1
Allie
It was Thursday night at the Wildcat bar, and the topless contest was about to start—the topless contest for men, that was.
If it were women, that would be unseemly.Allie Larson, the bartender, snickered to herself.
"Greasing up for me, boys?" she asked as she deftly poured shots for the shirtless marines who flexed their muscles at her. The entrance fee for the contest was ten dollars, but the grand prize was a kiss from Allie.
It was a hot event; the bar was packed, and the fire marshals were waiting outside the building to shut the establishment down if things spiraled out of control.
The Les DesChamps Marine Corps base was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Marines with too much disposable income made up most of Allie's clientele. Despite their raunchy behavior, Allie had a soft spot for the young enlisted men who frequented her bar.
"Have your eye on someone good?" her fellow bartender and roommate Stacy asked as she quickly poured a set of Jägerbombs for the boys.
"They're all about the same," Allie said.
They watched as the marines who were competing took a fortifying shot and greased up.
"I have my eye on Carter Holbrook," Stacy said, giggling.
"Ah, yes. Mr. Moneybags," Allie replied with a snort.
"You mean billionaire heir," Stacy replied, handing over three beers.
"I can't believe his father dumped him in the military," Allie said. "If I had Holbrook family money, I would send my kids to nice places, not the military."
"He flunked out of Harvard," Stacy told her. "He's a tragic case, though. His aunt killed his little cousins in that house fire over Christmas a few years back."
"Oh, he's related to them?" Allie said. "That was a horrible story." She had heard about that fire. It was international news, after all, but she never had connected it to the Holbrook family. "You know all the gossip, don't you?"
"Oh yes," Stacy said, "I follow his family religiously. He was just in his cousin's wedding. It was a lovely affair." She sighed longingly.
"Hey!" Allie said, banging a glass in front of Stacy. "Pour more drinks. I want to clear a thousand in tips tonight. I need to pay for another college course. I’m almost finished with my degree."
Stacy wrinkled her nose. "I can't believe you're actually still trying to finish college. You're almost thirty; it seems pointless now. Just stay a bartender. Tips are good, and the view is nice," she said and winked at an exceptionally muscular marine.
"I can't bartend in my forties," Allie scoffed. "I'm not going to end up like my mother and rely on an ever-decreasing quality of men."
"There's no shortage of qualified men here," Stacy said. Ducking back behind Allie to hook up another keg, she said, "I'm landing a husband this year, and I don't care what I have to do."
"Set your sights lower than Carter Holbrook. His parents won't let him marry some trash like you." Allie winked at her friend to let her know she was kidding.
Stacy stuck her tongue out at Allie and slid the drinks across the bar. Bert, the owner of the Wildcat, did a sound check on the speakers and handed Allie the microphone.
"Hey, boys," she said over the sound system.
The marines all hooted as she jumped up on top of the bar.
"It's midnight, and you know what that means!" She grinned at them as they catcalled her. "It's shirtless contest time. Let's have our first contestant up here."
The marine took a shot from one of his buddies then jumped up on the bar. His flexed his muscles and did a little dance.
Allie watched and made commentary as each of the ten contestants strutted up and down the bar top. The Wildcat held one of these contests every month or so, and she had the timing down pat. The last contestant was Carter Holbrook. He sprang up onto the bar in one fluid motion then stalked toward Allie.
"Last and perhaps the least—maybe his battle buddies can let us know what he looks like in the showers—Carter! Show us what you've got, devil dog!"
The marines watching cheered as Allie pursed her lips and blew a kiss at Carter.
