My Lucky Groom

glanced at Monica, then said apologetically, “I’m afraid duty calls.”
    “Of course,” Ventura said.
    “It’s been very nice meeting you.” He pleasantly surveyed their faces, then settled his gaze on Ventura. “I hope we have the pleasure again.”
    Ventura’s heart skipped a beat as she felt her temperature spike. Was Richard really focusing all his attention on her?
    “Me too.” She tried to say it boldly, but her words came out as a whisper.
    Then he turned and walked away, with Monica scolding him soundly over something Ventura couldn’t quite overhear and which Richard seemed to ignore.
    “Richard Blake,” Mary said once he was out of earshot. “In the flesh.”
    Petra rapidly fanned her face with her hand. “I’d like to see that.”
    “Of course you would,” Mary told her. “You and every other woman in Washington.” She turned to Ventura. “How did you do it?”
    “What?”
    “Get him to come over and talk to you?” Petra filled in.
    “I just stood here,” Ventura offered, still amazed by the turn of events herself . She normally wasn’t much of a man magnet and had never attracted anyone quite as dishy as Richard. Of course, maybe she hadn’t attracted him at all. As one of the hosts, it was his role to work the room. “I’m sure he was just being gracious.”
    Mary studied her proudly. “Must be the hair.”
    Ventura self-consciously fingered her flat-ironed locks, which made her whole head feel as if it were wearing a weighty wig.
    “I like it!” Petra proclaimed. “Maybe you can do mine sometime?”
    “You’ve done good, Ventura,” Mary told her. “Schmoozing with the District’s most eligible bachelor.”
    “Every woman in the world wants to date him,” Petra added.
    Ventura’s gaze followed Richard across the room as he and his girlfriend made the rounds. “Monica seems pretty well settled in.”
    “Her?” Mary asked with a laugh. “She’s just his escort.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “The latest in a long line of girls,” Petra explained. “He never attends these society things alone.”
    “And is never seen with a woman outside of them,” Mary added.
    Ventura took a sip of her champagne, its bubbles tickling her tongue. “But why?”
    “Might have to do with the kids,” Mary said confidentially.
    Petra nodded. “Or the ex.”
    “She was terrible.” Mary lowered her voice. “Walked out on him and two babies.”
    Petra whispered behind her hand, “They’re rumored to be brats.”
    “They dress well,” Mary argued defensively.
    Petra shook her head. “Fashion’s not everything.”
    Mary’s eyes flashed in horror. “Bite your tongue!”

    Later that night, Ventura found herself in bed but totally unable to sleep. What was that thumping coming from upstairs? “What’s going on up there?” she asked as flashing neon colors pulsed through the window.
    “That’s Nanette practicing her Lambada,” Mary answered.
    “Lam… What?”
    “It’s some kind of crazy dance she does. She’d got a ton of them and will try to teach you if you’re not careful.”
    “I’ll take your advice and steer clear.”
    “That’s another thing.” Mary sat up suddenly under the covers and turned her dark profile to face her. “You need to be careful to always say you have plans.”
    “Plans?”
    “Nanette’s the world’s worst matchmaker. And I mean worst in the worst possible way. If you even hint you’re so much as free for an afternoon, she’ll set you up. And, um… Let me put it this way. Her setups aren’t optimal.”
    Ventura giggled, unable to imagine the sorts of offerings someone like Nanette might pick out. “I’ll take your advice on that too.”
    “Good.” Mary settled back down and rolled toward the wall, wrapping her blanket around her.
    Ventura hadn’t had a roommate since college, at least not in the same room. She’d shared an apartment with another girl in graduate school, but they’d each had their own space, and Trisha had been so quiet, Ventura had barely ever known she was there. Mary was all the opposite: loud and blustery and all up in Ventura’s face. Telling her how to dress and wear her hair, and warning her off Nanette’s nutty notions. Ventura had never been close to her big sister, Hope, and had gone through most of her life without having a best friend. She wondered if Mary would become that, even as different from each other as they were.
    “Mary,” she said quietly before the other girl could