Welcome to the World, Baby Girl! by Fannie Flagg Read Free Book Online

grew up and would be able to order a real drink instead of the Shirley Temple her mother’s friend had ordered for her that first time. When she finally was able to order a martini, the first sip nearly knocked her head off. It was so
strong.
And how surprised she was that scotch tasted more like iodine than butterscotch candy. Two of the great disappointments in her life.
    So now when she did drink, she often ordered cocktails like grasshoppers, pink squirrels, and brandy alexanders, compounding the mistake. Last night was an exception. She only drank aquavit with beer chasers because J.C. loved it and it was fun for the waiters to bring the frozen bottles to the table and pour. Poor old J.C. He believed anything she told him. He was such a good egg, really, he was fun, made the perfect escort, and he was so much in love with her that she could do pretty much what she wanted to on a date. And there were times when she was actually glad to see him. But most of all he kept other guys away. There was one other reason she wanted him around. She did not love him, and that was just fine with her.She had no interest in love. Love had taken her in the back room and beaten her up pretty badly. Falling head over heels for a slick, handsome, fast-talking Washington lobbyist had done nothing but break her heart and keep her upset. She had been completely obsessed with him and spent years waiting for him to call, waiting for him to come back to town, catching him in lies. She vowed never to see him anymore but took him back each time. Whether it had been love or obsession, now that it was finally over, she wanted no part of it. It had been too painful.
    Now she was perfectly happy being the one who was loved, and she was going to keep it that way. Sex, maybe, friendship, yes, but love,
no.
If she ever felt love coming toward her, she would cross the street to the other side. Besides, she was determined not to let anything or anyone stand in the way of her work ever again.

    After the bath she got into bed and called J.C. and was pleased he was not home. He had probably gone over to the sports bar to watch football, so she was able to leave a message with his answering service. It wasn’t until she put the phone back on the table and took the receiver off the hook that she noticed her address book lying wide open—to the letter
W.
A wave of hangover anxiety came over her when she saw the names
Norma and Macky Warren, Elmwood Springs, Missouri.
She began to have a recollection of calling someone at six o’clock that morning when she had been out of her mind. She tried to remember.
Oh, please don’t tell me I called them, tell me I didn’t, surely I couldn’t have done something that stupid.
But deep down she knew very well that she might have. She had called people before and not remembered. She didn’t want to think about it so she put on her electric blanket, pulled the covers over her head, and went to sleep.

    Dena awakened at 4:00 A.M . on Monday morning, rested, but still a little guilty. She had slept all Saturday and Sunday. She showered, dressed, and was ready when the car picked her up at five and tookher to the studio. She liked the city that time of morning. The streets were quiet and almost empty, only a few early risers and several stragglers going home after a long night. The aloneness was familiar. She saw one couple trying to hail a cab, the woman still dressed in a sequined cocktail dress and the man in a tux without a tie. At this time of morning Sixth Avenue looked as long and as wide as a football field but would soon be so packed with cars and people that by the time she left work, the buildings on both sides would look like they had each taken twenty giant steps into the middle of the street. She went into the building at the studio entrance. After four years she still had a hard time believing she actually worked at Rockefeller Plaza and no matter how many times she went in, the minute she entered she always