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“You were serious about that? I thought you were joking,” Max chuckles.
“Well, you worry about yourself, mister. I bet you'll spend the evening with some old housewife who will bore you to tears,” I retort.
“We’ll see, we’ll see,” Max laughs. “All right, I should head backstage. See you later, sweetheart.” With a quick kiss on the cheek, Max is off.
With him gone, my nerves creep up a little bit. I'm probably the poorest person here. The dresses that some of these women are wearing could pay for a year of my rent. It’s intimidating to be in the middle of a huge crowd of rich, successful people. Without Max as my shield, I’m even more vulnerable.
A pair of eyes on me grabs my attention, coming from the table to the right. But as I turn, no one’s looking at me. A dashing, well built man is sat at the table, with a thick swath of brown hair and a strong jaw. Some really good looking men here today. But of course, this is a bachelor auction. I wouldn’t mind betting on this guy. The naughty thought crosses my mind, but then I reprimand myself for thinking such things. I’m here with Max, my charming prince on the white horse.
I turn as I hear sounds of muffled talking coming from the back. A tall, gorgeous woman with long blonde hair enters the party and immediately people start fawning over her. The whole spotlight in the room shifts to her. She is the definition of graceful. I wonder who she is.
“Next up we have a man who has been the shining light of the Los Angeles social scene for many years now. All of us have, one time or another, been victim of his witty charm. Ladies and gents, let’s have a round of applause for Mr. Max Jefferson!”
I applaud with the audience as Max’s name is called and he strolls out in his slow, confident manner. He must be really popular with these people, the way they're cheering for him. A sudden pride fills my chest.
“Max, are you ready for your surprise?” Christopher turns his microphone toward Max.
“As long as the surprise isn’t you bidding on me,” Max winks. The crowd breaks into a huge laugh. There is that charm that swept me off my feet.
“All right, let’s start the bidding,” Christopher barely says the words when a bid comes from somewhere behind me.
“Twenty-thousand dollars.” A collective gasp rises from the crowd as everyone turns to identify the person who made the bid. It’s the blonde woman who arrived late to the auction. Who is she? And why is she betting so much on my date?
“I promised you a surprise, and here she is. She’s been away from us for far too long, but now she is back. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome on stage, the future Mrs. Max Jefferson. Katherine Griswold, everyone!”
My hand flies to my chest, trying to stop my heart from beating a million miles a minute. A silent gasp sticks in my mouth as I watch the tall blonde woman gracefully make her way to the stage. Future Mrs. Max Jefferson? The phrase echoes in my head repeatedly. The existence of our relationship becomes a lie, reality shattered.
Max flinches for a second at first, but recovers instantly and quickly puts on the public persona that I am well accustomed to. Katherine climbs on stage and kisses Max on the lips. On the lips. My heart sinks; a physical pain shoots through my chest. A few
hours ago, I thought his kisses belonged to me alone, but now...
Katherine takes the microphone and starts talking about the charity work she was busy doing in New York, but I can’t make sense of her words. I just want the ground to open up and eat me. A sea of anxiety overwhelms me. My head spins, as if I am drunk. My stomach’s in knots and my heart’s in my mouth.
The last thing I see is Max exiting the stage with the tall blonde in tow. A blackness swims in front of my eyes soon after and I fall off of my chair, into nothingness.
Chapter 78
David
“We’ve booked a suite for you at the hotel. You'll find a change of clothes there.” Shauna’s words come out in a fast barrage.
“A change of clothes? Aren’t I dressed up enough already?” I’m grumbling but I can’t help it. It’s annoying.
“Don’t be silly, David, you’re not in England anymore. This is Los Angeles. No one wears the same clothes to two parties. Get used to the American way already! You've been here for months,” she admonishes me.
“Right after I get used to driving on the wrong side of the road. Do I really have to go to this event?”
“Not unless you want them to cancel their sponsorship?” she answers with a glare. She doesn’t take any shit. Not even from her clients, unfortunate as it is for me. “Look, it’s not so bad. You stay there for an hour, meet the important people, smile for a bunch of pictures and then you quietly slip out.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Look David. You're the biggest soccer star in the world and finally you're playing in the American League. People want a piece of you! You’re hot stuff.” She’s clearly trying to cheer me up with flattery, but I’m not having it.
“Ironic, since I came here from England to avoid all the fucking media attention,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my mouth.
“Okay, enough! The more you delay it the worse it’ll be. Get going now, I gotta get back in there.” She nods her head back to the bachelor auction.
“And what do I do about her?” I gesture to the middle-aged woman waiting for me, the housewife.
