Once again, another year had ended, and another was about to begin. There was no college to which I had applied, from which I should await an acceptance letter. But on the bright side, I had secured a serving job at the prestigious Lake Oswego Country Club, and here I am today on my first day. This isn't me convincing myself because I'm academically behind my peers. Rather, it's a traffic job, fortunate enough for when you're among the four percent of the less privileged residents of Lake Oswego.

The paycheck was decent, but the tips made this gig a real hustle. Everyone with a membership here is someone important. Whether they're long-time residents of the town, where over ninety percent of the population is loaded, or the seasonal locals, nationally well-known, who flock here every summer. Traffic in this area was anything but light, the streets were packed with cars, and the sidewalks were bustling with people. Fortunately, I dodged the worst of it, finding a shortcut on my bicycle. Because of that, Carol, the main clubhouse supervisor, couldn't breathe down my neck about being late. My goal today? Stay off her radar while I work my way into the good graces of the country club's elite.

I got here a solid thirty minutes before the clubhouse's doors officially opened at eight. After catching my breath, I grabbed a cold bottle of water and wiped the sweat from my forehead, making sure I looked fresh before stepping inside. Without this job, I wouldn't have been able to set foot in a place like this.

Carol made me wait in the kitchen while time was ticking. Through my anxious wait, or more like awkward, the regular employees were arriving in their uniforms and going about their jobs. They were all females with their hair in a high bun, and none was kind enough to talk or so much as wave at me. Worst, I can almost swear they chided the next young man who walked in not to entertain my presence.

I knew about this when I signed up for this job; I expected worse and came fully emotionally armored for the rich, spoiled brats my dad cautioned me about. So I wasn't going to be fazed by the employees who felt entitled to the job that we both had because they were here earlier than me.

The door was pushed again, and it swung open. This time, a brunette with peppered cool-tone pink hair walked in, also styled in a lower bun and a uniform, but a different one from the presidential blue fitted dress the rest were wearing.

"Sadie?" A dark-haired girl from the group teaming up against me, a stranger they only know today, called the brunette over.

Her brow rose in mock amusement; you can tell she's the rebellious one. "What, Maya? Am I suddenly welcome to your hypocrite cult?"

I almost choked at her reaction, but I bit down on the smile, not wanting to draw any more attention than I'd already done just by existing in my station.

The girls had ferocious expressions on their faces; they were sending her eye signals, but it's obvious she purposely sidestepped and walked up to me, crossing her arms around her chest. Her big brown almond-sized eyes observed me from head to toe; something about her felt warm despite her fearless girl makeup, smoky eyes, long lashes, and suitable colorful paint on her eyelids. In short, she's got stunning writing all over her. "By the look of it, you are a newcomer, sitting in the corner?" She pointed out with certainty.

From what she expressed, I can relax even more, knowing it wasn't only me who had to go through this high schooler psyche adults.

"Yes," I nodded. She was nice; she was the only one who came up to me. "Uhm... Carol asked me to wait for her here." My smile was tight from cluelessness.

"Oh, shit!" she breathed, a knowing chuckle escaping her, batting a glance toward the group over there, setting drinks into huge coolers. "Believe me, she meant you should be able to get assisted getting ready before she's here at eight, dot. Maya wants you to get on Carol's nerves and sabotage your first impression. She's like this with every new person here."

I had an idea they were plotting against me. It's good to at least have someone able to help me because, unlike Maya, I am not here to play bully or entitlement. I really need this job.

"Come on, let's get you a fitted uniform in the locker room. Are you on the serving list or in the kitchen?" She asked, leading the way towards the back door.

"Server's list," I informed her, and she nodded in recognition. I caught the girls scoffing mockingly as we passed. Sadie flipped her middle fingers at them and carelessly pushed the door, revealing a long hall.

"Ignore them." She nudged me playfully, checking that didn't kill my mood. I am not that soft, but I didn't say it out loud. A group of mean girls isn't enough to get to my feelings. But I let her enjoy her being my savior; I smiled at her and nodded.

"My name's Lively," I told her, and she sighed as though something eased into her.

"I was just about to ask your name," she laughed. She had a beautiful smile and a set of white teeth. I guessed that if it weren't for the job's rules prohibiting employee and member relationships, she could have turned many members' heads. My guess was she might be doing that already. "I'm Sadie," she shrugged. I already knew that, having caught it when Maya was trying to assemble enemies against me.

"I serve too. It's the best job you could want in this club, except for being a personal server. Those rich people only want someone compliant, and you can close the day with a thousand in your pocket. But it's as hard as nails to get that one; they have specific lucky people for that."

That seemed remarkable. The things I could do with such an opportunity, but if Sadie, who had been here longer than me, said it was impossible, then it was impossible. I would just concentrate on serving the golfers on the course.

"You're serving in the dining room or on the course?" she asked curiously as she opened a door to a room that reminded me of a high school locker room.

"On the course," I answered, my eyes returning to her from wandering around.

"We have the same jobs. Okay, choose a locker and grab one of the black shorts and white polo shirts that fit you. They're all clean, I promise. The shoes are down the room, and make sure your hair is up. I'll be in the kitchen getting the coolers transferred to the carts," she told me and withdrew towards the door at my acknowledging nod.

At the precise time the clubhouse opened, Carol reappeared, and she was definitely impressed upon seeing I was prepared. Some caution was made, threats to our jobs even if anything went wrong. I got a golf cart key and my map of the golf course for my side of the holes to attend before we were all distributed to our jobs.

It started easily; driving the cart was too. When I reached the first pods, I just had to practice my training: smile, agree to everything, be compliant, and hand out cool drinks and a bottle of water. The groups of men I came across were mostly from their mid-thirties to fifties if not sixties, so they were generous with tips and only asked if I was new at this job for any mistake I made, which was not very often.

By the time I returned for the third refill, it was already two in the afternoon, according to my wristwatch, since phones were strictly off limits during work and remain locked away with the rest of our belongings. The kitchen buzzed with fresh faces, a new set of chefs, unlike the ones I had encountered earlier that morning when I came for my first cooler refill. These must be the lunch crew. Carol was present, keeping a close eye, which meant there was no room for introductions. Her focus was solely on ensuring every ounce of our attention was committed to the task at hand.

I leaned back against the wall, watching as the boys on Maya's team hauled my cooler over for a reload. The usual shade-throwing wasn't happening at the moment. Everyone was too caught up with their work.

"What are you doing, Lively?" Carol asked as she hovered over a pale woman sweating as she decorated so many dishes with tiny portions of food.

"Refilling for my last round." My shift wraps up at five, and I can dash back to the daycare to pick up Bubble. I knew there were already missed calls from Mom, reminding me not to get carried away and forget the time.

"You boys should sort it out," Carol ordered the boys, setting my cooler. "freaking Jacqueline," the worried woman cursed. "Lively, I need you in the Wallace simulator's room. Go change into a dress now."

"Um?" My eyes widened.

"Am I speaking another language?" the woman impatiently scolded, and I swallowed through my dry throat, shaking my head no. "Good, the boys are here. You will serve them personally and make sure they're satisfied. Pray you don't lose your job today," she said to me and sped ahead towards the door.

I got the presidential blue fitted bodice, and a flared skirt that Maya had on, for serving the VIPs, and in the dining room, it was way far from reaching knee-length for my liking. I did not like this, but I needed the money so badly. Sadie had said the tips there were insane, and I don't know how I was lucky to land there on my first day. Looking into the mirror and redoing my bun, as I am intentionally stalling to leave the solace of the locker room. The sleeves were short, and the front was a button-down with a white collar like my shoes, all that paired with a waist apron.

"Focus. Smile. Win. Get paid." I blew out a shaky breath as I stared into the mirror at myself, grabbing at the edges of the counter.

Some nerves were hard to control, but I kept trying to assure myself about my reason for being there. The door opened, taking my attention.

Sadie rushed in with an agape mouth and a proud smile on her face.

"How did you do it?" she squealed, peeking outside the door before shutting it. "Told Carol I needed a bathroom break," she hushedly says, as if we aren't the only ones in the room. I chuckle softly at her excitement. "A personal server on your first day and not just to anyone, but the four Wallace cousins?" She blushes, beaming.

"I mean, it's not that tough cookie," I brushed it off.

"Girl, it is. Somehow, you are a walking lucky charm. You sold out so many drinks, more than the seven carts combined from the main clubhouse. Now you are requested by the Wallaces? This is unusual,"

"Not requested. Just needed by Carol's order," I corrected her.

"Oh please. That's the same. Do you know who those cousins are? You aren't just serving anyone; you are serving the gods of old money. They practically own this country. So, if I say half of the houses in this town belong to them and the perfect over a hundred years wine brand distributed from here is theirs, just worship them. You must have heard of Wallace Wears, Wallace Bespoke Luxury Watch and Jewelry, Wallace Private Aviation Management and consultancy services, Wallace Private Art Curation, and Gallery Management for Home Collections. Wallace This and That, the list just keeps going on. To breathe the same air in the same room as them is a privilege you need to appreciate, so you are freaking lucky. What charm did you use?" Sadie explained enthusiastically, almost frantic with veins sticking out her neck while I was in a brief trance, as though I had mis-phrased asking for World War Three and she was giving me a perspective of the consequences.

She didn't know, but I know exactly who the Wallaces are.

"The tips Jacqueline compiled from that family, she could leave town finally. You better seize your chance, too. If they like you, they'll keep you, and girl, you'll be loaded by the end of summer." She reached over, and before I noticed, my bun was loose and my hair was flowing over my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I panicked, angered that doing it again would take me some time.

"There isn't a rule for hairstyle for private servers, and you have very gorgeous hair. Flaunt it. The internet says the Wallace cousins are single. Maybe..." Suddenly, I walked out of the conversation, preventing her from seeing any reaction as my heart dropped and that earlier overwhelming anxiety returned with an attack, closing me in from every corner of my self-control.

"I am serious, Lively. You have the looks. Think about it. Kyle Wallace, Mason Wallace, Dane Wallace, or Aaron Wallace, one of them getting smitten by you. You will be retired way younger." Sadie's voice was cheerfully full of spirit. I can feel my face instantly warming up.

Thick smoke clouds my vision, the smell of weeds wafts through my nostrils, and there is a tightened grip on my hand. Dark stares pierce the smoke, and in my ear, as though there's a devil on my shoulder, a resonating raspy voice calls, "Hey?" I looked around, but it was only me, except for Sadie's footsteps and her delusional imagination.

There's a lump in my throat, I know it's the reoccurrence! It's getting worse with time. It's becoming suffocating. No amount of pulling the neckline of my dress or massaging my neck will free me of the choking feeling that claws me to death.

"By the grace of God, I send you in with luck," I heard Sadie say playfully. She's pressing on my thin tolerance, but it's not like I can even vent it out. First, reacting will make me look like a psycho on my first day, Sadie doesn't know me or my story, not to mention it's unfair to be rude to the only person who defended me, and in her defense, she mean no harm. And for the second, which is the most crucial, I am focused on the need for air in my lungs.

"Can you please stop?" I begged without turning back, fighting with my emotions not to burst out in a display.

"Are you—" she started, and my eyes pressed close regretfully. How far could I handle it? But luckily, she didn't get to finish. Carol's voice came up calling at us, and my eyes flew open. I've never appreciated relief as I did this one.

Finally, glancing over my shoulder, not looking as struggling as earlier, polite and relaxed as possible, I tell Sadie, "I will see you later," and rush up to Carol. She would get me to Wallace's private simulation room and introduce me to the four cousins, whom I had hoped for six years to never meet again.