One drink and then I’m going straight home to the comfort of my pajamas.
I’m looking forward to that more than ever.
CHAPTER 2
Ansley
After a weary day of orientation, I step into Fletcher’s Bar.
It’s a weeknight, so the place isn’t packed. There’s hardly a soul in here except for a few patrons at the counter. Daisy spots me immediately and lets out a squeal. She dashes from behind the bar and nearly tackles me with a hug.
“You made it! Oh my gawd!” she shrieks, then she spins around, holding onto my arm. “Paul! This is Ansley, my best friend in the entire world!”
I’m not sure who Paul is until an older man lifts his head and glances over. “Nice to meet you, miss.” He immediately turns his attention back to the glass in front of him.
“Say hello, Aaron,” Daisy says, dragging me along the counter and poking the only other bar patron in the ribs.
“Hey!” he grumbles, rubbing the spot where she poked him as he glances over his shoulder. He’s older than Paul and has a scraggly beard. “So, you’re the one she keeps talking about, huh? Miss Corporate Big Shot?”
“Yep! Today was her first day at York Financial and she had a meeting with the CEO!” Daisy says proudly. “She’ll be running that place in a matter of months!”
“Nice. Well, remember us little people when you’re at the top,” Aaron chuckles.
“I don’t think I’ll be running anything…” I trail off when I realize Aaron isn’t paying attention to me at all.
Daisy drags me down to the end of the bar and I sit on a stool. She hurries back around the bar and starts making a drink. I can tell from the ingredients she lines up that it’s a Long Island Iced Tea.
“That’s a bit more than I planned to drink tonight,” I say apprehensively.
“You said one drink and I’m buying, so it’s my choice,” Daisy chirps, continuing to make the drink without missing a beat.
I could stand my ground, and Daisy would make me a different drink, but she’s already started. I might as well enjoy it since it’s free, even if I’d prefer a glass of white wine over liquor.
I look around the bar while she works. Fletcher’s rides the line between a dive bar and a neighborhood hangout. The lights are dim and warm, the wood of the bar worn smooth from years of elbows and spilled drinks. Old beer signs glow softly on the walls beside framed photos of people I assume are regulars since Irecognize Paul in one of them, but he’s much younger than the haggard old man down the bar from me.
The stool I’m sitting on squeaks as I turn back to Daisy. The floor under my feet is just a tad sticky. Despite that, the bar has a comfortable, lived-in feel. I wouldn’t come here if Daisy wasn’t behind the counter, but I can understand why the locals like it. It doesn’t feel stuffy or uptight like some of the bars downtown.
“Alright, I want to hear about your first day,” Daisy says, putting the drink in front of me. “Don’t leave anything out! Tell me everything!”
“Outside of the meeting with Ms. Frost, it wasn’t very interesting. I have a lot of orientation training stuff to go through,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. I wasn’t expecting it to be so flavorful. “Wow, that’s good!”
“Of course it’s good. I made it,” Daisy says proudly. “I’ve gotten a lot better since I used to mix Sprite and vodka for us on the weekend at college.”
I shudder a little, remembering some nights I’d rather forget. “Yeah, but I think you mean when you used to splash a drop of Sprite in a glass of vodka and call it a drink.”
“It was a drink.” Daisy shrugs. “A strong drink, which is what we needed to get through our freshman year.”
“You did, apparently,” I laugh, taking another drink of my Long Island Iced Tea. “I was just trying to study.”
“And you did. You studied hard. You got your degree. You got your dream job.” Daisy glances at the other two people at the bar to make sure they’re good on their drinks before leaning closer, propping her elbows on the wood. “So, now what?”
“What do you mean?” I ask curiously.
“I mean it’s time to stop being a good girl, Ansley,” Daisy laughs. “There’s more to life than spreadsheets, portfolios, and stock prices. Aren’t you ready to let your hair down? Finally have a little fun?”
“My hair is down,” I laugh, twirling a brunette curl around my finger as proof. “And it’s not like I never have fun. I used to go to parties with you all the time.”
“Years ago, sure. How many did you go to after I dropped out? Exactly… zero?” she questions, rolling her eyes to the ceiling and tapping her chin with one manicured fingernail.
