Fools in Love(3)
Author: J. Sterling
We had also been given a brochure, detailing each bachelor’s name, occupation, and where you got to go on your date if you were the winning bidder. I’d had no idea how planned out these things were. I’d just assumed that if you won the guy, you figured it out on the fly and did whatever you both wanted.
Not in this day and age. No detail was left to chance. Every single aspect was meticulously prepared. Safety was the number one priority. It even said so on top of the brochure.
“I really don’t need it.” I waved the paddle in my hand, but she smiled a little too smugly, and I wondered what she was up to.
“Trust me, April, you do.”
I had no idea what that meant, but she turned on her heel and told me she’d see me before the auction started.
What the hell was I supposed to do until then?
I DON’T WANT HIM
APRIL
When Meredith finally arrived—dressed to the nines, I might add—I let out a sigh of relief. No longer was I standing in the corner alone, avoiding all contact with people I didn’t know, checking my emails incessantly, pretending like my work couldn’t wait a few hours.
“Your hair looks so pretty,” she complimented the waves I’d spent hours putting into my long hair, and I instantly ran my fingers through it.
“Thank you. Your dress is beautiful.” I eyed her from head to toe, giving her a grin and an approving nod.
“Thanks!” Meredith said with a smile of her own. She held her numbered paddle in the air. “I love this thing. I can spank whoever I buy with it.”
A thick laugh tore from my throat. “Oh my God. You’re insane.”
“But in a fun way.” She waggled her eyebrows and waved her paddle through the empty air.
“You’re not going to really bid on someone, are you?” I asked, never considering the option before this moment.
She shrugged. “Maybe? It depends,” she added before looking around. “All the women here look rich. Like, really rich. I’m not sure how much my hundie will get me.” She pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of her bra and flashed it in front of my face.
I realized that Meredith was right though when I finally scanned the crowd. I recognized multiple women CEOs and other high-profile philanthropists. “I think you’re right. That might get you a shoelace. Or a hat.”
Meredith huffed out in disappointment. “Maybe they’ll have one guy for the poor girls in the room?” She actually sounded hopeful even though I was sure that wasn’t how this sort of thing worked.
“Guess we’re about to find out,” I said as Sheila stepped onstage and started tapping a live microphone, the sound echoing throughout the space as everyone immediately quieted down.
“If everyone could grab a seat, we’d like to get started soon,” Sheila said, and a few women hooted in the background, which made her smile. “I’m glad you’re excited. I’m excited too. Just keep in mind that all of your winning bids and donations in the silent auction are going to benefit The Missing. I want to personally thank each one of you for coming. Thank you to the bachelors, who have donated their time. And to all the sponsors, who so graciously contributed the winning dates and transportation with very little arm-twisting from me. Make sure you visit them. They’re all listed in the back of your brochure.”
“Come on.” Meredith grabbed my hand and pulled me toward some empty seats near the front of the stage.
Even though I was mortified to be sitting so close, I followed her without complaint and sat down.
Sheila appeared out of nowhere, asked the woman next to me to slide down one seat, and sat.
“You’re sitting with me?” I asked.
“Meredith makes me laugh. She’ll be entertaining,” Sheila said, as if she were intimately aware of Meredith’s personality.
I stared back at the stage, which was way too close for my comfort.
“Plus, I enjoy watching you squirm, April.”
I whipped my head to the side and gave her a narrowed look. “I don’t squirm,” I argued defensively.
Sheila gave a soft nod. “You most certainly do whenever you’re uncomfortable, which isn’t often, but you have been since you walked through the door tonight. Hovering in the corner like I put you in a time-out.”
I fought off the words to disagree with her and choked them down instead. There was no point. She was right, and we both knew it.
The house lights went out without warning, and only the candles and mini twinkling lights remained. Music started, loud and overbearing before lowering as an incredibly well-dressed man stepped onto the stage and into the single spotlight that flicked on with a hum.
“Ladies and …” He paused, placing his hand over his eyes to block out the light and look into the crowd. “Well, ladies and ladies,” he said with a loud laugh, and I realized that there were no other men here.
I wondered if Sheila had planned it that way before realizing that, of course, she had. She controlled every aspect of anything that had her name on it.
“Couldn’t have the men competing with us here too. Tonight is about making the male gender subservient to ours. We’re the bosses. They do what we say. They belong to us. And it’s about damn time,” Sheila said.
She sounded so proud, and I shifted in my seat, more than a little uncomfortable with the gender war. Not because it wasn’t true and there wasn’t one waging, even silently, but because I didn’t participate in it. If anyone tried to hold me back, I bowled them over—man or woman, it didn’t matter to me. The only war I played in was the one against myself.
The music continued in the background as the emcee introduced the first bachelor of the evening. He was dressed in a tuxedo, looking mighty dapper, and I swore the audience swooned at the sight of him. He hammed it up for the crowd, dancing and doing little spins. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes, but only because I could feel Sheila’s gaze on me.
Bored, I opened the brochure to read the guy’s name. Austin Steel. Apparently, he was one of New York’s finest. A police officer.
“Are all these guys single?” I whispered toward Sheila.
“Don’t try to scout them for the agency, but yes. I can see the wheels spinning in your head. Stop them.”