Bidding War

by Julia P. Lynde

  "Hello, Bernard," she said. "Who is this?" She looked at me critically.

  "This is Pamela," he said.

  "Ah. Sam's straight friend," she said. She looked at me. "Are you okay?"

  "No. I just lost three friends. Now I need to put my game face on. Do what you need to do. Bernard, I promise I won't flee if you go find me a glass of red wine."

  "Promise?"

  I sighed. "Promise." I sighed again. "I'm going to need more than one, but don't let me get drunk."

  "I'll take care of you honey," he said. "Thank you." He paused. "Think about forgiving them."

  "Please, Bernard, I think my staying is all anyone can expect right now."

  The makeup woman watched all this in puzzlement. Bernard said to her, "Sam didn't tell her who would be bidding on her." Then he left my side. "I'll only be a few minutes."

  "Ohhh," she said. "That was kind of shitty."

  "Yeah," I said. Tears started escaping my eyes.

  "Oh, Pamela, it's not that bad."

  "Sam was my best friend," I said quietly. "This event was more important to her than our friendship. What does that say about the quality of our friendship?"

  Game FaceI never caught the name of the woman who did my makeup. She didn't say anything, but helped me dry my tears and gave me a careful hug. Sam wandered by about then, but I glared at her, tears still glistening in my eyes. "Get away from me."

  "I need to know if you're going to follow through," she said quietly.

  "I promised. Now get away from me."

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't think you would mind a date this much."

  "Damn it, Sam, it's not the date. It's the betrayal. You put this event in front of our friendship. Now get the fuck away from me so I can calm down and do what I need to do."

  "I'm sorry," she said again. "I hope you can forgive me." She retreated and I turned to the makeup person.

  I took several deep breaths, dried the rest of my tears, and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I was calmer.

  "I prefer understated in my make up," I said. "Can you fix whatever I've ruined without changing it?"

  "Yes, honey," she said. "It will look exactly like it did, although your eyes are a little puffy."

  I sighed. "I know. I can feel them, but there's nothing to be done about it now."

  I let her fuss at me. Bernard appeared with a glass of wine. He handed it to me. "Sam-" he stared.

  "-Is not a topic for conversation," I said. "I will allow you to steer me around. I will be as charming as I know how. I will give whoever buys me as pleasant a date as I am able. And after that, I'll decide about Sam."

  "Right," he said. He looked at me. "You look fabulous."

  "I look a fright," I said. "My eyes are puffy and anyone who gets a close look will be able to tell I was crying."

  "It's not that bad," he said.

  "There has been enough lying, Bernard." I told him.

  "Honey," he said. "You still look fabulous, even with slightly puffy eyes. And the crying can be due to nerves."

  I turned back to the make up woman. She fussed for another minute, then declared me fit to go.

  I stood up and let Bernard collect my arm. When he led me from the room, I stared straight ahead, not looking at anyone. Or looking to see if Sam was crying.

  As soon as we were back in the main room, I smiled. A woman came up to us, and I thought perhaps she was one of the women we'd brushed off earlier. "Tragedy averted," I told her. "Just a case of nerves. Hello, I am Pamela." We talked briefly and I assured her that if she won the auction, I would give her a good date.

  I spent the rest of the time until seven thirty meeting people I didn't remember, smiling, and being charming. Bernard retrieved another glass of wine for me, and I told him that was enough for now, but that I'd want one more with dinner.

  "That will be your date's responsibility," he said. "I'm to get you to the slave pens up on stage, then my responsibility is over."

  I turned to him, smiling wanly at the joke. "No one is going to want me. I don't know what I'm worried about."

  He just smiled at me.

  Finally seven thirty arrived, and it was time for the auction. I hadn't remotely met everyone, but I'd met a lot of them.

  Suzanne climbed onto the stage holding a microphone. She thanked everyone for coming and talked for a while about the Wishes For Kids Foundation. She explained how every year the LGBT community picked a worthwhile charity and held this event, and she found it heartening that the community was so supportive. She thanked the people who had donated prizes in the silent auction, the convention staff, and by name, the people who had helped organize the event.

  "Now, for the event you're all awaiting, I'd like to invite someone very special to me to come forth and help to auction off the bachelors and bachelorettes. Sam Lindholm."

  There was applause from everyone in the room except me. Sam climbed the stage, and from fifty feet away, I could tell she'd been crying. I looked at Bernard. "Fuck," I told him, just loudly enough for him to hear. It was going to be hard to stay angry at her if she actually looked contrite.

  He shrugged.

  Sam and Suzanne kissed on stage, and the crowd grew a little raucous. Then Sam took the microphone from Suzanne and turned to the crowd.

  "I've never done this before," she said.

  "That's not what Suzanne was saying about you," said a loud voice from in back. The room roared with laughter.

  Sam waited for them to quiet down before she continued. "Tonight we have six bachelors and six bachelorettes to auction off." She took a minute to explain the rules, including the rules of the dates. Somehow she managed to say, "Don't expect sex" without actually saying it. People laughed as she danced around it.

  "In advance, I want to thank everyone who bids tonight. And I want to thank all of you who win your bids. But most of all, I want to thank our wonderful, amazing bachelors and bachelorettes for being willing to bravely stand up in front of all of you hedonists. Please be kind to them and bid generously."

  There was more laughter, then Sam said, "Bachelors and bachelorettes, wherever you're hiding, please come up on stage."

  She gestured towards the stairs on the left. I turned to Bernard.

  "You can do this," he said. "Try to have fun."

  "Yeah, right," I said. "How do I get home tonight?"

  "I will find you, and we return the way we arrived."

  I hugged him briefly then headed towards the stage, my head held high. I was the last to climb the steps. The men were arrayed on the left as one faced the stage, the women to the right. I stepped all the way across the front of the stage, and the room grew quiet for a moment before whispering began. I stepped to the last spot on the far right of the stage and turned to face the audience.

  "One by one," Sam said, "We'll introduce each of these people. I'll ask them to come up and answer one or two brief questions. Once everyone is introduced, we'll start the bidding." Sam turned to the ladies. Bonnie was first in line. "Our first bachelorette is Bonnie Callahan." She held out her hand, and Bonnie stepped up to her.

  I stared at the two of them for a moment, then turned away. I smiled at the audience for a moment while Sam offered a few highlights from Bonnie's bio. Then she asked Bonnie, "Bonnie, can you briefly describe the best date you've had in the last year?"

  I didn't pay any attention to the answer. Instead I took a look at the other women standing next to me. Of the four remaining, I was the youngest, with the oldest to be about forty-five. Two seemed kind of butch and were wearing tuxedos similar to Bonnie's. The other two were more feminine and were dressed accordingly. I preened when I realized none was wearing a gown as elegant as mine.

  I wondered if it was over the top, and what message it might send. Then I realized I didn't care. I just wanted the night over.

  I wondered where I'd get a new best friend.

  Bonnie crossed the stage, stepping past the rest of the women to stand next to me. She tried to
reach out and take my hand, but I glared at her. She backed off.

  Sam invited the first man up. He strutted across the stage to a lot of jeering from the crowd. I didn't pay much attention to what Sam said about him. After that, she invited the next man, then the next woman.

  The crowd grew increasingly raucous, and I began to panic. I took deep breaths and started saying, "You can do this. You can do this." Bonnie heard me.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't think about this part."

  I looked at her, panic clearly showing on my face.

  "Nothing bad is going to happen to you," she said. "Everyone is here to have fun."

  "Everyone but me," I told her.

  "Deep breaths," she said. "And just think about the months of groveling you'll get from the three of us. Concentrate on Sam and ignore everyone else."

  "I'm going to kill all three of you," I told her firmly. "And when I do it, it will be a knife in the front, not one in the back like the one I'm wearing." Then I turned my back on her, but I was angry again, and anger was easier to manage than fear.

  Due to the pattern of the introductions, I was the last one introduced. Sam looked straight at me. "Our last bachelorette is a little skittish," she said. "She may be the only straight person in the room. I know everyone here knows what it is like to be alone in a crowd, and I know everyone will be kind to her as she walks across the stage."

  The crowd grew quiet. The raucous behavior evaporated immediately. Then Sam turned to me. "Pamela Henderson is my best friend." She held out her hand, and I began walking to her. "I tricked her to come tonight, but she is here because she wishes to support our chosen charity." Sam said several very nice things about me as I stood next to her. Finally she said, "Pamela, you're my best friend. I am so sorry I tricked you to come. Will you be able to forgive me?"

  I stared at her. That was the question she wanted to ask me? But I looked into her eyes, and she had tears in them, and her lip was quivering. My heart broke, and the last of my anger dissipated. I took the microphone from her, took a breath of air, and said, "Samantha, you are my best friend. You've been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I've nursed you through several broken relationships until you found Suzanne, and you have rightfully dissed every man I have ever gone out with."

  That drew some laughter.

  "I could never stay mad at you." Then I pulled her into a crushing hug, my back to the audience.

  Sam hugged me back; I ignored the applause.

  Finally I stepped away from her, handing her the microphone, and said too quietly for anyone else to hear, "But you owe me, and I'm still very hurt."

  She nodded, smiling, one tear sliding down her cheek. I looked around, caught Suzanne's eye, and nodded once. On my way back to my place in line, I didn't returned Bonnie's smile. Forgiveness was only going to go so far, and being nice about what they had done wasn't included.

  After that, Sam began the bidding. Bonnie was first. She called Bonnie's name, and Bonnie stepped to the front of the stage. "Let the bidding start at one hundred dollars," Sam said.

  There was a flurry of bidding mania, and Bonnie's price hit seven hundred dollars in a few seconds. It slowed down after that and appeared to have stalled at twelve hundred and twenty dollars when a new bidder spoke up. Eventually Sam called out, "Sold to number three-twenty-one for fifteen hundred and eighty dollars."

  I was surprised by the amount. Not because it was Bonnie, but it was just one date. Granted, it was for charity, but it was just a date. I wondered if the woman who had won the bid had been eyeing Bonnie for some time and finally found a way to get her to go out with her.

  Amongst the applause, Bonnie descended the stairs and walked to the woman who had won the bid. They hugged, then the woman took Bonnie's arm, and the two of them stood together to watch the first gentleman be auctioned off.

  It took a long time to get to me.

  Bonnie wasn't the highest winner. Two of the men went for more, with bachelor number three selling for twenty-two-hundred dollars even, and one of the butch women went for eighteen hundred. No one sold for under eight hundred.

  Then the last man was auctioned off and descended to his new date. Sam turned to me, not saying anything, and I stepped up to stand next to her.

  "I'm scared," I told her quietly.

  "I'm sorry," she replied.

  "Let's get this over with."

  She nodded and turned to the audience, raising the microphone. "Finally, we have my best friend in the whole world. Ladies, she's a lesbian virgin, and whoever wins her will need to treat her gently and kindly. Or answer to me."

  There was laughter at that.

  "Remember, I know where you all live. We mailed you your tickets."

  There was more laughter.

  "Let the bidding start at one hundred dollars."

  My price climbed immediately to eight hundred dollars as bidding flew around the room, jumping by one hundred dollars each time. Then it stalled.

  A woman stepped forward and raised her voice. "Madam auctioneer," she said to Sam. "Might I ask a question of bachelorette number six?"

  Sam looked over at me. I looked the woman over. She was older than I was, but not old, and she was smartly dressed for the evening. I nodded permission for the question and took the microphone from Sam.

  "You were tricked into coming here?" she asked.

  "Yes. I was here for nearly an hour before I figured it out I was the only straight person in the room. I can be slow."

  There was some laughter at that, but it was subdued.

  "You stayed," the woman said.

  "It's a good charity, and I had promised," I replied.

  "Will you be providing a proper date?"

  I looked at her. "That depends upon what a proper date is. If a proper date involves getting naked, then no, that is not in the cards." There was laughter at that. "If I am treated properly, then I will treat the evening like I would any other first date with someone I am attracted to."

  The woman smiled. "Do you kiss on the first date?"

  I returned her smile. "When I've been treated properly."

  Her smile grew larger. "Two thousand dollars," she said in a clear voice.

  The room was silent, then there was applause. I stared at the woman, stunned at the offer. When the applause died out, a woman on the other side of the room stepped forward. "Twenty-five hundred."

  I looked at her. She looked somewhat butch, but she was attractive and expensively dressed, with short blond hair and an athletic figure.

  "Three thousand," said the woman who had asked the questions. She turned to look at the other woman. "Going to raise me, Gwendolyn?"

  The woman, whose name must be Gwendolyn, said, "How much do you want her, Moira?"

  "I just closed on three houses," Moira said. "I'm feeling flush."

  Gwendolyn, the attractive butch, said, "Thirty-five hundred."

  "This is insane," I said quietly to Sam. "I'm not worth that. Either of them would have more fun with anyone else."

  "They want you," she said. "This is what I meant, Pamela. This is why you were last."

  "Thirty-eight," said Moira.

  "Four thousand," said Gwendolyn. "Surgeons make more than real estate agents, Moira."

  Moira looked at me and licked her lips. Then she looked at Gwendolyn. "One moment, madam auctioneer," she said. "I believe the bidding is high enough you can allow a little informality."

  Sam nodded to her, and Moira crossed to Gwendolyn. The two talked for a minute then came to some sort of agreement. Moira pulled paper from her purse and handed a sheet to Gwendolyn. I watched as each wrote something on the paper and folded it in half.

  "What's going on?" I asked Sam.

  "I have no idea."

  The rest of the room was quiet, watching things unfold. Finally the two women turned back to the stage. "Madam auctioneer," Moira said. "Gwendolyn and I have an unusual offer for bachelorette number six."

  "Oh hell," I said quietly
. "They want a date each."

  "Looks like it," Sam said. "It's your call."

  I thought about it. "What is your offer?" I asked them. I didn't use the microphone, but I projected, and the room was quiet. I was sure everyone heard me.

  "We have each written down our offer. For three dates, not one."

  The room began to buzz, and I took a small step back, then steeled myself and stepped back up to Sam.

  "We wish you to accept both. Whoever's offer is higher gets you for the remainder of the evening, but we each want three dates."

  I stared at her. "Will you show me the offers?" I finally asked. She nodded and took Gwendolyn's paper from her. She advanced to the stage and held them up. I bent down and took them from her.

  I stood up and opened the first one. It was Moira's bid, the real estate agent. Six thousand dollars. I stared at it then looked at Sam. "Why?" I asked quietly.

  "I told you," she said.

  I handed it to her then looked at Gwendolyn's, the surgeon. It was for eight thousand dollars. I handed that one to Sam as well. "Do you trust they'll treat me properly?"

  "Yes," she said. "Neither of them would hurt you."

  "Drug me?"

  "No, nothing like that."

  I looked at the two of them as they stood next to each other, waiting for my response. "Three first dates."

  "Three dates. Each. Proper dates," Moira replied.

  "This is crazy," I told her.

  "It's for charity," she said. "A good charity."

  I looked back at Sam. She was waiting to see what I would do. "Is this allowed?" I asked quietly.

  "It's our event and your dates," she said. "We can make up whatever rules we want. You'll have a nice time. Six kisses for fourteen thousand dollars. Or one kiss for four thousand."

  I smiled at her then turned to the waiting women.

  "You are both sure?" They nodded. I took a breath of air. "Sold."

  I was speaking to them, so Sam said into the microphone, "Moira's bid was six thousand dollars. Gwendolyn's was for eight thousand. Pamela will spend the evening with Gwendolyn and three dates each with Moira and Gwendolyn." She paused. "Fourteen thousand dollars for Wishes for Kids."