Page 23 of The Fake Out Flex

"I just heard something about not being healthy and needing to let it go, and since we are in a toilet, I thought you might be a little backed up."

Physically, no.

But emotionally? Quite likely.

"I'm all good." I gather up my stuff, vacate the stall, and make a beeline for the door. "Thanks for your concern, though," I call over my shoulder.

By the time I make it back to my desk, I've made a few decisions.

One, no more talking to myself in toilet stalls. That is officially banned.

Two, I'm done with watching that video and being stuck in that moment.

It happened.

It's done.

I need to move on.

That can't be something I just say anymore. It needs to be something I do.

And three, I'm not bringing up the story idea with Fraser.

I can't. It's a total non-starter.

My mind is made up.

Despite the ratings juggernaut I know it would be.

Fraser has good reasons to despise the media as much as he does. They invaded his life once. He never wants to go through that again.

I get it.

I respect it.

I'd never put him in that position because I know how much he'd hate it.

Which means…

I'll just have to find some other way to increase my numbers and save my job.

4

Fraser

The clock ticks down, deep in the third.

The scores are tied at two apiece.

It's the third game in the preseason. We lost the first two, unable to shake whatever funk we got into last season.

But tonight's game is different.

Despite the locked score, this is the best we've played in a long time.

It's the best I've played in a long time, too.

One of the two goals was mine.

---