C.J. Clrke looked in the mirror and wished it would break. She was 21 and on her own, but nothing was going the way she'd expected. Her efforts to diet were total flops. Her beautiful apartment was a cramped, shared walk-up decorated with semidisposable junk. The only upward mobility she got at her "glamour" job was to get up to get coffee. Then there was her love life, which was less thank zero: the only romance on the horizon was with a McManager named David Griffin. But what she didn't know was that things were about to get better.