by Lee, Nadia
Another assistant brings out a tray of freshly cut fruit, cheese and two flutes of champagne. “Help yourselves,” Jun says to me.
Damn. Just how long are we going to be shopping that she’s serving those? More to the point, how much are we going to be spending?
Josephine’s going over the selections hanging from the rack. “No. No. No. Too light. It’ll make her look washed out. We need something to make her stand out.” Her hands flutter around. “Something that will make a statement.”
A statement? Goosebumps break out over my skin. “Actually, I, uh, prefer to sort of blend in.” I smile weakly, trying to hide how much the idea of public attention is turning my stomach.
Josephine looks at me, then blinks a few times. Jun is frowning. They look at each other.
Josephine finally breaks the silence. “Evie, nobody dresses for Elizabeth’s auction to blend in. You go there to be seen.”
“Seen?” My voice is thin. “Like, by people?”
Jun nods emphatically. “By everyone!”
I’m going to die.
“Now this…” Josephine pulls out a fiery red off-the-shoulder dress. “Look at this. This has your name on it. In neon.”
Oh. My. God. I’m going to pop in the crowd, like an angry zit on an otherwise pristine face. “No. No way. How about that beige?” I point at a more demure one hanging on the rack.
“That?” Jun looks horrified. “You might as well wear industrial carpet. The color’s all wrong for you.”
“I, um, kind of have a problem with getting a lot of attention.” I can handle one on one or a couple of other people. But a crowd? No way. It makes me too self-conscious and clumsy. Just thinking about it makes my stomach roil.
Josephine purses her mouth. “All right. Maybe red is too strong a color. But that beige would be absolutely hideous on you. You need…” She taps her lower lip. “Why don’t we try pink?”
I nod. “It’s my favorite color.” And it’s softer. More…blendy.
She beams. “Great. You can put this one on.” She pulls out a pink version of the red one she’s holding. “Still, with your coloring, red would be more spectacular…”
“Especially with a red peony in your hair,” Jun adds.
“I can put a pink peony in my hair,” I offer in a compromise. I’m amenable to anything as long as I don’t have to wear the red, spectacular or otherwise. I just want to be presentable.
“I suppose that’s an option,” Jun says.
“Underwear or no underwear?” Josephine asks, tapping her lip.
Is that even up for a debate? Of course I have to have underwear, especially in public!
“Better to go without,” Jun says. “No lines.”
No, no, no, no, no. “Don’t you have some kind of thong or something that won’t show?” I refuse to believe they don’t have such underwear in this fancy store.
The look Jun gives me is full of pity. “Don’t believe the advertising hype. Nothing is foolproof except going without.”
“I don’t want my nipples to show through!”
“Oh, that.” Josephine waves it away. “The bust area is lightly padded. And it’s not like people can tell what you’re wearing underneath—or not—by just looking at your dress.”
Jun nods. “Exactly.”
“But I’ll know,” I say, feeling the all-too-familiar anxiety snaking around my stomach and squeezing until I feel like I’m going to throw up last night’s Chinese.
“Are you going to announce the fact? No? So it’ll be okay. Although if you do, Nate probably won’t mind.” Josephine winks.
Jun snaps her fingers, and her people start selecting shoes. “Now, let’s see. Heels. Definitely stilettos. Open toe. Straps. Sexy.” She taps her lips. “Silver or gold?”
Clearly in her element, she seems to be perfectly okay making the decision sans any input from me. I look down and see my old flip-flops. Okay, so maybe she thinks my input would be a waste of time. She’s probably worried I’ll pick a pair of industrial carpet shoes.
“Gold is glitzier, but silver has more class,” Josephine murmurs in my ear.
In that case… “Silver.” Glitzier is probably a code word for showier.
Josephine nods with a smile. “Excellent choice. Now. We need to do your mani pedi. And the hair. And makeup.”
“Facial,” Jun says.
I recall Josephine’s compliment about my skin looking good. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I mean, I do exfoliate.”
Jun looks at me like she would a confused child. “Yes, but that’s not the same as a facial. We can probably do the facial and wax at the same time.”
“I shaved this morning,” I point out quickly in case she’s thinking I forgot to shave my armpits.
Jun raises an eyebrow. “You used a razor down there?” She gestures toward my crotch.
What? My cheeks flame. “I mean, my legs and armpits.”
“Well then. A Brazilian, obviously.”
Every nerve cell between my legs shrivels with horror. “Why?” Is the dress see-through in the crotch area? Maybe I should’ve asked before I said yes. And if it is see-through, I’m putting on a pair of granny panties!
Josephine peers at me. “You’re going to win Nate Sterling, aren’t you?”
“Yeah…” Otherwise I wouldn’t be having this ridiculous conversation with two people who have a great sense of fashion but no common sense. “What does that have to with waxing? And why am I discussing waxing with a stranger whose last name I don’t even know?”
“Watanabe,” Jun says with a friendly smile. “And I know yours—Parker. Do you feel more comfortable now?”
Hardly. I think I’m going to cry laughing. And I need a drink. Oh, that’s right, Jun’s people brought one out for me. I reach for a flute and down it fast.
Josephine takes control. “What do you think is going to happen when you win him?”
What is this? A trick question? “Nothing? He’s going to thank me? I’m going to go to work on Monday, make him his shake and take care of his agenda for the day?” I shrug to hide my discomfort and an intense desire to flee. Now I wish I’d driven my own car here. And kept Nate’s AmEx in my purse instead of handing it over to Josephine.
Josephine and Jun start giggling.
“You’re going to go on a date with him,” Josephine says. “Don’t you want to be prepared? You have to baby your lady bits right after you get waxed, especially if it’s your first time.” Her expression says she knows I’ve never done it before. “So better now than later.” Jun nods sagely.
Finally I realize what they’re assuming, and put a hand over my mouth. “Oh, shit. You think Nate and I are…” I let out an awkward laugh. “I mean, you don’t really think… We aren’t like that. I don’t have any intention of going there. He’s my boss.”
“Plenty of people date their bosses,” Jun says.
“And marry them,” Josephine adds.
“Yeah, well, not this one. And Nate?” It’s my turn to laugh. “You know what he hates the most? Commitment. He doesn’t like having his choices stripped away. It’ll be years, decades maybe, before he even starts to think about getting married. If ever. Trust me on this.”
“But you’re going to bid on him tonight,” Jun says gently.
I’m almost tempted to pat her hand. “And I’m going to win him, but that’s as far as it’s going to go. Trust me.”
Chapter Nine
Evie
My announcement seems to deflate the J girls. Even though they take away waxing from the list of things I “must” do before the auction, the mani pedi, hair, facial and makeup stay.
While a team works on me, Josephine orders up a little food because she doesn’t want me fainting from hunger before the bidding starts. I’m grateful for that, because it takes forever to get ready. Do all the high-society people waste their entire day to look good? If so, I see why they all need assistants, because they’ll never have enough time to get anything d
one. But I shouldn’t be too judgmental. It’s the reason I have a job. A good-paying job. And I know I’m lucky to hold the position when I only have an associate’s degree and a crappy résumé.
Although I still think the facial’s redundant, when the team is finished and I look at myself in the mirror, I totally see the light.
My skin glows. And it’s not from the foundation. No foundation is this good. “Oh wow.”
“Toldja,” Josephine says.
“How much does it cost?” I ask, wondering if I can afford to do it again.
“Don’t worry about it. Nate’s paying.”
I think that’s code for “out of your price range.” Besides, it’s not like I’m going to get another one anytime soon. Maybe on my wedding day.
Josephine helps me squeeze into the pink dress. I’d rather do it alone, but it’s quite fitted around the bodice and hips and sort of tricky to maneuver. The material is thin, though it feels very soft and expensive against my skin. Jun was right to call for commando. I’m not sure if there’s any underwear high-tech enough to really be invisible underneath.
They also take my compromise to put a pink peony in my hair seriously. Their stylist puts my hair up in a loose bun and sticks the flower in. It adds to the ensemble, though. I look like I could blend in quite well at the auction and not appear to be the “hired help,” as Georgette put it.
Josephine sighs wistfully. “Red really would be better.”
“The client isn’t comfortable,” Jun says.
“I love pink,” I say firmly, studying my reflection in the mirror. “And I think I look fine.”
Josephine shakes her head. “No, honey, not yet. You need jewelry.”
Jewelry. It didn’t even occur to me. Guess this is why she’s the expert.
“Diamonds and pearls. Rental or outright purchase?” Josephine asks.
“Rental!” I say before Jun can give an opinion.
She gestures lazily, and four huge glass cases appear, brought by her trusty assistants. Josephine picks out diamond and pearl drop earrings and a matching necklace and bracelet. I put on the earrings, while she hooks the necklace around my neck. A few tiny diamonds and pearl hairpins go into my bun as well.
“Now you look ready,” Josephine announces.
Jun nods.
I have to admit, the jewelry really does complete the look. Josephine and Jun have great taste, despite their eccentricity, and I owe Kim one for hooking me up.
“There’s a limo waiting outside,” Jun says.
“A limo?” I ask blankly. “For what?”
“To take you to the Aylster Hotel.”
What is this? High school prom? “I can drive my car.”
“Unless you own a Bentley or something similar, no, you cannot,” Josephine says. “A limo is an acceptable alternative.”
“Listen to her,” Jun says. “It’s a cost of attending the auction.”
“Okay, has it occurred to anybody that if people just skipped all this limo and high-fashion stuff and just donated the money they spend to get ready to donate, things might be much more efficient?”
“I’m sure it has. But then we would be out of work,” Jun says.
“And women wouldn’t get a chance to dig their talons into the eligible bachelors they’ve been salivating over.” Josephine’s tone is positively mournful.
I shudder at the gruesome imagery, telling myself it’s not that bad. But then crazy Georgette and her mink bikini pop into my head, along with her endless nude pics. Maybe Josephine isn’t exaggerating.
Josephine hands me Nate’s black AmEx, which I put into my small clutch.
“Everything’s taken care of, including my fee,” she says. “No discount; Nate can afford it. Leave the jewelry with Kim when you’re done with it, and I’ll come by and get it. And your things will be delivered to your place later today or early tomorrow, depending on the courier schedule. Is that okay?”
“Yes.” I check to make sure I have my phone and my own plastic in the clutch I’m taking with me.
“And if I’m right and you end up marrying Nate, you owe me a picture. Or better yet, an invitation.” Jun fans herself. “I’ve never been to a billionaire’s wedding.”
“Oh yeah. Sure.” When the sun orbits the moon, maybe. I laugh away her ridiculous fantasy and walk out to the limo.
Because the likelihood of my dating Nate, much less marrying him, is basically nil. Actually, that’s generous. It’s more like a negative number. A very large—or would that be small?—negative number.
All that’s going to happen is me bidding on him tonight, I think as I climb into the limo. I wonder how much I can really spend. Nate and I didn’t discuss that in detail, and now I wish we had so I’d know just how much I can throw out there. And he never responded to my text earlier. Wonder if he’s been busy getting a facial of his own. There’s nothing that says men can’t get them, and he does glow so gorgeously all the time.
The limo seems to be proceeding at a snail’s pace down the road. An arthritic snail. I check the time. Crap. The auction’s started already.
“Can you go a little faster?” I ask the driver.
“Can’t. There’s some kind of accident ahead.”
Ugh. I check the program I got from the auction. The bachelors are being auctioned alphabetically. Which means I still have time, since Nate is the last one of the night. Still, I don’t want him to worry, so I text him.
I’m on my way. Traffic’s bad, but I should be there on time to make things right.
My phone stays quiet. He’s probably busy. I check the pins in my hair, pushing them into the bun more securely. They’re real diamonds and pearls. I can’t afford to lose even one of them.
Finally a response comes through.
I think I saw HER. You’re the only one I can count on.
Oh damn. The weight of responsibility presses upon me. My phone buzzes again. It’s an email.
I can’t wait to win you tonight! I’ve been thinking of this since we last met.
And a picture of Georgette in that abominable mink bikini bottom with her mouth open and tongue hanging out in some kind of weird porno pinup pose. Eww. I don’t know how she can wear that over her crotch. The ghosts of the dead minks are going to haunt her lady holes, making them close up. Or give her vaginal itchiness and a hairy ass, since she likes fur so much.
After what seems like an interminable delay, we finally make it past the fender bender. Traffic picks up speed, and I sit back with a sigh. Do people really have to pause and stare? It’s not like accidents don’t happen every day.
“I have to get to an event that’s already started, so if you could step on it, I’d really appreciate it,” I say to the driver.
“I understand.”
And he really does understand. The limo stops in front of the Aylster Hotel in less than half an hour. A smartly dressed porter opens the door with a flourish.
I hop out, then remember I should tip the chauffeur. I open my clutch and see only two twenties. Screw it. I give him both. “Thank you.”
He smiles. “Enjoy your evening.”
I run inside. I was here once before with Nate when he had to set up some kind of banquet eight months ago. The lobby seems almost to shimmer with all crystal and marble. I dash across the hard floor, wincing at the lack of support and cushion my fashionable but utterly impractical shoes offer. I stop abruptly when I realize I have no clue which ballroom is the right one. I turn to a woman in a hotel uniform and ask.
“This way, ma’am.” She escorts me up to the second floor, where there is a huge and very expensively dressed crowd milling around. “You can show your invitation to the security team there.”
I can hear an MC’s tittering laugh as the women inside holler and hoot. I guess I’m in time. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth’s assistant is helping out with the security team. He looks surprisingly dashing in a tux, although it doesn’t do a thing to soften his hard edges. I trot toward h
im because he’s the only person I know in this sea of people. “Hi!”
He stares.
And I babble, “I’m here to bid on Nate Sterling.”
He smiles, just a slight curving of his lips, although his pale eyes remain assessing. “Do you have a ticket?”
“Yes.” I show him my mobile invitation.
He barely glances at the screen. “Hope you have a decent war chest. The competition is rather…fierce.”
Bad enough that even he noticed, huh? But do the other bidders know that I have Nate’s money to spend? “Fierce or not, I’m here to win,” I say, and walk inside.
On the stage are a brunette in a golden tube dress and Nate, who has apparently just come out and looks great in a white tux. Wait, white? I could have sworn I picked out a black tux for tonight before I left his place on Friday.
Maybe he spilled something on it. Regardless, the white one fits his wide shoulders and trim waist immaculately. And it hints at the shape of his pecs and thighs underneath the pristine fabric. All in all, perfect. He probably had help from Elizabeth.
From the breathless way the MC is speaking into the microphone to get the ladies worked up, it seems like she’s already finished with the intro and ready to move to the actual bidding.
Just in time.
I walk over to get to an empty seat while keeping my eyes on my boss, silently trying to communicate I won’t let you down. Finally I reach an available chair in the back and sit down.
“My God, he’s so hot,” a redhead in front of me says.
“Scorching,” says her blonde friend. “I’ve been dying to see this guy.”
“The last Sterling man standing.” The redhead sounds like she’s about to cry.
“Seriously. That Pryce girl isn’t going to let hers go.” The blonde licks her lips and flexes her fingers as though she’s about to dig into some nice tasty veal.
Poor Nate.
“Ten thousand!”
The sudden cry jerks my attention left, then all the way in front. And…wow. That’s Georgette. She’s in a bright red and black dress, thankfully made with just regular fabric rather than some kind of fur. Her makeup is cartoonishly ludicrous with red blush and blue eye shadow that I can see even from this distance. It’s especially dramatic against her pasty white complexion. Didn’t anybody tell Old Glory isn’t a good look for someone’s face?