Auctioned

by Lulu Pratt

  For a split second, I saw Tate sigh, as if in exasperation.

  “One million.”

  He threw out the number so offhandedly it took me a while to wrap my head around it.

  Tate had just offered one million dollars to take my virginity.

  Oh. Shit.

  The bald man appeared to consider this, and then with a scowl, dropped his paddle.

  “Fine,” the man spat with disgust. “Take her.”

  Tate, who had been avoiding my eyes, finally looked at me head on.

  “I will,” he said.

  CHAPTER 17

  Tate

  OKAY, SO… I have no idea what came over me.

  It felt like no time had elapsed between seeing Kiki behind that glass and agreeing to spend a million dollars on her. Had I blacked out and been taken hostage by some kind of ghost-demon who had a yen for virgins?

  No, that’s not fair. Because despite how quickly the whole thing had unwound, I knew exactly what I’d been thinking. It was:

  I need to save her.

  Mac had been bidding the highest on her, his bald head glistening with sweat. He wasn’t a good guy. The things he might have done to Kiki made me shudder, even now that I knew he wouldn’t get the chance to try any moves.

  The only gentlemanly thing for me to do was bid, thus saving her from that monster.

  Right?

  She just looked so… scared.

  And the money was nothing. A million? Please, that was less than a week’s salary. I was only trying to finally use my wealth for good.

  Okay, fine, maybe I also wanted to sleep with her. So what? She was beautiful, heavenly. My heart was in the right place, and if I reaped some small benefit from that, it seemed only fair.

  A man behind me clapped my back.

  “Damn, son,” he chuckled through a dry throat. “You must really want the pussy, huh?”

  “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s a human.”

  “Okay, okay. Jeez. Maybe you’ll calm down after you fuck the virgin.”

  I stood up abruptly and as I scooted out of the aisle, I called back to the man.

  “Unlike you, I don’t need to pay for women.”

  Another guy, with long white hair and tinted glasses, laughed. “Buddy, you just did.”

  My cheeks burned as I marched to the auctioneer, hands clenching and unclenching at my sides.

  “Let me take you backstage,” he said demurely, and led me to a nearby door.

  I knew Kiki was on the other side, and that she would be less than pleased by my conduct. I swallowed hard and hoped for the best.

  The auctioneer bade me to follow, and in moments, I was standing in a small backstage waiting area with Kiki.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, moving back to the door.

  She was aflame. Not literally, but between all the shades of red, she might as well have been.

  “What the fuck did you just do?” she screamed at me as soon as the auctioneer had left.

  “Saving you, Kiki.”

  “By bidding a million dollars?”

  “Just… come to my car. I can explain somewhere more private.”

  “Oh no no, you’re gonna explain—”

  “Listen,” I exhaled, tired of fighting. “If you want the money, your contract stipulates that you have to go to the next location of my choosing. I’m not gonna touch you without your permission, but I do need you to hear me out.”

  “Who said I wanted your money?”

  I guffawed. “Nobody who doesn’t sorely need the cash goes to these things. Besides, they never auction a girl twice, under the assumption that if she’s been auctioned once, regardless of what she says, she’s already slept with the buyer.”

  Kiki appeared to think this over, then with a little huff and the stamp of her foot, she grabbed a khaki coat from the room’s only seat and flung it on herself.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “Let’s go.”

  We took the elevators down to the ground floor in disconcerting silence, her eyes affixed to the ground the whole ride.

  After disembarking, she stormed through the crowds and out onto the curb, where the hot night air gently blew her hair back. She wore a stern pout. Though I knew it was meant to be intimidating, it reminded me more of an angry pug. The thought made me laugh, which only made her glare with more rage.

  I’d called my limo on the way down, and he pulled up alongside the curb in seconds.

  Without a word, Kiki clambered inside.

  Midway into the limo, her tall black heel caught on the limo’s edge, and she tripped forward. I reached out an arm and steadied her. After she regained her balance, she shook off my hand and entered the limo.

  Annoyed, I followed behind her, sliding onto the leather seat and slamming the door.

  Kiki wasted no time.

  “Okay, we’re in your stupid limo. Now, I repeat: What the fuck were you thinking?!”

  “Kiki—”

  “You can’t buy me like I’m some kind of cattle!”

  My brow furrowed quizzically. “Uh… I just did. Because you… auctioned yourself. That was kinda the whole point.”

  “Regardless!” she screeched.

  Mustering what patience I could, I explained, “Kiki, the guy who was trying to buy you, the bald one, he’s a real piece of shit. Like a proper mobster type. And I didn’t want to think about how he’d treat you when there was nobody watching. Are you satisfied?”

  This made her waiver, but after a moment, she doubled down.

  “No, I’m not. Because it’s not your business how anyone treats me. I’m a grown up, I can handle it myself.”

  “What, and have that on my conscience?” I returned, my voice rising. “No thank you. You wanna sell your virginity? Fine, that’s your business. But you can’t expect me to sit by and watch you get hurt. I can’t do it.”

  “Stop meddling!”

  “Stop pushing me away,” I countered. “Let somebody help you, for once.”

  “You’re treating me like a child.”

  “Children can’t do what you just did.”

  She fell silent, crossing her arms over her chest and staring out the tinted windows.

  “I hate you,” she said under her breath.

  “That’s too bad.”

  Kiki sat up straight. “But I keep my word. So we can still have sex. Doesn’t mean I’ll like it.”

  I was about ready to pull my hair out.

  “Like I said before, I’m not gonna have sex with you until you ask me to. That’s not the kind of man I am.”

  “Oh, you mean the kind who spends a million—”

  “We’re not doing this again!” I shouted, before flopping back onto my seat. “Enough! Here’s the deal — you give me one whole night, just talking. No sex. I’ll tell the guys that we had sex, and I’ll pay you the million, but all I want is to talk.”

  “Are you some kind of fetishist?” she asked with concern.

  “For what, polite conversation? That’s not a thing. I’m trying to get to know you, and this seems like it might be my last chance. We’ll go to my house, spend the evening together and then in the morning, you get your money. Capisce?”

  There was a long silence as Kiki considered my terms, her eyes studying me like I was some tome written in code.

  At last, she replied:

  “All right. Just this one night.”

  “Good,” I said, satisfied at last with our terms.

  I maneuvered down the side of the limo until I reached the window separating us and the driver. Sliding the shield back, I gave the man some instructions and returned to my seat.

  “What’d you tell him?” she asked, suspicious of my every move.

  “Well, you said last time that I shouldn’t try to impress you with butlers and flashy shit. You’d hate my room in Dazzlers, so… I’m taking you to my home. It’s a lot more me.”

  The driver made a right turn, and pulled up to the gate box. I lived inside a
very exclusive, gated suburb of Vegas. My neighbors tended to be asshole restaurateurs and pop starlets in residency, but my house was so heavenly I was able to ignore their antics and they were far enough away that I didn’t really need to worry about their garden parties or yappy dogs.

  The gate open and the limo drove inside, passing by a small park in the process.

  After a few more turns, we came to a stop.

  “We’re here,” I announced.

  Kiki ignored me.

  Well, this was off to a great start.

  I got out of the limo and stood by the door to help her out.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled as she followed suit.

  Apparently, even in the most dismal of moods, she had decent manners.

  Her eyes lifted from the curb and took in my house.

  Much against her will, I think, her mouth dropped open.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, following the clean, modern lines of my house.

  The enormous space was all wood and glass, so airy as to make you think it might take flight. The design was mostly my creation, and I was proud of the work. I’d thought extensively about lighting, flow, and above all else, peace.

  “I’m glad you like it,” I replied, pleased that she was impressed by the place. “Now come inside.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Kiki

  WHAT THE hell was I doing at Tate’s place?

  Now, don’t get me wrong — it really was stunning. The way it just flowed… it took my breath away. His house was such a far cry from Dazzlers, it made me wonder who he would’ve been if that stupid casino had never entered his life.

  No, stop, I told myself. You don’t get to pity him. He’s done some despicable shit.

  Right, of course. For one, he’d been at that virginity sale. He could deny it all he wanted, but nobody goes to things like that without a certain proclivity, if you catch my drift. Even giving him the benefit of the doubt, even if we assume he was there for networking, something like that, it still meant he was endorsing men and events like that.

  Deep down, I knew I was being marginally hypocritical. If I could sell myself, why couldn’t he buy me?

  On the other hand, I was at that sale because I absolutely had to be. My father’s life was literally on the line, and mine as well. If there had been any other more legal option for getting that amount of cash in a short time span, I would’ve taken it. But I was up a tree.

  And it was because of Dazzlers.

  My hatred for Tate and all he stood for intensified once more, even as he took off his blazer and draped it over a sleek gray sofa, revealing his ropey muscles barely contained by a starched shirt. Damnit, couldn’t he just put the jacket back on?! It was inconsiderate of him to try to distract me when I was busy putting a curse on his family.

  “Let’s go the kitchen,” he said breezily.

  We were standing in a foyer that led seamlessly into the living room, with a handful of couches oriented around one coffee table and a dazzling mod chandelier hovering over the cluster. Beyond the sofas was a large glass wall. Behind it was a Vegas-style dry garden, with unusual species of cacti and other succulents dimly lit by tiny ghost lights in the dark. It reminded me of a more upscale version of my dream Washington house — cool and calm. I shook my head, trying to ignore this unexpected overlap in our tastes.

  Tate escorted me through the high-ceilinged room into the kitchen, which was done up in bronze and black fixtures, with an asymmetrical slanting roof that made it feel as though we were in a living art work. The kitchen was immaculate. There were three fridges, all with clear doors, and inside them, the tons of food were so neatly organized it would put a grocery store to shame.

  “What do you drink?” he asked, turning around and staring me down with those devilish blue eyes.

  “Who said we were gonna drink?” I sniffed. “We agreed to talk, not imbibe.”

  He chuckled. “You really are literal, huh?”

  “I’m not doing anything more than I absolutely have to.”

  “Smart business move,” he allowed. “My father would’ve liked you.”

  Huh, wonder what that meant. I shook my head, unsure what to make of it and not interested in pressing Tate, and thus implying that I cared about the answer.

  He shrugged and moved to one of the fridges. “Whatever, I’m having some Champagne.”

  “What are you celebrating?”

  He rotated his head just slightly over his shoulder. “You. Being here. With me.”

  I bit my lip and sat down on a Lucite-backed barstool as he searched for a Champagne flute.

  “Fine,” I said at last. “I like Champagne.”

  Tate didn’t have to turn for me to know he was grinning.

  “Good. Any sensible person oughta like Champagne. It’s the finest of libations.”

  I snorted. “You’re a snob.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s fifteen-dollar Champagne.”

  “Seriously? Why not splurge and get, say, a twenty dollar bottle?”

  He whirled back around, two brimming flutes in hand. With a grin, he said, “Those are in the basement.”

  Tate moved around the kitchen island and passed me the glass, our hands brushing in the process. He hesitated just a beat too long before withdrawing his hand, and even after he pulled away, I felt the ghost of where we’d made contact.

  He tapped his watch a few times, and then music began to play, a song I recognized from James Blake’s new album. I looked around for the speakers before realizing that he must have one of those fancy systems where the speakers are embedded in the walls. Apparently, that’s a very fashionable rich person thing today.

  “Can I ask you something?” he questioned before leaning on the counter and taking a sip of his drink.

  I mulled this over, then replied, “I guess that’s technically talking, which was part of our deal. So… yes. But I may not answer it.”

  “Fair enough.” He took another sip, then looked at me intently. “Why’d you do the sale?”

  Anger rose up in my throat like dry bile. His words slapped me in the face, after everything I’d been through. He wanted to know the truth? Fine, he’d get the fucking truth.

  “You,” I spat.

  The color drained from Tate’s high cheekbones. “What? Because of how I acted at the theater show last week? Kiki, I’m sorry, but I told you, the escort wasn’t my—”

  “No, not that,” I said, waving his silly conjecture away with annoyance. “I know you think highly of yourself, but believe me when I say, one night of your bad behavior couldn’t make me wanna sell my body.”

  “So, what then? How the hell is this on me?”

  I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes and clutching the stem of my glass.

  “It’s Dazzlers. My father went broke after years of playing at your casino. Now he’s in one hundred thousand dollars of debt, all because of you. He worked at Dazzlers, too, and everyone knew he had a problem and no one but me ever tried to get him help. And it’s my job to pay off his debts because we share a home, and I don’t wanna be on the streets. But even more than that, he’s my dad.”

  Tate reeled back, shocked at the antipathy in my voice.

  “Kiki, I didn’t know,” he whispered.

  “Yeah, of course not. And you wouldn’t understand. Rich little boys like you with perfect, polished lives never have real family problems. It’s like, ‘where are we gonna vacation this year,’ and ‘what if I can’t get the pony I want?’”

  My words were meant to burn, and I could see they had the intended effect. His face darkened and his jaw grew stiff.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” he hissed, and the rage behind his words was unprecedented. “Of you thinking that just because I’ve been privileged, I’ve never dealt with real shit, that you’re the only one with daddy issues. You want the gross stuff?”

  “By all means. Blow my mind,” I said as glibly as possible.

  He set his gla
ss down with a clang. “When I was a very little kid, my dad bought Dazzlers. He’d been successful before that, obviously, but it wasn’t the same. After the sale, it was like he went from the college league to the pros. Suddenly, all these girls were surrounding him every minute of the day, just reams of beautiful women. Not that that’s any excuse. He didn’t have any willpower to begin with. I’m only saying, there was an influx of temptation.”

  He paused and looked over my shoulder for a moment. Perhaps he was looking into the past.

  “My dad started sleeping with them. I guess we all — meaning me and my mom — knew it was coming, and then knew when it was happening, but were scared to put a name to the feeling. I don’t know how many women there were, but the numbers I’ve heard are pretty terrifying. When my mom couldn’t take it anymore, the hurt, the embarrassment, the fact that he didn’t care, my parents got a divorce, which was actually kind of a relief at first, up until I realized it was redoubling my dad’s womanizing habits. He was so busy chasing girls that even as my sole custodian, a position he’d willingly gone to court over, I saw him only every couple of weeks.”

  “Why didn’t you go with your mom?” I asked.

  “My mom, meanwhile, picked up drinking and did not get the better end of the divorce deed. What else was she gonna do? After years of living the good life, my father had left her nearly penniless. She moved to Florida, and not long thereafter, died of liver failure.”

  Tears pricked at my eyes, and I wiped them away with the pad of my thumb.

  He continued, “I was raised by mostly nannies. When I was nineteen my dad died of his own drinking-related activities, leaving me the casino and all his other businesses.”

  I sat back in my stool, numb with disbelief.

  “So you see,” he finished, swallowing hard, “I hate this town as much as you do. I hate Dazzlers, I hate casinos, I hate all of it. Gambling tore my family apart too, in a way. I wish there were anything else in the world I could do, but all that’s left of my father is his legacy, and it’s mine to protect.”

  My mind was spinning. Was it possible? Could I have completely and totally misjudged Tate?