Page 15 of Love Resurrected
“Come on,” I say. “You need to be backstage.”
He follows me back through the building until we reach backstage, where everyone has either forgotten or put aside Brad’s snafu, and all are a flutter with activity. One of the runners rushes up, “Number Two just got fifteen hundred dollars! That will be hard to beat!”
Their enthusiasm is contagious. I smile and dance along to the beat from the sidelines, laughing at the emcee’s jokes. Numbers Three, Four, and Five go quickly and each for as much as Number Two if not more. But it’s Number Eight who really gets things going. A detective from the homicide division, he has a big personality and a great stage presence. His final bid is two thousand five hundred. A stunned hush falls over the crowd. Not a good time for Brad to make his appearance.
In comparison, Brad is dull and lifeless. Even if the audience hadn’t heard him call them pathetic, idiotic assholes, I doubt he would have shined on stage. The emcee finishes his introductions and starts the bidding.
“Bidding starts at one hundred dollars. Can I get one hundred dollars for this veteran firefighter? Come on ladies, who wants to play with his hose?”
Brad scowls in the emcee's direction. Not a single person bids.
“How about fifty dollars? Can I get fifty?
Nothing.
“Twenty-five? Look at this guy, ladies. He’s sure to please with these muscles, don’t you think?”
I panic. This could ruin the entire auction.
Think, Tenley. Think.
I quickly scribble a number on a scrap piece of paper and send it with a runner over the emcee.
“Well, what do we have here, ladies? If I’m not mistaken, it’s a bid on Number Nine. And, wow.” He clears his throat. “Get ready for this one. We’ve got an anonymous bid of five thousand dollars for Bachelor Number Nine. Going once . . . going twice . . . and sold to the anonymous, and crazy generous bidder.”
I let out a deep breath as everyone goes a little crazy.
Brad stalks off the stage in my direction. I look away, convinced he knows it was me who bid on him.
“How do I find out who bid on me?” he demands.
“What? Why?”
Should I tell him? I don’t want to tell him. He’ll think I like him or something. That’s the last thing I need.
“Because it was a stupid waste of money. Which they clearly have more of than brains. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”
He’s right. I do have a lot of money. But definitely not more than I have brains.
I place my hand on his upper arm to calm him. “I think you’re missing the point. It’s to raise money for others. There’s no responsibility for you.”
“There’s a dance, right? And a date or something?” he asks of the traditional activities. After the auction, the bidder gets a dance with their bachelor and then the next day they get their date.
“Well, your bidder was anonymous, so you don’t have to do any of those things.”
“I have to do the dance. Everyone will be watching. I already look like an asshole since someone turned my mic on.” He looks at me with a clear dislike shining from his eyes.
“Trust me, that had nothing to do with the mic,” I lash out.
His eyes narrow even further, and I glare back.
He glances around the room, running a hand through his hair, and lets out a long sigh. I feel sorry for him. A bit.
“I’ll dance with you,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Huh?”
“I’ll dance with you. Your bidder was anonymous, so no one knows who it is anyway. We just have to be civil for the three to four minutes the song takes, and then we’re done. That work for you?”
