“What’s up?” Mindy asked.
“Oh, nothing. It’s not important.”
“Mmm, a bachelor auction and all proceeds go to the Scott Charity for Kids,” she read the text on the screen aloud and smiled. “The men are rich and hunky too.”
Grabbing my hand, Mindy guided me past the crowd and toward the stage where the auction was about to start. I noticed gorgeous women flirting with the rich, handsome, and available bachelors. There he was, looking dashing and dapper, as always.Except, he wasn’t alone. A journalist interviewed him for the local news.
“That’s Alistair Scott,” Mindy exclaimed, eyes round like saucers. “He’s untouchable and out of bounds.”
“Oh? What do you mean, Mindy?” I asked.
“Well, I mean, look at him. He could have stepped out of a magazine. But it’s not just his looks. I heard that it takes months to get one minute with him.”
“Interesting,” I mused, pretending I’d never met the guy. I used this trick to fish for information from people. “What else do you know of him?”
“Alistair is a philanthropist and an investor, but I heard he’s connected with the mafia. Plus, rumor has it he pays a well-known biker gang to do his dirty work.”
“Hmm.”
“There’s no proof, though. It’s just gossip, you know?”
“Gossip is dangerous. Someone may accuse you of defamation,” I warned.
“Oh, crap. I left my handbag back at the bar,” Mindy said. “Stay right here, I’ll be back.”
“Sure,” I replied, about to head to the restroom.
“Well, well, the town’s trash has arrived,” Erin’s shrill voice sang out.
Great, just fucking great. The bitch and a bunch of her friends stood a few feet away, eyeing me from top to toe. Having recently given birth, Erin nevertheless looked beautiful in a flowing, white blouse and a pair of loose pants that showed off her long legs. She had a light pink pram by her side.
“Is that the whore you were telling me about?” Erin’s blonde friend with a Dior handbag squawked, inspecting me as if I were vermin.
“Shh, it’s not nice to talk about other people,” Erin reprimanded, half-smiling.
“I heard you’d been stalking Erin’s brother-in-law,” a brunette with a blunt fringe blurted. “Valerie, is that your name?”
“Vera,” Erin corrected.
“Poor Scotty. All the gold diggers in town relentlessly pursue him,” the blonde butted in.
Ignoring the blonde, I turned to Erin and pointed at her pram. “Congratulations on becoming a mother.”
“Would you like to see the baby? Here she is,” Erin cooed, lifting an infant out of the pram.
The golden-haired cherub snuggled into Erin’s bosom, vulnerable and fragile, yet so pure and innocent. Her tiny fingers stretched, then curled as her ruddy face released a small yawn.That was Alistair’s child.The baby had his bright eyes and curly hair. Alistair had made Erin a mother. He gave her what he didn’t want with me.
I gazed at the child, feeling a tug of love for the helpless innocent. “Your daughter is beautiful. What’s her name?”
“Her name is Camilla,” Erin boasted. “I didn’t think you were into babies. You don’t seem like the mothering type.”
“What exactly is ‘the mothering type’?” I glared at the bitch.
“Oh, I don’t know. Just not you,” she replied, her mouth twisting downward in displeasure. She readjusted her hold on the girl, who opened her eyes and balled her fists, preparing for a cry.
“I think the bright lights in this room are a bit harsh for the baby,” I said as Camilla wailed in discomfort.
“Don’t give me parenting lessons, Vera. You’re not at work, and it’s not a family courtroom. I’d advise you to stay away from Alistair tonight. He’s moved on, and so should you.”
