AN: Greetings! Pulling a few of the mini series found on as part of The Vodka Made Me Do It series up on AO3 for easier reading. This is one of my favorites thanks to a prompt by the brilliant Roadie to kick of 2014.

Myka kept her breathing even as her mother opened the door to make sure she was asleep. It had been a long and trying day at the book store. Myka was 20, it was 1938 and she was an independent woman capable of living on her own. She was only working at the book store part time these days anyway, her job clerking for Mr. Neilson had become full time six months ago.

"For the last time," Her father had practically shouted, "you are not moving out from under this roof until you are good and married."

"What would people think," her mom, of course had taken his side, "a young woman out on her own."

"I wouldn't be on my own," Myka crossed her arms. "Pete has a room just down the hall in the apartment building and Steve is one floor down. I have enough saved to get started…"

"No," Warren Bering huffed. "And that's final."

"Fine," Myka threw up her hands in disgust and walked away, ignoring the sympathetic look from her younger sister Tracy.

"They'll come around eventually Mykes," Tracy had found her some time later in the stacks.

"I doubt it."

"Well you could always do things their way," Tracy, 16 and boy crazy would of course say something like that, "what about Sam?"

"Sam," Myka's eyebrows practically flew off her head. "No," she shook her head, "Just no."

"But you seemed to really like him."

"He's fine Trace," she sighed. "Just not what I'm looking for, IF I was looking for someone. Which I'm not."

"Okay," Tracy sighed and moved off. "Just don't end up like Mrs. Lake, an old maid with ten cats."

"So funny," Myka mumbled getting back to inventory.

After what she hoped was enough time had passed, she slowly got out of bed and crept over to the wardrobe. Carefully pulling out the dress she planned to wear tonight. Pete and Steve had told her about a new band that had come into town a few months ago. They were supposed to go on around midnight at The Famous Door and Myka planned to be front row center on the dance floor.

"You look fantastic tonight," Steve said as Pete wolf whistled.

"Thanks boys," Myka smiled. Pete had been her best friend since diapers since the Lattimer's owned the bakery across the street from the bookstore. They had met Steve when he transferred into their high school during sophomore year. Steve had introduced her to Mr. Neilson, his uncle, and had gotten her a job clerking at the same law firm last year.

Pete, ever the free spirit, drove a cab starting the day he finished high school. It was how he knew about this show.

"And you're sure this pal of yours can get us in," Myka asked grabbing her coat.

"No sweat," Pete smoothed the brim on his fedora, "Buck and I go way back."

Myka and Steve exchanged a nervous glance.

"Looks like we made it just in time," Steve handed Myka and Pete their coat check ticket. The band, led by a man named Count Basie, was still setting up.

"What took you so long," Pete glanced at Steve.

"Oh nothing."

"What was his name?" Myka asked with a smirk.

"Liam," Steve blushed.

"Nice," Pete patted the shorter man on the back. "I believe drinks are in order."

"I'll grab us a table," Myka offered as her friends headed for the bar.

Myka surveyed the land. Pickings were slim and many of the tables would only accommodate one or two people. All were too far away from the dance floor for her liking.

"Quite a quandary," an accented voice pulled Myka's attention from the room.

"Excuse me," Myka asked the man grinning up at her.

"Well," he smiled, revealing perfect teeth, "from what I've observed of your perusal of the room, one could surmise you are looking for a table for you and your chums," he nodded towards the bar where Pete and Steve were talking. "One that will fit all three of you comfortably yet allows you easy access to the dance floor."

"And you got all that from watching me stand here?" Myka gave the man a once over. By the cut and design of his black suit it was obviously custom and very expensive. Instead of the tie most men wore, he had an ascot of deep blue which contrasted nicely with his light completion. A charcoal colored trilby rested upon dark hair.

"Am I not right?" he quipped.

"Yes," Myka smiled.

"I might have a solution to your dilemma, if I may be so bold?"

"Go ahead."

"Well," he leaned forward and lowered his voice, "I might have access to a table that fits all of your requirements. The only catch," he smiled, dark eyes sparkling, "is that you'll have to sit with me."

"And my friends?"

"They can sit with us also," he leaned back. "So are we agreed?"

"On one other condition," Myka leaned back in, feeling bold.

Her new friend quirked a brow in interest.

"We dance at least once tonight."

He laughed and leaned back. "Of course, Miss?"

"Bering. Myka Bering."

"Charmed," He dipped his head slightly, "HG Wells."

"Like the author?" Myka sputtered.

"An old family friend, or so I'm told." He offered his elbow, "Now Miss Myka Bering if you would be so gracious to accompany me, our table awaits."

Myka slipped her hand into the bent elbow of Mr. Wells, allowing herself to be lead to one of the best tables in the house. Almost not believing how quickly this awful day was turning around.