Page 140 of The Fake Out Flex

Speaking of, I'm very happy to report that after hitting a rough patch, the Swifts have rallied. They've dug deep and won their last three games, plus the decider, and secured themselves a spot in the conference finals.

Talk about an up-and-down season. If they manage to ride this hot streak, they could go all the way and win the Stanley Cup this year.

I pull into the driveaway of my parents' house.

Margo finally takes a breath, so I switch my mind back into work mode and decide to bring up something I've been meaning to tell her.

"I've been working on something."

"What is it?"

"Well, despite my days at the network being numbered, I'm putting together a package to show Fraser what an interview segment could look like."

"That's fantastic news. I reckon you're onto a winner with that, hon. And it's not too late. I say go for it. It could be enough to save you."

"I'm not making any promises," I say, trying to reset her expectations into the realm of reality. "I'm still ninety-nine percent sure Fraser will veto the idea, but there's no harm in raising it with him, is there?"

"Exactly. Have you got an angle?"

"I do."

"Ooh," she squeals. "Do tell. Oh, no. Damn. I'm getting another call. Double damn. I have to take it. We'll talk later, yeah? You've made me very happy, hon."

The call ends, and I turn off the car, sitting silently for a few moments. "What do you think, Daisy?"

She sighs in sympathy, and I imagine her saying, "You're down to your last two choices, Evie. And a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

"Ain't that the truth."

Last choice number one—putting together a package and presenting it to Fraser.

Even if he says no—which I fully expect him to—at least when I look back on this time in my life, I'll know I did everything I could to save my career. That I didn't slink away from the challenge, and that I gave it my all.

And the angle I've come up with?

Well, since Fraser has been so closed off, he's developed a reputation for being a little…gruff. I want to change that inaccurate perception and present his softer side. And the best way to do that would be to show him with his family, especially Dawn and Oakey. He loves that kid with all his heart, and he's so great with him. That's the Fraser Rademacher I want the world to see.

Plus, it also allows me to slip Dawn's story into the segment—if she and the rest of the family would like to be involved, that is. It could finally put an end to the ugly rumors and speculation that have dogged the Rademachers since they pulled the plug on their show.

They'll have full control of the narrative since I have no desire to make the piece exploitative in any way.

I know Fraser is—and will always be—a private person, but in this way, he and his family are in the driver's seat. They control what and how much they want to reveal.

I still don't think he'll go for it, but it's one of the last two remaining options I have.

The other option?

I get out of the car and walk toward my childhood home. It backs onto the Pacific Ocean, and the salt-tinged air tickles my nose as I take in the stucco walls, red tiled roof, and arched doorways.

I reach the front door and press the bell, the distinctive chime echoing throughout the house.

"Evelyn," Mom says, sounding surprised as she opens the door.

"Hey, Mom." I hug her. "Why do you sound surprised to see me?"

I called and arranged this visit with her yesterday.

She gives me a once over. "It's just that you said you'd be here at two o'clock."

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