A New Hope by Robyn Carr

just go fuck himself instead of calling him, asking him to buy her a drink. He wasn’t worth her time. She shouldn’t waste her time on a guy who wasn’t treating her right. “What would you like, Lucy?”
    “Just a chardonnay,” she said, and smiled.
    He waved to the bartender. He ordered and fished out his wallet. He put a hand on her upper arm and gave her a soft stroke. “Listen, Lucy, I want you to be careful tonight, okay? Don’t drink too much, don’t take chances around here. Lot of hungry wolves here tonight and I can’t hang around to look out for you.”
    “That’s so sweet,” she said.
    “No, it’s not—”
    “Well, at least you’re not sitting on the farm, drowning your sorrows,” a familiar voice said.
    Right beside him stood Natalie. She must have grown attached to the ebony hair, short and spiky. Now, here was boobage—Natalie’s top was cut down almost to her navel, outlining her small breasts perfectly. Since he’d been married to her, he now knew the tricks—a little fashion glue would keep the silky fabric from sliding or gaping and exposing her. The outline of her nipples was intentional, as was the slit up the thigh. Her eyes were huge and lashes thick—thanks to the augmenting of a few extra lashes and the artwork of liner and shadow. The shoes were attention-getting—four inches, ankle straps, pointy toes. Hell on her feet, though.
    “Isn’t this an interesting reunion. Lucy, this is my ex-wife, Natalie. Nat, meet Lucy, a friend of mine. In fact, I met Lucy in a place a lot like this, didn’t I, Luce?”
    “Rosewood Ballroom,” she supplied with a smile.
    He could see by the expression on Natalie’s face, the narrowing of her eyes, that information speared her in the heart. He was always too tired to party when married to her, but after the divorce he’d been to clubs and dance halls? And here he’d been trying to stay away from Natalie. Even though little Lucy couldn’t hold a candle to his ex in the looks department, it felt good to have her know he wasn’t lonely. Or bored. “Can I get you something, Nat?” he asked, playing off her momentary jealousy.
    “Cosmo,” she said, her voice crisp.
    He hailed the bartender again, fished out money again. He wasn’t going to hang around waiting for a bill.
    “It was a friendly parting, I take it?” Lucy asked.
    “Actually, it was acrimonious,” Natalie said frostily.
    “But, as you can see, we’re working through that,” Matt said, passing the drink.
    “And what do you do, Lucy?” Natalie asked.
    “Dental assistant. I work for a local periodontist. And you?”
    “I’m a model,” Natalie said, stretching to her full five-eleven in four-inch heels. Then she stared daggers at Matt, daring him to point out that she’d had only about a dozen jobs for catalogs and ad brochures. There had been nothing with national exposure.
    The uncomfortable chitchat and buying of drinks lasted through two songs and then the lights went up and Mick Cantrell started working the crowd, coming down from the stage while the lights revealed his backup musicians. He shook some hands, kissed a few cheeks, asked people where they were from. He wore his guitar on his back and microphone hooked around one ear and hovering over his lips. He was so happy to see them all. Who came the farthest? he asked. Ah, there was a pretty young woman who’d come all the way from Chicago!
    “Well, there was a big surprise for me tonight. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known is here and I have a gift for her,” he said. “A little something from Dr. Hook...”
    The band began to play behind him, a spotlight suddenly shone on Ginger, and she actually jumped in surprise. It looked like she was going to make a run for it but seemed to think it through and settle into her chair, polite as always. And he began to sing “Sharing the Night Together.”
    Matt thought he saw her wince. But, with hands still folded in her lap, she looked up at Mick and