Jonah (Chicago Blaze #7) - Brenda Rothert Page 0,36
deny, it also feels good.
“Let’s go face the wolves,” Anton says in a mock cheerful tone as he opens the door that will lead us to the media room.
It’s a full house tonight. I take my seat at the table and let Coach and Anton handle all the questions about the loss. I fucking hate those questions.
What do you think you did wrong tonight?
Were you just outplayed?
Do you think your offense or defense is more to blame?
Fuck all that. Losing sucks, and no one wants to cast blame about it in public. But sitting up here and facing questions is part of the job.
“Jonah, what do you think about that slash at the end of the game not getting called?” someone asks.
I smile wryly. “It’s frustrating. But no one’s perfect, calls get missed. It’s part of the game.”
“How serious are things with you and Renee Carlisle?” another reporter asks.
“I don’t answer questions about my personal life.”
“Will we be seeing her at more games?”
I turn to Anton and ask, “Did I stutter?”
“Any more questions about hockey, guys?” Anton asks the reporters.
“Do you think the younger teams are just stronger and faster than you?” a brand new reporter whose name I don’t know asks. “Your team is one of the oldest in the game on average.”
Anton sits back, and I can’t make out the look on his face, but I think he’s just surprised by the question. I lean up to my mic and take it.
“We’re one of the most experienced,” I say. “And we’re proud of that. We’re still competitive, just look at the standings.”
“Agreed,” Coach says. “That’s all for tonight, guys.”
Anton turns to me as we stand and button our suit jackets and says, “Who the fuck was that guy? He looked about twelve.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Go home to your wife, man. And I hope the girls are feeling better.”
“You and me both.”
Chapter Fifteen
Reyna
“This feels like prom all over again,” I mutter as Kai puts the finishing touches on my makeup.
“Bullshit, you look like you’re heading to the Oscars. Seriously, this is some of the best work I’ve ever done. Turn and look.”
I spin around on the stool in front of Kai’s vanity and gasp when I see my reflection. Kai did my hair in big, glamorous waves that rest on my bare shoulders. It looks perfect with my dark green dress, sleeveless with a high neck and lots of intricate beading on the bodice.
Kai managed to borrow this dress from a fashion designer he knows and he spent hours getting my hair and makeup just right, which was no small feat with his arm in a sling. I look dramatically different than the high school girl who wore a lilac-colored taffeta dress and ponytail to her prom a decade ago.
“Wow,” I say, turning to admire my makeup. “You really are the smoky eye master.”
“Don’t wipe off the red lipstick.” He meets my gaze in the mirror with a stern look.
“You don’t think it’s too bold?”
“It’s perfect. Flawless. I would kill to be able to wear a red lip the way you do.”
I turn to face him. “You’re sure you feel okay being alone here tonight?”
It’s been almost a week since the attack. At first Kai was furious that I told Logan, who told Kai’s father. But the next day, Kai broke down and apologized, saying that he was ashamed for anyone to know and angry at the situation rather than angry with me.
He’s gotten past that now, though. His parents came over and we all assured Kai that he has nothing to feel shame for. He was the victim of a hate crime—ambushed by drunken frat boys leaving a bar near the club he was at. They followed him as he left and pulled him into an alley, demanding proof of his gender.
CPD detectives have been scouring security footage from every business within a couple square miles of that club, trying to get a lead on the assholes that hurt Kai. Those of us who love him have been focused on helping him recover, though I know the emotional wounds will last longer than his physical ones.
“I’m fine,” Kai says. “With the doors locked, I feel very safe. Please have fun and don’t worry about me.”
“I couldn’t do this without you,” I say, standing up and taking his hand.
By this, I mean the beauty aspect of my undercover persona. I always knew how to apply basic makeup, a little eyeshadow here and concealer there, but