Georgia's Kitchen by Nelson Jenny

Author:Nelson, Jenny [Nelson, Jenny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9781439173336
Publisher: Gallery
Published: 2010-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Nursing a hangover as big as the Ritz, Georgia arrived at Bar Bodi, the Dia crew’s local hangout, wearing Jackie O sunglasses, sweats, and flip-flops, perfect day-after attire. Her head was still reeling from the baby bomb Claudia had dropped at the end of the party. That the father/fiancé was the only guy Georgia had asked out in a decade didn’t help her head—or her hangover—one bit.

Vanessa and Effie were already at the café, sitting at a small table flipping through Corriere della Sera, wearing shades. It was that kind of morning for everyone. Over uovo, taleggio, and pancetta panini (what Georgia would have done for a good old bacon, egg, and cheese), her friends dropped another bomb, though this one was more Katyusha rocket. Apparently, Gianni had left the party wearing the bodacious blonde.

“And I’m pretty sure they weren’t going apple picking,” Effie said, his mouth full of panini. “If you get my drift.”

Georgia found the news more distressing than she’d like. For the first time in seven years, she was single. Up until that awkward moment in the kitchen when Claudia poured out her heart, along with those shots of grappa, she’d been fine with it. Not loving it, but definitely dealing. She’d even stopped worrying about the twin time bombs ticking away in her ovaries. Granted, after a handful of cocktails she’d wanted to jump Gianni’s bones, but that was more boozy lust than a real desire to couple up. Then she learned about Claudia’s baby and marriage, and all she could think about was how far she was from either, and how badly she wanted both. To make matters worse, she couldn’t even score a lousy one-night stand with Gianni, the Italian Stallion.

“Is it possible,” she wondered aloud, “that I could really be the only single American woman not to hook up in Italy? Is that even legal?”

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously upset about some greaseball who uses more hair products than you.” Taleggio oozed down Effie’s chin and he wiped it off with the back of his hand and then sucked it back up.

“It’s not just Gianni. I mean, I almost smoked my first cigarette in five years for that guy!”

Vanessa looked at her quizzically. “Gianni doesn’t smoke.”

“You know what I always say,” Effie interjected, pulling a pack of Camels from his front shirt pocket. “Smoke ’em if you got ’em!”

“Thanks anyway. But if getting dumped and axed in six short hours didn’t make me start smoking again, I don’t think a womanizing wino will either.” Georgia sighed. “At least this time.”

Effie and Vanessa walked outside, he to smoke, and she to inhale his secondhand smoke, since she was now “nine months off the Reds,” as she frequently reminded her friends. Georgia gulped down the last sugary drops of her second double cappuccino. Being totally solo with zero prospects smarted more than she cared to admit. It smarted a whole lot.

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