Anonymous Bidder

by Robin Roseau

  Anonymous Bidder

  Robin Roseau

  Table of Contents

  Auction

  Contact

  Date Night

  Abbreviated Dinner

  Dinner In

  Unexpected

  Running Away

  Friends

  Confrontation

  Avoidance

  Denial

  Reconciliation

  The Marys

  About the Author

  Auction

  "I can't believe I let you two talk me into this."

  "Yes, you can," said Maryann. "You've been looking forward to it, and you look fabulous. Doesn't she look fabulous, Marybeth?"

  Time out. Yes, I know, I just started telling this story, and already I need a time out. Maryann and Marybeth were my two best friends, almost my only friends. We've been friends since high school, when we all realized we were gay. Okay, maybe that's not so special, but Maryann and Marybeth have been married for five years. And neither of them is willing to change her name to reduce the confusion absolutely everyone has when addressing them.

  We often refer to them as The Marys.

  "Stunning," said Marybeth. "I'd bid on her."

  "I have not been looking forward to this," I protested. "And look at them." I gestured to a few of the other women up for auction tonight. "Now, they look fabulous. I look dumpy."

  "You do not look at all dumpy," denied Marybeth. "You have curves everywhere a woman is supposed to have curves."

  "And this dress is to die for," Maryann said. "For once would you just trust us?"

  I swear, that was her favorite line, every time they tried to get me to do something I didn't want to do. The thing is, once she used it, I did trust them, and I always had fun.

  I was sure this time would be the exception.

  "No one is going to bid on me." I bet that was the fear of every bachelor or bachelorette for auctions like this. It was in all the movies. Someone decides to host a charity auction, selling off the unwitting -- but frequently hot -- local inhabitants for a date. And the main character gets roped in but is sure she won't have any bidders, or the people who do bid will be horrible, or chainsaw murderers or something.

  God, what if the woman who buys me is a Republican?

  "There are... a lot of women here hoping to rope a date," Marybeth said.

  "Yeah, women who can't get dates any other way." I sighed. Women like me, I thought.

  "Don't say it," Maryann said.

  "What? You can read my mind?"

  "You always sigh like that when you're having some sort of unreasonable self-deprecating thought. You're a real catch."

  Every year, the local LGBT group hosted a charity event, raising money for a local charity. We'd given money to the food shelves, two different women's shelters, some animal rescue organizations, and, of course, our own community outreach program. It wasn't a lot of money, but every bit helps, right.

  This was the first year we were trying an event like this. Someone had been watching too many television shows or reading trashy books or something. On the TV shows, the idea looked cute. But have you ever heard of one of these happening in real life? I certainly haven't, until today.

  I was sure it was going to be a disaster.

  "What's the worst that could happen?" Maryann asked.

  "You guys could sell me off to some sort of kidney-stealing axe murderer."

  "Oh, please," said Marybeth. "I've seen you let some pretty questionable-looking women pick you up in bars. None of them stole your kidneys. What are you really afraid of?"

  I turned to face her full on. "Fine. Top three concerns. Number one: no one bids on me. Two: whoever wins me has something seriously wrong with her. And three..." I couldn't think of a third.

  "All right," Maryann said. "First, you look hot. I've seen at least six women seriously checking you out."

  "Bullshit."

  "Bullshit?" She asked. "Look casually to your right."

  I slowly turned my head, seeming to scan the room. And there, clearly looking at me, was a woman. She was actually a halfway decent looking woman, although a little older than I was. Okay, more than a little, but if she won me, it wouldn't be that bad. I stared at her, and so I got busted about busting her. She raised her glass to me in a salute and nodded with a smile, then turned away.

  "She's a little old," said Marybeth, "but not that old, and she's well dressed and attractive."

  I didn't say anything, but being checked out did help calm me down.

  "No one knows what the bidding is going to be like," Maryann said. "Starting bids are twenty bucks. For twenty bucks, we'd buy you."

  I laughed.

  "I don't know," Marybeth said. "Twenty bucks is enough for a pizza." She smiled.

  "This might be a bust," Maryann said. "But at least we tried something fun, and it's for a good charity."

  "Okay, fine, but that was one woman, and who knows? She might be checking everyone out. Or she might, I don't know. Have a speech impediment."

  "Seriously? You'd hold something like that against her?" Maryann turned me to face her. "Do you remember when you went out with Sal Carson? None of us understood why you agreed. Do you remember what you told me?"

  I sighed. "I told you everyone deserves a chance." But then I stood up straight. "We had a nice time."

  We had, too. Sal was socially withdrawn in groups, but it turned out she could be really funny, one-on-one. There hadn't been any real physical chemistry between us, and so we had hugged goodnight instead of kissed. But I'd had a nice time.

  "You going out with her gave her confidence," Maryann said. "And look? She met Estee, and now look at them. They're both happy as clams. I don't think that would have happened if you hadn't gone out with her."

  "That's more bullshit," I said. "She didn't need me."

  "You don't know that. You ask her sometime what that date meant. Because I know for a fact she credits you for having the bravery to ask Estee out."

  "She does?"

  "For a fact," Maryann repeated. "So, imagine that the woman who wins you does have something wrong with her."

  "Two heads," Marybeth suggested.

  "Three eyes."

  "Three boobs." Maryann cocked her had. "You know, that might not be all that bad."

  Marybeth gently slapped her wife with the back of the hand. "So what?" she asked. "It's one date. You could suffer a date with... with... I don't know even who would be so terrible you couldn't handle one night."

  "A straight girl."

  That shut them up, but then Maryann giggled. "If a straight girl wins you, it's because she's not sure she's that straight after all. And you'll still have a nice time."

  "What if she's, like, really gross, and expects sex afterwards?"

  "No expectations," Marybeth said. "The program is entirely clear. There are no expectations beyond conversation and a handshake. No one is promising so much as a hug, and if you're not comfortable, you don't even have to ride in a car with her. If she has expectations, that's her problem, not yours."

  I knew all this. "Fine," I said. "I still don't think anyone is going to want me."

  "Wager."

  "You and your wagers," I said to Marybeth. "What is with the wagers?"

  "Come on. Wager."

  "Fine. What?"

  "Someone will bid on you, and you'll go for an amount you won't find embarrassing. I don't know how much that is; it will depend, I suppose, on what everyone else takes in."

  "Fine," I said. "And when I don't, and I win..." Then I sighed. If I won, I still lost.

  "We'll go home with you at Thanksgiving so you don't have to face your Mom alone again."

  My eyes bugged out. They hated my mom. "You're not serious
. Both of you?"

  "Yep. But when you go for some huge, record-setting amount..." She turned to Maryann. "What do you want, honey?"

  "We're offering her a weekend?" Maryann verified. "Fine. Work weekend at the cabin."

  I groaned and then nodded. "Fine." I didn't actually mind the work weekend. Cabins were a lot of work. The Marys were always complaining about the amount of work. The thing is, they were generous with their cabin, too. I had a standing invitation to go up with them, and I accepted all the time. Plus they even told me I could use it when they weren't there, and I'd done that a few times. It was only fair I help with the work.

  Marybeth stuck out her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, we shook on the agreement.

  * * * *

  They had a lot of people to auction, men and women both. They were alternating gender, more or less, while the rest of us stayed in a room on the side. We could hear the auction going on, but we were otherwise out of sight.

  I bit my lip and worried.

  Bidding was actually rather fierce, but then, they sent some of the best people up first. We knew our order, and I thought there was a smart method to their madness. They warmed the crowd up with some favorites. Then there was the pack -- which is where I was, nearly dead center. And then to end on a high note, I thought the most fabulous woman in the room would go last.

  Slowly I moved towards the front of the line, but then Jessica Johnson pulled me from the line.

  "Hey!" I complained.

  "We're changing the order," she said. And then she pulled me all the way to the back of the line, considered carefully, and then made me dead last.

  "I don't want to go last," I told her.

  "Welcome to my world," said Daphne Emeralds. Daphne was just as beautiful as her name implied, with a sunny disposition, perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect everything.

  "You've never been last in your life. I, however..."

  "Sorry, Violetta," she said. "Orders and all that."

  "Everyone's going to run out of money bidding on Daphne," I complained. "And no one is even going to notice when I walk up there." I sighed. At least I wouldn't have to do the work weekend.

  While we were waiting, I tugged on Daphne's arm. She turned to me and smiled. She had the most amazing smile, and for a moment I forgot what I was going to ask her. She waited patiently. Finally I said, "Why are you doing this?"

  "For charity," she said. "Why else? Why are you doing it?"

  "I let The Marys talk me into it."

  She laughed.

  "Can we switch?" I asked. "I really don't want to go after you."

  "I don't know what you're worried about. You look great, Violetta. That's a beautiful dress."

  "Oh, please," I said. "You've got legs to here, and curves everywhere, and a smile to serve as the definition of a beautiful smile."

  "Let me ask you something," she said. "Okay, yes. I have a mirror. I know what I look like. I put a lot of work into it, too. But how would you like never knowing whether someone is nice to you because you look like this, or because they actually like you?"

  "Oh, please," I said again. "Like you'd switch looks with me."

  "Maybe not, but you have something I don't. You know, all the way to the bottom of your heart, that everyone who is nice to you is nice because they honestly like you. I don't know that about anyone. The Marys are the dearest friends someone could have, and they're your friends. They don't even look twice at me. I've never been invited to their cabin for their ladies' weekends. Not once. Why is that?"

  "Because you wouldn't come."

  "How does anyone know that?"

  "Because you did get an invitation, and you didn't come."

  "When?"

  "Shortly after they got it. I know you got an invitation, because I helped them write the invitation list. And the only answer you gave was the timing was inconvenient. What kind of reason is that?"

  Her smile faded and her expression actually grew a little cold. "It was. Inconvenient that is."

  "Right."

  "It was."

  "I got it. It was inconvenient. But did you say something like, But I'd love to come another time? No. The timing was inconvenient. No other explanation."

  She stared at me for a moment then grabbed my arm and began pushing me backwards, somewhat rudely. But I was so taken by surprised I let her, and soon we found ourselves in the far corner of the room, Daphne and her magnificent body hemming me in with no escape.

  "This is top secret," she said. "You never tell another living soul."

  I crossed my arms.

  "Or not," she said. "But I won't tell you if you're going to blab."

  "Fine," I said. "Top secret."

  "You don't even tell The Marys."

  "Fine."

  "I have a cousin. He's younger. He was 16 then, I think."

  "All right."

  "He had just figured out he was gay. He was having a difficult time."

  "It was one weekend."

  "He went to a gay bar. He let someone pick him up. Someone who liked beating up his partners."

  "Oh hell," I said quietly.

  "He decided that's what gay love is like, and he was talking suicide. He was on suicide watch at home. I spent a month at my aunt's, helping to keep an eye on my cousin and assuring him life would get better."

  "Oh hell," I said again.

  "Is that inconvenient enough for you?" she asked. "Do you think maybe there are reasons I didn't say more? Do you think maybe you can forgive me for not observing all the social niceties?"

  I sighed. "I'm sorry."

  She huffed. "Yeah." She paused and offered a tentative smile. "I shouldn't have taken this out on you. You didn't deserve it."

  "Well..."

  "Everyone comes to conclusions about me, that I think I'm too good for them. I'd love to come on a ladies' weekend, Violetta. All right?"

  "I'll make it happen," I said.

  "I'll switch places if you want, but I think you're worried about nothing."

  * * * *

  Ten minutes later Jessica Johnson frowned at me. She pulled me from the line and told Daphne, "You're up." Then she turned me to her. "What was that about?"

  "I didn't want to be last, and Daphne didn't mind."

  She sighed but didn't say anything.

  As expected, Daphne was exceedingly popular, and the bidding went on for a while before the gavel banged.

  Then there was the last guy, and he went for even more money.

  I sighed.

  "You're up," Jessica said. "Head up. Stand tall. Try to look sexy."

  "It sounds like you don't have any more faith in me than I do."

  I got a half step, but she stopped me. "I wanted to do this tonight."

  "Why didn't you?"

  "I chickened out. I wish I hadn't."

  "You can have my place."

  She laughed. She wasn't exactly dressed for it.

  Then she gave me a tiny push, and I stepped into the main room.

  * * * *

  The audience was still a little worked up from the two favorites, and so I think it was a surprise when I stepped out. I made my way onto the stage, and I was frightened out of my skull.

  Each of us had written a little bio. Well, The Marys wrote mine. I flat out refused. I refused to do any of the paperwork, so they had done all that, too. In fact, right then, I couldn't remember when exactly I agreed to stand up here. And I realized I never did. They just treated it like a done deal.

  Oh, there would be payback. I vowed that right then and there.

  But I searched the crowd, finding them seated about halfway back. Maryann gave me two thumbs up, and Marybeth smiled and nodded at me.

  I was going to kill them. I swore it.

  I didn't know the auctioneer. I should have, perhaps, but the gay and lesbian community isn't really a community. There's a gay community, and there's a lesbian community. And both of those are deeply fractured as well. And while there was some mixing, ther
e wasn't that much mixing.

  He was gorgeous, though, with perfect blond hair and a perfect chin and perfect blue eyes. He smiled at me, nodded, and then introduced me, reading my bio for me.

  The Marys had done a very flattering job. I thought it was all hogwash.

  "This is our last lady," he added. "So this represents your last chance to land an amazing date. Please do us proud." He paused, smiled, and then said, "Do I hear twenty dollars?"

  "Wait!" someone called out. I turned left, and I saw Vickie Hallas. Vickie was one of the coordinators, and I was sure she was about to proclaim they didn't auction off people like me, or that there was a mistake, or something. Instead, it was nothing that dire.

  She stepped forward, and I saw she had a phone. "I have an anonymous bidder."

  "Oh, how mysterious," said the auctioneer. I struggled with his name. Derek. Dean, Dick... Some D-name. I'll just call him D, I guess.

  "Quite so," said Vickie. "Violetta, we weren't expecting something like this. I want you to know, when I bid, it is not for myself."

  "It damned well better not be!" yelled Vickie's wife from the audience. That yielded laughter.

  "Three-some!" someone yelled, and soon half the audience was calling for a three-some. D had to use the power of the microphone to get them to calm down.

  "I don't know how I feel about this," I said. "This is making me nervous."

  "I know who this is," Vickie said, waving the phone at me. "I personally vouch for her integrity."

  "If she has all this integrity, why is she anonymous?"

  "She has good reasons. Please, Violetta."

  I sighed. One more reason to kill The Marys. "Fine, fine."

  "Thank you." She offered a small bow. "Go ahead, Desmond."

  That's right. Desmond. Who names his kid Desmond?

  "Are there any other sudden interruptions?" Desmond asked. He waved his gavel at the audience. "I'm not sure my heart can take more surprises. No? All right. Twenty dollars, anyone?"

  "Twenty!" A woman called out, waving her number. I didn't recognize who she was.

  I wouldn't say bidding and fast and furious, but it moved up to the seventy-five dollar range fairly efficiently before it slowed down. The lowest I'd heard was one-fifty, so half that was definitely deep into the embarrassing range. But as I'd followed Daphne, I wasn't expecting much.