“You’ll have champagne. All girls like champagne.” All girls didn’t like champagne. I preferred root beer. Willie preferred anything that smelled like gasoline and burned her throat. She could hold her liquor better than any man, and I wished she was there to help me navigate John Lockwell.”
“Too much champagne?” “Maybe.” “Silly girl,” she said, looping her arm through mine. “There’s no such thing as too much champagne. Though your head will try to tell you otherwise tomorrow.”
“She loved attention. It was like a glass of the best champagne—bubbly and intoxicating—and as with champagne, she always wanted more of it. Still, she didn’t want to seem like an easy mark. “If you must know, I’ve come to join a convent,” Evie said, testing him.”
“I like anything that sparkles - mainly diamonds and champagne”
“In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.”
“Am I the only guy that holds a flute of champagne like it’s a musical instrument?”