Twenty-one-year-old Angie Waverly wants a do-over on life, starting with escaping the drudgery of her dad's insurance office. Will a summer job at the hottest bar on the beach open up new opportunities?
Twenty-one-year-old Angie Waverly wants a do-over on life, starting with escaping the drudgery of her dad's insurance office. Will a summer job at the hottest bar on the beach open up new opportunities?
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Chancel Beach, Virginia, is a resort town, so in the off-season, jobs are scarce. When tourists flood the beaches in late spring, positions open at the dozens of restaurants, bars, and souvenir shops lining the wide boulevard hugging the coast.
I needed a job. My refusal to endure another boring summer working in Dad's insurance office kicked off a fight with my mom, followed by a series of soul-sucking interviews for positions I didn't want at businesses disinterested in hiring me.
After not making the cut at three restaurants, a new-age gift shop, and a car wash, I found myself at Eddie Baudelaire's Tiki Torch Beachside Bistro. The Tiki Torch offered an ocean-side deck, live entertainment, and reasonably priced drinks. During the tourist season, it was the hottest bar in town. A job at the Tiki was a long shot for a college dropout with zero experience, but I'd been in high school with Eddie's younger daughter, Paris. I hoped our shared history as Chancel Beach Bulldogs counted for something.
London, Eddie's older daughter, had already earned her MBA and put it to use running her dad's popular beach bar. Hopelessly unqualified, I slumped in a booth as Lonnie Baudelaire seated herself opposite me.
She slid my pathetic resume from a folder, tilting her head as she studied it. "Angie Waverly. You were in high school with my little sister, weren't you? Paris said you were one of the smartest kids in school. How come you're not in college?"
Heat bloomed on my cheeks as I struggled for the best words to explain I was twenty-one, bored, and still didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. "I haven't settled on a major. I just know I don't want to work for my dad anymore."
"I hear you. Some days, I get my fill of Dad at this place." She pressed her magenta-tinted lips into a thin line. "Do you have any serving experience?"
"I've worked as the receptionist at my dad's insurance office." Yeah, Angie. That's just like tending bar.
Lonnie returned my resume to its folder and frowned. "The uniform is a Tiki Torch t-shirt or tank top. Pick up a couple before you leave. Stella will train you during the lunch shift on Tuesday and Wednesday. If you survive, you'll be on late shift Thursday, Friday, and Saturday."
My face froze in a dumbfounded smile. "You're hiring me?"
"Is that a problem?"
More like a miracle. "Thanks. I really appreciate the opportunity."
She leaned her perfectly corn-rowed head across the table. "Stick with us, and I promise you'll have the time of your life."
