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I nod my head toward Truvy Wallace, the famous movie star, a few tables over. “That is the most eligible bachelorette. Not me.”
My police officer friend, Wendi, lowers herself into the chair on the other side of me and jumps right into the conversation. “I don’t think she’s a bachelorette; she’s got some arm candy guy with her tonight.”
Wendi rattles around in the seat for a minute, adjusting her gun belt until everything is in just the right spot.
“I’ve never understood how you can get comfortable with all that police stuff on.”
She laughs, “It’s not that different from prissing around in a push-up bra and some ungodly shapewear, but this is a hell of a lot more functional.”
“You do have a point,” I admit as I adjust my strapless push-up bra, the one that has decided to inconveniently migrate south.
Maddy sips from her less dramatic but equally large cocktail as she watches the parade of people pass in front of us. Her eyes go wide over and over.
This is people watching at its finest. And we’re in a high-flow traffic zone. People are streaming by as they circle around Truvy Wallace’s table.
“Back to the superstar arm candy, a much more important topic. Do you think Truvy is going to bid on someone with her arm stud here?”
Wendi reaches for the pitcher of water and fills her glass. The leather of her gun-belt creaks and cracks some more as she moves. She busts out her fake Truvy voice—all lounge singer smokey, “Hey, honey, don’t mind me while I bid on this sexy man.” She flips back to her regular voice. “We all know why she’s here.”
“Press,” both Maddy and I say at the exact same moment.
I laugh. “Jinx.”
Maddy leans around me, “Wendi, I take it you’re finished working for the night?”
“I’m off for a couple of hours. I was working a special detail, directing traffic for this thing. I have to go back out there when the auction is almost finished.”
“That explains why you’re here.”
Wendi chuckles, “Maddy, I’m here for the same reason you are. A little hot guy window shopping.”
I hold up my glass. “Cheers, ladies. I second that.”
We clink our glasses together, and Maddy and I go back to using our secret rating system on the selection of evening wear.
“Oh, cake, for sure,” Maddy croaks and fans herself as a tall, beautiful man, in a perfectly cut tuxedo, strolls past.
It’s a silly game meant with no ill intent because I’m sure someone is judging the dress I selected. Hell, every one of our categories could apply to me right now. But what the hey, it’s a fun addition to the entertainment.
Maddy leans across me, “Okay, Wendi, here are the codes for judging outfits on men or women tonight. We used bakery words because, you know, that’s kind of our thing. Scone means boring. Cupcake is when the outfit is age-inappropriate. Donut means something is missing. Muffin—as you might guess—means something is being squeezed up or out. And last, but definitely not least, cake equals a winner.”
Wendi tucks a stray hair back in her neat ponytail. “So, let me give this a try, that blue dress there, I’d say that’s a cupcake.”
I cut my eyes to her, “Wait a minute; what would you call me?”
She leans back and studies my bright green dress and accessories, “Donut.”
I fake gasp, “What?”
“You need a bigger necklace to match that cleavage of yours.”
I glance down. I am showing a rack-of-wonder tonight. “Whatever. I like this dainty necklace. It’s feminine. What—” I’m in the middle of asking Maddy what she thinks of my necklace when a booming voice comes through the PA system.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! Please, take your seats. We’ll begin our program in a few moments.”
Maddy giggles and claps her hands together. “I love this part.”
“I thought you’d never been to a bachelor auction.”
