Chelsea

I hadn’t been in this town long enough to be familiar with it. Even though the island was small, there were times details escaped me. It was easier to have Dottie drop me off than to risk getting lost. When I stepped inside, the flurry of activity startled me. Before I could get caught up in the anxiety that lingered in unfamiliar places, Jared—the guy who hired me yesterday—stepped out of his office.

“Hey, Chelsea. You’re right on time. Everyone is loading up so go grab a seat in the van.”

I’d bartended back home while I was in college, and it was an easy gig to fall back on. The tips were good without an abundance of hours, and while this job wasn’t in a club, the owner of the catering company assured me their high-end clientele tipped well and made the obscure hours worth the effort. Yet money wasn’t really a driving force. It gave me something to do and people to interact with, and there weren’t many career choices available in Geneva Key.