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Brodie
How did I get roped into these bachelor auctions?
New York was full of rich, single men. Why did I always get sucked in?
I was in another shitty mood, the joy of Sonya’s earlier blowie having worn off long ago. And a redhead in the front row had bid on me like some sort of psycho, driving up the price to outbid all the other women there.
The crowd disbursed as the auctioneer gathered up his papers from behind the podium. He looked like Colonel Sanders with his white hair and goatee.
“Well, Mr. Harcourt,” he said to me, “another successful auction in your great hotel.”
The ballroom cleared with all the generous supporters of the Avenue A homeless shelter having headed back to work, out to lunch, or to the gym.
The smell of roses and a light tap grabbed my attention.
“Brodie, dear, I had hoped to introduce you to the lovely young lady who bought you,” Mrs. Dolan, the tiny, silver-haired fundraising chair said with a giggle.
She relished selling people. Little perv. The tiny but top-notch New York money hound led the fundraising efforts of some of the city’s biggest charities.
But now it seemed she was also a matchmaker of sorts. No wonder she loved these date auctions.
“Sadly, honey, she had to get back to work. So you’ll have to meet her on your actual date!” She patted my shoulder to comfort me.
I just didn’t need another date with a lonely nutjob who had too many cats. The last auction winner I had to take out told me within the first five minutes of our meeting that she wanted to have three kids. She had also kept looking at my crotch.
No thanks.
My mode of operation with these dates, which I seemed to have to deal with a couple times a year, was to have good old Trudy, my admin, call me forty-five minutes into the date with an “emergency.”
I’d throw some money on the table and get the hell out. Worked like a charm.
The things I did for charity.
And now I had another to deal with. But it was okay. I had my system. Trudy had my back, just like she’d always had my dad’s when he was running the hotel.
But poor Mrs. Dolan was disappointed that my auction “winner” had bolted. I could give a crap, personally, but I felt sad for her, a woman I’d known nearly all my life, who’d stood by my dad’s side during the good times and bad. I’d do just about anything for her.
Thus, my hotel not only hosted most of the fundraisers she ran, but I was also pimped out for her bachelor auctions. Every time. It was a pain in the ass, but I liked the idea of helping her and raising money for a good cause.
Kill two birds with one stone.
“I’m sure she’ll be in touch with me soon,” I told her.
“I hope so, sweetheart. She paid a lot of money for you.” She cackled like it was the funniest thing she’d ever said, and scanned the crowd.
“You know, I have another young lady for you to meet.”
Shit.
“And there she is.” She waved frantically, but was so short no one would ever see her. So she hollered.
Who knew that little thing’s vocals packed such a punch?
“Janine! Janine, over here!” She kept waving and probably would have jumped if she hadn’t been so old.
Great. She’d found her Janine, who came rushing toward her with a smile.
But when Janine set her eyes on me, her smile fell. Fortunately, Mrs. Dolan was oblivious.
“Brodie, I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Janine.” She looked back and forth between us, beaming, looking for a much hoped-for spark.
But there would be no spark. At least, not a romantic one.
Janine was the woman I’d fucked two weeks ago. And had never called.
Oops.
That’s the price to be paid when you’re a guy like me. I extended my hand.
“Brodie. Hello. Long time.” She ignored my hand.
Mrs. Dolan clapped her hands. I wonder if she knew her granddaughter fucked on the first date.
“You two know each other! What a small world. Isn’t this fantastic!”
“I hope you’ve been well,” I told her.
I did hope she’d been well. I had no problem with her. It was just that there were so many beautiful women in Manhattan. No reason to settle down with just one.
“You didn’t call me.”
Oh, shit. She was going there, right in front of her nana.
Mrs. Dolan’s wrinkly little brow was all furrowed.
Time for my exit. I glanced at my watch. “Oh cripes, I have a meeting that started five minutes ago. Good to see you, Janine. Mrs. Dolan.” I bent to give the old lady a peck on the cheek.
I got the hell out of there, hoping Janine wouldn’t tell her grandmother what a prick I could be.
But honestly, Mrs. Dolan could probably give a shit as long as she could pimp me out.
* * *
