“Yes?”
“Where’s the alcohol?”
“There isn’t any! This is a school function, held on school grounds. We aren’t allowed to have alcohol!”
“But there aren’t any students here. It’s just us adults.”
“Tell it to Principal Jordan!” she jammed her finger into my chest before walking away.
I walked around and briefly mingled with some of the other guests I knew. Everyone here came from money. You could smell the wealth the second you walked in. I took a seat reserved for me in the front row. Kylie stepped on stage and gave her speech. After many items were auctioned off, it was time for the blind-date auction. My stomach twisted. This was going to be my biggest nightmare.
“Now, it’s time for our blind-date auction,” Kylie announced.
The first woman stepped out in a long formal gown. She was older, and I assumed she was Principal Jordan. No, thank you. I’d have to wait to see what my other options were. But then, if I waited until the last woman, she could be worse. So basically, I was screwed either way.
Principal Jordan introduced herself, gave a little background information, and the bidding began.
Samantha
“You look gorgeous.” I smiled at Greta. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“I intend to. How is my hair? Any pieces sticking up?”
“Your hair looks perfect.”
“Okay, ladies. Let’s line up.” A woman walked over with a clipboard. “I need Principal Jordan, Greta Williams, Franny Marx, Katherine Fox, and Samantha Hollis.”
My head whipped around so fast, I swear I pulled a muscle.
“Excuse me. I’m Samantha Hollis, but there seems to be a mistake. I did not sign up to participate. I only signed up to help out.”
“Your name and information are right here.” She turned her clipboard around. “You signed up. You probably just don’t remember.”
“Oh, I clearly remember. I DID NOT sign up.” I glanced at Greta. “Did you do this?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.”
“Well, I’m sorry too, but it isn’t an option. You will go out on that stage and be auctioned off for a blind date. We promised five women, and that’s what we will deliver. Now, please get in line.”
“Look at me. I’m a hot mess. I can’t go out there in jeans and a t-shirt. Nobody in their right mind will bid on me.”
“You look fine. Just smile.”
“Do you suppose Zoey signed you up?” Greta leaned in and whispered.
“Someone did, and when I find out who, they’re dead.”
Weston
Contestant number two stepped onto the stage. Nope. Contestant number three stepped on. Nope. I had no choice. I would have to bid on number four because I wasn’t taking chances anymore. Contestant number four stepped on stage, and instantly, my eyes narrowed. It was her. The beautiful woman from the coffee shop a couple of weeks ago. The one who eavesdropped on my phone conversation then told me off and called me Mr. Monopoly. What the hell? She was dressed in ripped jeans and a t-shirt. She walked up to the microphone and adjusted it.
“Hi. Wow. Isn’t this lovely? Before I introduce myself, let’s discuss the obvious. The other women look like Disney princesses, and I look like I got lost on my way to Target.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle as the rest of the audience laughed.
“Anyway. I’m Samantha Hollis. I’m an English Literature teacher here at Manhattan Heights. And for reasons I’ll never understand, I voluntarily spend my days arguing with teenagers about whether Gatsby was romantic or needed therapy.”
