Page 66 of Cold Comeback
"Standard practice is exploiting people?"
"It's documentary filmmaking," Blake said, as if he were explaining something obvious to a child. "We're telling a story. He's part of the story."
"He's a person, not content."
Rachel's expression turned patronizing. "Thatcher, I understand you're protective of your teammates—that's actually great character development for your arc—but we have a job to do here."
My arc. Even my anger was only raw material to flesh out their narrative.
"Find a different job," I said, and walked out.
Behind me, I heard Rachel's voice drop to a harsh whisper: "Blake, we need that footage."
"I know, but—"
"No buts. HSports Network is breathing down our necks. The last three documentaries tanked in the ratings, and if this one doesn't hit their demo targets, we're both looking for new jobs. Real ones. Not the fun kind."
I paused by the truck's back door, hidden from view.
"They want personal drama, behind-the-scenes authenticity. The mascot thing is perfect—quirky, humanizing. We can't go back to the network with footage of guys just playing hockey. That doesn't trend."
Blake's sigh was audible even through the truck walls. "Sometimes I miss doing actual documentaries. You know, stories that mattered."
"Stories that mattered don't pay for your kid's college tuition," Rachel said. "And they don't keep the lights on at the network. We give them what they want or give someone else our jobs."
I moved away from the truck, their words following me across the parking lot. They weren't evil. They were trapped in the same system that had been grinding me down for years—performance for profit and authenticity packaged to sell to the highest bidder.
That almost made it worse.
I found Gideon mechanically organizing stick tape in the equipment room an hour later.
"Heard about the confrontation," he said without looking up.
"They filmed Jet without permission and called it humanizing."
"I know. You did the right thing."
"Did I? Or did I make it all worse?"
Gideon set down the tape and leaned against the shelf. "I've been giving them what they want all day. The stern captain routine and the disapproving mentor act. Playing a character instead of being myself."
"I've been doing the same thing. Reformed bad boy learning humility from his betters."
"Neither of those people is real."
"No," I agreed. "But they're easier to perform than the truth."
We stood in the cramped space, surrounded by the tools of our trade, and I realized we'd both fallen back into the same patterns that had nearly destroyed us individually. Acting for approval and hiding our authentic selves behind safer versions to market.
"They want me to be the guy who needs saving," I said. "And you to be the guy who saves me."
"What if I told you that you saved me?" Gideon asked quietly.
I hadn't seen that coming. "What?"
"That night in Norfolk, when you told me about your birthday. About being alone and needing to feel real." He stepped closer. "Irealized I'd been hiding for so long I'd forgotten what it felt like to actually exist. You reminded me."
"Gideon—"
