The one where I need him.
I stifle the tears and get ready to roar.
Literally.
An inhumane sound rattles out of me, silencing the auditorium. It’s something between the roar of a lion and the shriek of a bird.
And it’s working.
Some of the men put down their blackboards, falling into conversation with the men next to them, probably debating how I escaped the mental asylum.
I fold my arms over my chest and watch as more boards disappear from the air.
Unfortunately, not all of them go down.
I inhale a deep breath. It’s time to take this up a notch.
For Otis.
I put one unsteady foot out in front of the other and prepare to run. The chances of slipping and falling are very high, but hey, when you’re acting like an idiot, it’s impossible to fail.
I start my first lap around the stage, arms flaying everywhere like I’m an ostrich on steroids.
If nobody bids for me, I don’t go home with a millionaire.
I don’t have to run the risk that I’ll be taken forever.
Sure, there’s a chance I could end up with the next Carter Trescott and have the time of my life, but Otis’s life is more important than a potential orgasm.
I look out into the audience and prepare to unleash my next animalistic scream—one that is sure to have every man and their dog running out of here in less than a minute.
But my vocal cords have suddenly been ripped out.
In the corner of my eye, I see the man the world fears most—Conrad. He must be proud of his bet. He’s made the effort to stand up, the blackboard high in the air.
I’ve never seen this many zeros before.
Shit.
I stand frozen, our eyes on each other.
I want to look away, but I also can’t.
He’s scary, but also so abnormal to look at that my brain is intrigued. Now I see why he chose to build a career in theunderbelly of Vegas—he wouldn’t do well in a world full of laws. People would just run away.
And even though people still try to run under here, this ishisworld.
And in the world of Conrad O’Neill, nobody leaves unless he wants them to.
My heart skips beat after beat.
Maybe I’ll drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness. Maybe I’ll explain that I have a son who needs me. Or maybe it’s best to keep quiet and let them take me, so I can plan my escape at a later date.
The auctioneer steps down from his little lectern and grabs my hand.
That’s when another board sails into the air. One with evenmorezeroes.
I lower my eyes, curious to put a face to a number.
