Strike a Match

by Fiona Riley

  Chapter Nine

  Abby hadn’t seen the new addition to Lucinda Moss’s dance studio before tonight; in fact, she had only been to the original location once. But from what she remembered, this side was entirely different. For tonight, Samantha had transformed it into a burlesque-show-like venue. And in true Samantha fashion, she had spared no expense.

  A stage draped in lush red curtains filled the largest wall of the room with an ornate and colorful emcee podium set off to the side. Bright lights bordered the stage and framed a runway that extended out about twenty feet into what she assumed was the audience section—lines of neatly arranged chairs filled the floor, with tiny tables placed throughout adorned with votive candles and small flower arrangements. It was like a fancy, high-end dinner theater setup with the most elite patrons. From what Abby could see, the crowd was chock-full of some of Boston’s wealthiest and most eligible bachelorettes, with a few handsome eligible bachelors also holding auction books. She noticed Samantha’s business partner Andrew Stanley handing out the books by one of the bars off to the side, and it occurred to her that she should get one.

  When she scanned the crowd more carefully, she recognized a few familiar faces, people who contributed to her mother’s foundation or regulars on the art scene—philanthropist types. Her mother would be right at home here. She looked around and found her at the bar Andrew stood near, chatting with her frenemy Rachel Rabin. A sinking sensation settled in her gut when she realized that she had never seen Rachel without her eligible and gay daughter, Dianna, the woman her mother was determined to hook her up with if this matchmaker thing didn’t work out. As if she could read her thoughts, Dianna appeared at her side with a glass of champagne.

  “Hey, Abby. I’m surprised to see you here—pleasantly surprised—but surprised nonetheless.” Dianna handed her the glass and added, “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” She accepted the compliment and the flute, figuring there was no harm in either. Dianna was plenty attractive. It wasn’t that she wasn’t physically attracted to her, just she oozed money and privilege, so Abby had never really been interested in the romantic connection that her mother was constantly trying to promote. More, she wasn’t interested in the hours Dianna kept as a high-priced defense attorney. They had dated a few times and slept together a few more times—but Dianna worked long nights and attended lots of fancy galas, and Dianna loved that life. Abby had had her fill of galas and society obligations, even if she had to attend them from time to time; that was one of the reasons she went by her middle name, Rossmore. But she was still a Davenport, and she was deeply entrenched in the family nonprofit. It was why she got into accounting to begin with—well, that and the love of math that no one seemed to understand. She and Dianna wanted different things, and that was fine.

  “So, what brings you to the auction tonight?” Dianna’s gaze was intense. Everything about her was intense. Her tall and tight physique, the severity of her angled haircut, the way she pursued women, the way she was in bed…not exactly unappealing. But it was intense.

  “I’m here as moral support for my mother.” That was true. Mostly. She was also here because Samantha had told her that she had a few women she wanted her to meet tonight—a sort of mixer within a mixer thing. But mostly she was here because Samantha had found someone she wanted her mother to meet, someone she was confident was a perfect match in the waiting.

  “She’s getting back into the dating game?” Dianna’s smile was warm. Their families had been in the same social circles for decades, and she knew Abby’s father’s death had hit her mother hard. “Good for her. This is a big step.”

  “Yeah, I’m proud of her.” Abby meant that. She was proud her mother agreed to this.

  “Is she working with Samantha?” Dianna pried a little. Abby contemplated whether or not to deflect it.

  “She is.” She decided to be honest.

  “Samantha’s the best.” Dianna sipped her own glass and looked toward the stage.

  That got Abby’s attention. “Have you worked with Perfect Match before?”

  Dianna’s intense eye contact returned to her own. “Mm-hmm. Dating is hard these days. One can use all the help one can get.”

  Abby mulled that over as Dianna added, “I hear there are a few eligible women on auction tonight. Samantha does a lot of charitable work with my family’s scholarship foundation and her wife Lucinda hosts a free dance class at the studio once a month for my alma mater’s 1Ls as a favor to me. So we came to support Samantha, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious about bachelorette number twenty-seven.”

  Abby regretted not getting an auction book when she first walked in. Who was number twenty-seven? And why was Dianna interested in her? “Oh?”

  Dianna gave her a once-over in that sexy, take-control kind of way that reminded Abby of the passion they’d shared between the sheets. “She’s beautiful. But we could both save ourselves a lot of money and time if we tried our luck with each other again. She might take a nice head shot, but she’s got nothing on you.”

  Dianna’s hand grazed along Abby’s holding the champagne flute and Abby shuddered. Her forwardness had always ignited things between them—it was what made Abby want to fuck her but not date her. She laughed to distract the other parts of her that Dianna revved up, reminding herself of the reasons she didn’t think they were a good fit. “You always did have a way with words.”

  Dianna looked emboldened. “That’s not a no.”

  “That’s not a yes, either.” Abby finished her glass and squeezed Dianna’s hand. “Thank you for the drink and the kind words.”

  “They aren’t just words, Abby.” Dianna held her hand briefly before letting go. “And you’re welcome. I’m sure I’ll see you throughout the night. It was good catching up with you.”

  Abby smiled and nodded, deciding she might give Dianna’s proposition further consideration. It had been a while since she’d had the opportunity to be topped. And Dianna was certainly a competent top.

  “I see you and Dianna have gotten acquainted.” Samantha spoke from behind her. She wore a tight red dress, her cleavage and jewelry on display, Abby noticed.

  “Reacquainted,” Abby corrected, before a thought occurred to her. “Is she one of the women you were hoping to introduce me to tonight? Because I can save you the trouble. Our families are friendly. We’ve been introduced. A few times.”

  “Yeah, I got that from the little bit of your exchange I observed.” Samantha appraised her with a smile. “So, sex only or did you try dating?”

  “Is it that obvious?” Abby felt like she should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t.

  “To me it is.” Samantha shrugged. “But that’s kind of my thing, seeing what other people don’t.”

  “It was a little of both. More sex than dating.”

  Samantha nodded. “I figured. The way she looks at you implies she wants more of that.”

  “The sex or the dating?”

  “Both,” Samantha replied. “And to answer your question, no. She wasn’t the one I had in mind. Although I can see how you two would be drawn to each other. But I don’t see her as your perfect match.”

  “Why’s that?” That was a bold statement. Abby wanted clarification.

  “Why didn’t it work out between you two outside of the bedroom?” Samantha countered.

  “She’s too—”

  “Intense.” Samantha finished her sentence. “That’s what I thought, too.”

  Abby nudged Samantha. “You’re pretty good at this stuff, huh?”

  “They don’t call me Miss Match for nothing.” Samantha looked in the direction of Edie at the bar. “I’m glad you came, Abby. And I’m proud of your mother for taking a chance.”

  “Me, too.” She meant it on both counts, but didn’t feel like elaborating. “Tell me about this guy you want to hook my mother up with.”

  “Ah, yes. He’s charming, handsome, debonair, brave, a real life hero…” Samantha’s voice tra
iled off as she got Andrew’s attention and waved him over.

  “He sounds like a dream come true.” Abby smiled as Andrew approached. She didn’t know him as well as Samantha, but she could see why they were successful—they were great together.

  “You beckoned, darling?” Andrew slid his arm around Samantha’s waist and appraised Abby. “You look great, Abs. Really. That dress is a knockout.”

  That was two compliments tonight. She mentally high-fived herself for going back to the closet and changing again before she left home. This dress was going to get a front-of-the-closet rotation, stat.

  Samantha air-kissed Andrew on the cheek and took an auction booklet from his hand. “I love you—truly—but I just wanted a catalog.”

  Andrew scoffed and dusted off the shoulder of his tux. “Fine. I’ll just go hang out with your old lady. Talk about spectacular—Lucinda looks like a tall glass of water in that blue dress. She’s giving me the gay vapors.” He fanned himself for effect.

  “Ooh, tell her to save me a seat up front. Do you have everything you need to emcee?”

  “I’ve had three martinis and a handful of pretzels—I’m sufficiently lubed up.” Andrew winked at Abby as Samantha shoved him playfully. “I gotta go review my intros and double-check with the sound crew so we don’t have any weird mic issues or missed cues. I’ll see you ladies later.”

  Abby waved good-bye but was anxiously awaiting the auction catalog Samantha continued to hold in her hand, just out of Abby’s reach. She looked at it longingly.

  “Eager much?” Samantha teased.

  “I’m dying to know all about this Prince Charming you’ve mapped out for my mother.” Abby nodded excitedly and reached for the booklet.

  “Manners, Abby.” Edie walked up and fanned herself with her own catalog. “Samantha, you have outdone yourself. Some of these men are positively edible looking.”

  “If someone doesn’t give me a catalog, I’m going to lose my mind.” It was true. Abby was excited to see Samantha’s prospect for her mother, but more, she wanted to see who Dianna was interested in, lucky bachelorette number twenty-seven.

  Samantha handed over her copy with a laugh and Abby started thumbing through it. Each page was dedicated to one eligible man or woman. There was an action shot of them doing their day job or a recreational activity they enjoyed. Each photo was accompanied by a self-written blurb that talked about the person’s interests and so on. At the bottom of each page were the general stats: age, height, favorite food, ideal date, something quirky about themselves.

  As Edie and Samantha chatted by her side, Abby scanned the faces and first names provided. A quick skim of the cheat sheet at the front revealed thirty auction participants, eighteen men and twelve women. Their careers included nurse, dog walker, lawyer, doctor, artist, mathematician, sommelier, EMT, and police officer. It was quite the list. They varied in ages and, in an interesting twist that she appreciated greatly, sexual orientation and preferred dating partner were listed as well. So far, she was pleased to see at least three women identified as bisexual, queer, or lesbian on the docket for the evening. Now, on to mystery girl twenty-seven…

  Samantha’s hand covered the page before she could read it. “Okay. So, about the person I think will be a good match for your mother.”

  Abby used all of her patience and forced charm school training not to slap Samantha’s hand off the page. “Yes?”

  “His name is Luke. He’s a divorced fire chief in Boston. A real man’s man—likes rugged outdoorsy things but has great taste in wine and loves to cook. He takes cooking classes twice a month and is working on a recipe book of his favorite meals. He’s handsome and sweet and everything”—she turned to Edie—“you asked for.”

  “A man in uniform? I like it.” Edie was always game for an adventure. Tonight was clearly no different. If she had any hesitation, she wasn’t showing it. “A firefighter. Wow. That’s such a brave career choice. And a chief, no less. I’m intrigued.”

  Samantha gave her a broad smile. “You told me you wanted someone to travel with, someone to take the time out of their days to appreciate the little things. You wanted a gentleman with a strong jawline who believes in chivalry and isn’t afraid to watch chick flicks. Luke is that man. He’s equal parts adorable and delicious. You’ll see.”

  Edie nodded along to Samantha’s words and Abby felt a little left out. Had her mother really asked for those qualities in a partner? It surprised her to think that her mother might be committed to this. Of course, she was proud of her for coming tonight, but half of her thought she was going through the motions because Samantha had suggested it. Abby was starting to realize that maybe her mother was more on board than she had thought. It made her feel a little guilty. Why hadn’t her mother told her these things?

  Before she had a chance to give it more thought, the lights flashed and people started to take their seats. Samantha excused herself, and Edie pulled Abby toward a reserved table right next to the stage—the show was about to begin. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone approaching. It was Sasha.

  “Sasha. Hi. What are you doing here?” Abby found herself standing awkwardly by the table as her mother took her seat.

  “Abby. Hey. I’m so glad you’re here.” Sasha was wearing that deep red lipstick again; her eyes were drawn to it. The lights flashed around her a second time in warning.

  “Sure. I mean, no. Wait. What are you doing here? Are you working the event?” As soon as she said that she regretted it—Sasha was not wearing a catering uniform. Quite the contrary, actually. She was wearing a firefighting jacket that was open, exposing a black push-up bra with suspenders holding up the uniform trousers that hung loosely over her boots. How had she neglected to notice Sasha didn’t have a shirt on? And why was she dressed like a firefighter?

  Sasha must have caught her staring because she dipped her head to make eye contact before replying. “I’m on the auction block.”

  An announcement went out for all participants to head backstage and Sasha turned to leave. She paused and looked back at Abby. “Don’t leave tonight before I have a chance to get your number—I think we have some unfinished business to attend to.”

  Before Abby could think of a charming or flirty response, Sasha had disappeared. Her mother cleared her throat next to her. “That’s the pretty girl from the wedding, isn’t it?” Her mother craned in her seat to try to see Sasha’s already disappeared form. “I feel like she had more clothes on the last time we saw her.”

  “Uh-huh,” she replied dumbly, letting herself revisit the defined lines of Sasha’s exposed abdomen—that was a pleasant surprise. All of it. The near-naked Sasha part especially.

  “Close your mouth, dear. People are staring.” Edie pulled her by her hand into the seat next to hers and offered her a glass of whatever the waiter had just dropped off. “You’d better drink this. I have a feeling you’ll need the hydration.”

  Abby sipped the contents of the glass and tried to ignore the giggle her mother used to punctuate her statement. Sasha was on the auction block tonight. Sasha wanted to get her number before the night was over. She felt they had unfinished business to attend to.

  Abby swallowed hard. Her mother was right: she was going to need all the hydration she could get.

  *****

  The evening was a blast. Abby couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother belly laugh in public. Andrew was the perfect emcee, delivering cheeky monologues and playful introductions, driving up the bidding for the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes by sweetening the deals—adding free concert tickets, limo rides, museum passes, and the like to breathe life into the already exciting prospect of getting a date with a dreamboat. It was a masterful performance and the waiters kept the booze pouring, the appetizers rotating, and, more importantly, the money flowing. Samantha’s fundraiser was on fire and it was just getting started.

  Abby fanned herself with the auction catalog as she tried to catch her breath—her mot
her had gotten into a rather heated bidding war over that Luke fellow with the woman who always attended the private museum showings and ate all the cocktail shrimp. Like, all of it. It was a miracle she wasn’t flamingo pink.

  Her mother and the shrimp woman volleyed bid after bid back and forth—it made Abby dizzy. Things got a little wild when Samantha came onstage and took the mic from Andrew, spicing up the date with Luke by offering a sunset hot air balloon ride with bottomless top shelf champagne. Her mother was on her feet before the word champagne even passed Samantha’s lips. Her taste was too rich for the Crawfish Queen and the audience cheered when Luke jogged off the stage in his formal dress uniform and scooped Edie up, easily transporting her to the rear bar through a sea of applause.

  It was romance novel perfection and Abby loved every second of it. This was exactly the type of distraction she needed before the inevitable happened: the mystery woman, bachelorette number twenty-seven, would take the stage any minute now, except she wasn’t a mystery anymore. According to the catalog, twenty-seven was no other than looks-amazing-in-her-unisex-waiter-outfit Sasha. And the word on the street was the firefighting getup wasn’t just a costume for the auction block—it was her full-time job. Talk about hot.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Samantha took the seat next to Abby as Andrew introduced the next bachelorette—a pretty blond lawyer from Harvard.

  “I am.” Abby accepted the cocktail the waiter for her section dropped off, and she turned toward Samantha and motioned to her drink. “Would you like one? I’m buying.”

  Samantha shook her head. “I’m all set. No drinking on the job. Besides, you should save your money for more important things.”

  “Like what?” Abby had no intention of bidding on anyone tonight. She had already seen Sasha and was planning on exchanging numbers with her later—there didn’t seem a point to also buying a date with her if she was basically guaranteed one.