Against the Ropes
Page 57
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“And a distaste for violence,” he continues. “What could be more perfect?”
“Max.” The name drops off my lips before I can stop it.
He cocks his eyebrow. “Your surly friend from the bar? He’s too aggressive, too controlling for you. I thought I’d have to take him outside and teach him how to treat a woman. You need someone who will respect you, treat you with kindness, and nurture you.”
Does tying a woman to a motorcycle and leaving her alone in the dark count as nurturing?
“Like you?”
He leans forward and brushes his lips over my ear. “Like me.”
***
Twenty minutes and three speeches later, the first heart is auctioned off for a paltry two thousand dollars. The next one fetches only nine thousand, and the one after that only ten.
“This doesn’t bode well for the rest of the auction,” Dr. Drake grumbles. “Last year the bidding started at twenty-five and went up from there.”
“Doris is up next,” I soothe. “Maybe she’ll get the bidding going.”
Big Doris selects a twisted metal heart covered in barbs. How appropriate. She shuffles to the front of the stage and holds it in the air. Her Jell-O green suit glows under the stage lights.
Silence.
Sucking in her lips, she spins around and then walks up and down the runway. Still no bids.
When her face tightens and her bottom lip trembles, a queasy sensation rolls through me. I raise my hand in the air and pray Sergio doesn’t ask for even more money. “Five hundred dollars.”
Dr. Drake looks down at me and smiles. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, but I can’t let you spend money I know you don’t have.” He waves his hand in the air. “One thousand dollars.”
Big Doris looks over and her eyes widen. She flashes Dr. Drake a relieved smile and parades up and down the runway flogging her iron heart. With Dr. Drake’s nudge, the bidding picks up and voices fill the air.
Big Doris’s heart sells for three thousand dollars. She leaves the stage with a smile on her face. Charlie is up next. Almost unrecognizable in an ill-fitting, polyester tux, he works the stage with the grace of a bear on a trampoline, and his giant balloon heart is auctioned off for a cool twenty-five thousand.
“Why won’t they go over twenty-five?” Dr. Drake rakes his hand through his hair. “We need to spice things up.” He stalks over to the tables and scoops up a giant, heart-shaped crystal vase. “Ladies,” he calls into the audience. “Not only are you bidding for this priceless item by an artist unknown, you are bidding for dinner with me. I am a single, unattached surgeon with an empty heart.” He holds the vase aloft and winks at the audience.
A collective gasp fills the room as he struts down the runway, his hair and teeth glowing like one hundred suns.
“Fifteen thousand.”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty-five.”
Dr. Drake tucks one hand in his pocket. He prances. He spins. He smiles. His sharp black tux and Ken-doll good looks are a winning combination. The bids ratchet up at dizzying speed. When they plateau at thirty thousand dollars, Dr. Drake puts down his heart and eases his jacket off his shoulders. The band bursts into a jazzy rendition of Joe Cocker’s “You Can Leave Your Hat On.” Women scream. A fit of giggles overtakes me. Dr. Drake spins his jacket around his finger and tosses it into the audience. The jacket hits Janice from Radiology square in the face. She hugs it to her head and her muffled shrieks are swallowed by the frenzied crowd.
As the band plays, Dr. Drake loosens his bow tie and unbuttons his shirt to his naval. He eases it open. Dear God. He has an amazing body—all tight abs and toned muscles. No wonder Amanda let him into her inner sanctum. He flexes. His pecs ripple. Janice faints. The crowd goes wild. My stomach aches, but I can’t stop laughing.
“Fifty thousand dollars,” a woman’s voice booms through the room. The music squeaks to a halt.
“Fifty going once,” the auctioneer calls. The audience takes a collective breath. Heads turn, seeking out the bidder.
“Going twice.”
The room stills.
“Sold to the woman in the lime green suit. Please come to the stage to collect your prize, or should I say, prizes?” the auctioneer chortles. Dr. Drake poses at the front of the stage holding the heart aloft.
The audience parts and Dr. Drake’s smile fades when Big Doris climbs the stage and wraps her arms around him. Handing out green slips must pay better than I thought.
After Dr. Drake’s performance, the bidding heats up. My painted heart on canvas goes for thirty thousand dollars, and a feather boa heart brings in a staggering forty-two thousand dollars. Dr. Drake joins me at the side of the stage, seemingly recovered from his recent shock, to tell me I’m up next.
“How did she afford you?” I cannot contain my curiosity.
Dr. Drake grimaces. “Her father is here. Some hotshot banker. Wanted to buy his baby girl a present.”
“Lucky you.”
“Think you can beat me?” He gives me a wink and hands me a vodka shot. “If you want to make the same dinner offer to spice things up, I’ll foot the bill.”
“I’ll see how my heart does without any spice.”
We clink glasses and I shoot my bolt of liquid courage before taking to the stage to survey the remaining hearts. I walk up and down beside the table twice but nothing calls to me. I am about to choose something at random, when a sparkle catches my eye. I push aside a velvet cushion heart and pull out the necklace peeking out from underneath. Wow! A huge heart-shaped ruby mounted on a diamond-encrusted heart and suspended on a gold and diamond chain. No way is it real. Something like that would be worth millions of dollars. I figure it has to be quartz, but still…I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. If it hadn’t been hidden, I’m sure it would already have been auctioned.
“Max.” The name drops off my lips before I can stop it.
He cocks his eyebrow. “Your surly friend from the bar? He’s too aggressive, too controlling for you. I thought I’d have to take him outside and teach him how to treat a woman. You need someone who will respect you, treat you with kindness, and nurture you.”
Does tying a woman to a motorcycle and leaving her alone in the dark count as nurturing?
“Like you?”
He leans forward and brushes his lips over my ear. “Like me.”
***
Twenty minutes and three speeches later, the first heart is auctioned off for a paltry two thousand dollars. The next one fetches only nine thousand, and the one after that only ten.
“This doesn’t bode well for the rest of the auction,” Dr. Drake grumbles. “Last year the bidding started at twenty-five and went up from there.”
“Doris is up next,” I soothe. “Maybe she’ll get the bidding going.”
Big Doris selects a twisted metal heart covered in barbs. How appropriate. She shuffles to the front of the stage and holds it in the air. Her Jell-O green suit glows under the stage lights.
Silence.
Sucking in her lips, she spins around and then walks up and down the runway. Still no bids.
When her face tightens and her bottom lip trembles, a queasy sensation rolls through me. I raise my hand in the air and pray Sergio doesn’t ask for even more money. “Five hundred dollars.”
Dr. Drake looks down at me and smiles. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, but I can’t let you spend money I know you don’t have.” He waves his hand in the air. “One thousand dollars.”
Big Doris looks over and her eyes widen. She flashes Dr. Drake a relieved smile and parades up and down the runway flogging her iron heart. With Dr. Drake’s nudge, the bidding picks up and voices fill the air.
Big Doris’s heart sells for three thousand dollars. She leaves the stage with a smile on her face. Charlie is up next. Almost unrecognizable in an ill-fitting, polyester tux, he works the stage with the grace of a bear on a trampoline, and his giant balloon heart is auctioned off for a cool twenty-five thousand.
“Why won’t they go over twenty-five?” Dr. Drake rakes his hand through his hair. “We need to spice things up.” He stalks over to the tables and scoops up a giant, heart-shaped crystal vase. “Ladies,” he calls into the audience. “Not only are you bidding for this priceless item by an artist unknown, you are bidding for dinner with me. I am a single, unattached surgeon with an empty heart.” He holds the vase aloft and winks at the audience.
A collective gasp fills the room as he struts down the runway, his hair and teeth glowing like one hundred suns.
“Fifteen thousand.”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty-five.”
Dr. Drake tucks one hand in his pocket. He prances. He spins. He smiles. His sharp black tux and Ken-doll good looks are a winning combination. The bids ratchet up at dizzying speed. When they plateau at thirty thousand dollars, Dr. Drake puts down his heart and eases his jacket off his shoulders. The band bursts into a jazzy rendition of Joe Cocker’s “You Can Leave Your Hat On.” Women scream. A fit of giggles overtakes me. Dr. Drake spins his jacket around his finger and tosses it into the audience. The jacket hits Janice from Radiology square in the face. She hugs it to her head and her muffled shrieks are swallowed by the frenzied crowd.
As the band plays, Dr. Drake loosens his bow tie and unbuttons his shirt to his naval. He eases it open. Dear God. He has an amazing body—all tight abs and toned muscles. No wonder Amanda let him into her inner sanctum. He flexes. His pecs ripple. Janice faints. The crowd goes wild. My stomach aches, but I can’t stop laughing.
“Fifty thousand dollars,” a woman’s voice booms through the room. The music squeaks to a halt.
“Fifty going once,” the auctioneer calls. The audience takes a collective breath. Heads turn, seeking out the bidder.
“Going twice.”
The room stills.
“Sold to the woman in the lime green suit. Please come to the stage to collect your prize, or should I say, prizes?” the auctioneer chortles. Dr. Drake poses at the front of the stage holding the heart aloft.
The audience parts and Dr. Drake’s smile fades when Big Doris climbs the stage and wraps her arms around him. Handing out green slips must pay better than I thought.
After Dr. Drake’s performance, the bidding heats up. My painted heart on canvas goes for thirty thousand dollars, and a feather boa heart brings in a staggering forty-two thousand dollars. Dr. Drake joins me at the side of the stage, seemingly recovered from his recent shock, to tell me I’m up next.
“How did she afford you?” I cannot contain my curiosity.
Dr. Drake grimaces. “Her father is here. Some hotshot banker. Wanted to buy his baby girl a present.”
“Lucky you.”
“Think you can beat me?” He gives me a wink and hands me a vodka shot. “If you want to make the same dinner offer to spice things up, I’ll foot the bill.”
“I’ll see how my heart does without any spice.”
We clink glasses and I shoot my bolt of liquid courage before taking to the stage to survey the remaining hearts. I walk up and down beside the table twice but nothing calls to me. I am about to choose something at random, when a sparkle catches my eye. I push aside a velvet cushion heart and pull out the necklace peeking out from underneath. Wow! A huge heart-shaped ruby mounted on a diamond-encrusted heart and suspended on a gold and diamond chain. No way is it real. Something like that would be worth millions of dollars. I figure it has to be quartz, but still…I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. If it hadn’t been hidden, I’m sure it would already have been auctioned.
