Miami Vices
Chapter 1
ONE
EVAN
Looking around my bare apartment, I’m overwhelmed with the amount of work that still needs to be done. Boxes are stacked against the wall in the living room waiting to be unpacked. Dishes are piled high on the counter and half my clothes are still in suitcases.
I’ve put off the unpacking process long enough. It needs to get finished today, so I’ll be ready for my first day of work. Choosing a box, I open it and start finding a spot for each item as thoughts of the last few months flood my brain.
Moving to Miami was the last thing on my agenda of life goals, yet here I am, starting a new life.
I hate the heat, well, Florida in general.
It’s loud and hot and touristy, not my ideal place to live.
Growing up in New Jersey, I prefer the cold.
Snow is my favorite thing in the world. Yes, I’m one of those weirdos who loves everything about the harsh winters–shoveling the driveway, building snowmen, hot cocoa, a warm fire, wool sweaters, and fuzzy blankets.
In high school, I worked selling hot dogs to drunk football fans during the Jets and Giants games.
The job sucked. Not that I would have enjoyed watching the game.
Sports aren’t really my thing, but neither is selling hot dogs.
Over the years, I moved up and by the time I graduated, I was the assistant manager at one of the concession stands.
It wasn’t a glamorous job, and the title meant nothing.
There were hordes of people over me including my manager and somewhere up the line the people who operate the company that services many of the NFL stadiums across the country.
I never planned to go to college. Truthfully, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.
When my manager, Nathan, pulled me aside one day and asked if I was interested in becoming a manager for one of the on-site restaurants, I jumped at the idea.
It meant more work, but also more money.
The catch–I needed a college degree if I wanted to move up higher than managing one restaurant.
It took me over a month to decide, but after looking into degrees in hospitality, I decided it might not be so bad.
Hospitality gave me other options if I got tired of working at a stadium; plus, I enjoy working with people.
Five years ago, I graduated with my degree.
I’ve been working my way up the ranks since.
At first, it pissed me off that I wasn’t offered something more after finishing school, but I kept my head down, worked hard, and attempted to save money.
The original goal was to buy a home and move out of my parents’ house, but my ever-growing credit card debt had different plans.
Slowly, I started getting small promotions and opportunities to prove myself.
Football season ended in January since neither team made it past the wild card round, so I took my two weeks’ vacation like I always do at the end of the season.
Off-season hours are shorter, but there are still concerts and other events that take place during the year, so I don’t have six months off like most people think.
April arrived with the first signs of spring.
The snow had melted, and the days were warming, but when I arrived the first weekend in April to work at a concert, executives from our parent company, Good Eats, were there.
I didn’t know who they were at first, then Mavis, my boss, came to the restaurant and asked me to meet her in the conference room.
Nerves ate at me as I walked the long hallway to the large room, and I almost passed out when I opened the door and was met with three men in business suits.
They introduced themselves and asked me to sit.
Several hours later, I was driving home, my head still spinning.
They offered me a job at the Dolphins’ stadium in Miami as the Food and Beverage Coordinator.
It’s a huge promotion and a great opportunity.
I’ll be in charge of all of the restaurants and bars at the stadium in Florida.
The salary is more than double what I was making in New Jersey with more vacation, a 401k, health insurance, and stock options.
Maybe the increase in salary will finally enable me to chip away at the massive debt I’ve accumulated over the past six years.
Debt no one knows I have, not even my parents.
I stayed in New Jersey until the middle of July and continued working at my old job. I have to report to the stadium here on August first. Two more days before I’ll be thrown into my new position.
When I arrived in Miami two weeks ago, someone from Great Eats met me at the airport and put me up in a hotel until I found an apartment.
Once I found an affordable place, they paid for the movers to bring my modest belongings down.
I bought a kitchen table and chairs at a used furniture store last week, and my parents gave me a brand-new living room suite complete with a couch, recliner, and coffee table.
I need some more storage, but I’m trying not to max out another credit card.
Good Eats will pay my rent for the first three months, another benefit of the new job.
The experience alone will help with any future opportunity I seek. It was an offer I couldn’t pass up.
As my mind wandered, I absently unpacked all the boxes in the living room.
It didn’t take as long as I expected it would.
After breaking down the empty boxes and stacking them near the front door to be taken to the dumpster later, I head for the kitchen.
Last week, I unpacked and washed the dishes, but never got around to putting them away.
I get the process started, quickly finding a home for everything.
Several times in the past two weeks, I’ve questioned my decision to take the job.
I haven’t made any friends in Miami. I miss my home and the folks.
I keep telling myself to give it time, but I’m not confident time will make anything better.
Moving here was likely a huge mistake. Hell, maybe Mike was right all along.
I probably can’t do this. Those thoughts—and many more, all negative—race through my mind.
I’m questioning every life decision as I unpack the suitcases and put away my clothes.
Maybe I should cut my losses and move home before I have the chance to screw up.