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boutique—a boyfriend seemed like the next step.
    She’d been following the same plan the rest of her upper-middle-class family followed. And she’d gotten herself stuck in a relationship that was false and, by a twist of fate, a job where she was unappreciated.
    Basically, she’d gotten a life she didn’t really want.
    She glared at the cold mug of coffee in front of her. She’d ordered it because it was what one did at a coffee shop, but she hated coffee. She hated the smell of it, the taste of it . . . she hated it.
    Damn it!
    She stood up so abruptly her chair fell back onto the floor and people stared. But she didn’t care. She was done caring what others thought of her behavior. Last night, for the first time in way too long, she’d felt good.
    She used to enjoy life. She used to be someone who had friends, plans . . . dreams. She used to feel things. Sometime in the past few years she’d lost her way. She’d given up on those things. She’d given up on herself, and settled.
    Sure, she’d been a little impetuous, even a little wild, but she’d been alive. She’d been in charge of what she did and what happened to her. No one else, just her.
    Just like she’d been last night.
    She’d felt playful and daring when she’d hit the club, and even better when she’d gotten Valentine Ward alone.
    Holy hell, that had been better than good!
    A laugh bubbled up inside and spilled from her lips as she grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. She’d been her own boss, and she’d liked it. There was absolutely no reason why she couldn’t go after her dream of always being her own boss.

8
     
     
     
     
    J oey didn’t bother with her keys when she got to her building. Instead she pushed the buzzer for her apartment and yelled, “It’s me. Let me in.”
    The door buzzed and she pulled it open and started to climb the three flights of stairs. The audition had been long and grueling. She’d made it through the first three cuts, but not the final one. It totally sucked because she’d made it that far in auditions before, too many times to count, but she’d yet to get the break she needed.
    Sometimes she wanted to give up. Sometimes she wondered if her love of dancing was enough, if maybe she just wasn’t good enough to make it. In two more years she’d be thirty. Too old to be the kind of dancer she wanted to be. She enjoyed teaching—up to a point. But her heart was really in performing.
    As much fun as dancing at Risqué was, she wanted more than that. She wanted to go on tour with a troupe or a show. Or at the least do some music videos or commercials. Vancouver’s film industry was booming and there were plenty of opportunities; all she needed was the right break.
    She was glad not to be alone with her thoughts that night. It was sort of nice to know someone was there waiting for her. Especially nice that it was Sammie.
    She hadn’t seen Samair in way too long. In all honesty, she’d wondered if she might never see her again.
    The last time they’d hung out, Sammie had seemed so distant, and . . . well, sort of limp. Like all the life had gone out of her. But last night it was back full force, and Sammie had been as seductive as ever.
    It sucked that the shit had hit the fan in Sammie’s life, but it was good to see her friend’s fire hadn’t disappeared.
    Just thinking about it made Joey feel a bit better. There was a time when she’d been in love with Samair. But that had changed. Romantic love had shifted sometime during their college explorations, morphing into a deep, abiding friendship. And Joey was going to do everything she could to help her friend follow her heart.
    After all, she thought as she pushed open her apartment door and hefted the plastic bags she was carrying onto the counter, life was meant to be lived .
    One look around the studio apartment showed her that Sammie had indeed moved in. A couple of suitcases were lying on the bed, and Sammie was glued to the loveseat in