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As if I hadn’t said a thing, as if I hadn’t just explained I was only killing a bug, she throws the audience a challenge. “Let’ssee who can beat Petal’s generosity. Next up is a weekend in San Luis Obispo. Shall we open the bid at five hundred dollars…”
Well, shit.
That weekend away could have been mine. In fact, I’d take any other item on offer besides that stupid date, but Mom’s not letting me out of it. I’ll talk to her later and explain myself again. She’ll understand I’m not interested in the guy from the Earthquakes or whatever his hockey team is.
Hell, I wasn’t even aware we had a hockey team.
“Well done, honey,” Mrs. Bender whispers in my ear. “And would youlookat that man. What a hunk. If I were your age, I’d climb him like a tree…”
Ew.
I sneak a glance across the ballroom at Mrs. Bender’s ‘hunk.’ Sure, he’s tall with impossibly broad shoulders and perfect bone structure, but he also looks like the most stuck-up pickle puss I’ve ever seen, clearly not any more excited about a date with me than I am with him.
Puck Head.
2
PETAL
By the timethe auction wraps, I’m full-on ticked off. Not only because it looks like I really have to go on a date with the jock guy, but also because I didn’t get the soap and candle basket I wanted, which I missed thanks to Mrs. Bender talking my ear off. My gift basket went to a man who looked like he doesn’t want anything to do with it, and who bid only to get my mother off his back.
In her final plea to the crowd, Mom turns on the tears, effusively thanking everyone for their support of her pet project as if she’s raising money for starving children in Africa. Mrs. Bender gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and joins the stampede to exit the ballroom, likely one of a majority who didn’t want to be there, anyway.
I am hanging out, waiting for the room to clear, when there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn to find a little man with wire glasses and slicked back hair, nearly my same height.
My same height—when I’m sitting down.
“Miss Parker,” he says, shoving his hand forward with great excitement.
I extend my own and take his sweaty one, watching him look me over like he’s trying to decide whether to buy me or not.
Gross.
When he lets go, I wipe my hand on my dress, and look around for someone to save me. With the ballroom mostly cleared out, my only hope is my mother, but she’s busy pressing the flesh with a woman taking notes on a pad of paper, probably from the local media.
Dammit.
Sweaty Palms keeps smiling. “I’m Vince Vincent. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Vince Vincent? Unfortunate name.
“Hello,” I say. “I hope you enjoyed the auction.”
He clears his throat. “Oh, um, yes, I love these… charity fundraisers. They’re so important to the… community.”
Yeah, he couldn’t give a shit, like most of the other people Mom roped into coming.
“Did you bid on anything? Win big?” I ask with a laugh.
While I’d like to ditch this weird little dude, my mother’s voice rings in my head, reminding me that when I’m in public, I am representing the Parker family.
Vince Vincent laughs and shakes his head. “Oh no. That’s not why I’m here. But you, Miss Parker, you wonbig.”
He says this with a hand gesture I guess is supposed to emphasize just how large my win is.
I nod. “Thank you. It really was a fluke, I never intended to bid on Ralph Hendricks?—”
“Rake Hansonis his name, Miss Parker,” he says through his teeth.
