“What can I bring you, girlie? Something fruity?” she asked. “No, thank you. I am good with water,” I told her, checking the dance floor again. “Is our liquor not good enough for you? We have the premium spirits, girlie.” Dee stood with her hand on her hip, and I swore she’d pop bubblegum if she’d been chewing any. I was about done with people judging me today. “Perhaps you fried your brain cells in a mist of Aquanet, girlie. I am pregnant, so the water will be fine. No lemon.”
