21
I hear Baggy before I see her. “What in the ever-lovin’ c**k-a-doodle-doo do you mean, telling me that a strawberry daiquiri isn’t healthy? I need to get my daily serving of fruit, you know.”
Caroline looks exasperated as she tries to explain to her mother that she isn’t supposed to drink alcohol with her new medications.
Baggy, who is dressed from head to toe in Adidas athletic gear, makes a scoffing sound in her throat. “They just put those warnings on there to scare people. No one takes them seriously.”
“Actually, they do,” I jump in, unwilling to let Baggy take any unnecessary risks with her health. Turning to the bartender, I say, “Do you have any more of that delicious mango juice?”
The pretty woman nods, already pouring the bright liquid from a pitcher for Baggy. “There,” I
