The ache was sharp.
Beyond my attempts to right my wrongs, I wanted him back. The entire picture, chaos and competence.
Practice ended. Pickle glanced up at the stands as he stepped through the gate.
His eyes caught mine. He didn't wave or smile.
He held my gaze for a moment and then looked away.
I stayed until the Zamboni rolled out.
***
Lenny called at 4:37 p.m.
"It's done. Counter-proposal sent."
"And?"
"They're cornered. We documented their pressure tactics. The optics are bad. They're negotiating full suppression. Original cut won't air. Won't leak."
"What about the counter-doc?"
"Proceeds under Pickle's terms or gets shelved entirely."
I walked to the window. Outside, the street was gray and quiet.
"This is the save," Lenny said. "The original cut is dead."
My shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Next steps depend on what Pickle decides."
"Understood."
He hung up.
I stood at the window and watched the streetlights flicker on. Next, I pulled out my phone and sent a text.
Adrian:Network's burying the original cut. Counter-doc proceeds on your terms if you decide you want it.
No response came.
I didn't tense. I didn't try to predict his next move.
Lenny called back twenty minutes later.
"What's next for you?"
"I don't know yet."
"You've got options. Streaming doc about esports. Political profile. Both good exposure."
"I'm going to finish this one if Pickle wants it finished. I'm not chasing the next thing."
Silence.
"I'm not quitting. I just don't want the prestige circuit anymore."
