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Humongous chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and the red carpet makes everything look like royalty. Round tables are set apart from each other at perfect, measured distances, and lilies occupy their centers. Men in sleek suits and women in their evening dresses looked radiant, like angels gliding on the floor with glasses of bubbling champagne balancing on their bony fingers. I take a shaky breath and get a whiff of the fresh lilies and someone's strong perfume. I’m so immersed in utter admiration of my surroundings that I almost fail to hear the man beside me saying, "Sir, please take a seat. The auction is about to begin."
"Uh…- Oh, sorry." I take my seat and plunge into the deep waters of embarrassment. Why in the world was I gawking at everything like a peasant? Ugh.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. I welcome you all to the annual art auction held in honor of Mr. and Mrs. Christine, the great art collectors of New York. We hope to make this evening memorable for you all. Now let us begin!" I hear the voice, unable to locate the speaker from this far, and then a roar of applause. I join in and breathe, readying myself to do what I came for.
Thirty minutes pass by, and three art pieces are sold out. I do my best to stop thinking negative thoughts. A week ago, when I was sitting with the coach and discussing the downfall of our basketball team in the public eye, he advised me to carry out a public stunt. To go to this auction and buy the rarest art piece so I stand out and make the news, along with my team. I am against these kinds of publicity stunts, but I have to do something for the sake of my team. Because without support, a team is nothing but burnt ashes.
This rare piece of art, whose possession is supposed to revitalize my position in the public eye, is the picture of an ordinary man, but when you look closely, you realize that he is dead. His eyes are blank, but his skin is still alive.
"Next, we have "The Living Dead." Beginning at twenty thousand dollars!" The announcer’s voice along with the sudden uproar of the audience jerks me out of my reverie. I see the dead man standing on the stage, enjoying all the spotlight he probably deserves.
I need to do this. I take my auction paddle and fling my hand right into the air. "Twenty-five thousand dollars!" The man cheers as he sees me.
Someone there in the crowd counters me. "Thirty thousand dollars!"
I raise my paddle again. "Thirty-five thousand dollars!"
I see the paddle again, and this time, the person holding it is looking at me. Olivia? "Forty thousand dollars!"
My breath hitches as I look into her eyes, and my knees become weak. My heart throbs in my chest.
Why? Why does she have to be here?
I raise my paddle, not removing my eyes from her worried ones. "Forty-five thousand dollars."
She raises it again. "Fifty thousand dollars!" At this, everyone turns and looks at us, holding our paddles in the air, both refusing to lose.
I soon realized two things; One, Olivia, for some reason, needs the painting badly. And two, she is not going to back down even if it means selling her kidneys to buy the painting. I raise my paddle again. "Fifty-five thousand dollars!"
Her hand goes up in the air again. "Sixty thousand dollars!”
“There is some serious rivalry going on here!" the speaker says.
My worry for Olivia grows in the pit of my stomach, mingled with concern for myself and my teammates if I backed down right now. Why is she not budging? Is she showing off her resolve right now?
"Sixty thousand dollars!"
Up goes her paddle, and with it, her whole body. She is standing with confidence, looking ahead at the speaker, grasping the paddle so firmly that I can spot the whites of her knuckles. There is applause now. I stare at her until the speaker finally says, "'The Living Dead' sold to Miss Marshall of the Urban Gallery for sixty thousand dollars."
Everyone applauses and looks at her with newfound smiles, completely ignoring my presence. I stand, my mind a blank slate, and turn to leave without looking back.
*******
"Where are you going?" She yanks my hand, stopping me in midstep.
"What areyoudoing here?" I ask, bewildered, as I turn around.
"I could ask the same…." She says, and I look away from her.
"Why were you so adamant about buying the painting I wanted?"
"I could ask the same," I say and smirk at her, and she rolls her eyes at me with all that sass.
"You know about my art gallery and its depleting finances, dammit! This was the only way I could salvage it. You know how much clout this piece could gain for me so don't you dare me feel guilty about it!"
"Can you stop screaming?" I ask and hold her hand before pulling her out of the hall and pushing her into the car.
"You got the painting, didn't you? What's your deal now?" I say, adjusting myself in the driver's seat, and I cannot help but feel her eyes on me.
