"The man said he wanted an apricot sour," Vance snapped at the waitress. "So you better make it happen."
The waitress's face went politely blank. Carter inwardly groaned. He did not want to be the difficult customer. He vowed to leave the woman a big fat tip.
"Vance," he hissed. "Stop it. Ma'am, it's fine if you don't have it." He hoped he sounded apologetic.
"No, no, if that's what you want, we can make it," she assured him.
"Please don't go to any trouble for me, ma'am."
She gave him a genuine smile and said, "I'll have your drinks out shortly."
"Ma'am," Vance mocked. "You've been hanging around those hicks in the military too much."
Carter didn't want to cause a scene, but he really wanted to punch Vance in the face and finish this conversation once and for all.
"Those hicks are my friends, so please don't ever say anything bad about them in my presence again," he said to Vance in a low voice.
Vance held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry, sorry, just a joke, bro."
Carter didn't have to respond because the waitress came back with their drinks.
"To a great internship and new friends," Vance said, leading the toast.
Carter took a sip of his drink and almost spit it out. It was nothing like what Allie had made for him.
"You don't like it?" one of the girls said, laying her head on Carter's shoulder.
"It's just not what I expected," he said as another girl took a sip of the drink and made a face.
"It tastes weird. I don't like it. Here," she said, pouring him a glass of champagne. "You'll like this much better."
He sipped it, wishing Allie were there with him instead. He didn't think she would like the club, however. He also wasn't sure if she even cared for him that much. He knocked back his drink and ordered another round.
In the next few weeks, Carter spent quite a bit of time with Allie in the office.
The work was tedious and highly technical. Carter also didn't really know what he was doing.
"Do you even know anything about risk management? Forensic accounting?" Allie asked him, exasperated.
"Not really," Carter said, resting his head on his desk and closing his eyes. He had a massive hangover.
"What are you even doing here?" she asked, frustrated. "Oh, right, your family owns the company. I can't believe they didn't just give you some bullshit job."
"They want me to be useful."
She emailed him a copy of a textbook. "Read this, and get up to speed. Until you do that, you're not touching these accounts because you'll just screw everything up."
She wasn't like the girls he had grown up with, he thought as he began to read through the dry text. They were all like Kate or his mother. Pretty, nice, pleasant—they made you feel comfortable and pampered. Allie seemed dangerous. She wasn't afraid to be harsh and tell the truth if she thought it would make you a better person.
He wanted her, but he couldn't have her. She wanted someone competent. To try to banish her from his thoughts, Carter went out several times a week.
This particular morning wasn't the first time he had come to work hungover or, after one particular night of debauchery, still drunk.
"You'd better be careful," Allie said disapprovingly. "You're going to develop a new-veteran body. I can already see a beer gut."
Carter looked down at his waistline. Was he gaining weight? He had missed working out at the gym the last few days.
"Maybe Ishouldcut back," he admitted.
