Treading Water

I was the only one in the pool at 5 AM, doing laps when Eleanor's text came through. *He knows.*

I stopped swimming, treading water in the center of the azure rectangle. The surface reflected the pinkening sky—beautiful, really, in that cruel way sunrises have when you haven't slept. The pool heater kept the water at eighty-two degrees, the same temperature James kept his office, the same temperature he'd kept our affair.

He was the bull of this china shop, this sprawling tech conglomerate. Everyone knew it. He charged through problems, destroyed careers without noticing the debris. I'd been his fixer for three years, cleaning up the mess, until I became the mess.

The rear slider opened. James stepped out in his robe, holding two coffees. He set them on the table and smiled—that hungry smile that used to thrill me.

"Morning, swimming enthusiast," he called. "Thought I'd find you here."

I swam to the edge, rested my arms on the cool tile. "Couldn't sleep."

"Nervous about the board meeting?" His fingers grazed my shoulder, proprietary. "Don't be. I told them you're the one who leaked the documents."

The water suddenly felt thick, silken. I remembered what Eleanor said: *He's throwing you under the bus. But the bus is actually a bull, and you're the matador who ran out of red.*

"James," I said carefully. "Those documents showed you've been embezzling for two years."

"And someone has to take the fall." He smiled again, wider now. "Better you than me. Besides, I'll make sure you land softly. Severance, maybe a reference if you keep quiet."

I thought about the pool—how the water could hold you up or pull you under, depending on how you moved. I thought about being the bull in his story, the rampaging monster he'd slay for the board. Most of all, I thought about the copies I'd made, the ones already with the SEC.

"You know what they say about bulls," I said, pulling myself up the ladder. "They only charge at moving targets."