Page 12 of The Fake Out Flex

"What's going on?" he asks.

She sighs. "Everything's fine."

"Yes, because that was definitely a happy-sounding sigh," Levi presses. "Very common thing for people to do when communicating good news. Like, sigh, I won the lottery. Or, sigh, I landed my dream job. Or, sigh, I'd like to thank the academy for this awar—Ow."

A breadstick strikes the side of his face.

"Evie." I try to make my voice sound stern. "Please don't throw food at your brother."

"But it shut him up."

I tap my chin. "Fair enough. Continue."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," Levi says, before Evie can peg anything else at him. He rubs his cheek. "But talk. Tell us what's going on, Evie."

"It's just…numbers."

I frown. "Numbers?"

"Yeah. My segments aren't generating the kind of numbers the network expects."

Levi stops rubbing his cheek. "Why not?"

"Because bad news sells, and good news doesn't," she replies despondently.

Evie is the good news reporter for KCFB's morning show, The Morning Buzz, and she is easily the star of the show. In fact, if they don't make her co-anchor soon, I plan on launching a complaint with the FCC for the network failing to give the viewers what we want.

"I really liked your piece on crafts with a cause," I say, twisting a strand of linguine around my fork. "It's such a great way for the elderly to stay connected and do something fun and creative. And your story about the dog who survived a house fire and is now training to be a therapy dog for burn victims was really touching. Oh, and the one about that old lady who scrolls through social media looking for posts about independent restaurants that are struggling and then goes there, orders lunch, and posts rave reviews about it online. She's so awesome. I wanted to reach into my screen and give her a high-five."

Evie's eyes widen. "You…you watch The Morning Buzz?"

Only for you.

The words threaten to spill out of me, so I shove some shrimp into my mouth and reply with a nod.

"How do you watch?" Levi asks, raising an eyebrow. "You're hardly ever in town."

"There's this thing called a cell phone, and on it you can download these things called apps. And have you heard of this thing called streaming?"

He rolls his eyes.

I continue. "I downloaded the network app. That way I can watch"—Evie—"the show when I'm on the road."

"You're more dedicated than I am."

I glance across the table. Evie's eyes are brimming with an unspoken curiosity. Her cheeks seem a little redder, too.

Is it weird that I watch her show? Weirder than bringing her flowers, or about on par on the Fraser weird-o-meter?

I keep my mouth shut to avoid escalating the awkwardness already filling the room.

So of course, that's the precise moment when Levi decides to step in with, "So, should we talk about my genius idea?"

Evie's eyes dart between me and her brother, and yeah, her cheeks are definitely getting redder.

"Thanks for agreeing to take this one to her ex's wedding," Levi says. "I owe you one, man."

Tightness bands around my chest.

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