Dinner had finished and the auction was well underway when Brian arrived. His mere presence caused a ripple of excitement among the women and hushed exchanges from the men who recognized him as a valuable financial contact to add to their ever extending networks.
‘What am I doing here again?’ he murmured to his chauffeur, who he’d convinced to join him.
‘Bidding high for something.’
‘Or someone,’ concluded Brian, taking in the woman whirling on stage as men bid to take her out.
He watched a few late-thirty, early-forty women parading on the catwalk showing off everything on offer. Brian was amused by the ‘cougars’ trying to catch his eye in an attempt to elicit a bid. He had no problem bedding older women, but these desperate, over-indulged women were a turn off. They were all married and desperate for action with a stranger to relieve them from their tedious, rich, pampered, repetitive days.
That was the downside of marrying money. The loneliness of marrying a boring business man who spent all hours in the office to provide an ample income was a high price to pay for a fun-loving girl with designs on a deluxe standard of living. It was exactly that reason why at twenty-five Brian had never contemplated marriage. Any woman’s incessant whining for money and status would drain the fun from him, even if he came from old money.
Having to reside and be in the company of a selfish, shallow woman frightened him. He lived for excitement. Wives were not referred to as a ‘ball and chain’ for nothing.
‘Seen anyone worth bidding on?’ he asked his chauffeur.
‘They all look fine to me. Take your pick. Whoever you get it’ll be a winner.’
‘No urgency, then. May as well make the most of the free bar as I skipped dinner. Fancy joining me, Marcus?’
His chauffeur shook his head.
‘Nice offer, but you know I can’t. Not only because I’m on duty but I can’t drink and drive.’
Brian surveyed Marcus. He was a kind, stable man. There were situations where he wished Marcus could relax and have a drink. His set of cliquey friends concentrated on posturing and idle talk. Marcus had character, informed opinions and a gentleness to him. Wishing momentarily circumstances were different, women flew to his side as he went to the bar.
Marcus made his way through the hungry women. He waved furiously to get Brian’s attention. Having caught the signal, Brian politely excused himself.
‘Last lot of the auction,’ Marcus stated. ‘If you miss this you won’t have bid for anything. Susie gave me instructions you had to win at least one item on the auction.’
He missed hearing what the item was, but threw a hand in the air to start the bidding at $100. The room remained silent. As the auctioneer asked for further bids, preparing to declare the item sold, another hand shot up increasing the bid to $200. Brian raised his hand easily taking it to $300. Having reached $1000, whilst the item was a mystery, Brian presumed the stiff competition suggested a worthwhile prize.
Gabriel knew his sister was terrified of being the final person up for auction. He was proud that rather than cheapen herself as a date, she’d taken a stand to sell her services as a hospital volunteer to actively involve the bidder with the cause, providing them an understanding of the syndrome the gala was supporting. It had been a bold move.
He’d been crushed when only one person had bid. To save her shame he entered the auction. When he realized it was serial dater and wealthy heir Brian Porterhouse he was competing with, Gabe knew the egotistical billionaire would never allow himself to be outbid. Feeling secure in his judgment of Brian Porterhouse, he upped the stakes to make his sister the toast of the event.
Fortunately Gabriel’s astute assumptions were correct. Brian ended up paying $270,000 to have pizza with Faith and spend a week as a hospital volunteer. It was the biggest lot of the evening and he was given a standing ovation by those able to.
‘Maybe Susie was right about this charity malarkey,’ he said to Marcus.
‘Whatever the reasons, you sure have made a difference here.’
‘Bet the guy I was pitted against is furious. She must be a real stunner to get him digging down that far in his pockets.’
Marcus said nothing. He watched as men introduced themselves, shoving business cards in Brian’s hand as they shook and women hugged him, placing phone numbers written on serviettes in his breast pocket.
‘Let’s blow this joint,’ announced Brian, removing himself from the throng.
‘Sir, I think perhaps you should settle up with a check and meet your date.’
‘Marcus, they know I’ve got the money.’
‘Sir, if you don’t mind me speaking out of turn, it would look better if you at least met the lady you bid on.’
Brian hated being told what to do. His natural instinct was to rebel, but he’d had a relationship with Marcus his entire life. In fairness, Marcus rarely spoke out of turn unless it was to protect Brian.
‘Sure,’ he said affably. ‘Show me the way’.
As he was directed up the stairs onto the stage, his eyes strayed to a young man in a wheelchair with a tall, willowy girl. As she rose and turned, his blue eyes widened. Unlike the other cougars she was significantly younger, barely in her early twenties. If this was his ‘prize’, he readily accepted how the bidding had spiraled out of control. The girl appeared as if she should be on the catwalks of Milan, yet here she was chatting non-stop to a man in a wheelchair.
Consulted by the auctioneer, the woman made her way to face Brian Porterhouse.
A date with her would be fun. For the $270,000 he might even get a few extras thrown in if she was like every other woman he’d encountered thus far.
Her conduct was polite and distant, but she exuded a glowing warmth.
‘Mr. Porterhouse, thank you so much for coming. I know I speak on behalf of everyone when I say we are eternally grateful for your contribution. It’ll make such a difference in assisting those that rely on the hospital services for Muscular Dystrophy. That you chose to come on-board as a real part of the hospital’s cause is unbelievably admirable.’
Brian’s face was blank. He was relieved his olive skin didn’t permit him to blush. He had no idea of the cause of the auction, let alone what the illness she mentioned was. To avoid his ignorance, he pasted on his most charming smile, took her hand and brushed his lips across it.
‘The pleasure is all mine. Anything for a good cause.’
Faith’s heart sank. She’d caught the notorious billionaire off-guard. Clearly raising funds for her brother’s disorder had not been his number one priority in attending the gala. She reminded herself he had contributed a phenomenal sum of money and chosen to spend a week volunteering at the hospital.
‘Where and when am I taking you for dinner then?’ he asked smoothly.
It was Faith’s turn to look confused.
‘You aren’t taking me for dinner Mr. Porterhouse.’
‘Call me Brian. I don’t care what we end up doing, but it’ll be a lot easier on a first name basis.’
‘Okay Brian,’ Faith found her tongue tripping on words. ‘I’m the one taking you out for dinner.’
‘You are?’
She nodded.
‘That’s got to be a first with any woman.’
Faith laughed genuinely.
‘I suppose in your position you don’t get many women taking you out to dinner.’
‘It’s nice to know even at twenty-five I have a few first times left,’ he winked.
Shaking her head at his rehearsed flirtatious style, Faith knew she was going to be dropping two bombshells that may not sit well with the charming, dishy man in front of her.
‘I wouldn’t get overly excited, it won’t be dinner in the restaurants you’re accustomed to.’
‘I’m not afraid of roughing it.’
‘Great, because we’re going to Paulo’s Pizza.’
Faith could tell from his expression the name meant nothing to him, but he had deduced it wasn’t goin
g to be a Michelin star Italian restaurant. Taking her in visually, Brian suspected the date was worth pursuing.
‘What day?’
‘Well, we’re due to volunteer at the hospital from 7pm – 9pm Monday to Friday. I thought we could go Monday. Perhaps have a dinner after, that way we can discuss your thoughts and opinions on the hospital or I can address any questions you have.’
Brian pursed his lips. She was the image of a Grecian goddess in her blue dress with sandals. The porcelain skin and lean figure excited him sexually but trudging round a hospital for a week wasn’t quite as appealing.
‘Why don’t we shake things up? Go traditional. I’ll take you out for dinner, then pass you the check for the big bucks.’
Faith’s temper flared. His money was essential, but the way it looked currently, the pompous Brian Porterhouse was exactly the man portrayed in the papers, which already had Faith dreading next week.
‘Because that’s not what we agreed,’ she said tersely. ‘The contract, the bid you won, was for me to take you for dinner and for you to volunteer at the hospital for five, two-hour shifts on the Muscular Dystrophy ward.’
‘It clashes with my schedule.’
‘You should’ve thought it through before bidding.’
The observers of the exchange went silent as Faith berated Brian. Brian was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. He didn’t like confrontation, which was part of the reason he’d never actually broken up with a girl—he preferred they read of his new dalliances in the papers to relieve him from having to deal with their reactions.
‘I’m not suggesting taking the $270,000 off the table. You’ll get the money. It’s not my kind of scene. I’d be a hindrance and in the way.’
‘Mr. Porterhouse, you don’t even work. How does it conflict with your schedule exactly? Have you lined up a string of dates for next week? Can you not delay your harem for an hour or two before their dinner? I’m sure they think you’re worth the wait. Is your gym not open twenty-four hours? Will helping at the hospital interfere with your personal trainer?
‘The clubs don’t come alive until after midnight. That’s three hours to go home, change and let your down-trodden chauffeur drive you to the over-priced pretentious clubs awaiting your entrance, as you heartlessly sleep your way through another hundred women.’
‘You don’t even know me to talk to me like that,’ said Brian in a balanced tone.
‘I know all I have to know. You reneged on your word and you’ve not a charitable bone in your body.’
‘I said I’m giving you the $270,000. How charitable should I be? I’ll have paid over quarter of a million dollars to go on a date to a cheap pizza dive then play Candy-Striper in a hospital full of sick people? I can’t make any difference, but my money can. What’s the big deal?’
‘The big deal is she’s disappointed,’ said a voice behind Brian.
He spun to confront the young man in the wheelchair. There was an unmistakable likeness between the two. Brian correctly guessed a family connection. Rather than treat Gabriel as a cripple with special care needs, he hardened his heart.
‘What do I care if she’s disappointed?’
‘You don’t. That’s the point. None of it means anything to you. Faith was hoping maybe if you had a better understanding of people like me and my disorder, you might realize how important research and treatment is in order to prolong our independence and life span. I bet she thought ten hours wasn’t a big ask of an unemployed, infamous wannabe. My sister sees the best in people, figured you weren’t the man painted in the tabloids, thought you’d meet your promise; turns out she was wrong.’
Brian had grudging respect. He’d spoken as a man, plain and blunt, and not played on his disability for sympathy. Swamped in shame, Brian was unable to conquer his pride; especially after the display he and this girl called Faith had put on.
‘I’ll have the money transferred tomorrow.’
He turned on his heel and left.
Chapter Four
Brian cursed as his mobile phone rang at 8am, swearing as Susie’s name cropped up on caller ID.
‘What?’ he mumbled sleepily.
‘What do you mean what?,’ her frantic voice made him alert. ‘What happened at the gala?’
‘I did what you said. Turned up, bid on the auction and gave them $270,000. Job done.’
‘Why have I heard that you aren’t fulfilling what you agreed to at the auction?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘It doesn’t matter, Brian. Is it true?’
‘I thought it was a date but it was volunteering at a hospital.’
‘But that’s brilliant. Think of the PR I can drum up from you doing that.’
‘Didn’t think of it. Anyway, I declined. Left them with the money.’
‘Brian, if this leaks out do you know how bad it will look? I’m one of the best PR reps, but even I can’t fix a reputation beyond repair. This isn’t dumping a favorite actress in the public eye. This is refusing to participate in charity work after you made a promise. If you’re happy to be become a figure of hate, go ahead, but I’m out. Seriously, there’s nothing else I can do, I’ll have to walk.’
‘Can you fix it?’
‘I’ve secured the number of the girl, Faith Spires. Call her and tell her you’ll be wherever she chooses on Monday; you’re at her beck and call for the week.’
‘Text the number,’ demanded Brian, hanging up without a goodbye or thank you to his PR manager.
He lay in bed a further two hours debating his next move. It was irritating because the girl called Faith evoked feelings he wasn’t aware he even possessed. He was ashamed of himself. The girl had been crestfallen at his refusal. He was used to crushing women. He got a buzz knowing he only had to snap his fingers for women to run to him.
Upsetting them when he moved on was inevitable, thus never emotionally pricked him, but Faith was different. He felt as if he may have inadvertently snatched something critical to the essence of her.
Having spent his years avoiding confrontation and running away from his problems, he was sorely tempted to delete the text containing her contact details. He refrained, then dialed her number.
‘Faith Spires, Virtual Services, How may I assist?’
Brian’s mouth gaped. He had assumed she was the toy of an excessively rich sugar-daddy.
‘It’s Brian Porterhouse.’
The line was silent.
‘Do you always work weekends?’ he asked.
He slapped his forehead at his banal inquiry.
‘Do you care?’ she retorted.
The line went silent at his end.
‘I try not to, but I have to make myself available to all my clients, for emergencies or whatever, because I can offer that service from home. That’s the reason behind the formal phone voice. Can’t have them thinking I’m slacking or don’t have enough projects coming in. Who wants to work weekends anyway? Not me. No, I’d rather be outdoors.’
Faith realized she was rambling absurdly. Brevity and clarity were qualities she boasted on her website, but all she’d done was chat away as if Brian had any interest in her. He had no concept of her job because he’d never been employed. Her blathering would’ve made her sound idiotic.
‘Do you take your brother outdoors?’
Brian knew he sounded completely ignorant and politically incorrect. As if people with mobility problems should be housebound by law. The question was offensive and did him no favors in causing Faith to rethink her original opinion of him.
‘Well I don’t chain him up in the basement, throwing him scraps,’ she joked.
She hoped he knew it was a joke. She’d hate anyone to think she didn’t adore, care for or was exceedingly proud of her brother.
‘I’m joking. Of course I take him outdoors. I wheel him up the highest hill, then let go to see how he manages steering himself at that speed with the wind whistling through his hair, dodging the cars at the cross roads at the bottom.’
Faith couldn’t believe how ill-timed and inappropriate her comments were. She was trying to be jolly, but wondered if her tone of voice was making her callous or sarcastic.
‘Let me guess, that’s a joke too,’ said Brian drily.
‘Yes. My brother and I go out as often as time, weather and the inclination to hang out permits.’
Her voice was solemn. Brian was secretly pleased she was as nervous as he.
‘I was out of order last night. I was drunk. I’m calling to apologize for my awful tantrum.’
He inhaled. Apologizing was easy; they were only words—you didn’t even have to mean them—but they smoothed and diffused the most aggravated situations. Pledging his commitment was not quite as easy. He mulled on Susie’s prediction of being vilified if the story got out. He had a legion of female fans, but of late his popularity was waning.
‘Anyway, waking up sober, having reconsidered this amazing opportunity on offer. I’d love to spend the week at the hospital, if you think you can bear my company,’ he said, through gritted teeth.
‘Of course I can. With the right attitude anything can be changed.’
‘All right I’ll be with you at 7pm at the hospital Monday.’
‘It’s a date,’ replied Faith.
Chapter Five
Faith wasn’t sure why she was extremely edgy on Monday. This was a professional engagement to promote awareness of cuts to research funds and how it would affect a particular segment of patients. Unfortunately she couldn’t shake it from her head that she’d concluded her phone conversation with Brian by confirming it was a date.
Hospital volunteering often required a lot of running about—practical and comfortable clothes were best for accomplishing the tasks passed to volunteers. If Brian was expecting the well-groomed Irish Colleen from the auction waiting to guide him, he’d be severely disappointed. Dressed in faded blue, skinny jeans, a red-striped tight t-shirt and dusty blue sneakers, Faith was a far cry from the glamorous vixen she’d been at the charity gala.
As she sat on the steps to the main hospital reception area, a black limousine arrived. Unsurprisingly, Brian stepped out. Faith had the feeling he’d dressed down to fit in. The pristine navy chinos, blue polo top and leather dress shoes enhanced his already perfect features; his blue eyes starker than ever. However two hours of tramping non-stop in those smart shoes would have serious consequences for his feet later.
I Kissed A Playboy Page 2