Page 10 of Highest Bidder

And I knew exactly who to ask.

I opened a new text to Kit and typed before I could lose my nerve.

Me:What would I have to do to get in on one of those auctions at your club?

Chapter Five

Vivian

The front door to Velvet Underground was locked when I arrived, which I expected since the club was closed until later that evening.

I rang the bell, then looked up at the security camera with the blinking red light. Soon, the heavy door clicked, and I pushed it open to step inside.

The club looked different with the lights turned up. The sheen of the dark wood and gold trim didn’t have the same nighttime allure without the soft lighting.

There was a cleaning crew in the main area that barely acknowledged me as they vacuumed and polished. I was just about to ask if they knew where I could find someone named Macy, when a lady stepped out from the hallway that, according to the placard on the wall, led to the administrative wing.

“Vivian?”

“That’s me,” I replied with a tone that was way more chipper than how I was feeling.

She stepped forward and offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Macy. We spoke on the phone.”

Her thick brown hair with blonde highlights fell in waves across her shoulders. She was taller than me, which wasn’t hard with my five-foot-three frame, but in her high heels and me in my flat sandals, she almost towered over me. Her cheekbones were sharp, thanks to an A+ contouring job, and the rest of her makeup was perfect on her flawless skin. She clutched a black tablet to her chest, almost like a clipboard.

It wasn’t hard to picture her in charge of things, and I bet men tripped over themselves to help her if she needed it.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said as I shook her soft hand.

Her gaze swept up and down my body, assessing me. There was nothing subtle about it.

I must have passed the first step because she motioned with her head toward the hall she’d just come from. “Let’s go to my office so we can chat a little more.”

Her heels clicked as she strutted down the hall, and I had to hustle to keep up with her.

“So, you’re interested in being a part of the club’s vendue on Friday. Do you have experience with these kinds of arrangements?”

“I’m assuming vendue means auction? If so, then yes, I’m interested, but no, I don’t have specific experience with this kind of thing. But I work in a gentleman’s club, so I have an idea how these things work. And my friend Kit works here; she gave me a quick rundown of what to expect.”

We reached a door, and she held her hand out, gesturing me inside.

“Please have a seat,” she said as she sat down in her white executive chair behind her fancy white desk with fluting around the base. It probably cost more than my car had when I bought it seven years ago.

I sat in a white leather club chair opposite her.

Most of the office was stark white, but there were pink accent pieces throughout—a vase, a throw pillow, the art on the walls. No question, this was a woman’s office. I kind of loved that she maintained a feminine touch while still being no-nonsense.

“Like I told you on the phone, the club takes forty percent of the winning bid. We keep that, no matter what, and the members are aware of this. You, however, don’t get paid until the contract is fulfilled. So, if you decide to void it before the term is up—which is perfectly within your purview—you walk away with nothing.”

“What if the member voids it?”

“Then we’ll prorate it based on the percentage of completion. But that hasn’t happened in the ten years I’ve been working here.”

I nodded.

Macy’s posture was ramrod straight in her chair. “Before I explain how we ensure your safety, let me start by saying there has never been an issue in the club’s almost hundred-year history. We vet our members even more than we’ll vet you.”

So, they’re going to do a background check on me.

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