Page 114 of Is This for Real?
Ciara raises her paddle. Rory’s dad has his arm around his mom’s shoulders. They are back together, after many good talks and counseling, and seated at our table.
Rory raises his paddle again.
“Twelve hundred,” the auctioneer says. “Anyone else, thirteen hundred, we don’t want that table to go home as enemies. Thirteen hundred, do I have thirteen hundred?”
My sister in the back raises her paddle proudly.
“We’ve got thirteen hundred to number 18 in the back. Fourteen hundred?”
A blond guy, whom I don’t know and who is not seated at any of my friends’ tables, raises his paddle. “Fifteen hundred,” he shouts out.
A stranger wants it. I squeeze Rafael’s hand.
“Fifteen hundred up front here. Do I have sixteen hundred?” the auctioneer asks.
Jamie raises his paddle. My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. What is he doing? My friends don’t have to bid anymore.
“Sixteen hundred to paddle number 7. Seventeen hundred?”
Miranda’s art dealer raises her paddle. “Two thousand,” she yells out. I bet she knows the value of Rafael’s paintings. They could be worth that.
“Twenty-five hundred,” the blond guy says in the front, raising his paddle again. An owl hoots in the night.
“Three thousand,” Tessa calls out from her table. I know Tessa is a lawyer, but still. I feel so much love from all my friends. And I realize I have more than just Zelda and Rory and my sister supporting me.
“Thirty-five hundred? Do I have thirty-five hundred?” the auctioneer asks.
The blond guy raises his paddle.
“Thirty-six hundred?”
Tessa grins at me and raises her paddle. She hates losing.
“Thirty-eight hundred?” the auctioneer asks.
Miranda’s art dealer raises her paddle.
“The bid is at thirty-eight hundred with the woman in the pink at table 9. Do we have four thousand? Anyone? Anyone? Or do I close this at thirty-eight hundred? Remember that not only are you getting some incredible works of art, but you’re also providing after-school and summer camp opportunities for boys and girls from low-income families.”
The blond guy raises his paddle.
“We have four thousand with the young man in the front. Thank you. Do we have forty-two hundred? Forty-two hundred? Anyone?”
No one raises their paddle.
“Going once, going twice, this is your chance to own this piece of art.” The auctioneer pauses. I look across the room at all my friends who are smiling at me. “Sold to paddle number 14 for four thousand dollars here in the front.” The auctioneer bangs down his gavel.
Rafael and I both jump up and down. I smile at the guy. We both say thank you and leave the stage as they call up the next miniature artist.
I don’t even know how I make it to my table, but suddenly I am there, and Rory is hugging me. And I am hugging him back, holding on to him because I’m so happy, I might float off the ground. Rory kisses me.
“This is just the beginning,” he says. “Wait until your book comes out next week.”
I smile and say, “Yes, other authors have warned me about feeling naked and exposed once you have your book out in the world, so being up on that stage, hoping someone bids, was good practice for feeling naked.”
“I thought we’d practiced being naked a lot lately,” Rory says, his lips tilting upward as he pulls me closer. “We can warm up with some couples’ yoga.”
“Naked?” I ask.
“Your choice,” he says, his hand stroking my arm. “Although, I haven’t seen that red lingerie lately.”
I kiss him, his lips firm against mine, and whisper, “I love you.”
