Chapter 3

“Call D’ante,” Jason suggested. “I heard his transmission is going out. He might need the extra work for a few days?” D’ante had worked full-time at Dockside a few years back, when he’d first come back from that disastrous tour of duty in Afghanistan and had needed something to get him out of the house, away from overbearing, too-sympathetic family. These days, he lived with his sister, helping to keep an eye on her kids, but he could generally be counted on to fill in a shift or two when Dockside was short on hands.

“You call D’ante,” Scooter said. “I’ll put a sign up and call down to the paper.” Who knew, maybe someone in this town had a teenager who needed some work. That wasn’t likely—there wasn’t any publictransportation that stopped close to the restaurant, and teens who had cars also had access to better-paying jobs. But who knew? Someday, one day, Scooter’s luck would change. Maybe.