Hoops Holiday (Hoops 2.50)

“I thought Gary was bigger than this,” she says.

Our inelegant snorts meet in the quiet of my office.

“I had my suspicions.” I set the iPad down and whirl my seat around a few times. “He’s got that look small-dick men always have.”

“What look do men with small dicks have?”

“Girl, if you’ve never seen it,” I say, stopping my spinning chair long enough to offer a wry grin. “Count yourself lucky.”

“As much as I’m enjoying all this girl talk at Gary’s expense,” Sadie says, dark eyes sobering in her pretty face. “We need to discuss what this means for Twofer.”

“They’re not firing him from the show, are they?” I stop grinning and grip the edge of my desk. “I mean, yeah. It’s bad and indiscrete and embarrassing, but surely not a fire-able offense.”

“No, not firing, but it does violate the conduct clause in his contract, and it’s not his first time.” Sadie leans back in the seat across from me, linking her hands over her stomach. “And it’s definitely a distraction the show doesn’t need, so they’re suspending him for three weeks.”

“I figured as much. I hope, for his sake, it was worth it.” A rueful grin pulls one corner of my mouth back into humor briefly before uncertainty drags it back down. “So how will we handle his absence? Rotating guest hosts? Me solo?”

“Not solo. Twofer’s popularity is built on the back and forth of opposing perspectives. We need a guest host, just while Gary’s gone.” Sadie shakes her head and leans forward to grab and munch some of the salted seaweed I was snacking on before she arrived. “This stuff tastes like literal shit. You’re aware?”

“Focus. You can’t just say I’m getting some guest host and not tell me who, like right away. Who is it?”

“Someone the audience will love tuning in to see.”

“Who?”

“Someone credible.”

“Who, Sadie?”

“Someone handsome.”

“What’s handsome got to do with journalism?”

Sadie slants me a knowing look. It’s not just journalism. It’s television, and looks mean a lot too often even in sports. I have enough firsthand experience with producers’ requests and standards to understand the look she’s giving me. When we first started the show two years ago, SportsCo executives asked me to “consider” pressing my hair for a more “polished” look and said they “loved my weight” just where it

was. I doubt very seriously they had those conversations with my male co-host.

“Okay. You’re right. Looks count,” I concede. “So he’s handsome. Who?”

“Retired. He’s a future Hall of Famer,” Sadie mumbles around a mouthful of the seaweed she insists is vile.

“Which sport?” I ask cautiously. Some retired athlete coming on my show who doesn’t know jack shit about not just playing sports, but analyzing them, debating them, covering them is not what I need on set.

“We’re playing ba-sket-baaaaaall,” Sadie sings the famous Kurtis Blow refrain

and seesaws her shoulders.

Hmmm. Credible. Handsome. Basketball. Retired. Future Hall of Famer.

“No!” The word cannons from my mouth with fire power. “Not—”

“Mack Decker,” Sadie finishes, her smile satisfied. “We got Mack Decker.”

“Then un-get Mack Decker.” I stand and pace, my go-to when something bothers me intensely, as the worn path in front of my desk attests. “He’s arrogant, conceited, self-important—”

“Is this about that towel incident?” Sadie’s evil grin hopes it is.

“That was ten years ago. Of course not.”