Cocktail Hour by Tara McTiernan Page A

the money for the train…and the parking! It's so expensive. No, I'm staying here."
    "You better get used to Bob then. Hey, it's not that bad: the rest of the team's intact. And you're one of the best here. I'm sure he'll grow to appreciate you. I, on the other hand, am clueless about what I'm going to do all day, golf jokes aside," Alan said, letting out a gruff non-laugh. "I'll have to figure something out."
    She looked at Alan. How she depended on him. He was her safety raft in the stormy sea of TMB. Now she'd have to swim alone. Her team was a good one, but they all looked out for themselves ultimately.  Things just weren’t going to be the same, and she hated that, hated change more than anything. Intellectually she understood and accepted that change was part of life, but emotionally she rejected it with every particle of her being. Why couldn’t things just go along as they were?
    But it was more than just the safety and comfort of the status quo – she’d miss Alan being there at the office. Her job was fun in a large part because of him and his honesty and humor. She tried to imagine Alan at home every day, retired, and came up blank. The golf jokes really were just that. He wasn't going to be the guy taking up tennis or golf and joining the local country club. An intellectual, Alan's main hobbies were passive pastimes: reading and listening to music. But you couldn't read and listen to music all day. You had to do something with yourself, something interesting.
    Sharon had an idea and straightened. "What about school? Taking some classes?"
    Alan raised a furry gray eyebrow at her. "Classes? Maybe. Eh, who knows. What are you doing tonight? Want to get dinner? Maybe we'll go someplace else other than Frannie's this time; I could use a drink."
    “Oh, God.”
    “What?”
    Sharon slumped again, leaning heavily on her elbows. “Chelsea invited me out for drinks with the girls,” she said, making quote marks in the air at the words "the girls". “And I actually said yes. Now I really don’t want to go.”
    “No, you should," he said, looking at her thoughtfully. "You could use a night out. You’re too young to be holed up at home all the time. And I know from all the television shows you tell me about that’s what you do, sit at home with your cat watching TV. Am I right or am I right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but slowly got to his feet. “Speaking of home, I’m going to avoid it tonight. I think I’ll visit O’Malley’s. I haven’t been there in a while. After a day like this, it’s time to belly up to the bar and take a load off. Their greasy cheeseburger’s calling my name.”
    She looked up at him and felt a pang. She didn’t want to go out with Chelsea, and now to make it worse, Alan was going to go to a bar by himself. At least if she was going with him, she could pressure him to go home after one drink, get some rest. By himself he’d probably close the place.
    “Alan, please. Promise me you won’t drive if you have more than two,” Sharon said, putting her hands together as if in prayer.
    He rolled his eyes at her. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m better now. Just getting some dinner.”
    “Please.”
    “Okay, I promise. And you. Don’t go too wild, getting up on the bar and dancing like you usually do.”
    Mollified, she laughed. “No. I think not. Okay, I better get going myself. See you tomorrow? God, I can’t believe this. Tomorrow’s the last time I’ll see you at the office. We’ll still get together for dinner, though, right? Hit a diner up near your place? It’s on my way home. Or we can meet at Frannie’s?”
    He pointed his finger at her with his thumb cocked like a gun, while using the other hand to open her office door. “You got it, sister. I need a regular exchange of wisecracks with you, the wisest of crackers, or I’ll lose my edge as a master raconteur. You’ve got to keep me on my toes.  Plus, what’s life without Frannie’s famous