An elderly lady grabs a small bag of dog food then steps away, no indication she heard what I said. Still, my confession hangs out there. Telling him about my amnesia is freeing.
I chuckle over that part being a bigger deal to me.
Laz pauses, then laughs low, not mocking—intrigued. "Interesting twist. So, no memories of sex?"
"None."
"In a way, that qualifies you for the Cherry Auction."
"Are you sure? My lack of memory doesn't mean much. I don't even remember my name. I just picked Molly."
"This could be fun." His confidence anchors me, pulls me from the spiral. "Sorry you're dealing with that mess, truly. But ifyou're willing to let the bidders know about your amnesia, I'm fine with it."
"You sure that's okay? It's not an auction foul?" I'm so worried about getting my hopes up, I'm scared to get excited. With each passing day, week, and now month, I lose a little more hope that I'll ever know who I was, but I need to focus on moving forward. I need to let myself live.
"We've got Jolene up there as a mom—why not an amnesia victim?"
Victim? Hearing someone else say it solidifies how much I want to be more than my amnesia. More than the past I lost. I want to be… me. And it's time I have fun with who she is. I play off his victim comment. "More like a freak than a victim."
"Freak, that'll draw the bidders in for sure."
Disbelief bubbles up. "I can't believe you're letting me do this."
"Why not? Track record's perfect—every woman in the auction has found her happily ever after, and it sounds like you've been through enough. You deserve a happily ever after."
"It'll take me an hour to get home then to the club."
"The other three women are getting ready. Can you come straight here?"
I glance at my bags. "Sure. Got cider and cheesecake to celebrate."
He dives into contract basics. It's surreal as I head toward the exit. The control is mine: veto the winner if it doesn't feel right, and no commitment required beyond club sex.
My girlfriends filled me in on the history of the auction though and Laz sounds like a fairy godfather, waving his wand over women's fates.
I have my keys in hand before I get to my car. Thank god I didn't get hit. I forgot to check both ways even though the cars are supposed to stop on either side of the entrance.
"Nikki! Wait up!" a very muscular, sexy guy calls to someone. No time to ogle. I'll have my reverse harem by the end of the evening.
My car's engine rumbles to life, and I zip out of the parking lot. Crap. I know the general direction of the club, but not the whole route.
I'm usually a stickler for not being a distracted driver since that may be what caused a driver to hit me while I was out on a jog… at least that's the puzzle pieces that fit together.
Careful to only divert my eyes to my phone one second at a time, I get a map pulled up.
Tonight, I take control of the rest of my life. No waiting for my prince to come. If I had one, he should have done that when I was in the hospital. Turning the radio up, I hype myself for a special evening, and to keep from going down the spiral of why nobody looked for me when I was at the hospital or the woman's shelter.
My mind races ahead: the stage, the bids, eyes on me like I'm the prize. Virgin or not, it doesn't matter. Laz is right. This becomes my first. The first night of the rest of my life.
Waiting for the light to turn green, I glance at myself in the rear view mirror. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall…" Or windshield… close enough. "This is the woman who wants it all."
Chapter 5
Toby
I ease off the gas to slot us three cars back. As much as I hate to think it, if she remembers who we are, she might not be glad we're following her.
Dylan's holding her picture again, tapping it on his thigh. "She didn't even flinch when she looked our way in the parking lot."
