“I’m so glad we decided to do this.”

My best friend, Jess, puts a shot glass of a milky pink liquid down on the table in front of me. The rim is dipped in a sweet rainbow of sugar crystals.

We’re out celebrating because I finally landed my dream job - assistant editor at a local daily paper.

Correction: I’m assistant to an editor at a local daily paper. And it’s not exactly my dream job.

But it could definitely lead to my dream job. And everyone has to start somewhere, right?

“What...is this?” I ask, holding the shot glass in the air and inspecting it.

“It’s a shot!”

Jess cradles three more shot glasses in her hands and plunks them down on the table, some of their contents sloshing over the edges and making a mess of the table.

“Aw. Well, you can’t cry over spilled milk. Or liquor. Down the hatch, lady!”

I am not about to get drunk. Not tonight. I have to start my new job on Monday, and I want to do research on the paper, devour all the back copies I can find online, and read up on the editor I’m going to be assisting.

I’ve scheduled myself to do that all weekend. No, I will not be getting drunk, but I know just a shot or two won’t hurt.

And anyway, it’s early. I have plenty of time to go home and sleep it off.

I look around the bar. This is not the kind of place Jess and I usually go to. It’s in Midtown, and as two women who grew up in Brooklyn, the city always seemed farther than just five miles away.

We spent our July Fourths sitting on the rooftop of her parents’ house drinking beers and watching the fireworks over Battery Park City.

And our Christmases dreaming of the tree in Rockefeller Center, drinking it all in as though we were a world away, observing the changing colors on the Empire State Building, wishing we could be closer.

And now, we finally are. Sort of.

My office will be in the city, but I still live in Brooklyn.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Brooklyn. I have a ton of Brooklyn pride. But when the greatest place in the world is mere moments from your reach, it makes it hurt that much more that it’s just beyond your grasp.

I’ll make it there. Besides, I’m technically a resident of New York City. I just want to make it in the city part of the city.

“Alright. Here we go.”

I shoot my drink back quickly, expecting the contents of the glass to taste like liquor and burn like it, too. But instead, it just tastes like a sugary sweet confection.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No, actually. Not bad at all.”

“I got those for you. I’d have rather had Southern Comfort on the rocks, but I know you need something that goes down a little bit easier. So I got us the birthday cake shots.”

“Birthday cake? I guess it did kind of taste like sugar frosting. But it’s not either of our birthdays.”

“Nonsense! It’s a birthday for you, in a way. The birth of your new career. Here.”

Jess shoves another shot in front of me and takes her own between a dainty thumb and forefinger.

“Okay. But just one more. I have a lot of work to do this weekend.”

“Work? This weekend? But your job doesn’t start until Monday.”

“I know, but I want to prepare. Get a jump on everything. Look good for my first day.”

“Oh, you’ll look good. I’ll let you borrow one of my suits.”

Jess is a paralegal at a family law firm downtown. It isn’t the most glamorous job, but at least it gets her out of the boroughs five days a week and lets her meet the rich set of hotshot Downtown finance guys on weeknights.

“Oh, shit. Don’t look now, but the Anderson brothers are here.”

“Who?”

I turn around to meet the objects of Jess’s gaze, but a quick swat on my hand makes me snap my head back to Jess.

“I said don’t look. Jeez.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you read the blogs? These two are the hottest guys in real estate right now. Well, they might not be for much longer.”

“Can I look now?” I ask, turning my head slightly but keeping my eyes on Jess.

“Fine. But be cool about it. Don’t stare.”

I turn my head around slowly to gaze upon the famous Anderson brothers, whoever they are.

And I have to admit that Jess is right - they are hot.

It’s like I’m seeing double. They both have gorgeous faces and great bodies and a similar look, but I’m more drawn to one of them. He’s a little bit taller than the other, with a thick head of ashy dark blonde hair and strong eyebrows - God, I love good eyebrows - and a scruffy beard that growls man. His brother is cute, but is more clean-cut. He also seems a little distracted and nervous, typing furiously on his phone.

“So, who are these two, exactly?”

“The Anderson brothers. Their father was this real estate guy in the 70s. Tons of money. But they wanted to do their own thing. They started their own company, and they’re doing really well for themselves, but they just got sued. Big time. Something about some land. I’m not sure. You’re a serious journalist. Don’t you read the papers?”

“Yeah, but I guess I missed this. I don’t really look at the real estate and finance stuff. You know I’m more interested in education. Local civics. That kind of thing. And anyway, I’m not interested in the unfortunate luck of some rich guys who might lose, like, a tenth of their wealth.”

“Well, read up on these two. You might learn something.”

She flashes a mischievous smile and her eyes sparkle as she looks at them over the top of her shot glass.