After a few minutes, Sloane must notice my eyes glazing over, because she interrupts him. “Sorry, but I have to borrow Lennon for a moment. There’s someone I need to introduce her to.”
He quickly hides his irritation with a fake smile. “Of course.” Then turns to me. “I look forward to seeing you again, Lennon. I so enjoyed our conversation.”
I swallow a scoff that’s now caught in my throat. Conversation? He didn’t ask me one question about myself. I’m surprised he didn’t break out a slide show of all his accomplishments to go along with his self-centered monologue.
“We’ll catch up with you in a bit,” I say to Brick before Sloane tugs me away.
“Good Lord,” she groans as we weave through the crowd that’s getting thicker by the minute. “What a pompous ass.”
“Thanks for the save.” I sigh as we find an open spot to drink our champagne and people-watch.
We spend the next forty minutes chatting with some of the other partygoers, and a few of the men tell me they’re going to bid on me. Despite a few handsome, polite ones, none of them get me excited. But hey, just putting myself back out there is a start.
Then they announce it’s time for the women and men in the auction to head to the side of the stage.
My heart stutters in my chest. I’d almost forgotten why I’m here. I flatten my palm against my stomach, which is suddenly full of butterflies.
Sloane takes both my hands in hers and makes me look into her eyes. “You’re going to do great. Just be yourself and have fun.”
“Fun. Right.” I squeeze her hands and then blow out a breath. “Just so you know, if no one bids on me, I’m never leaving my apartment again.” I give her a hug as she chuckles, down the rest of my champagne for liquid courage, and then make my way to the side of the stage where the others are gathering.
When I see I’m behind the Margot Robbie ringer, I move to the back of the line. No way I’m going after her. But then maybe the back of the line isn’t the place to be. Maybe the bidders will be out of money by the time they get to me. I shake my hands, trying to dry the sweat.
Stop overthinking it, Lennon.
The guy beside me chuckles. When I look at him, he shoots me a killer smile. “Nervous?”
I nod, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Don’t be. You’re a breath of fresh air, you’ll get bids.” He winks and for some reason, it feels reassuring. I’ll take it.
“Thanks.” I bite my tongue before “you, too” comes out.
The background music fades as an elegant woman in a red gown steps up to the microphone on stage.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the third annual Hurricane Relief Date Night.” She pauses while everyone gets settled at the tables. “Before bidding begins, I’d like to remind you of the rules. When you win the bid on the person of your choice, you’re getting four hours of their time. Of course, if you’re both enjoying the date, it can last as long as you wish. The time and place must beagreed upon by both parties.” She clears her throat and a ghost of a smile pulls up one side of her mouth. “Make no mistake here, you are not buying a happy ending.” After a light chuckle rolls through the tipsy crowd, she claps her hands together. “Okay, let’s get this auction started.” She plucks a sheet of paper off the podium and reads the first name out loud. “Sylvia Beltoise.”
A petite blonde in a gold mermaid dress steps up and waves to the crowd as she glides across the stage.
The woman in red continues, “Miss Sylvia is a finance manager from Palm Beach. She attended St. Mary’s, then Harvard and her hobbies include fencing, marathons and growing orchids. Her favorite charity is Give Kids the World.” She pauses as Sylvia does a little model walk and shimmy, sending the crowd into a round of applause and whistles.
“All right, you eager people. Let’s start the bidding at one thousand.”
My heart jumps erratically in my chest like a caged bird. They’restartingwith a thousand dollars? Oh my god. My horror grows as one man after another shouts out, raising the bid to twelve thousand within minutes. My hands begin to sweat.
“Twenty thousand.”
“Twenty-two thousand.”
Silence.
“And sold to the gentleman in the red velvet tie for twenty-two thousand,” the woman announces. “Thank you.”
There’s thunderous applause.
Sylvia takes a little bow and then blows the guy a kiss. As she saunters off the stage and is escorted to the hallway, the woman at the podium reads the second name.
Maybe I shouldn’t have stood in the back of the line. My stress levels are going through the roof. It would’ve been better just to get it over with.
