Chapter 40
40
PENNY
I’m going to throw up.
Yup. I am.
Not even the thick curtains can shield me from the crowd that is buzzing with excitement, as I stand waiting my turn from the sidelines.
This isn’t me.
Sure, I enjoy a little male attention just like most girls, but doing it this way seems so unnatural.
The announcer hypes up the crowd with his voice inflections, getting the girl being showcased now to be “sold” for three times more than the starting bid—and all in the name of charity.
I’m up next.
The stagehand guides me through the curtain’s opening and gestures to where I should go stand.
“Stepping out onto the stage is the daughter of our main man and the soon-to-be officially retired, Germain Hoffman.” The announcer takes a step back to give me more space to pass by. “Give a round of applause to the beautiful, the radiant, and the single, Penny Hoffman.”
I wave my hand and try to perfect my best fake smile, especially after the words “the single” hit me like a slap to the face.
The overhead lights are blinding, preventing me from seeing anything past a couple of yards in front of me, and for that, I am thankful. I drown out the crowd and just anchor myself to the stage, so I don’t pass out.
My entire family is in the audience, and none of them truly understand how torturous this is for me to be up here, selling my soul off for the night, when I’m falling apart inside.
But that’s what life is like now. I still feel indebted to my family, and coming here is my reparation for all that they have done for me.
I’ll always owe them.
And that is a sucky feeling, knowing that no matter how hard I try, I’ll still feel like they’ve done more for me than I have for them.
It’s probably the reason I can’t be too mad at my brothers. They’re doing what they think is best, even if they are preventing me from being with the one person who makes me feel alive.
Collins should be the one fighting for me, not anyone else. And the fact he isn’t speaks volumes to my belief that he means more to me than I ever did to him.
“Let’s start the bidding at one thousand,” the announcer says, using his hand to try to energize the crowd.
When several people in the room call out, he whistles.
I’m on display, but at least someone is raising the minimum. It volleys back and forth between about three men—none of whom I can actually see from this distance with the glare from the overhead lights.
If it wasn’t for a worthy charity, I’d feel like a bigger loser than I already am. Instead, I just try to take deep breaths and calm my mind.
My family is here.
I’m doing this for my dad.
Everything is fine.
“Okay,” he says in awe, “anyone want five thousand?”
There’s a buzz circulating in the crowd—an energy—and I’d be naive to think it’s not over me. I’m sure a few men here would love to take out the boss’s daughter if just to say they did.
I just hope he’s not gross. Oh, and that the food is good at the restaurant that gets selected.
There’s more back-and-forth between the men, as the amount to go on a date with me increases gradually.
This really should be a confidence booster, but it’s not.
Deep down, I wish Collins would bust through the back doors and wave his paddle into the air, blurting out some obscene amount of money to shut this whole operation down for good.
But that doesn’t happen.
And I blame every chick flick that has ever existed for falsely portraying men doing these over-the-top grand gestures to win their ladies back.
It’s not reality.
“You’re quite the popular one, Miss Penny.”
Yup, this is cringe. I might as well hold up a sign that has an arrow pointing down at my head that broadcasts the words S-I-N-G-L-E and A-L-O-N-E.
That’s how funny life can be sometimes. One second you think you are on top of the world, and the next you feel buried alive by the disappointment of things not going your way.
“Anyone want to go higher than seven thousand?” He pauses.
“Eight thousand!”
Oh, fuck.
“Nine,” a voice calls out confidently.
“I’ll do ten grand!”
“Eleven.”
The voices quiet down, while hushed whispers flood the venue. I have people talking. I can’t see anyone, but I know that they are talking.
“Going once…” The announcer pauses, scanning the crowd for any more takers. “Going twice…” He places a hand along my shoulder, giving me a squeeze. “And sold!”
To whom though? Who bought me for a date for eleven thousand dollars? It seems like a waste of cash for it to be spent on me.
I’m boring and worth way less.
But it all goes to this charity, so I guess it’s okay.
Now that Collins is done with me, the only thing I have to offer is even more emotional baggage than I had a few months ago.
Damn him.
I get ushered off stage by a teenage volunteer, probably earning service hours for school or something.
I resist offering unsolicited advice to her to never fall in love, but I don’t. There’s nothing good that would come from me being jaded toward anyone else who has an easier time coping with life’s disappointments. And it surely wouldn’t convince her that men sometimes suck and often provide truth to every emotional stereotype they get labeled.
Collins did.
He proved to me that men want women for sex, and that anytime real feelings get involved, it’s best just to run away.
“Hey, Penny.”
I turn to the familiar voice coming from nearby. “Oh, hey, Ivan.”
“I’m so glad no one contested my bid.”
My jaw loses muscle function. “You bought me?”
He shrugs, almost sheepishly. “It will be worth every penny to get you away for an evening.”
I hope he keeps his expectations low…
“Yeah…”
“You look beautiful tonight,” he says, coughing into his arm. “I meant to say, you look beautiful always.” He rocks on his feet. “But especially tonight.”
“Thank you.”
He really is a sweet guy.
“Can I help you to your seat?” Ivan says, offering his bent arm.
I link mine with his and allow him to escort me back to the table, where my entire family is beaming with excitement over me being selected for a date. Even my brothers look decently happy…
This is weird.
They are all acting weird.
Momma gives my hand a squeeze, and Dad is looking at me like I hung the moon just by showing up today. It’s too over-the-top in the gratitude department.
I’m not at prom or a sweet sixteen party, yet it sort of feels like it.
It’s a little-Penny-is-growing-up moment I don’t want to experience right now.
“That’s really special that Ivan chose you,” Momma whispers.
“Yup,” I lie.
Does she think our conversation earlier was about him?
Momma has to realize how biased she is toward her friend’s son. Of course she would lean toward a man who she already knows belongs to a good family. Dad has to be excited too since Ivan is now part of the business that he’ll soon be leaving.
But I don’t want Ivan.
I want Collins Stone.
And no matter what smile I plaster on my face, it’s hard to feel special when the man who I actually want has been MIA for days.
I glance around the room looking for him, yet not expecting to actually see him. But when my eyes scan the perimeter, I don’t find Collins…
I find Mark Tanner.
“He’s here,” I whimper, but my words get stuck in my throat.
He’s here.
“Who’s here?” Angie asks, looking around.
Claire leans in. “Yeah, who? Anyone I know?”
Turning, I look back to where Mark was standing. He’s gone.
Getting up from the table, I stumble but catch myself, shooing off anyone who wants to offer me help.
“I’m just going to take a breather. Maybe I’ll get some fresh air.”
But what I really need is help.
No one can fix me when I’m this messed up.
I just keep walking through the room, weaving myself between tables. I allow my legs to carry my body down the hallway and out the back door. When I’m on the balcony, I step toward the railing that overlooks the Willamette River. Leaning over, I stare down at the sidewalk where people are coming and going from the charity event.
Taking a seat into the chair in the corner near the potted, fuchsia flowers, I sink down into the cushions, thankful for a break away from my well-intentioned family.
I feel electric, but not in the positive kind of way.
I’m stressed, and when I feel this overwhelmed, I start to see things that aren’t there.
And it freaks me the fuck out. It happened before at the waterfront, and I’m still trying to recover from that trauma.
Playing with my hair, I twist strands around my finger. It needs dye and a bit more love than I’ve given it this week. I’ve been just fully embracing the survival mode. I do the bare minimum to live and nothing more.
Pulling out my phone, I am entranced by the local headline that pops up right after I unlock my device, but before I can fully comprehend the words on my screen, the door opens and out walks a man.
Taking a seat on the other side of the balcony, he bends his knee and props it up on his opposite leg.
And when my eyes meet his, I realize that I know him.
Well…sort of.
“You?”
He was who I saw in the room today.
“Me.”
My eyes glaze over, as I struggle to see past the fog filling my vision.
“I thought you were someone else,” I say breathily, my words coming out mumbled.
“I get that a lot.”
“You just look like someone I know.” Someone I hate…
My eyes scan over the man who has a striking resemblance to Mark Tanner but isn’t actually him.
And that should make sense. Mark is in prison. I saw him there myself, and Collins confirmed he was there recently.
“Did you hear about the big news?” the man asks, pointing at his phone.
I look down at mine and skim read. “There was a fight…”
“Yeah, a huge fight. That criminal Mark Tanner is being transported to the hospital right now. I saw the live footage that is being broadcast on every news channel. Isn’t that crazy?”
I flinch at that last word. “Yeah… Crazy .”
“Apparently he fucked up some stupid, pathetic girl.”
A shiver runs up my spine.
Standing up from his chair, he stops in front of me. His laugh is sinister.
Evil.
And then I see the little rose emblem at the pocket of his black shirt that has the words Rose City Cafe embroidered into the fabric.
But why?
What’s the connection?
“Who are you?” I choke out.
“I’m your worst nightmare.”
“You were at the waterfront?”
“I’m everywhere your fear takes you.”
Placing my face into my palms, I rock back and forth.
Go away, go away, go away…
My heart rate picks up, and I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate.
So much is happening at once, and my emotions are getting the best of me.
When I pick my head up to look at the man…
He’s not there.
Where did he go?
I walk over to the rail and look over. He’s gone.
It’s like he vanished into thin air.
Stupid, pathetic girl…
I’m a stupid, pathetic girl.
Walking back into the main building, I see a security guard standing at the end of the hallway.
“Did you see someone walk out onto this balcony”—I point behind me—“in the last five minutes?”
“I haven’t seen anyone else, ma’am. I was going to come out and join you, but you looked like you needed some time alone.”
“I am going crazy.” My words are barely a whisper.
“Come again?”
I shake my head. “Never mind.”
My eyes scan the area for a way to get out of here.
“Elevators are down the hall to the right,” the guard offers, predicting my dilemma.
“Thanks.”
My phone vibrates in my handbag, which I ignore.
I just need to get out of here, before my own fears suffocate me.
Hitting the button for the elevator, I enter the car when it arrives and then smack the button for the first floor.
My legs feel like they are made of sand, barely strong enough to transport me outside and onto the streets of Portland.
I hail a cab and shove my body into the back seat.
“Where to, miss?”