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Chapter 7
JUNE
“Number six?” A man asks when he walks in.
I glance at Callie, startled. Is this how it works? Camille said we walk on a stage so they can see us. Did he just bid on whoever, sight unseen? “Uh, yes?”
“No need to be nervous yet, dearie. I’m Cesar, and I am the stage manager for the auction, not a bidder. Say goodbye to your friend and follow me, please.”
Callie gives my hand a supportive squeeze, then she turns to him. “How long will she be?”
“All night. Are you her ride?”
“I am.”
“No need. We will see her home.”
Callie’s eyes flash with worry. “I am not leaving her here.”
He smiles smoothly. In fact, everything about him is smooth. His dark brown skin gleams in the firelight, and he’s bald. His charcoal suit is custom—it has to be. It fits him like a second skin. He steps into the room like a dancer on a stage, as though every eye is always on him. He could be in his late twenties or early sixties. It’s impossible for me to tell. When he smiles, he dazzles.
“It is good you are such a concerned friend. After she is paid, she will be driven wherever she likes by one of our people. There are no cell phones permitted in the rooms—that could lead to legal issues we all prefer to avoid. The dubious nature of our auction could lead to many unfortunate issues, so to guarantee the anonymity of all involved, everyone is screened before entering the room. But security guards are posted outside the door. If there is any reason whatsoever that she is uncomfortable, all she must do is call out. Nothing is allowed which might stop her from doing so. Safety is our number one priority. Anonymity is also number one.”
Callie smirks. “You have two number ones?”
His cheeky smile sets me at ease. “What can I say? I’m greedy. If you’d like to observe the auction, you are welcome to. No sense in making you worry that it’s seedy.”
“Thank you.” She turns to me. “You’re absolutely sure about this?”
I want to shout, “No!” and run away, but it’s not true. Not completely. I need the money, and unless I want to wait three decades to live the life that I want to live, this is my only option. Somehow, my body is light and heavy at the same time. Thankfully, the nausea has abated, but my heart still thumps my ribs each time I think of what I’m doing. Do I even know what I’m doing? This is nuts. This is not what sane people do.
Oof. That was judgmental. Get your head out of your ass, June. Quit being a chicken and own your choice.
I nod. “It’s okay. You can go. I’ll text you in the morning to let you know how I am.”
“Alright. I’d like to watch the auction.”
I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. If I make a fool of myself and Callie sees … best not to think about it. Standing on shaking legs, I’m sure I might pass out from nervousness. But I tell him, “Ready.”
“Follow me, Six and friend.” We travel through a hall into a library. Books line the shelves and a few desks take up the middle of the room. One has a single slip of paper and a pen. But we don’t go there. Instead, we go to a bookshelf. He tugs a tome, and the whole bookshelf slides into the floor.
I laugh. “An honest-to-God secret passageway?”
“I love my job.” He grins. “Once we go in that hall, you must refrain from commenting. We’ll be seeing the auction in progress, and people can hear us if we speak.”
Nodding, we follow him into the hallway. It’s narrow and dark, and I’d be claustrophobic if I weren’t already a bit of a wreck. At the end of the hall, I pick up on voices. He pulls back a sliver of a curtain, and I see it all.
Camille struts and poses on stage—her back is to us, but her nude dress is a dead giveaway. Flattering rose gold lights shine down on her to make her look even more enticing. The audience isn’t as well lit. In fact, it’s hard to see anyone out there. They’re all in shadow, presumably to prevent recognition. Smart. It’s not a fast-paced bidding war, or if it is, I can’t see it. No paddles go up, but the auctioneer at the left of the stage runs a play-by-play on the microphone as he stares at something in his hand.
“Gray, four-eighty. Diamond, five hundred. Timber, five-twenty-five. Beach, are you certain?” He pauses, as if reading something. “Beach, six hundred…going once. Going twice. Sold to Beach for six hundred.” He strikes a gavel, and that is that.
Camille blows a kiss toward the audience.
Cesar turns to me and quietly asks, “You’re certain of this?”
“Did she just make six hundred thousand dollars?”
