The Ninth Inning

Marcus watched the scoreboard from the cheap seats, his bourbon warm in his stomach. The baseball game had dragged into extra innings, much like his career at Sterling Corp—endless, repetitive, increasingly pointless.

"You going to tell me, or am I supposed to guess?" Elena slid into the seat beside him, her perfume too familiar, her smile too practiced.

He'd hired her six years ago. She'd been brilliant, hungry, the daughter he never had. "The board meeting Thursday. You forwarded the projections to Apex before I saw them."

Elena's expression didn't shift. "I forwarded them to my personal account. For my records."

"You're their spy. Have been since year three."

The crowd roared as someone hit a home run. Marcus barely registered it. He felt hollowed out, not angry—just tired. The pyramid scheme of corporate life had finally collapsed on him. Thirty years climbing toward a peak that didn't exist, while someone else collected the real currency.

"Sterling's collapsing, Marcus. Apex made me an offer. I took it." She touched his arm. "You could too. There's still time."

The pyramid on Sterling's logo had always struck him as ridiculous—hierarchical, ancient, built on the backs of those buried beneath. Now it struck him as perfectly honest.

"I played baseball in college," he said, apropos of nothing. "Center field. Could've gone pro if my knee hadn't given out."

Elena withdrew her hand. "I know. You've told me."

"The thing about baseball," Marcus said, watching the pitcher wind up, "is that you can steal a base. You can cheat a little. But eventually, you have to face the pitcher. Eventually, you have to swing."

She stood, smoothing her skirt. "Apex wants your client list. They'll pay triple what Sterling offers for your exit package."

Marcus finished his drink. "The list isn't mine to sell."

"It's just data, Marcus. Everyone's selling something."

"Not everyone."

She walked away without looking back. Marcus watched the game continue without him, just another spectator in the stands, finally understanding the difference between playing and watching. The pyramid rose above the stadium, neon and garish, casting its shadow over everything.

He signaled the bartender for another drink. The ninth inning had ended, but the game went on. It always did.