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“Fire away,” Hemi says.
“That man right there.” Clover points to my dad and Hollis. “Will he be available in the auction?”
“Clover!” Sophia elbows her in the side. She looks to be in her early thirties.
I grin. “They both will.”
Clover’s smile widens. “That is fantastic news.”
We chat for a few more minutes before Hemi and I excuse ourselves to prepare. I scan the room, and my stomach sinks when I notice Hollis talking to Scarlet. Her hand rests possessively on his arm as one of her castmates snaps photos. I hate how good she and Hollis look together. She’s poised and elegant. Refined.
When Scarlet’s castmate slides her phone into her purse, Hollis steps back, severing the connection. My heart unclenches. A little.
“It’ll be fine.” Hemi squeezes my arm.
“I hate that she can touch him, and I have to stand here and watch,” I murmur. But that’s the tip of the iceberg.
“I know.”
We head for the stage, my stomach twisting as we call on the eligible players. Everyone approaches the stage, but Dallas is missing.
“Of fucking course. He asks to go first, and he’s nowhere to be found,” Hemi gripes.
“Maybe he’s in the bathroom. I could send someone to check,” I offer.
“It’s fine. I’ll get him up here.” She adopts a smile and adjusts the microphone. “Good evening, everyone, and thank you for being here. I’d like to give a special thank you to Aurora Hammerstein, who has stepped in this year to help me co-run this gala.” She turns to me. “I couldn’t have done it without you. A round of applause, everyone!”
I blush and wave, embarrassed and elated by the praise. I’m used to fading into the background unless I’m posting on my dad’s social media accounts.
“Now, we all know what everyone is really here for tonight, and do we ever have a winning lineup of eligible hockey players for you!”
The room erupts into whistles and applause. The crowd can get raucous during the auction. Last year Flip ended up ripping off his tuxedo, like he’d joined a male stripper crew, and stood on stage in nothing but a pair of black dress shoes and a team banana hammock.
Once the crowd calms, Hemi walks across the stage to the empty chair and taps her lips. “Hmm… It looks like our first hockey player has a little stage fright. Oh, Dallas!” she sing-songs. “No time for hide-and-seek tonight! Come out, come out wherever you are!”
He bursts through the doors on the other side of the room, red faced and slightly disheveled, buttoning up his tux jacket as he goes. His bow tie is askew.
“There he is! Let’s have a round of applause for our fashionably late first date, Dallas Bright!” Hemi smiles, but she looks like she wants to murder him, which isn’t unusual.
Dallas pauses to murmur an apology to Hemi, and he hands her a small note card.
“Don’t worry, Dallas. I’ll make you look good,” she tells him.
I’ve never seen the auction from behind the podium, and Dallas seems to be sweating as he makes his way to center stage.
Hemi glances at the card in her hand. Her smile freezes for a second before she folds it in half, tucks it between her breasts, and her expression turns downright evil. “Some fun facts about our first player. Dallas loves long walks on the beach. His favorite food is sauerkraut pierogis, and in his spare time, he dresses up as a clown and makes incredible balloon animals. He loves all things horses and horseback riding. When Dallas isn’t on the ice, he can be found playing Uno with his grandmother, and his favorite TV show is Letterkenny. Your night with Dallas will include an evening at a carnival, complete with a ride on his favorite Ferris wheel, and a photo shoot with Dallas’s favorite clowns! Bidding starts at two thousand dollars.”
Dallas looks like he’s about to faint. Paddles rise all over the room as the bidders go wild—at least until Dallas hits fifty thousand. That narrows things down to two bidders. For the first time in three years, the team owner’s grandmother is outbid, and one of Scarlet’s castmates wins.
“Congratulations, Candice. You’ve won a night with Dallas! We’ll give you a little time to get to know each other!” Hemi’s smile is wooden as Dallas is led off stage by the attractive brunette.
My dad is up next. I don’t need to look at his bio card. “Roman Hammerstein is our next player,” I begin, “starting goalie for the Terror and the most eligible single dad in tonight’s lineup!”
The crowd breaks into a massive round of applause.
“If you’re lucky enough to win a night with my dad, you’re guaranteed the best chicken parmigiana in the city. He’s a fan of nineties rock, but don’t hold that against him because he’s also a secret Swiftie. I would know since I’ve seen him shaking it to her music. He learned how to sew and knit so he could teach me when I went through a brief, but intense, crafting phase as a kid. He loves the outdoors and adores hiking and romantic picnics. Bids start at two thousand for an evening with this hot, sensitive single dad!”
Clover grabs her friend Sophia’s hand and forces it into the air, shouting ten thousand. Other hands raise and bids are shouted, but Dad eventually goes to Sophia (by way of Clover’s hand) for the incredible price of forty-two thousand dollars. Her face is bright red as she meets him at the end of the stage, and he escorts her back to her table.
