It has to be big, I think. Carrie is concerned about only one thing: her career. I wonder if the company is for sale or if there has been another reorg that has left her with an additional rung to climb. She’s running out of time to get where she thinks she needs to go.

Just like me.

I lock my computer and follow Carrie down a corridor plastered with images of airplanes and smiling men and women of every color and ethnicity. It’s not wallpaper, but it feels that way. And seriously, none of the images resemble the reality of our workplace in the slightest.

She shuts the door behind me and spins around to face me.

“Linda London just door knocked me,” she says.

I hold her words for a second before answering.

“That bitch,” I say.

“Right,” Carrie says. “She’s that all right. She’s also hell-bent on sending you to the gallows for Sophie’s murder.”

I don’t correct her by informing her that Washington doesn’t have that option for the death penalty. Carrie is only up to speed on subjects that help her. She campaigned for Hillary because she thought a woman in the White House would help her rise in the ranks at SkyAero.

“Linda is trying to stay relevant, Carrie,” I say. “Ignore her.”

Carrie takes a seat next to me. I can smell the fear coming out of every powdered pore of her body.

“Kind of hard to when she brings up our affair,” she says.

I want to remind her that there hasn’t been an affair. I only slept with her to get something out of it. It wasn’t about romance or even sex. It was about two people using each other to get what they wanted. Carrie’s too stupid to understand that, of course.

“Look,” I say, “you need to take a chill pill.”

“Chill?” she asks, her eyes widening and then just as quickly growing hard. “If it gets out that you and I had an affair, then I’m done here. You know that. I’ll be recast by senior management as someone who doesn’t follow the rules.”

You’ll be viewed as the predator you are, I think.

“No one will ever think bad about you, Carrie,” I say. “You’re a two-time Manager of the Year finalist. You’re golden around here.”

“Gold tarnishes,” she says.

Again I don’t correct her. It actually doesn’t. This time I put my hand on her knee. It feels awkward and weird, but she does it to me all the time when she wants to make a point.

“It’s going to be fine,” I say.

Carrie puts her arms in the air, like she’s directing traffic. “What are you talking about? One more whiff of impropriety and I’m done here. They don’t tolerate things like this at Corporate. You know that.”