18. Rory
Rory
Ican’t believe I have to sit through this and pretend I’m okay with it.
I wipe my palms on my jeans for the third time, or maybe the fourth, and try to be subtle as I evaluate the gathered crowd.
Not just an audience tonight, either. They’re the participants.
My stomach twists the way it’s been doing all day, a sharp pain radiating across my abdomen as nausea rises in my throat.
I’m okay with this. I am.
I’m not the jealous type. It’s not like Nate would go on an actual date with the winner anyway if it’s not me. It would be a lunch date at most.
Besides, everyone in town knows that we’re together.
I’m okay with this.
I repeat the words in my head, over and over, but it doesn’t do much to quell this feeling.
And no matter how many times I repeat it, I’m still not sure I believe it.
God, I wish they’d picked something other than a date auction for the charity event this year.
The logical part of my brain gets it, of course. This will raise money for the town and probably a lot more than any bake sale could.
But logic doesn’t always win when it’s up against emotions, and tonight, logic is fighting a losing battle.
I square my shoulders as I sit up straighter, gripping my paddle, and remind myself of the plan.
I don’t need to be okay with another woman winning Nate tonight. Because they won’t.
I’m going to win.
Allie and Stacey slide into the seats on either side of me just as the lights flicker, then dim.
Martha steps onto the stage. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, townsfolk and tourists.”
I look around again. I’m not sure we have many tourists attending, if any, but the greeting is catchy.
“Tonight is the second event of the Mr. Lonesome competition, and I thank you all for being here, because tonight we’re raising some money for a great cause. A lot of money, hopefully.”
She pauses for the applause that fills the space.
When it dies down, she lifts the microphone to her lips and continues. “As many of you know, the proceeds from this evening’s date auction will go toward the construction of a new playground set at our elementary school. So open your hearts and your wallets!”
More applause.
I join in, her enthusiasm infectious.
Allie leans over to whisper in my ear. “Are you going to bid on Nate?”
Um, obviously, and I thought I told her that last week.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “I don’t need him going out with anyone else, even if it’s just for charity.”
Allie gives me an approving nod and a thumbs-up.
Someone taps on my shoulder, and I turn to see Dylan in the row behind me.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I mouth.
On stage, Martha is giving a quick rundown of the need for new playground equipment, complete with pictures to drive home the point.
A photo of the metal slide flashes onto the screen behind her. A pang of nostalgia hits me at the sight. That slide was about a thousand degrees when the sun was out. How many times did I go down it even though my legs were burning?
Now, though, the slide is speckled with rust, the ladder listing to one side and missing a step at the bottom.
“So you see,” Martha says, “we’re long overdue for an upgrade. In addition to the auction, you’re welcome to donate after tonight’s event. I know many of you would love to contribute, and sadly, we only have our five eligible bachelors to auction off.”
“Not a bachelor!” a creaky voice yells from backstage.
Martha doesn’t miss a beat or even get flustered.
“Thank you. As one of our non-bachelors has pointed out”—she doesn’t mention that the voice belonged to her husband—“this auction is for fun and charity, and most of the Mr. Lonesome competitors are, indeed, in relationships. You’d think I wouldn’t have to point this out, but you never know. ”
I appreciate her saying something. Most of the people here are just bidding for fun, but I saw Yvonne and Kaitlyn walk in earlier. I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them. Which, honestly, isn't very far. Both of them have had their eyes on Nate for a while.
Martha lifts her eyebrows in a silent message to someone backstage, then clears her throat. “Now, without further ado, may I present tonight’s not-bachelors!”
Lionel goes first, leading the contestants across the stage. All of them are decked out in suits, looking their finest.
Nate, of course, is far and away the best looking. I might be a bit biased, but in his suit, he’s a sight to behold.
The charcoal-gray pants highlight his perfect butt. His white dress shirt stretches across his muscular chest. As he crosses the stage, he pulls up the sleeves of his sport coat to reveal his forearms, then runs a hand over his close-cropped beard as he winks in my direction.
Um, swoon.
“Hey, sexy!”
At the feminine voice, I whip my head around to see who would catcall my boyfriend, and as I search the crowd, I find the source.
Yep, no surprise there. The same girls who’ve made my life hell since high school. Yvonne and Kaitlyn are two rows behind me.
While Yvonne is wearing a shirt that’s so tight it may as well be a second skin, at least her neckline only shows a normal amount of cleavage.
Kaitlyn, for her part, is wearing a bright-teal blazer. The color is eye-catching as well as flattering, but that’s not what grabs my attention first. It’s that she doesn't seem to be wearing anything under the blazer. Like, at all.
“Do you see what she’s wearing?” Allie whispers directly in my ear, like I could have somehow missed it. “She might be a bitch, but she has a great rack.”
I give Allie a look. She looks like she wants to say more, so I shush her before she draws too much attention to us, even if she’s not wrong.
Kaitlyn does have a nice body. She has an hourglass shape and probably at least a C cup, if not a D. I’m not surprised that she gets attention from men. Heck, I almost want to stare at her cleavage.
Instead, I glance down at my chest, where in contrast to Kaitlyn’s assets, my B cups are nicely covered.
Nate is mine, though. Mine. He seems to like my size, plus the fact that I don’t flaunt my assets all around town. There’s no reason for me to be jealous of Kaitlyn.
Nate has asked me to marry him, I remind myself. More than once.
He wasn't serious about it, but the fact that he put the question out there has to count for something, doesn't it?
I adjust my non-existent cleavage, just in case.
“Thank you, contestants!” Martha says. “First up for bidding, we have Randy.”
The four other men head backstage, while Randy poses onstage.
“Everyone should have a paddle and should have read the rules, but just to make sure, here’s how this will work. I’ll announce the opening bid, after which time you may raise your paddle to bid and shout out your bid amount.”
As Randy attempts to moonwalk across the stage, Martha surveys the crowd.
“As a reminder,” she says, “I will have the final say on the winning bid. I reserve the right to remove any audience member who causes a disruption. Got it?”
A few people nod.
“Got it?” Martha asks again, louder, her expression stern.
Once a schoolteacher, always a schoolteacher.
“Yes, ma’am,” I respond, along with the rest of the room.
“Good. Now, our first contestant, Randy. Bidding will start at one hundred dollars. Do I hear a hundred?”
Mrs. Alpert is the first to bid, followed by two more bids in rapid succession.
I peek over my shoulder to see who’s brave enough to bid against my high school English teacher and realize that the bids are coming from three women, all sitting together.
They alternate bids, increasing by increments of twenty-five dollars as Mrs. Alpert beams. She doesn’t seem at all worried about her competition.
When she offers five hundred, no one counters.
“For a fabulous five hundred dollars, this bachelor is sold to Mrs. Alpert!” Martha announces. “Winning bidders may pay at the table in the back before leaving. Enjoy your date!”
“Was that Mrs. Pulaski?” Stacey whispers, gesturing with her head to one of the two women who bid on Randy.
I nod. All three of the women were part of the faculty at Lonesome Pine High School when we went there: Mrs. Pulaski taught history, Mrs. Alpert taught English, and Mrs. Caverly was a guidance counselor.
“I think Mrs. A got her friends to run up the bid,” I whisper back.
“Aww, that’s sweet.” Stacey makes a heart shape with her hands.
“Next up, we have Lionel!” Martha announces.
Her husband walks to the center of the stage and stands with his hands in his pockets. In contrast to Randy’s showmanship, Lionel looks almost bored.
“Bidding will start at one hundred dollars!” Martha answers.
I shift in my seat and lean forward, wondering who will bid on Lionel, since I’m pretty sure his wife, as the emcee or auctioneer or whatever title she holds today, isn’t allowed to bid.
“One hundred!”
“One fifty!”
“One seventy-five!”
“Two fifty!”
The bids are called out, one after another, so fast I can barely keep up.
Lionel grins widely as the bidding escalates to five hundred, then a thousand.
“One thousand dollars to Mayor Billings!” Martha calls out. “Do I hear eleven hundred? As a reminder, the quote for the playground equipment was around thirty thousand dollars for the basic package. Let’s make this happen, folks!”
Lionel’s chin rises higher into the air as the bidding continues to increase, with the mayor finally winning at seventeen hundred dollars.
My stomach flips. Holy shit. I didn’t think things would get this intense.
Besides the rapid-fire bidding, there’s also the competition. Whoever raises the most tonight wins this leg of the contest.
Am I really about to offer close to two thousand dollars to have a date with my own boyfriend?
“Sold to Mayor Billings!” Martha says, her wide smile matching Lionel’s.
“The mayor is going on a date with Lionel?” Allie asks, leaning toward me.
Stacey leans across me. “Martha plays canasta with his wife. I’m sure they planned some kind of double date.”
“That’s a plant!” Allie whispers, a little too loudly. “Can they do that?”
Stacey lifts her eyebrows. “Literally everyone is doing that, Allie.”
“Oh.” Allie sits back in her seat and crosses her arms.
“Next on the auction block, Dr. Chip!” Martha announces.
Chip fetches $1250—his daughter with the winning bid—and Joe manages to get the bidding up to two thousand before Martha announces his husband as the winner.
As Joe walks off stage grinning, my stomach clenches.
Nate is next.
“And finally, we have Nate, one of High Lonesome’s finest. Do I hear an opening bid of one hundred dollars?” Martha surveys the crowd.
I lift my paddle, ready to fight for my man, but someone beats me to it.
“One hundred!” a woman calls out from behind me.
Fucking Yvonne.
“Two hundred!”
And there’s Kaitlyn.
I lift my paddle higher. “Five hundred!”
Why do I care so much? It’s not like Nate is going to fall for one of these women, even if they win a date.
Even so, a pit forms in my gut at the idea of someone—anyone—winning this date. Is it because most of the town is here? Is it some primal need to win this, to show he’s mine?
A woman I don’t recognize bids eight hundred, and Yvonne and Kaitlyn run the bid up to twelve hundred.
“Fifteen hundred!” I wave my paddle in the air.
Come on, just let me have it.
But they keep going, raising the bid to two thousand.
Then twenty-five hundred.
Three thousand.
How do the two of them have that much money?
“Thirty-two hundred!” I offer.
I cross my fingers. I can’t go much higher. Really, I shouldn’t have even continued to bid to this point. Three thousand dollars is an insane amount of money to pay for a date with my boyfriend.
My boyfriend. I attempt to mentally telegraph that fact to the other bidders.
But no one seems to get my message, or if they do, they don’t care.
And the bids keep coming.
“Thirty-five hundred!”
“Thirty-six!”
“Thirty-eight!”
As we near a mind-boggling four thousand dollars, Yvonne and Kaitlyn are just bidding against one another. A pit forms in my stomach as I listen to them publicly fight over my boyfriend, because I can’t match their bids.
Stacey takes my hand and squeezes as the two continue to fight it out.
One of my high school bullies is going on a date with my boyfriend.
I know it’s just for charity, but somehow, I can’t make myself be okay with this.
I swallow against the lump that’s formed in my throat as I mentally debate the options.
Do I hope Yvonne wins, even though she was the one who made my life a living hell?
Or do I pull for Kaitlyn? She was never as overtly mean, but she’s objectively hotter. Nate is loyal almost to a fault, but everyone has their breaking point, right?
Nausea rises in my throat as I think about Nate going on a date with either of these women, and a stab of pain crosses my abdomen.
A buzzing sound fills my ears, blocking out the murmurs of the crowd, and the edges of my vision blacken.
I can’t focus on the bidding, but as the world closes in on me, I’m not sure I want to.
I never should have agreed to all of this.