cobalt blue more often, Jana. It looks good on
you.”
“Dick hated blue,” I murmured.
“Dick was a fool,” Angela said in
response.
I huffed out a breath through my nose as I
tried to hold back the tears. Not once had Angela said anything like, I never liked Dick or You’re
better off without him . She’d just kept her opinions to herself
and had been a shoulder for me these last few months. Even now, she
didn’t call him names, she’d just pointed out the obvious: Dick
was a fool . And he knew it too, at least I
assume he knew it since he’d tried repeatedly
to come home. But I just couldn’t do it. No matter how hard I
tried, I just couldn’t get the idea of him having sex with another
woman out of my mind. And I knew that I never would be able to.
I lifted my head, attempting to dry my eyes.
“Thank you, Angela.” I wrapped my arms around her. “I love you,
cuz.”
“I love you too.” She pulled back. “Now, go
have fun, but be careful. Call me if you decide to drink.”
I smiled. “I downloaded something called
Uber. It’s supposed to be pretty easy. If I use it, I’ll call you
to go pick up my truck with me tomorrow.”
Angela flashed a half smile. “I know what
Uber is. My husband uses it a lot when he’s out of town on
business. Says it’s easier to use than most taxi companies — and
cheaper.”
I rested my hands on my hips. “How is it you
always know about this stuff before I do?”
“Because I’m almost a decade younger than
you. My generation grew up with all these new gadgets as you
old-timers call them.”
“Oh, right.” I twirled and inspected my
reflection in the mirror again. “Are you sure?”
“You look hot! Go have fun. Don’t think
about meeting anyone, just dance and enjoy yourself.”
Every time I tugged at the hem of my dress,
the famous words of Richard Gere from the movie Pretty Woman flashed in my head: Stop fidgeting . He’d been right, of
course. Nothing detracted from what a woman was wearing — or trying
to wear — than when she continued to yank on
it … because she knew it was too short or too low cut.
In the case of the dress I was wearing, it
was both. Whenever I hitched up the dress to cover my cleavage, I
immediately had to check that my rear was still covered.
Regardless, I heeded Angela’s command. As soon
as I heard a familiar song, I headed to the dance floor. By the
second chorus, I had most of the steps down and had all but
forgotten the length and cut of my dress. After all, what did I
care? I was single. It’s not like I had anyone who would be
offended. Actually, even if I were still
married, it wouldn’t have mattered. Dick had always asked me to
dress sexily, especially when we were going out.
Since I was no J-Lo, though, I constantly
tripped over my own feet and stepped on a few others. Thankfully,
most people laughed it off. Those who were wearing cowboy boots, that is.
By the third dance, I was laughing myself silly, but I was in love … with dancing. I’d
been so concentrated on my feet that I didn’t have a chance to see
if there was anyone cute around me. I was also parched, though. I
quickly remembered why I could eat and drink anything I wanted when
I was in college … dancing burned calories — and dehydrated me. I
was dying of thirst.
I headed to the bar, hoping they didn’t
charge a buck for a plastic cup of water.
As soon as I sat down, I felt a tap on my
shoulder.
“Hey …” a male voice shouted in my ear.
I swung around on the barstool, hoping it
wasn’t someone I knew. Nope! The man standing in front of me was a
lot younger than I was, so more than likely we didn’t run in the
same circles.
“Yeah?” I asked, not sure what he wanted.
Had I taken his seat?
“Wanna dance?”
“Oh, thank you,” I said, immediately
flattered, “but I just sat down. I need to drink something before I
die of thirst. Maybe in a little bit.”
The man turned to leave, but then waved his hand at me as
you.”
“Dick hated blue,” I murmured.
“Dick was a fool,” Angela said in
response.
I huffed out a breath through my nose as I
tried to hold back the tears. Not once had Angela said anything like, I never liked Dick or You’re
better off without him . She’d just kept her opinions to herself
and had been a shoulder for me these last few months. Even now, she
didn’t call him names, she’d just pointed out the obvious: Dick
was a fool . And he knew it too, at least I
assume he knew it since he’d tried repeatedly
to come home. But I just couldn’t do it. No matter how hard I
tried, I just couldn’t get the idea of him having sex with another
woman out of my mind. And I knew that I never would be able to.
I lifted my head, attempting to dry my eyes.
“Thank you, Angela.” I wrapped my arms around her. “I love you,
cuz.”
“I love you too.” She pulled back. “Now, go
have fun, but be careful. Call me if you decide to drink.”
I smiled. “I downloaded something called
Uber. It’s supposed to be pretty easy. If I use it, I’ll call you
to go pick up my truck with me tomorrow.”
Angela flashed a half smile. “I know what
Uber is. My husband uses it a lot when he’s out of town on
business. Says it’s easier to use than most taxi companies — and
cheaper.”
I rested my hands on my hips. “How is it you
always know about this stuff before I do?”
“Because I’m almost a decade younger than
you. My generation grew up with all these new gadgets as you
old-timers call them.”
“Oh, right.” I twirled and inspected my
reflection in the mirror again. “Are you sure?”
“You look hot! Go have fun. Don’t think
about meeting anyone, just dance and enjoy yourself.”
Every time I tugged at the hem of my dress,
the famous words of Richard Gere from the movie Pretty Woman flashed in my head: Stop fidgeting . He’d been right, of
course. Nothing detracted from what a woman was wearing — or trying
to wear — than when she continued to yank on
it … because she knew it was too short or too low cut.
In the case of the dress I was wearing, it
was both. Whenever I hitched up the dress to cover my cleavage, I
immediately had to check that my rear was still covered.
Regardless, I heeded Angela’s command. As soon
as I heard a familiar song, I headed to the dance floor. By the
second chorus, I had most of the steps down and had all but
forgotten the length and cut of my dress. After all, what did I
care? I was single. It’s not like I had anyone who would be
offended. Actually, even if I were still
married, it wouldn’t have mattered. Dick had always asked me to
dress sexily, especially when we were going out.
Since I was no J-Lo, though, I constantly
tripped over my own feet and stepped on a few others. Thankfully,
most people laughed it off. Those who were wearing cowboy boots, that is.
By the third dance, I was laughing myself silly, but I was in love … with dancing. I’d
been so concentrated on my feet that I didn’t have a chance to see
if there was anyone cute around me. I was also parched, though. I
quickly remembered why I could eat and drink anything I wanted when
I was in college … dancing burned calories — and dehydrated me. I
was dying of thirst.
I headed to the bar, hoping they didn’t
charge a buck for a plastic cup of water.
As soon as I sat down, I felt a tap on my
shoulder.
“Hey …” a male voice shouted in my ear.
I swung around on the barstool, hoping it
wasn’t someone I knew. Nope! The man standing in front of me was a
lot younger than I was, so more than likely we didn’t run in the
same circles.
“Yeah?” I asked, not sure what he wanted.
Had I taken his seat?
“Wanna dance?”
“Oh, thank you,” I said, immediately
flattered, “but I just sat down. I need to drink something before I
die of thirst. Maybe in a little bit.”
The man turned to leave, but then waved his hand at me as
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