“No, Dakota, I want arealjob. Not some one-night fake girlfriend thing.”
“No, I’m not talking about that job.” He pulled out his cell phone and started tapping away at the screen.
“All I want is anormalsummer job,” I said. “With a schedule and a paycheck, and oh, taxes taken out, too.”
“Taxes. She wants hertaxestaken out. What the fuck.” He chuckled under his breath. “You’re so weird, Olivia. Not gonna lie, though—it’s kinda insanely cute.”
I rolled my eyes. “All I’m saying is, I want the kind of job a normal college girl would work.”
“Oh, I’vesogot you.” He showed me his phone; he was calling someone on FaceTime. “Remember Brett, my best friend?”
“Yes.”
“He owns BarDown. Ever heard of it?”
“No.”
“It’s a brewery and restaurant on Valley View Boulevard. They just opened last year.”
“Okay …”
“You can’t get a more normal ‘college girl summer job’ than working in a restaurant. Plus, you’ll fit right in—all the girls that work there are cute as hell and make bank on tips.”
He really thinks I’m that cute, hm?
“Yeah?” I twisted a lock of hair around my finger. “I’ve always wanted to wait tables.”
“God knows why,” he murmured with a small laugh.
Brett, fit and handsome like Dak, popped onto the screen.“Yo, Dak! What’s happenin’, bud?”
“Hey, man. I’ve got a big favor to ask.”
“Shoot.”
“So this is Olivia.” Dakota turned the camera to include me in the frame.
“Hi, Olivia,”Brett said, flashing a smile.
I gave a shy little wave. “Hi, Brett.”
“Olivia’s a college student,” Dakota explained, “but she’s home in Vegas for the summer and she needs a job. Is there any chance you can take her on at BarDown?”
“Do you have any serving experience, Olivia?”Brett asked.
“None, sorry. I’ve actually never had a job before,” I said sheepishly.
This was the part where my job interviews always went south. Everyone claimed to be so desperate for employees, yet they all had these crazy work experience requirements. But therein lies the catch: how is one supposed to gain experience when no one’s willing to hire you because you don’t have any experience?
But neither Dakota nor Brett made a big deal out of it, and my shameful admission passed without judgment or snark.
“No worries,”Brett said.“We can start you as a hostess and go from there.”
“Really?!” I shrieked, excited.
“Sure. If Dak says you’re good, I trust you.”
“Oh. Dude. She’ssogood,” Dakota said. “Thanks, bud. I owe you one.”
