by McGee,J. B.
“Lovely speech, Georgette. Ladies and gentlemen. The young women participating have all been members of Magnolia Grove for years, some their entire lives. They have a special seniority and tenure. They are your future chairs of this event, so let’s first start by giving them a round of applause.”
Clapping, I am on my feet in an instant, grinning from ear to ear. Several of the girls glance away, blushing. Like the others, Cammie does too. But she can’t hide her eye rolling from me. Or that same classic, fake smile she always has in Oliver’s presence. It’s the same empty one I’ve grown up seeing on so many women of this damn country club. The one I grew up seeing on my own mother’s face until she was finally free from the toxicity that is my sperm donor of a father.
Cammie isn’t the only girl set to marry participating in the auction. Amie Haskins received a proposal several months earlier. Her wedding’s still a year away. When my eyes get to Charity, she’s looking at me, smiling.
Fuck, what if I accidentally bid on her package? I shake my head. It’s not like she needs any false hope that there’s even the slightest chance we’d ever be more than just friends.
Cammie’s eyes haven’t returned to this table since she left it. Instead, they’re fixed on her parents, specifically her mother, Diane. Her doing her best to avoid me isn’t anything new. But her doing her best to avoid Oliver is. I choke back a chuckle. They’ve done a great job protecting her from what they perceived as harm. Even though Diane and my mother are friends, I’m sure Cammie was told to avoid me like the plague for fear I’m like my father. I don’t think the shit he did is genetic and something I can inherit. I don’t want to be anything like the fucker.
In their defense, I did go through that whole rebellious phase. But it’s comical that they think you can keep danger at bay. I guess they figured it’s okay to know some people from a distance. The irony isn’t lost on me that, instead, they’ve sucked at protecting her from the likes of Oliver in the process.
“There’ll be three rounds of three auctions, for a total of nine young women’s dream dates,” Harry says.
Ah. The rules. The moment I’ve been waiting for. Everyone claps except for me. I think it’s fucked up how often people clap at shit like this. Clapping is just delaying everything, and it’s like horses are galloping in my stomach. And, damn, I’m hungry, but I don’t want to eat fucking pansies. Harry is always so patient, but I’m pretty sure he’s internally rolling his eyes. He’s been the emcee for the club events for at least fifteen years. Hell, not just the club. He does every event I’ve attended since he moved here, especially the school ones since his son was in our class.
When the claps die down, he continues. “Each lady submitted their package anonymously via a secure form that assigned a unique identification number specifically for them. The planners only have their entries, no names, so this should be interesting.”
Got to give it to my mother. She knows how to plan an auction, but why did she have to screw me over like this? Even if unintentionally.
The crowd lets out a combination of laughs and gasps, but I rub my hands together, my eyes fixed on Cammie. Looking at her takes everything in me to stay focused on the task at hand, to not visualize through her clothing that soaking wet pussy. I shake my head. Pay. Attention. Now is not the time to have my head and my dick in the gutter. No, especially since this next part is important: the instructions. I’ve always been fiercely competitive and losing isn’t an option.
“Each lady has a printed receipt from the form that they will use to claim their date at the end of the auction. Gentlemen, you will bid on the date you’d like to honor. When the bidding closes, please head to the back table, pay, and submit your information. At the end of each round, you will be matched with your date for a dance. Got it?”
I nod, and so do all the other guys my age, except for the fucker, Oliver.
“So, everyone lift your glasses, throw your drinks back, and get ready to raise some money. Let’s kick breast cancer’s ass.”
My eyes never leave Cammie, and I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.
The boring rules, introductions, and speech from Harry and Ms. Masters all run together and seem muffled over the sound of my heart swooshing in my ears. In moments of despair, anguish, or nervousness like I’m currently experiencing, my mother’s green eyes have always soothed my soul. Maybe it’s because they were, and always have been, safe. Maybe it’s because when I had a stomach virus, she’d give me Seven Up, and her eyes are the same color as the bottle she’d bring me. That’s probably not it. But right now, I could use some of that with vodka mixed in to settle my churning stomach. Anyway, of course not long after finding her eyes, I’d see her smile. And that’s always been like a light switch for my heart.
The few times I’ve really looked at Oliver this evening, I mean really stared into his russet brown orbs for more than a second, I’ve found myself drawing in slow, steady breaths and plastering the fakest smile I can muster. Beads of sweat continue to form. It’s February, so it’s not like it’s warm. Maybe it’s the lights. But it’s probably Holden. Not Holden. What I did with Holden. Because looking at Oliver means looking at Holden. Heat envelops my face. My heart beats so hard. Hopefully, it’s not being magnified by the microphone for everyone to hear.
Yes. It’s Holden causing the sweat, the heat, the erratic pulse. If I really think about it, it’s always Holden.
My mother smiles back at me. Like someone pouring water on a blazing fire, the flames are extinguished and the heat immediately starts to cool. My ragged breathing I’d managed to ignore calms.
Unlike all the other times, my heart doesn’t light up. But it does remind me of my younger days in pageants and dance recitals. I’d easily locate her. She’d point to the corners of her grin and mouth, “Smile. Show your teeth.”
My lips were already parted and drawn into a fake smile. But for the first time since I have been up here, it feels full, real, and mostly right if I completely focus on her and forget about Oliver and Holden. Speaking of Oliver. Regardless of the face I’ve been putting on for her and the crowd, I’ve been silently pleading that he won’t screw up and pick the wrong package. But since Holden made it clear at dinner he has every intention of outbidding him anyway, I’m not sure that mantra is even enough.
A sharp nudge brings me out of my trance. “Go,” Charity whisper shouts in my ear.
Glancing about, the other two groups of three women have taken their seats, clearly already having had their auction. Guess I was reminiscing longer than I thought.
I take a step in the direction of the soundproof, portable room located over in the corner of the stage. “Sorry.” I shrug as I begin to walk to take our places. Growing up, I watched pageants on television and wished for the opportunity to be in the top three finalists, stepping into one of these chambers with another girl while we wait for the other contestant to answer the secret question. Of course, they don’t really do that much anymore. But regardless, this isn’t at all how I’d planned to get into one of these. The space is minimal. Charity, Amie, and I are all looking at each other. Awkward silence sucks. “Whose idea was this again? To stuff us all in one of these tight, soundproof rooms?”
Amie shrugs. “Apparently they were concerned that if we heard our package being read, we’d make a facial expression that might give away it was ours. Like a signal or something.”
Shifting her weight from one leg to another while rolling her eyes, Charity sighs. “Which is stupid because I’m sure you two have already told your significant others what your package is anyway. I wouldn’t want to have to go on a date with someone else if I were engaged.”
No, I don’t. Do I? I mean, would I complain if I was forced to go on my dream date with Holden Masters? It doesn’t matter. “I didn’t tell Oliver.” Sure as hell wasn’t from a lack of trying.
Amie shakes her head. “Nope, me neither. I didn’t tell Brendon.”
Charity kind of laughs.
“This should be very interesting then.”
Ha. Ha. Ha. I’m not laughing, and neither is Amie. We both smile at each other. But I know the version she’s giving me. It’s the same one I’m giving her. It’s the cordial, nervous fake one.
I watch the commotion outside of the proverbial bubble I’m currently trapped inside. Still making it a point to look in every direction other than that of my fiancé and my antagonist. Somehow, the soundproof box makes it seem and feel like I’m invisible. The only clues I’m getting as to what’s happening are the paddles rising and falling from the guys in the audience.
Then, something shifts. Mouths fall. I suspect if there is a sound out there it’s of gasps because something has happened. Something interesting based on people’s heads moving to stare at their guest. Some cover their mouths like they’re telling a secret.
Something unexpected has transpired, but I have no idea what.
As hard as I’ve tried to avoid eye contact with either of Oliver or Holden, when Oliver raises his paddle, I survey the remaining attendees. That’s when I see a stranger lifting his arm. He’s not bad looking, but he’s definitely not someone I’d want to go on a date with. I’m not shallow enough to judge someone by their looks. Maybe I am. But the reality is I don’t know this person, and I have no interest in getting to know another guy.
Holden’s not moving. I don’t know what to make of that. Was he just ruffling my feathers? Did he never want a date with me? Was he just trying to confuse me? He’s always been good at that. If he was, he damn sure succeeded. He’s slouching back in his chair, his arms crossed. He rolls his eyes as he shakes his head. I can see his shoulders rise and fall in a dramatic fashion, like he’s sucking in a deep breath. He’s not even making an effort to bid on the same package as Oliver?
Even though I can’t hear it, the crowd clapping makes me think the bidding’s over. I didn’t notice whose paddle went up last because I was analyzing Holden. But Oliver grins, so that has to be good, right?
The first cue the next one has commenced is Holden whipping his paddle high in the air. He glances back at Oliver. Then, when he faces the stage, his blue eyes are electric and dead set on mine. He scorches me. Zaps travel throughout my entire body. Damn him. My eyes wander away from his hypnotic stare to his sly smile, the same one I’ve seen several times tonight.
My heart hurdles into my stomach.
Something’s very wrong, but I don’t know what. The knowledge that they didn’t bid on the same package should be a comfort. But Holden looks so confident. And I don’t even know if Oliver won a damn package at all.
But Holden just did because he’s the last to have his arm raised before the next round of the unheard applause. He’s showing all his teeth. His eyes close for a moment before he opens them wide, his chin quite high. Beads of sweat drip down my forehead. I try to pat them dry without ruining what little bit of makeup I have left from my romp with Holden earlier.
“Anyone else think it’s a bit toasty in here?”
Amie’s brows furrow. “No, not at all. Cammie, you okay?”
Shaking my head, I swallow. “I think I’m feeling claustrophobic in here.” Although, there’s not enough space in this damn tent to ease this feeling. Maybe not even in Magnolia Grove.
Charity’s brown eyes widen as she steps back, as if there’s extra space to give me. Maybe she’s worried I’m going to puke on her.
Amie grabs my shoulders and turns me so that I’m no longer facing the crowd. “Just look at me.” Even though her eyes are hazel and not green, I pretend they’re my mother’s. “Let’s breathe together. Big inhales, slow exhales.” Doing just as she says, we both drag in a breath, then slowly blow it out. “Good. You’ve got this.”
I nod, filling my lungs again and releasing it.
“Can’t be much longer before we’re out of here.”
I’m unsure of how much time passes when the door opens. My body shivers as I gasp for the fresh, cool air. Have I seriously waited my entire life for that experience?
Harry greets us as we step through the threshold. “Ladies, we’re so proud to announce that we’ve raised fifteen thousand dollars from the purchase of your dates.”
While the amount of money earned makes me nearly squeal, I can’t ignore the lightness overcoming me, the way the room is slightly spinning. Biting my lip, I try to keep the impending nausea at bay.
Harry’s voice is deep and smooth. “You were told to memorize your last four numbers of your receipt prior to the auction. I assume you did that, right?”
Glancing at Charity on my left, then at Amie on my right, I mutter, “Uh huh.”
“Yep,” Amie says, as her hand makes contact with my back, gently rubbing her hand in circles. The hairs all over my body spike, the beating of my heart slows, and my breathing becomes more even with each rotation. Amie is the type of friend that everyone wants to have. She rarely talks about herself, instead always listening to me. When I went through breakups in high school, she was the one who showed up with popcorn, Diet Dr. Pepper, bridal magazines, and chick flicks. We’d talk ourselves to sleep about our weddings, our ideal prince charming, and I’d fall asleep knowing that I’d been blessed to have the rare experience of having a friend like her.
We don’t usually keep secrets.
It’s not like I’ve had time to tell her I cheated on my fiancé, that I haven’t been able to think about anything else, about how much I liked it. I’m going to have to pull her aside as soon as I have the chance to do that later. Maybe she can help me make sense of all this.
I glance at Harry, and he turns his head slightly. We’ve known each other for a long time. His grandson, Brody, was one of my best guy friends. Many nights were spent hanging out at their house. Brody’s mother has never been able to love anyone or anything more than drugs. She’s bipolar. She can be so fun, yet so scary. Mother told me Harry took over custody after his birth as soon as the hospital got all the drugs out of his system. They said it’s a miracle he didn’t have more lasting damage. But Brody is just an average guy.
Harry’s eyes bore a hole in me. Did I miss my number? I shrug, then swallow and give him a nod. I’m not sure what I’m nodding for. I guess at the last question I remember him asking me. Surely if I’d missed something, Amie or Charity would be nudging me.
He smiles. “Good, we’re going to announce the number for the packages now.” I kind of wish now I’d missed all this. Missed him announcing my package. “You’ll step forward when yours is called. Likewise, we ask the man with the winning bid to also come forward. Once we have everyone paired for the evening, each of the winning couples will christen that shiny wooden dance floor for this evening’s inaugural dance.”
My head continues to bob to its own volition. My body jumps, and my heart pounds in sync with a snare drum roll that’s vibrating the stage. “Without further ado, our first date of this round is titled ‘Sports Adventure’. It includes an evening of tennis, a game of hoops, finished with a round of pool, and dinner at the That Pizza Joint.”
My eyes are fixed on Oliver’s. If they’re announcing the winners in the same order the guys bid on them then I’m in trouble. If only there were some kind of superpower that could enable me the ability to extract an answer, hell, some kind of emotion from Oliver. I put my hands together in front of me, holding them as if letting go would trigger the collapse of my entire world.
Please don’t let this be the one you bid on, Oliver.
Please don’t let this be the one you bid on.
Because that is not my idea of a dream date. I do not find exercising romantic.
“And the package belongs to…”
Oliver’s lips are straight. His eyes are empty. He’s driving me fucking crazy.
“Would the lady step forward whose number ends in sixteen seventy-nine.”
The years of coaching on how to await the final results at pageants instinctively rush into my mind. I barely bend my knees, slowly drag in a breath, and watc
h Amie step forward. Of course it’s Amie’s. I let out a small laugh.
The applause is so loud it’s like it’s been magnified by the microphone. My palms are so wet, and the timing of my breaths come closer and closer together. Everything’s been building up to this. In a pageant, Charity and I would hold hands and wait to see which one of our dreams were about to be shattered.
Tonight, there’s no hand holding. Technically, there’s nothing to win and everything to lose. At least for me. It’s no secret that Charity’s in love with Holden. She always has been. But after what happened in the cabana, I’m positive that’s not reciprocated by him.
My heart falls. Maybe he’s exactly what I think he is. He bid on a package. One that’s different than Oliver’s. What if he wanted to get Charity’s all along. Was this some kind of a joke between them? Yeah, I bet he’s exactly what I thought he was.
A cocky asshole player bastard.
I smirk. Only I could manage to come up with a nickname for Holden that had cock and ass back to back.
But my stomach starts to roll again, waiting to see who won Amie’s package. I suck in air to fill my lungs, then release a sigh. Brendon Bennett, Amie’s fiancé, steps forward. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he offers his hand to Amie before she exits the stage. The crowd claps and chants, “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.” Brendon leans down, dipping her, and their lips lock. My hands come together slowly and methodically just like my pageant coach taught me, a tinge of envy pitting itself deep within me. Every girl dreams their entire life of a man looking at her the way Brendon does at Amie. I’m happy for her. Just a little envious. Because I’m realizing in this exact moment that Oliver has never held that much regard for me.