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He didn’t say anything for a while, seemingly content to watch the sights of the city fade into the homogeneity of suburbia.
Finally, when they were only a few minutes away from his house, he cleared his throat.
“I need to talk to you about… your thing.”
“My thing? You mean… the auction?”
Here it comes. He’s not going for it. Fuck!
Even she knew when to admit defeat. And it appeared such an eventuality was at hand, bitter though it was.
“Tell me about it. What, uh… how does it go?” He glanced out the passenger side window. “The word auction does bring to mind all sorts of… connotations.”
Oh, you have no idea, Uncle Max.
This was not something she’d expected him to ask. What was he up to? Was he actually considering it, even now?
The question to her mind was: did she attempt to sell him some more on the idea, convince him to try it just this once? Or did she tell him what really went on—and hope that didn’t make him close his mind to the possibility entirely?
“So, what do you want to know? Just sort of how the process works? What to expect?”
His head bounced slightly as the truck jounced over a pothole. “More or less, yeah. Walk me through it.”
Oh, this should be good.
“Hmm, well, the guys, they can dress in whatever they like, but the tradition, is sort of, like, formal? So, most of them dress up. Suits and things like that. Nothing official, but that’s what most choose. And trust me, the girls… they love suits. Gah!”
“Focus, Kels.”
“Right, sorry! The guys will all have numbers, and the house mother—who is usually the one who emcees the auction—will draw a name from a hat. Her name’s Catherine, and such a sweetheart. We actually have a real life black felt top hat we got from a costume shop for last year’s auction. It’s awesome! Sorry—focus.”
Max chuckled at that.
“Anyway, when the dude’s name is called, he walks up near the top of the stairs, so that everyone can see him—just a railing there, so the view is good enough. We were thinking about a dais, or stage, and using the basement—tons of space down there. Anyway, yeah, that’s about how it goes. Call for bids, and the girls drool, and somebody eventually wins.”
She decided not to tell him exactly what happened after a girl won a bid, but she still didn’t believe he’d actually go through with it, so she was able to rationalize that significant omission away.
She’d cross that bridge when—and if—she came to it.
“It’s for a good cause?” His voice held a more sober note. “I hope this isn’t for… holding a bigger and better rager, or something like that.”
“Oh, no. It’s part of the national org for the sorority. All of the proceeds from the auctions go to a charity that funds childhood cancer research.” She smiled, proud. “We give them a lot of money each year. Feels good. Seriously.”
“I love that,” Max said, a twinkle in his dark eyes. “It’s really great that that’s what you girls put it toward. I’m proud of you.”
Her level of joy at hearing him say those words… it was actually kind of alarming. She thought there might be quite a bit she’d be willing to do to hear more of that kind of praise from Max.
What? Are you a dog, or something? You gonna wag your tail for him, too?
“Oh, my God,” she said under her breath, covering her mouth with her hand.
That imagery should have been demeaning, degrading. That it wasn’t, or more that it wasn’t only those things, had her blushing fiercely all over again.
Fortunately, Max—now staring at the road again—appeared not to have noticed her mortification.
Thank God for small favors.
Because there was no way she’d have been able to explain that one.
