The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (2 page)

I
wake up the next day and rather than unpack, I decide to turn on my laptop and see if anyone from Denver is online.  Sure enough, Reese is online and I quickly send her a message. 

I miss Reese.  She was a good roommate and a great friend.  It’s not just Reese that I miss, it’s everything about life in Colorado.  Reese, Simon, Luke, and Sara were my best friends at school.  We all came from different parts of the country, but we really made a life for ourselves.  Every weekend we would embark on a different adventure.  Sometimes it would involve finding a new diner for breakfast or a unique restaurant for dinner.  We were all culinary students and had a passion for all things food. 

Luke and I took the Baking & Pastry Arts track and spent most of our time looking for bakeries.  Reese, Simon, and Sara were all vying to become the next Top Chef and preferred to critique local restaurants.  We rarely had classes together.  During our last year in Denver, we finally had an opportunity to take the same class together in the fall – Beverage Appreciation.  When Simon first suggested it, I thought he was kidding.  There was no way this was a real class that would earn actual college credits.  He pulled it up online and sure enough – there it was!  The description read,

“
This intermediate course refines the student's knowledge of beverages served in a variety of hospitality operations. Emphasis is placed on beverage sensory perception and food pairings. Students develop and analyze strategies to effectively manage, market and set standards for beverage operations. Both alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages are examined
.” 

It was perfect.  Reese and I liked it so much that we decided to take the advanced class in the winter – Spirits and Mixology Management.  That’s where I got my Bartending Certification.  I figured the more certifications I could gather while I was at school, the better off I would be.

T
wo days later, and it’s Friday night.  Auggie suggests we go out for dinner.  I know exactly where I want to go.  Hurricane Sandy did some real damage to my hometown, and I’d like to see the boardwalk with my own eyes.  Nearly six months have passed, and life has surely moved on, but I know the signs of devastation will still be there as a reminder for a long time to come.

“Hey, Auggie – can we go to Point Pleasant Boardwalk for dinner?  Do you think anything’s open?  I’d really like to check out the beach and see how Wilkinson’s held up.”  Wilkinson’s Pavilion Complex includes many different attractions.  They have an arcade, an aquarium with sharks, penguins, and seals, boardwalk games, a sweet shop, a restaurant, and a bar.  I’m thinking that perhaps, after dinner, I can see if they need any help at Wilkinson’s Sweet Shop and I can use my degree in Pastry Arts that I’ll be paying off for the next ten years.

I grew up on the boardwalk and have seen the inside of Wilkinson’s Bar from every perspective and point of view.  During the day, Wilkinson’s is an air-conditioned refuge offering quick meals and drinks to anyone, young or old, needing a break from the heat.  At night, the bar is transformed into a nightclub where locals and visitors mix and mingle.  I’ve been here as a child, a teen, and an adult.  Each experience is unique, and every visit is memorable.

Auggie knows me so well, he reads my mind. “Sure, great idea, girl!  Want to fill out any applications while we’re there?  You know, I helped the manager buy a house right on the ocean a few months ago.  He got it for a steal.  He owes me.  Time to call in a favor.”  Auggie is one of the youngest and most prolific real estate agents in Ocean County.  Apparently, the Jersey Shore is ripe for anyone who is looking for beachfront property and has a penchant for flipping houses.

“I don’t know, Auggie.  I’d rather just do this on my own.  Do you really think it’s a good idea to start having my friends get my jobs for me?”  I hate relying on other people or feeling indebted to them.

“Didn’t they teach you anything at that fancy school?  It’s not what you know, it’s who you know, baby girl.  Everyone knows that.  Real estate is all about networking.  Do you think it’s any different in bakeries and sweet shops?  I know everybody and everybody knows me.  Time you start using your resources, honey.”

“Can’t we just play it by ear and see how it goes?  Maybe I won’t need anyone to call in any favors.  Maybe they’ll take one look at my resume and beg me to start work immediately.”  Auggie rolls his eyes.  I hate when he does that.  “What?  It could happen!”

We get ready and head out.  The boardwalk in March is unpredictable.  Once Easter Sunday arrives, the boardwalk will be a madhouse.  Parking will be a nightmare.  But that’s not for a few more weeks.  We should be able to park easily tonight.

The paid lots are only for Bennies (that’s what we call the people from Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark, and New York and areas around them – BENNY – who come down here on the weekends).  Most of my friends have
Bennies Go Home
bumper stickers on their cars.  I get where they are coming from.  Bennies come down here and invade our peaceful town from Memorial Day to Labor Day, turning our backyard into their playground.  The families that come down for a week or two are easy to spot.  Some of them actually sport socks with their sandals and wear sneakers on the beach.  But the young ones around my age are the worst.  They tend to be rude.  They cut in lines.  They don’t know how to drive or navigate a circle, and they start fights.  They are generally disrespectful to women and you can spot them a mile away.  I may not like dealing with them, but their money is what keeps our local businesses in the black all year long.  They spend money like it’s water and dominate all the beachfront bars and grills. 

Most lots are free right now, but not all of them.  We find a free parking lot near the boardwalk, park, and start walking.  Auggie grabs my hand and leads me up the wooden steps from the parking lot to the boardwalk.  I can’t wait to look around.  There’s enough light that I can see the ocean.  Parts of the boardwalk are in good shape.  The original boardwalk was just over a mile long from end to end with most of the attractions clustered in the middle.  I can’t tell how far the boardwalk goes now, but I can see it’s not as long as it used to be.  At least Wilkinson’s is open again.  I’m really starting to get hungry.

I order a turkey burger with fries.  Auggie orders something from the sushi bar.  While enjoying dinner, I can’t help but enjoy the view.  The windows overlook the ocean and it’s so calming.  I miss the mountains of Colorado, but nothing comes even close to the majesty of the ocean. It’s my home.

After dinner, we head to the bar.  There’s a DJ and he’s pretty good.  Auggie and I kick back a Corona, and then we head to the dance floor.  A few Nicki Minaj and Britney Spears dance mixes later, and I’m ready for another drink.  It’s my turn to buy, so I head to the bar.  There’s over twenty people at the bar, but only two bartenders.  I check my phone while I wait for the bartender to notice me.  Nothing new or exciting on Facebook.

“Hey, do I know you? Didn’t we go to school together?  Manasquan High School?”  Standing next to me is a group of guys who look like they all stepped off the pages of a surfer magazine.  The tall, blonde, and tanned guy thinks he knows me.  It’s only March – how is he so tan?

“No, sorry – Point Borough High School.”  I tap my fingers on the bar and wave my cash trying desperately to get the bartender’s attention.

“Were you on the swim team?  Maybe that’s where I know you from,” he continues.  He’s obviously not getting the hint.

“Sorry, soccer and track.  Not much of a competitive swimmer.”  I turn and look at Auggie and roll my eyes.  I do not pick up men at a bar.  Ever.  One-night stands are not my thing, and by the looks of this guy, he’s just trying to hook up. 

Thankfully, a bartender makes his way to me.  “What can I get you tonight?”

“Two Coronas, please”

“Sure, I just need to check your ID first.”

I quickly grab my ID and hand it to the bartender.  I’m used to getting asked for my ID.  Even though I’m 23 years old, I have one of those faces that make me look younger than my actual age.  The bartender confirms my age, returns my driver’s license, and hands me two beers.  I pay and leave a decent tip.  Maybe he’ll remember me next time and I won’t have to take out my ID all night long.

“Enjoy your beer,” tan surfer dude offers.  I nod my head without responding.  He’s scanning around the room looking for his next target.  My instincts were right again.

As quickly as possible, I make my way back to the table where Auggie is texting again.  He’s always networking.  I can’t complain.  That’s what makes him good at his job.  He’s got lost time to make up for, and he’s probably trying to land another client.  I take out my phone and check my Twitter feed when he notices I’ve returned.  “Hey, girl!  Who was that hot blonde?” he quizzes me as he gulps his cold beer.

“No idea.  Didn’t stay around long enough to ask.”

“Jette, he was definitely into you.  Why didn’t you let him take you home and see if he has any tan lines?”

“Auggie, let it go.  That was never going to happen and you know it.  Look – he’s already moved onto that beautiful redhead with the big boobs.” 

“Are you kidding?  Those fake melons have nothing on you.  If you would let me, I could show you how to properly display your assets, too.  It’s all in the presentation, you know!”  Auggie is always trying to give me a makeover. 

“Next topic, please.”  This discussion will have to wait for another time, or, better yet, he’ll drop it completely and never bring it up again.  Yeah, right.

“OK, new subject.  You have a job interview in five minutes.  Go to the bathroom and freshen up.  One of the managers is on his way.”  I can feel the blood rushing up to my face. I must be fifteen shades of red right now.  Once my nerves get the best of me, there’s no hiding my anxiety.

“August, no – you’re kidding, right?” I try to slow my breathing and my heart rate while I take a big gulp of beer.

“Nope.  I just got done texting my contact.  Jack DaSilva is on his way.  He’s the general manager here and he’s the one I hooked up with that beach house.  It’s called networking.”  He takes my hand, squeezes it, and it has an immediate calming effect.  “Look, I know how you over analyze things.  I figured this way you wouldn’t have time to stress.”  He does know me well.

“Can you text him and make up some excuse why I can’t meet with him now?  Tell him something believable – tell him I found a kitten and I have to find its owner – tell him I broke the heel off my new shoes and have to go home to change – tell him anything!  Please.”  I beg.  I’m starting to panic again.

His phone beeps, he has a new message.  He reads it and tells me it’s too late.  Jack is on his way and I need to go freshen up – pronto!

Jack turns out to be a very down-to-earth well-dressed middle-aged balding man with a sharp tongue and a quick wit.  I like him immediately.  He asks me a few questions, and I answer them all without missing a beat.  We talk about the chocolates classes I completed, my internship in Denver, as well as my degrees and certifications.

“So, you mentioned holding a bartending license.  I won’t have any jobs in the Sweet Shop until closer to Memorial Day, but if you’re willing to work at the bar, you can start immediately.”  He can tell I’m not thrilled with the idea. “It pays a lot more than a baking position starts at.  After tips, you’ll be making great money.  Try it for a week, and see what you think.”

I run through all the checklists I already have in my head.  I instantly had multitudes of reasons to turn the job down.  But there was one glaring reason why I should accept – great money.  I extend my hand to his and ask, “When do you want me to start?”