AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Too late to explain. Get out there!” Violetta whispers loudly.
A harsh spotlight blinds me as I breach the curtain to a smattering of faint applause and murmurs.
I blink several times and block the light from my face by tugging my hat down.
“Come on up to the mark, son,” the auctioneer says off mic, pointing to the red duct-taped X on the scuffed temporary stage, probably the same rickety one still used by the bands that used to play here when I’d sneak in on honky-tonk nights as a teenager.
When my eyes finally adjust, I can see only the shapes of people but no faces. You’d think this would make the stage fright easier for me, but it only makes it worse.
A hundred blank faces silently judge me as the auctioneer opens the bidding.
“Bidding begins at one hundred dollars. Who wants to go on a date with this nice young man for one hundred dollars?”
I scan for the exits and wonder how mad Barnette will be if I bolt out of here.
Crickets. No one offers a bid. Not a single one for the longest ten seconds of my life.
“Now come on, folks, we got us bona fide celebrity on the auction block. The Eight-Second Sensation, they call him.”
Someone heckles. “Did you say the Eight-Second Boyfriend?”
Someone else calls out, “No, he means the Eight-Second Quarterback!”
This gets a huge laugh as if it’s the funniest thing anyone has ever heard. Or as if either of those jokes makes a lick of sense. Which they do not.
I pull the brim of my hat down tighter, my eyes barely showing.
“Let’s see those rodeo muscles.”
I glare at the auctioneer, who’s being pushed aside by Violetta, grabbing the mic.
Do I run now, or throw up? I think about what Barnette would want me to do if he were here. I grit my teeth and remember the poses I’ve been forced to do for various rodeo promotional websites. I hated those photo shoots too, but at this moment, I give in and turn to the side, flexing my biceps.
A smattering of claps and catcalls. Someone, please kill me now before Violetta asks me to take off my shirt.
“Now tell me, ladies. Who wouldn’t want to be on his arm? That’s a mighty strong arm!”
The auctioneer wrestles the mic back from Violetta, and I hope that strange scene distracts from the redness seeping into my cheeks.
I’m not getting out of here tonight without thorough humiliation. That’s been the plan all along by this town. I know small towns could be set in their ways, but this level of petty is breathtaking.
“One hundred.” The voice is coming from somewhere in the back. I can’t see who it is, but it’s a husky, feminine sound that brushes across my chest like a teasing hand.
My stage fright decreases from a ten to an eight.
Who was that?
Instinctively I block the spotlight with my hand again and stare in the direction the bid came from, trying to see who it might be.
“We have a starting bid of one hundred dollars. Do I hear one hundred and ten?”
Crickets. Snickering.
The auctioneer, sensing everyone’s discomfort, improvises. “Mister Murphy has graciously offered to match tonight’s bid with his own donation. Very generous young man. Who else would like to go out on a date with Tanner Murphy?”
Someone throws out a bid of a hundred and ten.
“Hundred fifty.” Again, the voice drizzles like honey on my skin. My lungs inhale deeply for the first time tonight, and I didn’t even realize I was breathing shallowly in my nervousness.
