One For My Baby

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SKID ROW
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--Patty
"....Eh. Eeeeeh.... one?"

The bar spoon clanked around in the highball glass, the black concoction looking a little thick. Patty sniffed it, then gagged. "Oh shit. No... Oh." She peers at the bar recipe book and grumbles, "Egg white. Not a whole* egg." The whole thing went into the toilet, making it look like something horrific had befallen the last person to use it.

The tiny little one-room flat was not big enough to experiment, so Patty had commandeered the bathroom, a plethora of little bottles surrounded her as she tried to become a hand at making cocktails. Mind you, Selena didn't tell her she'd be making drinks, but of course she'd try to impress her with her skills!

Rum, coke. That seems simple enough. Ignorning the protests coming from outside the door, she dumps the entire bottle of rum into the glass, not leaving room for the soda. She takes a sip, groaning. "Woah shit, that's pretty good." She takes another sip, smacking her lips. "Damn. I should make this for myself!" She took a bigger gulp, belching. "Woops, don't drink up all your stock yet!" She snorts, and that warmth began to soak through her.

Oh, old friend. She had missed that little buzz that kept things slick, lubricated. Working up a gin and tonic, heavy on the tonic, the feeling of satisfaction and ease settled in. This would be the best job in the world! She'd hobnob with the big show business types, get all the free drinks she wanted, it was all coming together for her, for once.

She took a sip, wincing. "Ooof. More gin. Lots more gin." She poured the rest of the bottle in, taking a large swig. "Fuck yeah! That's so much better." She had blown all of her money from selling her motorcycle on alcohol, and she wouldn't even be able to make rent next month. She had to learn how to mix drinks though, right?

--Patty
Patty decides to skip the middle man, grabbing a Wild Turkey and unscrewing it, taking a pull directly from the small bottle. It was then she'd see somebody with watery green eyes in the mirror, already swaying where she sat, surrounded by booze. Her eyes followed the room, finally standing and approaching the rusty medicine cabinet. It didn't take long before her gaze drifted down to her chest, down her middle until she was looking at the life that was inside her.

This was a terrible idea. The question was, which idea was the bad one? Drinking while pregnant? Certainly can fuck you up your kid for life. The other idea was one she'd had for weeks, every since learning about this kid. Should she keep it? Should she not? It would never know it's grandparents. It had a mother that would end up mistreating it, neglecting it. Was she going to bring this child into the world, and force it to cope with all this bullshit?

Questions tired her. Thinking tired her. She looked at the glass of gin and tonic in her hand, and then she caught herself peering into her own hazel eyes. Who was this woman she was looking at? She looked back to the drink in her hand and weighed her options.