I've always been told how determined I am. And they're right.

My life has been nothing but a tunnel vision of goals, so on evenings like this when my eyes wander away from my trip to point B and I see the sky -  brilliant orange melting into violet and crisscrossed with a pattern of chem trails leading who knows where, I feel shaken.

When was the last time I looked up?

For all the time I spent, head down, determined to achieve my goals where am I now? An (Ivey League) college dropout, living in my childhood home, working at a bar and mothering my tween sisters and my wonderful dad who's too heartbroken to do anything more than drag himself to the foundry every day.

The problem is, no one can really determine how their life is going to turn out.

"Hey beautiful." Tony drops a cigarette on the ground, snuffing it out with the toe of his sneaker as he pulls the back door open for me.

"Hey Tony." I slip past him and he follows me down the two sticky wooden steps into a dimly lit hall. The hall is flanked by an open kitchen on the left and an area for the wait staff on the right, both within view of the dining room... which is packed.

"Has it been like this all day?" I stop at the computer and clock in.

He walks over to the sink and washes his hands before switching a stained chef's jacket for a clean one. "Nah, it was dead most of the day, we just filled up about an hour ago."

Charlie's oyster bar has three levels. A somewhat rowdy dining area and bar on the first floor with an authentic nautical theme; the bar itself was made from an old ship and black and white photos hang along the walls dating back to the beginning of our fishing industry as Michigan's biggest exporter.

The second floor is a quieter dining area with a view of the docks and Round lake across the street.

The third floor is actually on the roof. A night club style, open air bar with the only hip night scene in the city. "What about upstairs?"

Tony winks, "I hear it's picking up."

...

I haven't even stepped out of the employee elevator and I can already tell from the drone-like chatter that we're slammed.

I take a second to re-tie my cocktail apron, adjusting it so I can see the ridiculously short black shorts I'm wearing. If the apron hangs too low, it looks like I'm naked behind it. There's nothing to be done about the tight 'Oyster Bar' t-shirt that clearly shows what little cleavage I have, so I lift the 10-gallon bucket of ice I brought with me and enter the fray.

"Emerson, thank God your here, Crystal called in sick." Jake nods toward the crowd and melts away into the cries of a hundred thirsty patrons.

The sun's nearly set and neon lights take center stage, pulsing to the beat of electronic dance music. I fill my lungs with a deep breath, inhaling the sickly sweet smell of alcohol, sweat and trust-fund. Charlevoix's a summer playground for the rich and now that school's out, it feels like a wilder, dirtier version of a yacht club.

I drop under the bar, coming up on the other side and push my way through. It's a relatively cool night, but you put this many people together and it creates its own tropical climate. A light sheen has already gathered on my forehead and between my breast.

I scan the room for my best friend and see Kate's short black curls bobbing just ahead of me. I wait until she's finished scribbling orders on a pad of hot pink paper and grab her elbow. "Hey!"

"Em!" Her face lights up. "They're fucking animals tonight! I can't even tell you how many times my ass has been grabbed, and someone already vomited in the ladies!" She shouts over the noise, not giving a shit who hears. "But the tips have been great, right guys?" She bats her eyelashes at the group in front of her and I roll my eyes.

"Ok Kate," I laugh. "Where do you need me?"

She goes up on her toes trying to peer over the crowd, which is nearly impossible considering how short she is. "Oh shit, over there in the corner. They've probably been here at least 10 minutes."

"Great Kate," I mumble to myself and continue wiggling through the crowd. These types of people are used to getting what they want when they want it. Waiting isn't in their vocabulary and they love taking their frustration out on poor saps like me.

The table she pointed me to is occupied by four men who all looked like they just stepped off a GQ photoshoot. They're all ridiculously hot and I'm guessing they're in their mid to late twenties. I'm honestly surprised Kate didn't drop whatever she was doing and run over here herself.

Three of them seem to be in a friendly debate, while the fourth sits looking past my shoulder, eyes blank.

I clear my throat and half yell above the noise, "what can I get you?"

I can tell he's already been drinking and it takes him a moment to register my presence. When he does his eyes travel up my body as his lips pull up at the corners.

I've often been told I look like summer, with my sun-kissed skin and white blonde hair thats hastily piled on top of my head. But this man looks like walking sunshine. His hair is short, brown waves naturally tinted gold and he has honey colored eyes set in an angular face, softened only by two deep dimples in his cheeks.

The overall effect of that smile is a little bit sweet and a little bit naughty. I'm sure it's his trademark 'panty-dropper.' Too bad for him I'm not the type to drop my panties. He leans in closer. "Let me buy you a drink."

It's funny how often you'll hear this working at a bar. Like its Coyote ugly and all the servers are taking shots and dancing on tables.

"Thanks, but I'm working. What can I get you?"

His smile brightens. "How about your number gorgeous?" By now his friends have noticed our exchange and they erupt into laughter.

The tallest of them, also handsome with short dark hair and light blue eyes, gives me an amused look and tells me they can't take Wes anywhere, to which I agree... they should have left him home. The group is silent for a moment until my stony expression turns into a cheeky grin and they smile. The tall man slaps Wes on the back. "I like her Wes. I think she's a keeper."

Before the conversation can go any farther, I remind them I need to get back to work and begin taking their orders; a jack and coke, a demolition IPA, another jack and coke and from Wes, "Scotch. McAllen if you have it, and four shots of tequila."

"Scotch and tequila. That's an interesting combination," I say dryly.

He smirks again. "Well, I like Scotch because it's a manly drink of course." He runs a hand across the stubble on his jaw and I'm suddenly aware of how much I like his hands. Strong and sinewy with long fingers. "And the tequila is a start of summer tradition for us. You know, basically getting wasted and making some very bad decisions." His eyes travel down my body again.

With that, I turn on my heel and leave before he can see the flush spreading up my cheeks or the dopey grin on my face.

...

"Shit, I made almost three hundred bucks." Katie sits at one of the only two bar stools left on the floor. All of the other chairs are turned over on top of the tables making it easier for the cleaning crew to come through and wash the floor in the morning.

I take the other stool and watch Jake crack open a stainless steel shaker pouring liquid into three shot glasses.

We always close out the night with a celebratory drink and the current bartender (former boyfriend) lines up obnoxiously pink shots in front of us.

"What the hell is that?" Kate slurs. Unlike me, she has no qualms about drinking on the job.

Jake smiles. "I call it a "Dirty Cunt."

I laugh as Kate inspects it, holding it up to her lips. "Well, if it's as good as 'Blue Balls,' then I'm sure we're in for a treat." She downs it and smacks her lips.

I take a sniff of mine. "Your creations have the weirdest names. I'm beginning to think you have a dirty mind Jake."

He runs a towel along the bar and crosses his arms. He does it on purpose knowing I like his forarms. "You of all people should know I have a dirty mind... and a dirty mouth."

Kate giggles, but knows to keep her mouth shut. My cheeks redden, I shouldn't have said anything about Jake and dirty anything since he's been hinting at getting back together lately. I give him credit, he never wanted to break up and he's given me a year to get my head wrapped around mom's passing.

I take the too sweet shot as well and begin to gather my things, thankful that I don't have to worry about how Kate's getting home since she lives in an apartment above the shop next door. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Have a good night."

She grabs my arm before I can go. "Hey, we gonna do the beach with the girls tomorrow?" By girls, she means my twelve-year-old sisters, Bea and Annie, who affectionately call her Aunty Kate.

"I wish. I start that housekeeping job tomorrow and I'm supposed to be there at nine... that's a time in the morning. In case you've forgotten." I wink and she looks like somebody killed her cat.

"Noooo," Kate whines. "I forgot! You've officially ruined my summer. I'll never see you!"

Bills are slowly piling up at home and we're still trying to pay off the massive pile of medical debt that mom acquired while she was sick. Not to mention, the girls needed braces, so when I saw the housekeeping ad on Craigslist for steady work at fifteen dollars an hour, I couldn't pass it up.

"I know it sucks, but it works out perfectly for me. It's nine to three Monday through Friday, so I'll have plenty of time to pick the girls up from camp and get here by five." She gives me her signature pouty face. "Don't worry, we'll still see each other."

She finally smiles. "Fine. But if you're too burned out from slaving away at two jobs to hang out with me, we are officially no longer friends. I don't care if we've been together since kindergarten or not."

I give her a peck on the cheek and promise to let her know all about how the other half lives when I see her back here tomorrow night. Jake waves bye with a pout and I head for the stairs.

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