Page 83 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

Ava: I’m sick of using the word folds. Can’t we just write pussy when we mean pussy? Why do we have to find all these different ways to write it?

I let out a laugh. God, I love my author chat group.

Libby: You can’t use the word pussy 87 times in the same book. You have to switch it up. Vagina, genitals, private parts, vag, lady bits, muff… Need I go on?

Me: You know I’m partial to pink canoe.

JoJo: Anything is better than moistened folds.

Me: I throw the word moist into every single book just because people hate it. At least I amuse myself.

JoJo: Ugh. I know. It’s gross.

Me: If we were British, we could write fanny, but we can’t get away with that shit.

Ava: Ooh. Fanny. I like that.

Libby: I just used bajingo in a book. I was debating between that and fufu.

Ava: I’ll take your leftovers. Fufu for the win.

I smile as I place my phone on my desk. I love those clowns. They always bring a smile to my face. Every single day.

Darian suddenly runs into my office, completely out of breath. “Come to the conference room. Right now.”

I quickly follow her into our big conference room. I assume they’re having a goodbye party for me, but that’s not what I find. Everyone in the office is sitting, looking up at the big-screen television that hangs on the wall.

It’s tuned to ESPN. It appears to be some sort of news conference. There’s a stage and podium.

I look closely at the three men sitting near the podium until the one on the left comes into focus. “Is that Trey?”

Darian nods. “It is.”

The scroll bar underneath readsBombers to announce blockbuster trade at five p.m.I glance down at my watch. It’s four fifty-nine.

What’s happening? Is it him? Where is he going?

Trey and the elderly Bombers’ owner, George Stein, move to stand at the podium. George brings the microphone toward him.

“Good evening, everyone. Thanks for being here. Trey DePaul joined this team eleven years ago, right out of high school. He made an immediate impact on this organization both on and off the field. In addition to being a true team leader, he’s among the most level-headed young men I’ve ever had the privilege to have play for me. When he came to me this week and requested a trade…”

He pauses as he becomes emotional and wipes his eyes with a tissue, but eventually continues.

“To say I was shocked is an understatement. When he explained his reasons, I had to respect them. They’re for him to share, but effective immediately, the Bombers have traded Trey DePaul to the Philly Cougars for Jim McMichael, Jeremy Horns, and multiple draft picks which will be released to the press shortly.”

He holds out his hand to Trey for him to shake, which he does.

“Son, we’ll miss you, and we wish you well.”

Trey nods as he stands and briefly hugs George. I see tears forming in his eyes as he adjusts the microphone up toward his mouth.

“Thank you, Mr. Stein.”

He swallows, clearly equally filled with emotion.

“I moved to New York as a kid at eighteen with one duffle bag and without any friends or family in the area. The people of this city embraced me as one of their own and made me feel at home. Mr. Stein treated me with nothing but kindness and respect. I love this city andthe Bombers more than words can express, but there comes a time in a man’s life when he has to make difficult choices.”

He pauses, gathering himself. Tears begin streaming down my cheeks as my heart aches for him.

---