The Spinach Between Us

Diana smoothed her skirt and checked her teeth in the lobby mirror. No spinach. Good.

The elevator pinged. Richard stepped out, all silver hair and calculated warmth—the kind of **friend** who remembered birthdays but forgot you existed until he needed something.

"Di! Perfect timing." He steered her toward the conference room. "The merger announcement goes live on **cable** news in twenty minutes. Legal needs your signature on the NDA."

She'd spent three years building the analytics division he was about to dismantle. But Richard didn't do dismantling. He did "strategic realignment." He smiled like they were sharing something intimate.

"What's the rush?" she asked, though she already knew.

"Corporate's watching. We need to show a united front." His hand hovered at her elbow, proprietary. "You understand how these things work."

She did. She'd watched him credit her work as his own in board meetings. She'd seen him take credit for her overtime while he left at five. She'd noticed how he never quite looked her in the eye when he told her she was like family.

They entered the conference room. The NDA sat on the table, a forest of fine print. Beyond the glass wall, the office TVs flickered with prerecorded puff pieces. Richard's face filled the screen, confident and visionary.

"Sign here, here, and initial here." He pointed with his Montblanc. "We'll announce your promotion after the merger closes. Keep you happy through the transition."

Promotion. To what? Director of Nothing?

Diana looked at him—at his expensive suit and his expectant smile, at the way his posture screamed victory before the battle had even begun. And then she saw it: a fleck of **spinach** caught between his front teeth, bright green and utterly impossible to unsee.

The monster in the corner office. The architect of her demise. Standing there with salad in his teeth, telling her about her promotion.

Something in her cracked.

"Richard," she said softly, "you have something in your teeth."

He frowned, wiped at his mouth. "What?"

She picked up her pen. Not to sign. "The spinach. It's been there since lunch."

He blanched. She'd never seen him flustered. "Why didn't you—you know what? Never mind." He checked his watch. "We have two minutes. Please, Diana."

"Actually." She capped the pen. "I think I'll wait until the segment airs. See if my name comes up."

"It won't." The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

"I know."

On the wall of monitors, Richard began speaking. "...difficult decision to streamline operations..." Behind him, Diana's empty office flashed across the screen.

She stood up. "I'll send you my counteroffer."

Richard's face fell. "What counteroffer? You have no leverage."

Diana smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. "I copied the drive before breakfast. Every email, every memo, every fabricated quarterly report." She tapped the NDA. "Including the ones where you told the board my division was profitable when we were bleeding money for eighteen months."

The cable news chyron changed: BREAKING: TECH MERGER IN JEOPARDY.

"You wouldn't." His voice cracked.

"I'm not the friend you thought I was." She walked to the door, then paused. "And Richard?"

He waited, trapped.

"Check your teeth."

The elevator doors closed on her laughter. Behind her, on every screen, Richard's stock began to fall.