Elizabeth scanned the bulletin board at work, ready to pull her hair out. After going all over the city and looking everywhere at numerous apartments, she just wanted to give up the search, get herself a cardboard box and live in that. Maybe she could camp out at Grand Central or Penn Station till she got a place.

And with my luck, I'll get arrested for vagrancy, she sighed.

She considered calling that Mr Toupee who had given her his card, but she changed her mind. Whatever he had to offer would probably be way too expensive anyway. She knew New York city rents were astronomical, she just never thought of how impossible it would be to get a decent place to live.

The landlords all wanted you to have a salary that was forty times the rent! Were they insane? How on earth would she able to pull that off?

She had already been in the hotel for three days and was bleeding money. Or maybe she would have to come back after hours and sleep in Cityscoop's office.

She was beginning to get desperate. At least she could walk to work. The office was on 14th street, twenty streets down from her hotel. She hadn't had time to do anything but go to work and look for a place to live. If you could call it work. From the time she arrived, all she had done was get coffee and go on several errands for her boss Mike.

When do I actually start to write? she thought. Isn't that what the job description was?

From the time she walked in the office two days ago, Michael Alister had given no mention of her writing for the magazine. He was a man in his late 40s with striking blue eyes, a hawk like nose and the reddest hair Elizabeth had ever seen. Ever since then she had been in and out of his stuffy office numerous times after fetching whatever he desired. The most annoying thing was his names for her. He kept referring to her as "Toots" or "Sweetie".

My name is Elizabeth dammit! she thought, every time he said it.

Bayridge, $750, one bedroom, large backyard, quiet neighborhood. R train…... Park Slope, $1000 studio, nice walkup, clean, W/D included. Cats OK…. Jackson Heights. Room for rent. $120/wk Share bath/kitchen… No pets… Roommate wanted. WIlliamsburg. $650. Large kitchen, NON Smoker…. Quiet, serious student looking to share. Includes electric and gas …

After reading a few ads, Elizabeth focused on the cheaper ones. She knew Jackson Heights was somewhere in Queens, and Williamsburg was in Brooklyn. She didn't want to pay more than a thousand dollars a month. She'd soon be in the poorhouse for sure. She took down both numbers and got to work. She knew she would never be able to live right there in the city, not on her salary.

She'd be making almost twenty five thousand dollars a year, which was insignificant by New York City standards, but she wanted to be able to save every penny she had left over. Cityscoop was a lifestyle publication, focusing on the homes, entertainment, fashion and various activities of New York's social elite. Under normal circumstances, Elizabeth had no real interest in what she considered the frivolities and antics of a set of people who had time to waste and money to burn.

But a job was a job, and she wanted to try to make the most of it. She didn't want to go back to California, with her tail between her legs. After days of fetching his coffee and dry cleaning, her boss Mike finally sent her to the upper floor of the office to proofread articles.

Well, I guess this is a start, she thought. Later that afternoon, she made some phone calls, trying to find a place to live. She first went to Queens, got on the E train, and made her way around the neighborhood. The room was in a private house, part of a row of houses, typical of the city's boroughs.

Elizabeth knew she would never to get used to the idea of people living so tightly packed together. She rang the doorbell. Soon, a sari wrapped Indian woman opened the door and peered down at her.

I'm looking for the room to rent?

It's already taken, the woman answered her, slamming the door in her face.

Wow, that was fast, she thought. Well, Brooklyn, here I come.

She got back on the E train and transferred to the L at fourteenth street. She then got off Bedford Ave and walked to her destination. The apartment was on the forth floor and there was no elevator. She climbed the stairs and rang the bell. A petite, dark haired girl with the palest skin Elizabeth had ever seen answered the door.

Marla? Finally,! she huffed. You're the new roommate right,? she asked.

Where's your stuff? You said you'd be here hours ago! You get the bigger bedroom, but there's no outlet powerful enough for a heater. So you'll just have to bundle up when it gets cold.

Elizabeth took it all in.

Ummmm, I think you must be confused. My name is Elizabeth, not Marla. I saw the roommate ad?

Oh? Ummmm, the girl continued, giving her a closer look.

I told her first come first serve. We share the nicer bathroom. Ted and Chris are the biggest slobs on the planet. And Angie, Chris' girlfriend practically lives here and she's gross too! You should see their bathroom! You don't want to go in there. And the kitchen when they're done with it. If I'm not on their lazy asses about the dishes, they'll leave it all to me!

The girl flitted around the kitchen like a butterfly. Her hair was tightly pulled back in a bun. She was quite striking, her eyes black as coals, fringed with long eyelashes. She moved with a grace and elegance of a gazelle, her long neck almost the same color as the white top she was wearing.

Look, Elizabeth, I don't have time to chat. How about you check out the place and stay if you like it? We're kind of desperate, she said, turning Elizabeth into an empty bedroom.

And our bathroom is here, she motioned, opening the door. Chris' parents cut him off, they used to pay the rest of the rent, but they've been hammering him about his slacker lifestyle, so that's why we need the extra cash. Ted is really quiet, and he's never really here. He's either at work, or at school.

And that lazy Angie's only contribution around here is what she does for Chris when she's on her back. Or on her knees.

A giggle escaped Elizabeth at the suggestive innuendo.

Well, it's true. And If I don't watch her, she eats all my food! She grabbed a small duffle bag. Close the door behind you, will you,? After you check out the place. I trust you to see yourself out. You don't really look like a thief, and we have nothing to steal anyway. So see you later, maybe? And if Marla comes by, just tell her the place is taken, that's if you decide you want it. This Marla chick called up telling me she was coming over at two. We need the first check by next week. You do have a job right? I gotta go to work in like five minutes. See ya!

She was out in a flash, closing the door behind her. Elizabeth figured she must be some kind of performer. She was so full of energy, she talked fast, and moved faster.

And who were Ted and Chris? She thought she'd only be sharing with one person. It certainly looked better than the Jackson Heights place, not that it was available anyway.

I'll have to take it, she thought, looking at the empty bedroom. There was enough space for her meager possessions, small as it was. It was only then she realized she didn't even know the dark haired girl's name…..

Elizabeth sat at the table, listening in fascination as who she now knew was Adrienne, talked frankly about the reasons for her lack of a sex life. It's almost like she was always on a sugar high, yet her strict diet proved that she barely ate anything sweet. It was a bit over a month since she moved in, and she had spent the time getting to know her roommates.

She had finally settled into the four bedroom apartment, and counted herself lucky to find a place to live. She had gotten used to the sirens, people arguing in the streets at all hours of the night, and the hectic pace of life in the city, where everyone had to be somewhere and time waited for no one.

Yeah, I'm a virgin, Adrienne said. And I'm proud of it too. Shut up you two, she said to Chris and his girlfriend Angie, who was spreading smoked salmon on a cracker.

Elizabeth blushed, thinking about how she used to feel like the last virgin on the planet. Until Max, she thought to herself.

This city is crawling with STDs, Adrienne continued. I'd never expose myself to some gross guy giving me something that will ruin my practice time and my career. My dreams come first. Besides, with my luck, all those hormones floating around will give me a big butt or big boobs or something.

Elizabeth and Angie both giggled.

It's true. Have you ever seen what happens to some women on the pill?

Well, I've never been on it myself, Elizabeth said.

See? I'm not gonna mess with my estrogen levels and then gain a ton of weight just so I can bump uglies with some guy who'll dump me when the newest dancer comes along. Seriously Liz, it's not worth it. Not to me anyway. Some of my dancing partners, you should hear some of the reasons they come up with so that I can sleep with them. They're always talking about improving our chemistry on stage by practicing in the bedroom. Ha! As if I would ever fall for that. Look, I know I'm way behind other women my age, but you know what? It works well for me….

A whirlwind of partying, restaurants, bars and nightclubs made up most of their nights. At first Elizabeth told herself that she was just doing it because being on the social scene was part of her job, but then she realized she actually enjoyed the craziness of the New York city nightlife. Her pretty face was enough to get her past the lines and velvet rope at various clubs, where she took note of the trends, the fashions and big names among the idle rich.

There was money everywhere, and some of the people she met hid theirs well. There was something very glamorous about being a starving artist, about living in a hole in the wall when your parents could pay for a luxury penthouse, and she discovered that half of seemingly skint people she met had families with very deep pockets. She was somewhat surprised at the number of very wealthy people she met of her own age, who chose to slum it in a poor neighborhood just because they thought it made them edgy among their peers.

She met several young men and women who grew up on the far eastern end of Long Island, where she knew money was no object and a trust fund usually paid the bills.

Adrienne and her friends seemed to know everyone, they knew where all the hottest guys hung out on every night of the week. She had never been a big drinker in college, she was far too serious and straitlaced to try drinking before she turned twenty one.

Plus there was always that haunting memory of being drunk that night of the prom when Sam got killed. She seldom became completely intoxicated, and on several nights, she found herself tipsy, but never too inebriated that she couldn't stand upright or couldn't fend off the groping and fondling of mischievous male hands. And there were plenty of them, too numerous to count.

She had to admit, those nights were full of merriment, and were a welcome diversion to the haunting thoughts of life in Sweet Valley. There was always someone's apartment to go to, or some other bar to discover. No one here knew her as Elizabeth Wakefield, identical twin of exciting fun loving Jessica, forever a virgin, Miss Pomp and Circumstance, Miss straight A study on a Friday night do gooder.

There were several young men and some older ones who were interested in her, who found her very attractive, but she politely turned them down as quickly as they asked. Flirtations were plentiful, but that was as far as she wanted to take things. It was one thing to get drunk and silly with her roommates, it was quite another to bed a new guy every night just because he found her pretty.

Meaningless relationships and drunken hookups were not what she was looking for. Nor did she want anything deeper. This was definitely a lifestyle she didn't want forever. But putting herself out there and in the middle of everything was part of her job and helped pay the bills. She met with plenty of artists, lots of musicians and performers, most of them who just knew they'd make it, if only they could get just one real gig, or one audition, or one critic to like their work.

Elizabeth met several writers like herself, many of which were much more accomplished than she was, and she appreciated the opportunities she got to converse with them. Jessica had always been very proud of her dancing skills. Looking at Adrienne on stage made her realize how amateurish and unskilled Jessica truly was.

The millions of faces all made her long for the familiarity and comfort of home. There were certain nights, when she would go elsewhere for a change of pace, something quieter, something a lot more soothing. It was on one such night that she saw a face she recognized, one that she never thought she'd see again. She was sitting at a bar in Manhattan, listening to the musical duo of a violinist and a cellist when she felt someone behind her….