“Yes, dear, but too many are. And we both know why you promote such stories with so much verve.”
Ceci supposed she should be grateful her aunt didn’t say why. She hardly needed to. They both knew the answer. Her father.
“Okay,” Pixel said, “let’s just suppose Ceci somehow managed to create a situation where she kissed Sir Clarke. Would that be enough to give her the definitive answer? How could she be certain he was the Man in the Iron Mask just from kissing?”
“Trust me, she’ll be able to tell. If you can’t, you’re not doing it right. And if that were the case, we wouldn’t be talking about him now.”
Exasperated, Ceci huffed. “Can we stop talking about him already?”
Aunt Delilah’s right eyebrow shot up her forehead. “You, my dear, are the one who brought him up.”
“Uh, yeaaah,” Pixel agreed.
Had she?
Fuck-a-doodle-doo-doo.
Ceci looked from friend to aunt. They were smiling at each other. Something was not right with the world.
Enough, Ceci thought as she stood up.
“I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be back in time to bid on Ian, if necessary.”
It would only be necessary, she thought as she left the ballroom,if no one bid on the man, which was highly unlikely.
The F1 driver for Blue Jet Lightning who’d won the trophy this past season had pissed off virtually everyone but women. Actually, he’d pissed off women too, but that did nothing to quell their interest in him. That cool exterior like a force field around a bad boy that burned hot set fire to many a female loin. Ceci had tried more than once to get him to tone it down. Every PR person she’d hired to handle Ian Anker had quit. He was too much work. Too much hassle.
What Anker needed was the best in the business. That would be Roxanne Windsor. Sir Stick Up His Ass’s agent. Trouble is, she didn’t need the job and was way too smart to take it.
Sure enough, when Ceci reached the ladies’ room, there was a line. And of course, no line for the men’s.
Could anyone convincingly explain to her why? She could pull down her panties just as fast as any man could unzip his pants and pull out his penis.
In fact, she could do it faster. If memory served. It had been a while.
She shifted back and forth. She really needed to pee.
Screw this!
She hurried down the hallway and snuck into the men’s room. Finding it empty, she slipped into the first stall.
Once she’d finished, she flushed and was just about to open the door when she heard footsteps.
How many? Maybe four guys?
“Stop pushing,” Anker said.
“Tilney’s anxious to get out there.”
“Is it my imagination, or are the urinals getting smaller?”
“Just make certain you keep your whiz between the goalposts, I’m not looking to intercept what you’re passing.”
A chorus of laughter.
“Yeah, well, dribbling might come in handy on the court, but not here, so concentrate on what you’ve got in your own hands rather than what I’ve got in mine.”
“Hunter’s trying to intimidate us,” Anker said. “He wants us to glance over at his equipment and feel emasculated.”
