Diamonds in the Pyramid
The notification lit up Jamie's iPhone screen at 11:47 PM: *Marcus promoted to VP, Asia Pacific*. She stared at the message until the screen dimmed, her wine forgotten on the coffee table.
They'd been friends since freshman year, two broke students sharing ramen and baseball dreams in their cramped dorm. Marcus had always talked about climbing the corporate pyramid, but Jamie thought he'd meant it metaphorically. She'd taken the job at Morrison & Co. because Marcus said they'd tackle it together, step by step, inning by inning.
Three years later, she was still a senior associate while he'd just leapfrogged into the executive suite. The text message wasn't even from him—it was a company-wide announcement.
The next morning, Jamie found Marcus in his office, already packing boxes. His baseball collection was gone from the shelves. The signed balls, the ticket stubs from their first game at Fenway, the miniature bat he'd bought her when she made manager. All of it, vanished.
"You moving out?" she asked, leaning against his doorframe. Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.
Marcus looked up, guilt flashing across his face before he smoothed it into that practiced executive charm. "Jamie. I was going to call you."
"Before or after the press release?"
"It's complicated." He stood up, adjusting his cufflinks. "The CEO's son sits in the owners' box at Yankee Stadium. Those games we went to? I wasn't just there for the hot dogs."
Jamie remembered the way he'd disappear during the seventh-inning stretch. The networking events he'd dragged her to, introducing her as "my associate" instead of his friend.
"You used me," she said quietly. "All those years of friendship, and I was just your diamond club pass."
"No, Jamie—"
"Save it." She pulled her iPhone from her pocket, blocked his number before he could finish. "Enjoy the view from the top of your pyramid."
The baseball season had started without them both taking the field. Some friends, she realized, were just opponents wearing your team's colors.