gen—the TikToker?”
John’s voice was disembodied as he yelled, “Not Chophouse. I want it from PB and YYC!” His shirt scuffled against the speaker as he returned to their conversation. “Get me that time tonight if you can.”
The call ended, and Jenna dropped her phone into her lap. She was supposed to analyze Gentry’s videos? Didn’t they have interns for that?
Jenna turned on the car and typed “Gentry Maddox” in her search bar, then deleted it and typed in “Country.” A few local news articles about a hockey team called the Snowballs popped up, but there wasn’t any contact information. She reverted to her first thought and typed in his real name. The first hit read “Maddox Ranch.’ Her heart kicked up a notch, but she forced herself to tap on it.
A picture of a rustic barn bathed in golden light bloomed on her screen. The sight of the familiar landscape knocked the breath out of her. They’d repainted, and she couldn’t believe Gentry’s dad had approved branding photos. She scrolled to the “Meet the Family” tab and stared as Gentry’s picture materialized first on the list. Was this his day job? Had he taken over like his dad had always wanted?
No. That wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to play hockey, and—Jenna squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the questions lighting up her mind like text notifications. Her last conversation over the phone with Gentry poured into her head like water from a pitcher.
I think we need to take a break, Gentry.
I’m getting in my car. I’ll be there in the morning?—
No.
No?
I’m sorry, Gentry. I’m drowning with school, stressed about my mom—I need to figure this out, and I can’t do that if I’m tied down to a life that isn’t here.
If you’re still tied down to me, you mean.
Gentry, I have an opportunity here at Globespan.
And that’s more important than us?
She’d forgotten plenty of details over the past decade and a half, but that conversation still played in high definition. She never told him the real motivator for the breakup. She’d regretted that almost instantly. He thought she’d fallen out of love with him, which was the furthest thing from the truth. Their dream had been ripped from her hands before she’d ever torn it from his.
Jenna tried to reach out a month later to explain, but he’d never responded. She’d followed Gentry for nearly a year on social media, even though he rarely posted, and she never got the courage to send him a note. She’d seen him tagged in team photos and celebratory comments referencing some play or win while he was under contract with the Admirals. She may have checked the NHL draft summary that year and the next but hadn’t found his name. Then, after some dark-haired girl in a turquoise top tagged him in a pic of her sucking on his earlobe, she’d blocked him and hadn’t looked back. Well, maybe she’d looked back once or twice.
