Chapter 15 Lola

• “I guess. I just hate to waste it. Look, they’ve had enough to drink already.”
• I glanced over surreptitiously at the table. Through the crowded restaurant, I could see the booth where Luca and his friends were sat. Their faces were red and they were laughing loudly. Luca was telling one of his crass, dirty stories about something that happened in Vegas, while they sipped oysters and looked at the menu.
• I couldn’t stand watching people throw money around like that. My twenties had been nothing if not a struggle to make ends meet: first as a musician, and then caring for Macy. And even if my salary at theOrchidwas good, it wasn’t exactly like a single mother waitressing in New York was ever going to bethatwealthy. I looked up at the ice bucket sitting on the side, the bottle with its gold label gleaming in the low light.