“Does Georgia golf?” I say.
“Yeah, she loves it. That and a few other vices.”
I didn’t know Georgia golfs, nor can I imagine what her other vices might be. I realize I know next to nothing about my niece. All day long I’ve been picturing the thirteen-year-old shy lass I saw in New York some years back, but the reality seems closer to a redheaded, vodka-swilling sex kitten, wielding a five iron.
Jane Lotter - The Bette Davis Club