the added security that I get into the VIP event. Hopefully sitting this far back in the room won’t impede my bidding. A paddle for just such an action is in my seat and I claim it before I sit down. Guests are quickly filling the surrounding seats and the fit is tight. I end up sitting and standing several times to allow guests to pass. One of the times, I turn slightly and end up staring into Kace’s blue eyes. He’s three seats back to my right, but in this moment, it feels as if he’s right in front of me.
“Are you going to sit back down?” The elderly man behind me scowls with this question.
“Sorry,” I say quickly and I sit down, my cheeks heating with the embarrassment of standing there, staring at Kace. My God, I just acted like a groupie. It’s embarrassing. I’m not a groupie. I’ve never been a groupie. I will never be a groupie. My ancestor created the Stradivarius. That’s a big deal, but maybe that’s the point. Kace isn’t interested in me. He’s interested in that “recipe” as Sofia had called it.
I swallow hard with that brutal thought as a man a few spots in front of me to the right turns and smiles. It’s Alexander and he mouths, “Good luck.”
I groan in my head. He’s in this for the challenge and I have no idea how deep his pockets are, but I suspect a tunnel to hell from my perspective.
Crystal walks to the stage and steps behind a podium, speaking into a microphone. “Welcome everyone,” she greets, before relaying a few rules and processes and then says, “We’re going to bring our expert auctioneers up to get this event started.”
And so the auction begins.
Item after item is auctioned off. The wine is more than halfway through the event and my nerves are jumping all over the place when the bidding begins at one hundred and fifty thousand. Alexander bids first. I lift my paddle and bid. Another man bids. We repeat. The “other” man falls out at three hundred thousand. Alexander bids three-fifty and eyes me over his shoulder.
I bid three-sixty. He goes three-seventy-five. My chest is tight. I need this win. I bid again. Three-eighty-five. He bids four hundred and that’s it. I’m out. A blade of despair guts me. Alexander turns to gloat. I want to throw my paddle at him. I inhale and exhale, trying to calm my emotions. I want to get up but no one has gotten up. I need to impress Mark. That’s all I have left, my only way to get to that violin for an early viewing. And so I wait and wait until the crowd disperses. When I’m on my feet, I squeeze through the bodies and hurry out of the room, but not the building. As much as I want out of the here now, I am going to have to wait for a car service and I need to use the ladies’ room.
I follow the signs and once I’m inside one of the many stalls, voices echoing around me, I grab the wall. My brother’s gone. I have no money. I have to make this work. I’ll find another bottle of wine for my client and get a commission to pay the bills. I’ll talk to Crystal. Maybe she has another prize for my client. That’s what I’ll do. Still, I can feel the eruption inside me that wants to happen. I need out of here before I fall apart. I quickly do what I came in here to do, wash up, and manage to smile at two women also at the sink.
When I walk to the door, I steel my spine. I could run into Mark or Crystal. I need to stay focused. I need to stay strong. I’m here to find Gio. I exit to the hallway and make it to the lobby without impediment, but there stands Alexander with Mark. I draw a breath and walk right up to them both. “Congrats, Alexander,” I say and then to Mark. “My client capped me at four hundred. My hands were tied. It’s undrinkable or I might have gotten him higher. He actually prefers to sample the old vintages.”
Mark’s eyes assess me, and I swear the man could move a mountain with the force of his steely gray stare. “You put up a good fight. Maybe next time.” He then nods at us both. “Goodnight.” And then walks