weekends, all the time. She had before, but Braxton knew it
wasn’t right. And she did work, they both did, answering emails
so Monday wasn’t a horrific mess.
Stopping fussing with the tie, Braxton checked himself out,
front and back, and gave up preening. He sipped a shot of tequila
he had poured for himself to calm his nerves and then tossed the
remainder down his throat. It made him cough. He wiped his lip,
put the glass in the sink and pocketed his phone, wallet, and
keys, then looked around the room as if he were an imbecile and
had no idea what he was doing.
“Fuck!” he shouted, clenched his fists and stood still, eyes
closed.
Calm down.
He inhaled deeply and tried to slow the hell down. He was
going out of his mind.
Inhaling through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, he
gave himself a two second mediation break, because in reality it
was all the time he had, then he heard his phone hum. Trying not
to scream from the overload, he read the text. Scott was waiting
at the entrance of his condo to give him a ride to the event.
Shutting lights, making sure he had everything he needed,
Braxton left the condo and walked to the elevator. He kept
touching his long hair and tie, nervous for the auction. What he
wouldn’t give to have someone by his side. A man to help him
deal with all the stress. Even if it was someone to hold him and
tell him to hang in there. Anything.
He rode the elevator down to the lobby and spotted the
adorable chauffeur on his phone, texting while he waited.
Braxton exited his building and got a nice smile from Scott.
“We meet again.” Scott’s smile was Hollywood bright.
“We do.” Braxton did like the man, but Scott’s reputation for
being a slut and cad was worse than his. He sat in the back of the
limo and tried not to reach for the booze, letting the one shot of
tequila calm him.
“So, red carpet first, then head to the Ritz for the auction,
right?”
“Yes. I have to be at the auction ASAP, so please be waiting
for me around nine? Latest?”
“You can count on me, Braxton.” Scott caught his eyes in the
rear view mirror.
For one second Braxton thought about giving a relationship a
try with Scott, but the minute that idea hit his brain, he heard
Scott talking on his phone, hands free, “Hey, yeah. I’ll be done at around midnight. Can I stop by?”
Braxton sank in the seat and stared out of the window at the
passing cars.
~
“Hello, beautiful.” Fabian kissed Naomi on the cheek when
they met out in front of Jones’ Restaurant. “Look at you. You
always look like a fashion model.” Fabian admired her dark
complexion and braided weaves.
“You too! How can you be single in West Hollywood?
Fabian, you need to get out more.”
Fabian opened the restaurant door for her and they were hit
with the scent of garlic and roasted peppers. A waitress smiled at
them and said, “Just take any seat.”
Fabian gestured to a table by the wall and Naomi nodded
agreeably, sitting with her back to a large mirror in the dim
lighting. Seated across from her, Fabian gave her a nice smile,
glad to be out of the house and with someone he enjoyed. The
waitress brought them menus and Fabian leaned back and took it
from her.
“Would you care for a drink?”
“I’d love a glass of wine.” Naomi opened the menu. “How
about the house merlot?”
“Perfect.” The perky waitress gave Fabian her attention.
“I’ll have the Belgium white beer.”
“Coming right up. And our specials of the day are listed on
that board.”
“Gotcha.” Fabian smiled and the waitress skipped off as if
she either loved her job or was high.
Naomi scanned the menu quietly while Fabian wondered if he
should just get a job at a restaurant. Why deal with all the stress of one of these high-powered business firms.
“Want to share a pizza and a salad?” Naomi asked.
“I do. You choose. I like it all.” He closed the menu.
The waitress returned with their drinks and asked, “Need
more time?”
“No. How about the margherita pizza and the arugula and
fennel salad. We’re going to share it.”
“Perfect!” She took the menus and trotted off.
“Wow. She’s a happy camper.” Fabian sipped his beer.
“Why not? This seems like a nice place to work. Love the
food.” Naomi drank from her wine glass and tossed her long
braids behind her shoulder. “What’s going on with the job
hunting, Fabian? Any luck finding something permanent?”
“No. But I had another interview yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“At Braxton Todd’s PR firm.” He wrinkled his nose in
distaste.
“Ha. I love him!”
“Oh shut up.” He shook his head. “He’s a slut.”
“Come on. Don’t believe everything you read in those
tabloids. What was your opinion? Did he interview you or did
someone else?”
“He did.” Fabian stared at the purple color of Naomi’s long
fingernails for a moment then said, “It was all of five minutes of
bullshit, and I felt as if he was talking down to me. He asked me
if I could file. How demeaning.”
“Oh well.” She shrugged.
“I don’t know if I’d want to work for the guy even if I got
hired.” Fabian felt as if he were lying.
“Don’t think about it. There will be the right job out there.
Just be patient.”
Fabian nodded, but his patience was worn thin.
~
Tipsy on champagne from the red carpet affair, Braxton
slipped away from all the celebs who pretended to be an ‘elite
class’ and not normal people who put their pants on one leg at a
time. He worked for them, yes, but didn’t like many.
His face hurt from the plastic smile he had pasted on ever
since Scott dropped him off. Did he stay for the film? No. He
rarely did, hating sitting without a partner when everyone was
paired off two by two. But this time he had another commitment.
A few miles away he was dropped off at the Ritz Carlton and
hustled out of the limousine, not waiting for Scott to open the car door for him. He sprinted inside and looked for a sign of the
right direction to head. And he found one. An actual placard sign
listing the event, guiding him to one of the grand ballrooms.
Racing, always rushing against time, Braxton spotted the correct
room and peeked in. It was packed with enormous round tables,
people dining wearing glittering gowns and black ties, servers in
black and white and a stage set up with spotlights and a dais for
the auctioneer. A projection screen was behind the dais and
would obviously be used to show off the items that could not be
showcased there.
Braxton caught his breath, ran his hand through his hair to get
it out of his eyes as he tried to find Sophia. He didn’t want to be spott
ed yet, so he scanned the room and nabbed a server. “Can
you find Sophia Deluca, please? Tell her Braxton Todd is
looking for her.”
The young man’s face lit up and he said, “Yes, Mr Todd.
Wish I had the cash to bid on you.”
Braxton felt his face heat up horribly and tried to be humble
but he was so nervous he was getting sweaty instead.
The young man headed off and Braxton stood outside the
enormous hall, which contained at least two to three hundred
filthy rich guests dining under enormous crystal chandeliers. He
tried to calm down. He stuffed his hands in to his trouser pockets
and felt his phone vibrate.
He took it out and read a text from Sophia, ‘ Braxton, go
around left side of ballroom there is back door.’
He trotted down the long carpeted hall and tried a few doors
that were locked. One opened. It led to a private area behind the
hall where the servers and facilitators were gathering.
“I’m sorry. Am I late?” Braxton touched his bow tie.
“No, darling. You are fine. We are still wining and dining our
wonderful patrons, yes? And we haven’t even begun the
auction.” She appeared concerned. “Go freshen up. Have you
need of a drink?”
“Do I look like hell?” He ran his hand over his hair again in
panic.
She held his hand and walked with him to a men’s room.
“Go. Just take a deep breath and splash your face.”
“Oh, God! How shitty do I look?”
“I’ll have nice drink for you. What do you enjoy?”
“Christ. Uh, tequila. I started on it, may as well end on it.”
She nodded and walked off. Braxton entered the men’s room
to see his reflection. He didn’t look too bad, just rushed, flushed and out of breath.
With both hands he leaned on the sink and tried to calm
down. He hadn’t eaten anything but a few puff pastries at the
premiere and imagined a gourmet meal. But that would have to
wait.
After a few deep breaths, Braxton splashed his face and tried
to get his unruly mane of hair to behave. He relieved himself and
met Sophia outside the bathroom. She held out a shot glass and a
wedge of lime.
He thanked her, shot the booze down and chewed the tart
fruit. Once he was done, she took both items back and looked
into his eyes. “Darling, you are fabulous. Stop worrying. You are
the highlight. Who cares about a trip to Hawaii when they can
have you?”
“No one thinks I’m going to have sex with them, right?” He
ran his hand through his hair again, the booze hitting him hard
on an empty stomach.
“Of course not! Is a dinner date. Just three dinner. No sex.”
“Three with the same person?”
“No! Three, each with one person. Braxton, you knew this.
Three dates, one each.”
“Three.” He tried to loosen his collar. He knew that. Didn’t
he? Yes. He was just stressed out and on overload.
“Come. Let me get you another drink. And someone needs to
brush your beautiful locks.” She held his hand and dragged him
off.
Chapter 5
Fabian finished his beer as the pizza and salad were placed at
their table.
“Another round?” the waitress asked.
“I’m good.” Naomi nodded.
“Yes.” Fabian handed her his empty glass.
“Great! Save room for dessert, the crème brulee is to die for!”
Stopping the urge to make another comment at how happy
that woman was, Fabian took a slice of pizza to his plate, the
aroma was making his mouth water. “Braxton is being auctioned
off tonight.”
“Oh, is that the two thousand dollar a plate thing you
mentioned.” Naomi scooped salad onto her dish.
“Yeah. Can you imagine? Being so hot and in demand you
can have an evening with you make a charity money?”
“Some people would pay to sit where I am right now, with
the fabulous Fabian Rhys.”
He laughed. “You’re so good for my ego.” He blew on the
slice, folded it and tasted it. “Mm.”
“The salad is fantastic too.” Naomi ate a bite then asked,
“Why do you think you are anything less than a man like
Braxton?”
“I don’t know. Money? Fame? Looks?”
“You know…that attitude? That self-doubt? That may come
out when you interview for a job.”
“Naomi!” He blinked in surprise at her candor.
“I’m just saying.” She shrugged. “Fabian, do you own a
mirror? You’re hot. But it’s not just that, you’re nice. You’re
sweet, you’re intelligent…”
“Okay.” He held up his hand to stop her. “I wasn’t fishing.”
“You don’t go into a job interview thinking you suck, right?”
“I don’t think so. I think I’m overqualified, if anything.”
She nodded. “Good…mm, that pizza is great.”
“I know. Right? Beats the two grand a plate meal any day.”
He smiled.
“Damn straight!” Naomi laughed
“Love you,” Fabian said, giving her a wink.
~
Braxton was drunk.
Sophia obviously thought he needed Dutch courage to strut
his stuff on stage. She was right. He was no celebrity, he was a
behind the scenes kind of guy, and now? A nervous wreck.
Terrible thoughts seized him, all from no one bidding on him—
at all—since he had a very bad reputation in the tabloids as a
whore, or having super cougars like Jean bid on him and paw at
him at dinner.
nowhere so he jumped at her touch.
Sophia calmed him. “I ask her to fluff you up, you sexy boy.”
“Fluff me?” Braxton imagined a different type of fluffing.
“I’m dying here, Sophia. Do I have to go through with this?”
“No. Walk away. Go.” She wasn’t mad, just annoyed at his
obstinacy. She waved him away. “Ciao.”
Braxton stopped whining like a little girl, stood tall and felt
resolved. “Let me at ‘em.”
“Grrr,” the woman brushing his hair said.
“Darling…” Sophia touched his hair gently, nudging it out of
his eyes. “You are worth plenty. Let them pay and help our
cause.”
“Yes. Gotcha.” Battle ready, Braxton was led right outside
the curtained staging area where an excursion to Honolulu had
just been bid on.
The announcer slash auctioneer was given a cue.
“And now ladies and gentlemen…the moment all of you have
been waiting for…”
Braxton’s heart began beating hard against his ribs.
“Tonight you’ll have the opportunity to bid on three dinner
dates—one at The Palm, one at this lovely hotel right here, and
one at the Café la Boheme—with one of the most powerful,
handsome, sought after men in Hollywood.”
A murmur of noise came from the large crowd.
Braxton tried not to imagine sneers of people who imagined
he was a sexual disease carrier. Though he had a lot of
‘experience’ he was clean and
didn’t consider himself too much
of a slut. Not too much. At least not lately.
“Braxton Todd!”
Sophia pushed him from behind and Braxton walked into the
spotlights, terrified. A huge roar of applause, whistles, and
catcalls, rang out. He nodded politely to the auctioneer who was
grinning wickedly at him, as if he knew how much Braxton was
going to bring in.
His image was being projected, up close, on the big screen
behind him as he walked to the front of the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, have your bidding cards ready
because this is going to be one heck of a ride!”
Braxton could barely see beyond the stage spotlights. He
unbuttoned the tuxedo jacket, put his hands into his pants
pockets, and tried to look calm.
“Here we go! Opening bid of one thousand! Can I see one
thousand?” the auctioneer began his speed talking and the house
lights went up so the paddles with numbers could be seen and
acknowledged.
There was no hesitation for the opening bid though Braxton
thought it was quite high. He did a little runway strut, so he
didn’t just stand there like a dumb schmuck, and made sure he
turned right and left to see the paddles rising up as the number
did.
“…and…two thousand can I see two-five…two-five…we got
twenty-five, can I see three?”
Braxton began to drip from the tension and the hot lights. He
took off his tuxedo jacket and the screams of women nearly
made him deaf. He folded it over his arm and the number
climbed in one hundred increments to four thousand.
Braxton glanced back at Sophia and made a face of surprise
at how high the bidding was going. She began miming for him to
take off his tie. Braxton touched his bowtie in confusion. She
nodded.
He removed his tie and Sophia’s assistant raced out to take
both the jacket and tie from him.
As the bidding continued, Braxton loosened his collar and
again made a walk to the front tables and smiled at the excited,
drunk guests.
“Five! Five! Five…last and final offer? Sold! We got us our
first date with Braxton Todd, sold to number two-oh-two.” The
auctioneer pointed to the bidder.
Braxton tried to see who had paid five grand for him. He
choked. An older man in his sixties with snow white hair was
grinning demonically at him.
“Date number two!” the auctioneer began the next round.