Around two o'clock in the morning, she was ready to take a break. She was trying to sneak up a back set of stairs to the break room, but Del caught her.
“No, no, no, my little nincompoop,” he laughed, grabbing her by the hips and forcing her back down the stairs. “The night is still young! I have one last surprise for you!”
“If it's anything like your last surprise, I don't want it,” Val warned him.
“Hey, hand to god, swear on my mother, I had nothing to do with that. That bitch must be the real deal,” Del said, moving to walk next to her and shuddering. “If I had known, I wouldn't have hired her.”
“Really?”
“Of course not! Last thing I need is some broad being able to see into my cooked books with her third eye, or whatever. I've seen the Long Island Medium, I know how this shit works.”
Valentine burst out laughing as they walked back into the Club Room. The party was still raging, but Del lifted his hands in the air, waving them up and down. The music faded out, causing everyone to groan in protest.
“Alright, alright, shut the fuck up!” Del barked, shouting to be heard as he pushed his way through the crowd, dragging Valentine behind him. “We got one last surprise – one last gift – before we bid this saint farewell!”
At the center of the dance floor was a wide, circular go-go podium, with a stripper pool extending between it and the ceiling. Del jumped onto the podium, then helped Valentine up to stand next to him.
“Now, you all know her, you all love her. Our very own Saint Valentine. She hasn't worked here long, but she's become a cornerstone of Caché. Her infamy will live on for years, and thought I'm so fucking happy for her I could cry, it breaks my heart to see her go. Valentine, you're a peach. One of the best. If I'd ever had a daughter, I'd have wanted her to be like you,” Del said, turning to look down at her. She smiled up at him, sniffling to keep the tears at bay.
“Awww, that's sweet, Del.”
“Well, you know, like you, but maybe doesn't dress so slutty.”
The crowd burst out laughing. She punched him in the arm, but she was laughing, too.
“Alright, alright, enough of the mush! A month ago, Valentine here pulled in the biggest bid we've ever had for one of St. Patrick's Day auction, but I recently found out her bidder broke the rules of the contract! So that bid is null and void. I propose that right here, right now, we start the bidding again!”
While the crowd cheered, Valentine frowned and started yanking on Del's jacket.
“Del!” she hissed. “No! This is my last night, I'm not gonna spend a week working for one of your regulars!”
“Don't be so selfish,” Del hissed back. “I lost twenty-five grand because of you! Had to give St. Jude's their cut out of my own pocket! Let me get at least some of it back!”
Ari had gotten his money back? Jesus, how? Del would fight a starving child over a nickel. Ari must have gone through his credit card company or bank, disputed the charge.
What kind of jerk does that? Just because I broke up with him? I've been moping – yes, I admit it, moping – at home, praying for him to come to his senses and call me. And all he cared about was his money. About being in control of a situation. Stupid dick. God, I hate him.
While Del went over the rules of the impromptu auction, Valentine delicately wiped tears away from the corners of her eyes. It didn't matter. Ari Sharapov didn't matter to her. He could be as big of an asshole as he wanted – it didn't effect her life, not one little bit. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, then smiled brilliantly when Del set the starting bid at two thousand dollars.
“Two thousand!?” she gasped melodramtically. “Have you looked at me? C'mon, people, let's start at five!”
A famous local rapper kicked it off with five, and was followed by one of the basketball players who'd been there the other week; he immediately raised it to eight. She didn't expect to get as high a bid as Ari's, of course, or anything even close to it. People planned and saved for the St. Patrick's Day event. So it was flattering knowing that on the spur of moment, people were still willing to drop a couple thousand dollars just to spend time with her.
Yeah, super duper flattering. Same ol' story. This night cannot end soon enough.
“C'mon, people? Twelve? We're stalling at twelve? I'm fucking embarrassed! This is Valentine, and this is your last chance to win her!” Del shouted, looking over the crowd angrily. Val was a little taken aback by how seriously he was taking the whole thing. “Do you hear me? Your absolute last fucking chance to win her!”
There was a murmur in the crowd, people seemed a little confused. Valentine was a little embarrassed. One guy started to raise his hand, thankfully, but then a voice from the back of the crowd called out a bid.
“Zero dollars!”
There was a collective gasp, of which Valentine was a part of.
“Who said that!?” Del demanded, shielding his eyes from the bright spotlight shining down on them. People started to sway and move as someone shoved their way through.
“Zero dollars,” the bidder called again. “And not a penny more.”
Valentine couldn't honestly say she was shocked when Ari stepped out of the crowd. Anger, embarrassment, humiliation, confusion, hurt, all of those emotions were there. But she wasn't shocked.
“You saying my little Saint Valentine here ain't worth nothing?” Del asked, jerking his thumb in her direction. A couple people in the house booed. “You saying you think she's worth nothing?”
Valentine stared down the length of her nose at Ari, hoping he could feel all the disgust for him that was raging inside of her.
“I'm saying,” he spoke slowly, never taking his eyes off of her. “That she's priceless.”
I hate when he does that. Here I am, ready to hate him all over again, and he has to ruin it by saying something so unlike him and so amazing, it blows all the anger right out of my brains.
It was corny, and it was cheesy, and it was so perfect, half the women in the audience let out audible awwws. Valentine didn't say anything. Del snorted.
“Words ain't worth shit – your contract was voided,” he snapped. Ari still didn't look away from her.
“By you,” he countered. “Your saint stopped doing her job. She still owes me two days.”
“Is this true?” Del gasped, and for the first time, Val realized he was in on the whole thing. “My little Vally-wally reneged on one of my deals? I don't believe it! Unacceptable!”
And then he was abruptly grabbing her arm, forcing them both to jump down off the podium. Before she knew what was happening, she was standing in front of Ari.
“Sorry, folks! Looks like the last bidder came to claim his prize after all! Now you have your choice, kind sir. You can take her back for those days, or you can ask for straight payment. What will it be?”
Ari pretended to think for a moment.
“I choose the payment.”
“A wise choice, sir, a wise choice.”
Before Valentine could ask what kind of payment – cash? Credit? Her heart? – Ari was kissing her, both his hands spearing into the hairdo she'd worked so hard on. This time, the whole crowd awwwed for her. Then Del was shouting for the music to come back on, and as the beats started rocking again, the crowd surged around them.