Chapter Twenty
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Maggie
Beauty is found in the heart, not the face.
While I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment, at a bachelor action, a beautiful face comes in quite handy. Especially for raising funds for charity.
“That man is going to fetch a pretty penny for the Daughters of City Health Foundation,” Aunt Bea says from my elbow.
Her ballroom is completely transformed from the day of the tea. It looks like Halloween threw up in here. If Halloween were a fancy lady who buys only the best.
The walls are decked in black bunting. The tables and the catwalk stage are draped in glittery black velvet. Big bouquets of black, white, and orange balloons float from the centers of each table, and huge pots of marigolds, chrysanthemums, and goldenrod stand sentry in the corners of the room. Their sweet smells don’t stand a chance against so much high-dollar perfume.
Carved jack-o’-lanterns grin from their perches on pedestals ringing the space. The champagne fountain is flowing. The roving waiters are plying their hors d’oeuvres. And the members of the jazz band up onstage are dressed like zombies. But, man, can those zombies wail. We’re marching toward the end of the third hour of the ball, and they’ve stopped to take a break only once.
Just as I suspected, Luc was descended upon en masse the moment he walked through the door. It skeeves me out that some of the girls who wouldn’t give him a second look in high school are the same ones throwing themselves at him tonight. But he’s a good sport about it all.
Of course he is. He’s Luc.
“You saved the best for last, Aunt Bea.” I motion with my chin toward Luc as he climbs the stage’s stairs.
The tuxedo coat is a smidge too small, but his athletic build allows him to pull it off. Now, the too-short pants? That’s another matter. When I teased him about it earlier, he gave me a wry smile. “Isn’t that how the hipsters do it?” he asked. “Next thing you know, I’ll be sporting a man bun and wearing ironic T-shirts.”
“God help us.” I giggled, secretly thinking that if anyone could pull off that look, it would be him. Because, in truth, he could pretty much pull offanylook.
“And what happened to Cash?” Aunt Bea asks now.
“He had something come up.” My heart cringes as the words come out of my mouth. I hate lying to her, but I don’t feel it’s my place to air Cash’s dirty laundry.
“Hmm,” she hums. “Well, at least Luc was good enough to fill in. But I suppose that has more to do with you than it does with Cash.”
With that parting shot, she sashays over to the podium beside the stage. In a ball gown like the one she’s wearing, all black with a rhinestone bodice and a long, chiffon skirt, any movement looks like a sashay.
I try to puzzle out what she meant, but I get distracted once the band switches from a feisty rendition of “Werewolves of London”to an even feistier cover of “It’s Raining Men.”That’s the cue to the audience to stop dancing and turn their attention toward the stage.
A waiter in the corner clicks on a spotlight and aims it Luc’s way, making Luc blink against the glare. Then Luc obligingly pastes on a megawatt smile and I swear I hear a communal gasp from the audience.
Firming his shoulders, he begins walking the length of the stage. Catcalls and wolf whistles accompany his progress, and the smooth, dulcet tones of Aunt Bea’s voice echo from the sound system.
“Our final bachelor tonight is a true-blue hometown hero. After graduating from Braxton Academy, Lucien Dubois joined the army’s special-forces unit. He earned the rank of master sergeant in the Green Berets and is now back home to woo the women of New Orleans.
“Luc enjoys the pristine beauty of our great state. His favorite pastimes are fishing and poling his pirogue on the bayou. He plays guitar, writes poetry and music, and can whip up a mean morning omelet.
“I think he’s quite a catch, don’t y’all? And remember, not only will your money buy one night on the town with this exceptionally handsome young man, but it will also go to a wonderful cause. Show your support for the Daughters of City Health Foundation by opening up those pocketbooks and wallets one last time. Let’s start the bidding at two hundred dollars. Do I hear two hundred?”
With that, the auction begins. Luc plays along, spinning and doing dance moves that make the audience scream for more. The bids come in fast and furious, but Aunt Bea has no trouble keeping up. In fact, by her flushed cheeks, I can tell she’s enjoying herself. The annual Halloween ball and bachelor auction is the one time of year she lets herself be a bit bawdy.
“Five thousand dollars, going once.” She looks around the room after six full minutes of bidding. “Going twice.” She holds up a gavel and slams it down. “Sold! To Sally Renee Rutherford for five thousand dollars! Whew!” She acts like she’s wiping a bead of sweat from her brow even though everyone knows she never sweats. “That was a fun one! Now, Mr. Dubois, please present your date with her corsage. The next dance is all yours.”
Aunt Bea steps away from the podium at the same time Luc descends from the stage. He walks over to Sally Renee Rutherford, a bottle blonde with a figure that came straight from the plastic surgeon’s office, and presents her with the corsage. After he slips the flowers on her wrist and bends to kiss her hand, he sweeps her into a waltz worthy of the history of this house and this ballroom.
I can’t help but snort. Sally Renee is looking at Luc like she’s the cat who ate the canary and is sharpening her claws for more.
“That boy’s got no idea what he signed himself up for, does he?” Auntie June has made her way to my side. I can tell by the sparkle in her eye and the way she keeps hoisting up the neckline on her red ball gown that she’s tipsy. She’s always had a weakness for fine champagne, and Aunt Bea serves only the best.
“He can handle himself,” I assure her.
