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There was one solution: bring in a business consultant to set up new systems. It was an expense we couldn’t afford, but Dad always weighed up the outlay with what we would gain. He never threw money away. If I hired someone, it would streamline the logistics, thereby saving us time and money and allow me to do what I was best at—acquiring and handling new clients.

But it was a huge risk.

Instead of making a decision, I nibbled my nails while cautiously opening the laptop. My inbox was bulging, and I slammed the lid, getting a coffee instead. It put off the horrors that awaited me on the computer for a few minutes, and the caffeine fueled my energy levels.

“Wasting time drinking coffee when you should have your head down and your butt up working to pull the division out of the hole… or should I say the crater it’s in.” Booker leaned on my door, arms folded, his smug expression needing to be wiped off.

“Give it a rest, bro. I’m not in the mood.”

“Now, when I’m Alpha…”

I pitched a paperweight, which was purely ornamental, at his head.

2

JOSS

“And one Americano.” I set Harold’s coffee in front of him and flopped in the armchair across from him. Harold and I had been co-workers since we got the idea to do this consulting firm. We’d been college roommates freshman year and somehow managed to not hate each other, sticking together through all four years and then again for two more, for our MBAs. We worked well together. I was more the creative one. He was more the “how to keep track of everything” one.

Together, we’d built up quite a strong company. Each year, we grew and grew. At first it was just the two of us and a shoestring budget. And now? Now we had a staff of eight who were paid well and spoiled with benefits, were looking to add a few more to our list, and stopped living paycheck to paycheck ages ago.

Things had changed a lot since we began. We’d started in an on-campus apartment and were now in our own office space. We didn’t even take a salary for three years, living off our second jobs. But one thing we always did was start our office days with a cup of coffee. In the early days it was a crappy cup made in a drip maker I found at a yard sale. Now it was the good stuff fromthe local coffee shop next door. But no matter how good or bad the beverage was, it was our tradition and was one thing I hoped would never change.

Today was my turn to bring it, and I was a little bored and decided to mess with Harold. If I didn’t, he might get bored too. It was like I was doing him a favor.

“You know I don’t like Americanos.” He rolled his eyes. “Is this yours?”

“No. It’s yours... a caramel latte. I’m surprised you can’t smell all that sugary syrup from here.” He liked his coffee less coffee and more milk and syrup.

He smiled and picked it up, leaning back in his chair. “I thought it was yours.” He winked. Harold was messing with me right back. Of course he was.

“Like I would actually give you Americano.” He’d just make me go back, or worse, get me one of those sugar bombs when it was his turn. “Why would you even think I would?”

“Because you’re always on me about my sugar.”

“Once, once in college, I told you you probably shouldn’t eat the entire bag of taffy because that much sugar wasn’t good for you. Once.” He was never going to let me forget that. It hadn’t even been a real attempt to get him to change. I was trying to angle for a piece of his candy. That backfired.

“I enjoyed every last bite of it, and I’ll probably do it again.”

He enjoyed every last bite of it because it was his prize sent to him by his sister. I didn’t even know what for, but he won some bet, and he walked around proud as a peacock over it. It was funny—to the outside world, everybody looked at Harold as thestraight-laced, prim and proper one, but neither of us were. He just held up the facade better.

“What do we have going on this week?”

“I’m leaving on Wednesday to go to Houston. I’ve got a den there figuring out how to up their game.”

“A what?” I needed to pay attention better. He looked at me, confused. “You said you had a something that wanted to...”

“Oh, a small company…”

That wasn’t what he said, but then again, I’d only been half paying attention.

“They’re working on increasing their reach.”

“Oh. That’s promising.” And well within our wheelhouse.

He went on to talk about how they were a value-added agricultural business, and honestly, I lost track partway through. I’ve been restless lately, beyond restless. Here I had pretty much accomplished my dreams, but still I felt like there was more out there, more that I needed to know, more that I needed to be able to accomplish, which was ridiculous.

You set a goal, you achieved it, then you maybe found a new goal, or maybe, just maybe, you settled down and finally were happy. And maybe that was it. I wasn’t really happy. It wasn’t like I was depressed or anything like that. I was just going through the motions.