Chapter 1

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." Liza said to no one in particular, squinting up at the brick apartment building as she stood on the sidewalk of Metropolitan Avenue. A stack of broken pallets was piled next to the stoop and the sidewalk was filled with pots of vegetables. A cherry tomato plant grew out of a tire painted baby blue and rosemary was shooting out of cracked vase filled with dirt. The aroma from the artisanal hipster run coffee shop wafted from across the street, mixing with the smells of car exhaust from her idling SUV. This was home now.

"Are you just going to stand there all day or are you actually going to help me move your stuff in?"

Liza jumped as the voice pierced her daydream, and she looked up to see the face of her friend, her savior, her godmother, Maggie Amato, smirking at her with an arched eyebrow. Maggie was an artist, and had been one of her mother's closest friends for as long as Liza could remember. She had always been cool "Aunt Maggie", whisking Liza away from the suburbs for fun weekends in the city. She'd taken her to museums and shows and art exhibits, and it had been her influence that had caused Liza to fall utterly in love with New York. She'd given Liza the sex talk, taken her to get her ears pierced and taught her how to hail a cab. She'd been the first one that Liza had told when she had found out she was pregnant, had been there for her at her wedding, her mom's funeral, and had helped her pick up the pieces after she had left David. Maggie was a second mom, an aunt, a sister and a best friend all in one. Hell, she'd even had a friend come in and renovate her Williamsburg loft to create a small bedroom for Caitlin so that Liza could have her privacy in the spare bedroom. Without Maggie, well Liza didn't know where she would be.

"Sorry, Mags. Just taking it all in."

"Well take it all in while we unload. This is the last of it, no?" Liza watched as Maggie came down the steps. Even for a day of moving, the 43 year old was in full makeup, her bright red lips popping against her black as night hair.

"Yeah, it is." Liza reached into the car, turning it off and pocketing the key as she and Maggie unloaded the last two boxes and a duffel bag from the back of the SUV.

They hauled the boxes, full of Caitlin's toys and clothes, up to Maggie's third story loft, an artist's haven with tons of natural light, brick walls, and high ceilings. Maggie had lived here for as long as Liza could remember. She remembered furniture shopping with her Mom and Maggie, picking out the blue sectional that took up a large amount of space in the living room. The loft was always filled with Maggie's art, stacks of work in progress paintings and sculptures leaning up against every wall. It always smelled of dark roast coffee and Italian food, or as Maggie called it, the food of her people.

But now that Liza and Caitlin had moved in, the loft looked more like an art studio/daycare, with Caitlin's highchair set up by the kitchen island, a playmat set up in the living room. Maggie had graciously rearranged her living space so that Caitlin could have her own small room right off of Liza's, just big enough to fit her crib, dresser, and a few small toys. Liza felt guilty inconveniencing Maggie, who didn't want to hear of it.

"You're family, Liza. The closest think I'll ever have to my own kid. And you take care of family." She'd said it over and over again over the last few months since the divorce. She'd been a godsend, doing everything from helping her move, to bringing frozen homemade dinners to Liza's dad at his senior home, to watching Caitlin while Liza went on unsuccessful interview after unsuccessful interview.

"Do you need help unpacking these?" Maggie dropped the boxes by the door to the spare room. Liza's room.

"No, no. Maggie, you've done enough. I've got it from here. Thank you, so much. For everything, I mean it." She pulled the woman in for a hug, squeezing her hard. She had no idea how she was going to repay her for all that she had done.

"I'm happy to help. And happy to have a proper wing woman now to hit the bars with!"

Liza rolled her eyes as she pushed the boxes into her room, which was already unpacked and set up. "Mags, I haven't been to a bar since before Caitlin was born."

"Which means you have a lot of catching up to do! David has Caitlin until, what, Wednesday, right?"

"Yeah." Liza smiled wistfully at the thought of her daughter. She missed her, and she'd only dropped her off with David yesterday morning. He had, in a surprisingly gracious move, taken a few days off to spend with their daughter while Liza settled in and hunted for a job. Per their divorce settlement, Liza had physical placement of Caitlin, but they shared joint custody. He got every other weekend and shared holidays and whatever other time the two of them could agree on. She'd waived child support, just asking that he split the cost of daycare. Her father had given her a sizeable amount of money from the sale of the house, allowing Liza to make this move and rebuild a good chunk of her savings. This move was her fresh start and she was determined to make the most of it.

Finding a job was proving to be much more difficult than anticipated. She'd reached out to her old supervisor at Random House and had practically been laughed out of the interview room. Apparently leaving a high paying job to raise a child was akin to sin in the world of publishing. She'd applied for everything from editor jobs to assistant jobs and at this point was willing to take a job in the mailroom if it meant she could get her foot in the door. There was a Woman in Publishing event at a Midtown hotel tomorrow morning, and Liza was determined to walk in with a stack of resumes and walk out with a job. Or more interviews.

A few hours later she was completely unpacked, the empty boxes broken down and hauled to the dumpster, the fridge stocked with all of Caitlin's favorite snacks. She missed her baby girl, but she had to admit that it was nice to put her feet up after a long day and not have to worry about chasing a hyperactive child around the apartment. Sighing, Liza flopped back onto her bed, staring up at the exposed rafters.

"Don't get too comfortable, missy. We're going out."

Liza propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Maggie, who was smiling at her from the doorway.

"I'm all gross, Maggie. Can we go another night?"

"Absolutely not. And you look fine."

Liza glanced down at her outfit, blue jeans and a button up chambray shirt. Her face was clear of makeup and her hair was up in a messy ponytail. She'd long given up on trying to look fashionable.

"Listen, we'll just go for a couple drinks. There's a bar right around the corner that I want you to get acquainted with. The East River Bar. It's totally chill, just good music and good drinks."

Knowing that she was going to lose this particular battle, Liza sighed, pushing herself up off the bed and sliding on a pair of flats. "Two drinks, Mags, and that's it. I want to be sharp tomorrow."

Maggie clapped her hands, grinning triumphantly. "Yay! Let's go, before you change your mind."

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Sitting at the bar a half hour later, Liza had to admit that it wasn't as bad as she had imagined. She'd never been big on the bar scene in college, usually only frequently them when David dragged her out. She'd always been more of a coffeehouse/library/bookstore kind of person. But this place, well, it wasn't half bad.

"You know, Mags," she sipped on her margarita at the bar, leaning in towards Maggie. "I don't understand why taking a few years off to raise my kid suddenly make me so much less desirable than some of these other schmucks. I've been on over a dozen interviews, and these people seem to take a special pleasure in rubbing my mom status in my face."

"Oh, you must want to spank them." Maggie downed her second margarita and waved a manicured hand towards the bartender, signaling for a fresh drink. She was probably at least 10 years older than everyone else in the bar, but she seemed perfectly at home.

"It's like I woke up one day, realized that the life I had created was a big, fat lie, and I'd suddenly become this pariah. No one wants to hire someone who gave up a job to pop out a baby. Like I planned it!"

"Liza, honey, you did what you had to do!"

"No, you did. You followed your dreams, stuck with the lesbian think, and you moved to Brooklyn before it became hot. Mom always said she wished she'd done the same. Moved to the city and followed her dreams, not become a lesbian, I mean. I did the same thing she did, you know. Got pregnant and settled for a life that I wasn't really ready for."

"Your mom wanted a family. She always did. It just happened a little earlier than she thought it would. She loved you and your daddy so much, honey. And, I moved to Brooklyn because I couldn't afford Manhattan. And know thanks to all the bearded hipsters and chicks that look like Macaulay Calkin, I can barely afford Brooklyn!"

Maggie stood up, swaying on the spot for a moment. "Look, I gotta pee. Order like six more of these and I'll be right back." Before Liza could protest, Maggie disappeared into the crowd, leaving Liza alone in the crowded room. Sighing, Liza tried to gain the attention of the bartender.

"Excuse me, excuse me" she raised her voice just a tad when he didn't even glance in her direction. "Sir. Mr. Bartender. Hello!" She groaned, slipping off her shoe and waving it around.

"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey," a body slipped in next to Liza, putting a hand on her raised shoe and pushing it down. "You don't wave a shoe. Never wave a shoe. In Thailand, that's considered a capital offense."

Liza glanced up into the face of a cute brown-haired guy, late 20s, with the cutest smile and bright grey eyes that seemed to almost twinkle. Tattoos climbed up his arms and disappeared underneath the white tee shirt that clung to his biceps.

"And you've been to Thailand?" Liza arched an eyebrow at the guy as he leaned onto the counter near her.

"No, but I have been to Myanmar."

A likely story, she thought, taking a sip of her almost empty drink.

"What are you having here?" The guy reached over and picked up her glass, examining it like it was a test tube.

"Uh, skinny margarita. Six of em."

He set down the glass, rolling his eyes and leaned further onto the bar.

"Really? No. Tyler," he called out to the bartender. "Two shots of bourbon. Trust me, "he added, as Liza started to protest. "I'm Josh, by the way."

"I'm Liza." She pushed back as Josh settled into Maggie's empty seat, passing Liza one of the shot glasses. "So," she gestured to his tattoos. "Are these all for real?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't they be?"

"My bad. Yeah, you'll definitely want to take that skull with the rose between its teeth to your grave." She'd never been big on tattoos, and this guy, well, he was covered in them.

Josh smiled tightly as he knocked back the bourbon. "It's what I do. I'm a tattoo artist."

Oh, now you've really stepped in it Liza, she thought to herself. Gone and insulted a perfectly nice guy.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to insult your work. Do you have your own parlor?"

"Parlor?" Josh raised his eyebrow, smiling at her. "You're not really from around here, are you?"

"Just over the bridge. I'm a Jersey girl."

"Yeah, I kind of figured. I have my own studio. It's more of like a lounge, really. Body art's this really personal, sensual experience, so it's important that everybody feels comfortable." Josh lowered his voice and leaned towards her. Was he flirting with her?

"You must get a lot of crazy requests." She indulged him, deciding to boost his ego by acting interested in his work.

"Oh, you have no idea." He laughed, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. "Last week I tattooed the insides of Lena Dunham's ass cheeks."

"What? Why? That's disgusting."

"Said she wanted to keep something private." He groaned and shook his head at the memory like a dog trying to get water out of it's ears. He really was cute, and Liza smiled back at him. "So what about you? What do you do, Liza?"

Maybe it was the way he said her name, but she decided to be honest with him. "Um, I'm actually looking for work right now. In publishing."

"Okay, and how's that going?"

"It could be better. I took a bit of a sabbatical." That might be a slight understatement, she thought to herself.

"Nice. Doing what?"

"I, um, had to relocate for awhile. Family stuff. I had some people become dependent on me for care."

"I can respect that." He reached over and snagged her cell phone from it's spot by her drink glass. "I'm gonna steal your cell phone for a second."

"Wait a minute," Liza started to protest.

"Relax, scaredy cat."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking a picture of my junk," he joked, passing the phone back to her. "No, I'm adding myself to your calendar, right here, next Thursday."

It was Liza's turn to arch her eyebrow. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Is that a yes?"

"I don't know," Liza pulled her phone out of his hand. "Let me see that junk shot first." She groaned internally as the words spilled out of her mouth. "Oh my god. I totally thought that was gonna sound flirty but it just came out really creepy."

Josh leaned in towards her, his lips close to her ear. "It came out really sexy, if you ask me."

Liza smiled back at him. She couldn't help but grin at this guy. He was charming and cute and funny and clearly confident, and she was drawn to him.

"Hey." Maggie sidled back up to her, glancing between the two.

"Hey. Maggie, this is Josh. Josh, this is my girlfriend Maggie. I mean my friend Maggie that's also a girl. And my roommate. And we need to get going."

Josh reached out and grazed her arm with his hand. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too, Josh. I'll see you around." With a last glance at the guy, she walked out of the bar, feeling a lot more hopeful than she had when she walked in.

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"Ms. Trout! Excuse me!" Liza cut her way through the crowd, jostling a number of people to catch up with the woman powerwalking out of the conference room. She'd caught Liza's attention during a seminar she was leading, and Liza was desperate to give her a copy of her resume. It was her last resort, and there was something about the woman that grabbed her attention.

"Can I help you?" The woman spun on the spot so quickly that Liza almost ran into her. Up close she looked even more foreboding. Her black hair was pulled into a tight updo and she wore massive statement earrings and a necklace that looked like it weighed 5 pounds, but she carried herself with the air of someone who wasn't wearing several pounds of jewelry.

"Hi," Liza said, a little breathless, shooting her hand out. "My name is Liza Miller. I was hoping I could have a moment of your time." She handed her a copy of her resume. "I don't know if you're looking for anyone, but I would love to learn from you. Your seminar was amazing."

The woman glanced down at the resume, her eyes scanning the page. "You can call me Diana." She glanced down at her phone. "I happen to be in the market for a new assistant. The last moron barely lasted a week. My car service is here. You have the ride from here back to Midtown to convince me that you might be worth my time." She turned back around, tottering out the door in her stilettos, Liza following close behind.

Liza leaned back against the leather seat, biting her lip nervously. She'd given her pitch yet Diana's face remained expressionless as she tilted her head and looked over at Liza.

"I have a hard time understanding why you would give up such a promising career. What's to say you won't do it again?"

"I loved my job at Random House. So much. I didn't plan on getting pregnant, but it happened, and I realized that the value of spending those first few years with my daughter was priceless. I wouldn't have been able to afford daycare on my salary and keep my job and my apartment while my husband was still in school. So I sacrificed what was important to me for the sake of my family. I think motherhood will make me a better employee. I know how to keep going when I'm dead on my feet. I did whatever was necessary to take of my daughter, and I'll do the same now.

"Empirical isn't like other publishing houses. It's a small company, so the hours are longer and varied. I won't tolerate you ducking out all the time. When you're at the office, you're at the office. Not checking in with daycare 20 times. I need someone committed to the job, committed to me."

"I can do that."

"What makes you special?"

"I'm not special. I don't deserve special treatment because I'm a single mom or divorced. I've made my decisions, lived with the consequences, and I'm ready to get my life back on track."

"Can you answer phones for eight hours at a stretch without texting your friends? Can you make strong coffee, never wear perfume, and not annoy me?"

"Okay, could you give some guidelines? I mean, regarding what constitutes annoying behavior?"

"That's an annoying question."

"Noted." The car pulled up outside of the Bank of America Tower that housed the Empirical Press office. Liza followed Diana's lead, unbuckling and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

"You're hired. You can start Wednesday."

"Thank you so much, Diana."

Diana rolled her eyes. "Don't grovel. And don't make me regret this."

"I promise you won't. I'll see you Wednesday."

Liza watched the woman disappear into the building and could feel the smile spreading across her face. Turning, she stepped to the curb to hail a taxi, flinging her arm out like she had done a thousand times before. She could feel a happiness spreading through her, the magic of new beginnings seeping into her and healing her wounds so that she could finally start fresh with her life.