Page 15 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 1

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Really. Flying makes me nervous,” she randomly stated.

I scanned her up and down, noting that she wasn’t carrying anything with her.

Strange.

“No suitcase or purse. Where you headed?” I asked, even more curious about this young woman.

Her entire face pinched together at my question, but her gaze continued to roam. Maybe she washidingfrom someone.

“Why are you asking so many questions?” she snapped. “Look, I said I was sorry. Please leave me alone or I’ll call for, uh…security.” Her eyes widened as she looked me dead in the face and lied about calling for security. Then she bolted around me and speed-walked away.

“Weird.” I let out a frustrated breath then followed the signs for baggage claim.

Emily was standing by the appropriate carousel, cell phone pressed to her ear.

“Gawd, it’s already the worst trip in the entire world and we haven’t even left the airport. Why can’t I come to the Maldives where you’re shooting? I’ll be good. Stay out of the way. I promise!” I heard my daughter plead with who I assumed was her mother. What was worse was that Portia didn’t want Emily with her. Since our divorce, it was rare that she’d take Emily on any trip. Half the time she skipped her weekends with her daughter and those were court mandated every other week if she was in town. But Portia always found a reason to be “out of town” when it was her turn to have Emily.

“But Mom, Pablo likes me, right? Wait, you’re not with Pablo anymore? But I thought you were getting married…”

I rolled my eyes. Portia wasalwaysabout to marry someone she dated, but if she did, that would mean she would stop getting those ridiculously large alimony checks she didn’t deserve, right alongside the child support checks she blew on herself. Besides, the boy toys she played with were young, dumb, and full of cum. They didn’t want to get married. They wanted to bang a supermodel, get seen by the paparazzi on her arm, get some press, then move on to the next best thing. Usually a much younger, more successful woman, or a modeling/acting gig. Whichever came first.

The carousel started up and the bags slowly made their appearance.

“Honey, keep an eye out for your suitcase while I see if our driver is outside.” The Alexandra was sending a car. They always did for VIPs.

I stepped out of the airport and reached inside my jacket pocket to pull out my cell phone to check the reservation, but it wasn’t there. I patted down my chest and shoved my hand into both inner pockets of my suit jacket.

Both my wallet and my cell phone were gone. Just disappeared.

Could I have dropped them in the fall earlier? Maybe if I retraced my steps, I’d find them.

“Fuck!” I checked all of my pockets again, finding absolutely nothing.

There was no way that during the fall, my walletandmy phone could have slipped out of the inside, very deep, jacket pockets. Something that had never happened before.

And then I remembered how strangely the young woman acted after she’d run into me, then tried to escape without notice. How she took a while lying on me, her hands pressed to my chest.

“Fucking hell,” I laughed bitterly.

I’d been swindled by a little girl.

That beautiful, tiny young woman was a pickpocket.

Episode 6

The Kindness of a Stranger

MAIA

The airport bathroom stunk like shit. Two of the toilets were clogged again. I held my breath as I pulled out the wallet and phone I’d pilfered from the hot Zaddy I’d purposely run into at gate 14. I hadn’t meant to trip, and was surprised when he caught me, protecting me from hitting the floor. Though the fall wasn’t what had me shaking in my knockoff Doc Martens.

It was his eyes.

The steely gray pierced through me as if he could see straight to my soul. It’d unnerved me. Made me want to stop and question my choices. Except my choices were eat or not eat. Pay the rent on the tiny studio I rented above Sam’s garage or potentially go back to living on the streets.

My landlord was cool though. He’d give me more time to pay up if I needed it. Sam was a man who had fallen on hard times more often than not in his past. His motorcycle club had given him what he called a second chance. An opportunity to make something of himself and find his purpose. Sam wanted the same for me. The man had become like a big, gruff, scary older brother with knuckles of steel and the softest, mushiest heart on the planet.

Sam had saved me all those years ago and continued to do so by being the number one family I chose. Though Alana was aclose second. The memory of when Alana and I met four years ago skated across my memory.

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