A LITTLE BIT OF SUGAR Read Free Page B

guys,” I said with a groan. “You couldn’t be more wrong. There’s nothing going on between Anthony and me. Besides, I’m not even his type.”
     
    Mia looked at me like I was crazy. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
     
    “Excuse me?”
     
    “Come on, Gina,” Mia replied, her dark brown curls bouncing around her shoulders as she walked. “Let’s face it. You’re every guy’s type.”
     
    Alisa nodded in agreement. “Mia’s right. You’re perfect. Tall and thin, and definitely not lacking in the boob department.”
     
    “And you have hair most of the girls I know would kill to have,” Carlina added as she reached out to pluck a stray bobby pin from my hair.
     
    I touched my hairspray lacquered curls. “They’d kill for this hair?” Hair I had always thought made me stick out like a sore thumb among all my dark-haired friends.
     
    Mia laughed. “You’re kidding us, right?”
     
    I wasn’t. They all had such beautiful dark hair. Hair I would kill for. I shook my head.
     
    “Let me put it this way,” Carlina explained with a smile. “We go out, three brunettes and a redhead. Who do you think guys are going to notice first? You.”
     
    Alisa sighed softly. “Why couldn’t I have been born Scottish? Maybe I should dye my hair red…”
     
    “Don’t even think about it,” I said. “It’s weird enough living with a family who thinks they’re Italian when they’re not. I don’t need to add a friend who wants to be Scottish to the mix.”
     
    My friends laughed.
     
    “Come on, Gina,” Alisa said. “You know everyone in Little Florence considers your family honorary Italians. Your dad even sounds Italian - most of the time.”
     
    I rolled my eyes. “Don’t remind me.”
     
    It was bad enough I had to listen to my father’s fake accent at home, but he used it everywhere else he went, too. Even when we went on vacation to Williamsburg the summer after I graduated from high school. You should have seen some of the looks we got there.
     
    We made our way through town, but not without getting stopped several times by people who wanted to congratulate me on my Sausage Queen status or compliment me on my dress.
     
    “I feel like we’re with royalty,” Mia teased.
     
    “Shut up,” I muttered. “I feel like an idiot. A very hungry idiot.” I knew people were just trying to be nice, but I was starving. I’d rather them stop me to give me a slice of pizza or something. No such luck.
     
    “Hold on,” I said when we reached the large green and white canopy tent that had been set up in the parking lot between Datillio’s Hardware and Crazy Eights, the billiard hall Carlina’s uncle owned.
     
    “What’s wrong?” Carlina asked.
     
    “Nothing. It’s just that I promised my father I’d stop in to see how my mother’s doing in the cook-off.”
     
    “I’ve eaten her cooking,” Mia said as we stepped in through the open tent flaps. “She’s got this competition in the bag.”
     
    I sure hoped so. I knew how much winning this contest would mean to my mother.
     
    “It sure smells good,” Alisa said, licking her lips.
     
    And I thought I was hungry before. That was nothing compared to how I felt now with all those rich, spicy, tempting aromas of tomato, garlic and basil hanging in the air around us.
     
    I looked around, taking in the row of cafeteria-style tables that were set up along each side of the tent. They were lined with simmering pots of sauces awaiting the judges’ final decision.
     
    “Gina, honey!” My mom stepped out from behind her spot at one of the tables and came over to hug me and my friends. Then she stepped back and eyed my hair. “What happened to your tiara?”
     
    “It’s in my purse.”
     
    “But it looked so pretty on you.”
     
    Did I really have to explain how weird I felt wearing a tiara around? Unlike Mia I preferred not to stand out in a crowd.
     
    “I didn’t want it to get ruined,” I said when what I really