The Fastest Way to Fall(68)

After they launched us, Claire and I lay on our respective rafts for a few minutes as we drifted. I’d been skeptical, but the gentle sway of the water and the stillness of the night was relaxing. Settling against the pillows, I sipped my wine.

“That’s cute.” Claire’s voice startled me as she nodded toward my swimsuit, and I instinctively scanned her comment for sarcasm.

“Thanks. Yours, too.” We returned to our silence, which was infiltrated only by the lapping of the water and the distant sounds of cicadas.

Claire took a long drink from her wineglass and settled it back in the holder. “Can I ask you something? Maybe call a cease-fire on our competition for a few minutes?”

I’d just swallowed my wine, or I might have sprayed it in surprise. I glanced over at my colleague, expecting a smirk, but she looked genuine. “Sure. What’s up?”

“You can’t tell anyone.” She lay on her back and spoke into the air before squeezing her eyes shut, her mouth pulling to the side.

“What happens on the lazy river stays on the lazy river and all that.”

Claire turned toward me, her head propped on her elbow. I admired her waist as she shifted. I’d been trying hard to stop comparing myself to other women, but it was always so hard with Claire, since we were so competitive in other ways.

She took another drink of wine. “You wrote that piece about your fall and how your coach helped you get back on track, right?”

“Sure.” That had been the hardest piece I’d written, but the comments poured in daily from people who identified with what I’d said, who had real struggles with eating disorders or just felt like giving up. Maricela had given the green light to my suggestion to interview experts on eating and exercise disorders and a well-known speaker about fat phobia.

“The not-eating, crash-dieting thing? Well, my coach has encouraged that. Not to that extent, but she recently told me a good way to drop a few pounds in a pinch was to fast for a week or two. I did my own research, and even people who recommend fasting don’t recommend doing it like that. I mean, I didn’t listen, but I’m worried others might, that they might take it further, and it’s dangerous advice. I did some digging, and the coaches get bonuses based on the successes of their clients. Like, dollars for pounds lost.”

“Wow.” I’d known for a long time that the app I was reviewing was better, and not just because Wes worked there. Or owned it. What Claire was describing sounded terrifying, and I couldn’t help but wonder where I’d be if I were in her shoes, if I had a coach who didn’t care if I went down a dangerous path. I grimaced. “What are you going to do?”

Claire looked away from me, and her gaze swept over the water. “What would you do?”

I pictured Wes’s face when he talked about his sister and her eating disorder, and my stomach sank. “I don’t know . . . but you have to say something. People could get hurt.”

Claire plopped back. “I’m working on it. I want a few more people on the record. I’m giving you a heads-up, too, because when I out HottrYou, this project might end.”

“Is there any chance it’s just your coach? Maybe you got a bad one?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been meeting other people through their message boards . . . it’s common. Two people told me their coach encouraged them to do these wildly unhealthy diets, and one tried to get her to buy some weight loss protein powder he was selling. Others said their coach recommended these intense exercise regimens but didn’t give any guidance on doing them safely. I talked to one guy who reported a heart condition early on, and the coach forgot about it when recommending things. The guy had to remind him multiple times.”

I didn’t have any sort of response, just looked at her trying to piece all this together. I had no idea how, but this needed to come out. A little part of me also knew that if Claire sank the project, I didn’t have to admit to my inappropriate relationship with the CEO of FitMi and could figure out how to tell said CEO who I really was.

“Everyone I’ve talked to assumed it was just them, and it’s buried. I want to get it right.” Her voice was low, like someone might overhear us. “And I can’t wait much longer.”

I might come out on top, but that felt like a hollow victory, especially with the secrets I was keeping. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

Claire’s expression lost a touch of softness, and she emptied her glass, shoulders square. “We?”

“I’m not trying to steal your story. I just meant I’ll be supportive.”

“Oh.” She settled back on the raft. “That means a lot. Thanks.”

I finished my glass of wine and poured more for us both. If we were having a truce in the middle of a lake, it was better we both get a little soused. My phone buzzed in the plastic holder, but I ignored it.

“Do you remember when you started at Best Life?” Claire’s question surprised me.

“Sure. You were new then, too.” She, Ben, and I had all joined the Best Life team at around the same time. I’d been excited for a few minutes to have fellow newbies, until I realized I was drooling over Ben, and Claire didn’t like me. Ben didn’t stay an assistant for long, though.

Claire sipped her wine, looking out over the lake.

“What made you think of that?”