by Natalie Rios
“Honestly, it’s not even up to me. Drew’s in charge of all things having to do with gaming. He could put in a word for you downstairs, but would you really want that? Having all the other dealers snickering the word nepotism behind your back every time you do something wrong?”
People are bound to say enough shit behind my back as it is. “Fine. What about bartending?”
“Do you even know how to mix drinks?”
This conversation is growing increasingly ridiculous. How hard can it be to mix a drink? “I drink all the time.”
“That’s not the same thing. Knowing how to appreciate a drink doesn’t mean you have any clue what goes into it.”
“Quiz me then,” I challenge. “And if I pass, I get the job.” I’ve been drinking since I was fifteen. Plus, I always keep an eye on the bartenders who mix my drinks. Because, you know, roofies. A girl can never be too safe in this day and age.
“Fine, but you asked for this. What goes into a cosmo? All the ingredients.”
“A cosmo...” I should know this. Cosmos are my signature drink and I order one practically every time I go out. “Vodka and...lime.” Those are the only two ingredients I can come up with based on my taste memory. What the heck makes the drink a pinkish red?
Ellie makes an annoying buzzer sound. “Wrong! You’re missing quite a few things. Cranberry juice being the most important. Triple sec gives it a sweet, orange flavor.”
“Well, let’s just try an easier one.”
“Charlotte-”
“Come on, best two out of three,” I insist.
Blowing out a breath, she agrees. “A martini.”
My second choice beverage. And I still don’t have a clue. “Vodka and olives?”
There is that annoying noise again. “You forgot vermouth and probably would have a high roller barking for a manager at this point. They get snappy about these sorts of things.”
“Couldn’t I just ask another bartender for help while I’m on the job? Or refer to a recipe book?”
“Like I said, we’re a high volume place right on the strip. Both the casino and bar get pretty busy. There won’t always be someone free to help you and customers expect a quick turnaround time when it comes to drinks. Looking up recipes is fine every once in a while, but not on a regular basis.”
“You hired Grant and his wife. If they can keep up, so can I.”
“Grant was a bartender for over a year in Miami before I offered him an assistant manager position here. He worked that job for another year before being promoted to general manager. And Brooke doesn’t work here.”
“She doesn’t?” News to me. “Why is she always over there then?”
“Besides the fact her husband works here and they happen to live in one of our suites?”
“No one likes a smartass, El.”
“Fine. She’s doing research for her thesis. Her master’s is in hotel management with a focus in gaming hospitality. Since we happen to be a local gaming establishment and are willing to let her in on how management decisions are made, it’s a good fit. But she’s not an employee and we certainly aren’t paying her.”
Well, shit. I’m quickly running out of options in Vegas. “Housekeeping?”
“You just told me cleaning isn’t a Kensington strong suit.”
I feign innocence. Sometimes that works. “Did I say that?”
“Yes,” is her dry response. “Not even five minutes ago.”
So clearly Vegas is out of the question. I need to move on to some other contacts. “Damn your logic. Say hi to the hubby and baby for me.”
“You’ll keep me posted?” Ellie quickly asks. “I want to make sure you’re doing okay.”
“Of course. Love you.” Hanging up, I scroll through to my next option: Liz.
Liz is recently married and lives in Florida. Though she doesn’t personally own anything like Ellie, she’s a Rockwell. Among a hundred other things, they own and operate one of the world’s largest candy companies, Rockwell Inc.
“Don’t tell me. You’re at the airport,” Liz answers.
“No.” Does everyone think I’m just going to show up on their doorstep, completely out of the blue? “Dad cut me off so now I need a job.”
“Uh...Wow. I’m not really sure what to say.”
“How about, don’t worry, Char! You can come and work with me.”
“Do you have a law degree I don’t know about?”
“Law degree? No, why?”
“It’s kind of a prerequisite for being a lawyer.”
Right. Liz is a divorce attorney in Miami. And since my request hadn’t been specific, she probably thinks I’m talking about that job. “Oh, no, no! I meant with Rockwell, Inc.”
“I don’t work there. Hell, I haven’t even been inside one of their offices in going on five years now.”
“How is that possible? Aren’t you the Candy Heiress? Don’t you own shares?”
“Yeah,” Liz sighs, her voice sounding tired. I guess with it being the middle of a workday for her, a little exhaustion is to be expected. “But I’m not really required to do anything for those. My cut of the dividends gets delivered to me via direct deposit. When was the last time you were in Kensington’s offices anyway?”
“Good point,” I mutter. I haven’t set foot in that building since...well, ever, actually. I’m on the board of directors, but my position is in name only. My family tends to vote as a block and I usually just go along with whatever my father and brother are doing. “There’s not a single person you can put me in contact with though?”
“Not really. The only people who I know for sure work there in some capacity are my father and Uncle Matthew. I doubt either of them is involved in any of the hiring and my father’s kind of a jerk. I could talk to him if you want, but even if he did know of anything, he isn’t likely to take any recommendations from the rest of us mere mortals.”
Yeah, Daniel Rockwell isn’t exactly known for being Mr. Nice Guy. He embodies the three A’s that make up the quintessential businessman: arrogant, aloof, asshole. The only man I’ve ever met who surpasses Daniel in all three categories is Ellie’s father, Jack Bonner. Those two are cut from the same cloth and hell no would I ever degrade myself by asking them for a favor. And I certainly don’t expect my friends to speak to them on my behalf.
“Okay, thanks for your help. I’ve got some more calls to make then.”
“What about housing? We could help you on that front. The guest bedroom-”
“Don’t worry about it,” I quickly cut her off. Liz and her husband are still very much in the honeymoon phase of their marriage. The only thing worse than Ellie and Drew’s cutesiness is Liz and Anthony’s horniness. Those two go at it all the time and if Liz’s descriptions are any indication, they’re into some weird stuff (something involving lipstick and a blowjob? I don’t even know!). It’s one thing to hear about their sexcapades, over the phone and with thousands of miles of separation, and quite another to witness it firsthand. “I’ll figure something out.”
I’m down to my last contact. Well, not really. I suppose I could still call my brother, but Christ. That’s like admitting I suck at life. Our sibling rivalry’s been going on way too long for me to consider calling him any time soon. Jackson is my judge and executioner, guaranteed to be unsympathetic and generally a dick about it.
My friend Mags, however, is a different story.
“Char! Are you outside?” Mags asks when she finally answers. She sounds completely out of breath, like she just sprinted up a flight of stairs.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Am I seriously the type of person who shows up without calling first?”
“Um...hmm.” Which is Mags’ polite way of saying yes, actually and you do it quite frequently.
This phone call is already heading down a bad path, so I decide to cut to the chase. “Dad cut me off and I need a job ASAP.”
“Okay. What would you like me to do?”
“Was I too subtle?
I want you to help me find one. With you.”
“With me?” Mags sputters. “I work for a charity organization.”
“That’s fine. I can help poor people.”
“It’s not for poor people. It’s for...never mind, actually. The point is, we only have volunteer positions here.”
“Volunteer? As in, work for free?” People actually do that? How do they survive without money?
“Yes.”
“What about you? You have to be getting paid.”
“No, I’m not,” she slowly says. “Mine is a volunteer position as well.”
“B – But-” Damn, I’m stuttering. Getting my bearings, I take a deep breath and try not to panic. “But how is that possible? How can you make a living?”
“Make a living?” Mags hoots with laughter. “Honey, I don’t need to work for money. Dylan makes more than enough for the both of us. Besides, I have Rockwell money to fall back on.”
Damn the Rockwells and their recent marriages. Liz married a nobody from Montana, but Mags’ husband is some sort of tech whiz kid. Worth a few billion himself, it’s a toss-up who has more money in their relationship.
Their perfect marriages with their perfect husbands and their perfect jobs. Ugh. It’s really depressing to realize you are the only one of your friends who isn’t married.
And the only one who is currently unemployed.
“There has to be someone out there willing to hire me.”
“I am willing to hire you, it’s just that my organization doesn’t have paid employees,” Mags points out. “Lots of recent college graduates work unpaid jobs for the experience before moving on to paid opportunities.”
Recent college graduates. It’s like taking one giant leap backwards in life. “I graduated college ten years ago. Besides, the whole reason I need to work is because I need money.”
“I can ask Dylan if he knows of anything, but I can’t make any promises. Working for him would involve knowing code.”
“Code, like a secret code?”
“Computer code. Hmm.” Mags sounds distracted, which is understandable considering she and Dylan recently had a baby. New moms, I’ve come to learn, are constantly juggling a million things at once.
Which just makes me feel even shittier because why am I even bothering her with my problems? The spoiled little rich girl who has been cut off harassing the mother of a newborn because she can’t find a job on her own.
“Never mind, Mags. You’ve got way more important things to worry about. I’ll figure something out.”
“But – Are you sure? I could at least talk to Dylan. He might know of somebody-”
“No, no, no! I don’t want you worrying about me. I’m like a cat, always landing on my feet. Nine lives and all that.” I’m babbling and I never babble. I have to get off the phone ASAP before my hysteria completely boils over. “I haven’t even called Jackson yet, I’m sure he’ll have something for me. And if not, there’s all the friends I’ve made traveling.” Two humongous lies told back to back to one of my closest friends in the world. I’m definitely not calling Jackson any time soon and I never keep in touch with anyone I meet while traveling. The sad fact is I can count all of my friends on one hand. “Anyway, I’ll let you go.”
“Okay. Call me if nothing else comes up.”
Hanging up, I try not to panic. I have been cut off for exactly one hour and I’ve already exhausted all of my options. A familiar tightness spreads across my chest, as if I’m wearing a corset with laces that had been pulled too tightly. My lungs can’t seem to take in enough air, no matter how deep of a breath I take.
It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in nearly five years.
I know what will help me relax. Not drugs. I never trusted the anti-anxiety medications doctors prescribed me. Instead, I lay on my old bed, flip open my laptop and browse travel websites. Within five minutes, I reserve a suite in a hotel in Maine, the furthest place I can afford given my new financial situation.
I’m leaving again. Hitting the road one last time. It’s only after my travel plans have been safely secured that I can breathe easy again.
Chapter Two
This trip to Maine was a horrible idea. Unfortunately, this thought occurred to me precisely two seconds after I’d finished unpacking in my hotel room.
Story of my life, right there.
It’s day two of my spur of the moment vacation and I made the mistake of logging into my bank account before eating breakfast. Made me lose my appetite, that. My checking account is getting dangerously close to zero and instead of feeling relaxed like I usually do while traveling, I’m completely tense. I spent most of last night tossing and turning, which resulted in me waking up with massive dark circles under my eyes.
That’s one way to leave an impression during an interview: walk in looking like a raccoon.
Not that I have any interviews lined up anyway.
How exactly do people look for jobs? I tried searching online, but most of the job ads I managed to find required experience. Even the waitress/bartending kind of jobs seem to require some minimal level of experience, a fact that eliminated any lingering anger I felt towards Ellie. I get it now, experience is an industry standard. But how the hell am I supposed to get experience if no one is willing to give me a chance?
I’m pondering this conundrum while enjoying a bagel along with cup of coffee at the café located on the first floor of the hotel. Actually, this isn’t much of a hotel. It’s more like a resort, with suites in the main building and private cabins closer to the woods.
Even though I’m staying in a suite with a fully equipped kitchen, I opted to have breakfast in the café because a) I have no groceries and b) even if I did, I don’t know how to cook. I’m not even all that hungry (see: loss of appetite due to sudden financial stress), but I know I have to force myself to eat.
Looking like a skeleton might only gain me traction with an X-ray tech and there’s no way in hell I’m qualified to work with radiation.
“What the hell are we going to do? Brody’s office assistants keep dropping like flies and you know how demanding he gets when he doesn’t have one.”
Two men sit down at the table next to mine. Their striking similarities make me think they are brothers. Same chocolate eyes and straight, chestnut colored hair. Approximately the same height and of similar long, lanky builds. The only real differences are in their noses (one has a crooked nose, like he’s taken a hit to it before) and in their mouths (as in, one has an easy smile and the other is fiercely scowling). Still, both men are incredibly attractive.
“We just have to keep looking. Eventually we’ll find one who sticks it out, right?” Smiley asks, tone hopeful.
“Yeah, that’s a pipe dream. Damn it, Kyle, he’s gone through three in the last two months.”
“We might have to lower our expectations.”
“Are you serious? Brody’s yet to be impressed with any of the people we’ve hired. If anything, we need to significantly up our expectations.”
“I am getting sick and tired of his snarky comments about our hiring skills. I wish Brody wasn’t so picky.”
“Picky, my ass. He’s impossible to deal with and we’ve run out of people desperate enough to take the job.”
A job! My ears perk up. These two delicious men are looking to hire someone and I’m a desperate person they’ve yet to give a try. Seizing the opportunity, I run over to their table.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation about looking for a new...” What was the position again? “Um, office assistant. It just so happens I’m looking for a job myself and I’d like to apply for it.”
“Wonderful!” Smiley flashes me the whitest set of chompers I’ve ever seen. The guy should be in Colgate commercials with those teeth. Jerking a thumb at me, he looks back at his brother. “See, Tanner. Our luck’s changing already.”
“Hmm.” Tanner gives me the stink eye, clearly unimpressed with my boldness. “What’s y
our name?”
“Charlotte.”
“We’ll need to review a copy of your resume.”
“I don’t have one.” Guessing by the incredulous looks on their faces, this was exactly the wrong thing to say. “I mean, I don’t have it on me.”
“Ah. That’s no problem, right Tanner? She can just email it to us when she gets home.”
Tanner’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “I don’t recognize you. Are you from around here?”
No point in lying, they’ll find out soon enough. Bar Harbor’s population is just over 5,200. And I’m definitely not a local. “No. I’m actually a guest at the resort. I’m on vacation so I’m afraid I won’t have access to my, um, resume until I get home.”
“Wait a minute. So you don’t live in the area, but you’re looking for a job here? That makes zero sense.”
I’ve lost Tanner and even Kyle looks a bit skeptical at this point. It’s time to ramp up my acting skills. “I’m looking to relocate. I came here to scope out the area and fell in love with it. I’m such a fan of the great outdoors. I would like to stay, but I need to find a job out here first. Overhearing your conversation is just the craziest coincidence.”
“What was your most recent position?” Crap! Definitely wasn’t expecting them to ask me to list things from my alleged resume.
“Um, none? I’ve never had a job before.”
Kyle blinks while Tanner rolls his eyes. “This is a waste of time-”
“But I have a bachelor’s degree from Yale,” I quickly add. “That has to be worth something, right?”
“I’d say it’s worth a lot.” Kyle sends me an encouraging smile.
“A degree from Yale yet no job experience.” Tanner crosses his arms, sending me a fierce frown. “What did you say your degree is in?”
I deliberately left that part out because I know what he’s going to say. It’s what everybody says. “French.”
“French! Are you kidding-”
“Come on, Tanner. It’s not that bad. Having an employee who speaks French could come in handy. Maybe she can get through to Jacques,” Kyle says.
