Last Chance Family Part 23

"Oh, boy. Which quote?"

"The one about how it is easier to live through someone else than to become complete yourself. Basically she told me that, if I wanted to bid on Dave, I would have to do it myself. Then she suggested I read this poem by Longfellow about the courts.h.i.+p of Priscilla Mullins and Miles Standish."

Charlene snorted. "As in speak for yourself, John?"

He nodded and cast his glance toward Dave. "He's having a miserable time."

Charlene said nothing. And Angel let go of a long sigh that probably would cla.s.sify as mournful. And if there was one thing Angel hated, it was gay men who got all mournful over relations.h.i.+ps.

Maybe he should muscle the girls aside and make a heartfelt declaration of his admiration.

He was giving this idea serious consideration when Molly Wolfe, his employer's wife, came striding up with a frown on her face. "Angel, I just heard the strangest thing from Aunt Millie."

"Oh, boy," Charlene muttered.

"What?" Angel turned just as Hugh deBracy handed Charlene her mantini. Charlene took a big gulp. "I'm afraid Amanda opened her big mouth at the Cut 'n Curl this afternoon and let the cat out of the bag."

"What cat?"

"So it's true?" Molly's eyes rounded in surprise. "Oh, my G.o.d. I had no idea." She paused a moment. "Oh, Charlene, that's terrible. You had a big crush" Her voice faded out.

So Molly and Millie hadn't figured it out either. Charlene felt better about her gaydar. "Yeah, I did," she said, taking another big sip of her drink. "I had a big, honking crush on a gay guy. Pathetic."

Molly put her arm around Charlene. "I'm so sorry. Life can throw some real curves sometimes, can't it? But, hey, things are looking up. From what I hear, you're going to find your soulmate tonight." She frowned. "Which kind of begs the question as to why you're over here at the bar and Pastor Tim is across the room with Andrea Newsome."

"Yup, that is the question of the century," Charlene said, taking another sip of the mantini.

"Honey, how many of those drinks have you had?"

She shrugged. "Lost count. You know, it's a shame I'm Drew's cousin, because he's one of the cutest guys here."

"I think we should get you some coffee," Molly said.

"No. No coffee for me. I intend to have a rip-roaring good time. And I'm not going to let either one of you spoil my fun. I think I'll go flirt with Ross Gardiner. He might be practically engaged to Lucy, but he's kind of hunky." She pushed off the bar and sailed across the room, mantini in hand.

"I better go warn Simon that he's going to need to drive her home." Molly headed off in another direction, leaving Angel still standing at the bar trying to figure out what he should do. Dave had been outed by the gossips of Last Chance. By next week, all the people who had only suspected that he was gay would know for certain.

He could warn him. Or he could try to show him that being out was a whole lot better than trying to hide the person you really are. He pushed away from the bar and headed off to the foyer, where volunteers were selling purple bracelets.

He plunked down twenty-five bucks and bought one for himself.

CHAPTER.

22.

Tim felt exposed as he walked down the runway. He fervently wished he'd rehea.r.s.ed this, but he kind of doubted that even a rehearsal would have prepared him for the flock of single women who had descended upon this event.

They had come from miles and miles away, and their presence here said something kind of sad about the state of love in South Carolina. Young people had to rely on bars and events like this.

His palms sweated, and his heart thumped. He plastered a stupid smile on his face and walked stiffly to the end of the walkway, while Grant Trumbull smoothly announced his name, date of birth, occupation, and a short summary of his life. Grant made him sound like some kind of paragon.

But Tim knew better. He squinted into the lights, looking for a familiar face, but the lights blinded him. He prayed that one of those predatory females wouldn't win this bid. He couldn't imagine having dinner with some of the women who had turned up for this event.

He took his place next to Drew Polk and stood there as the rest of the bachelors strutted their stuff up and down the runway. Allen Canaday didn't actually strut. He danced his way up and back, making some truly suggestive hip motions. The women hooted and hollered, but Tim noticed it was mostly the out-of-towners.

The rest of the bachelors walked and waved, except for Mike, who sort of sauntered and had to gently discourage several women from actually crawling up onto the stage with him. His ease with this event must have something to do with his living in Vegas.

After the introductions, everyone a.s.sembled backstage, peering from the wings as Drew Polk was auctioned off. The bidders had pink, heart-shaped bidding paddles, and Grant Trumbull turned out to have impressive skill at managing the bids.

The bidding for Drew started at fifty dollars and was pretty brisk for about a minute and a half. A young lady Tim didn't recognize won Drew for the price of $130.

Tim's turn next.

He pulled his inhaler out of his pocket and took a hit. It seemed to ease the pressure in his chest as he walked onto the stage. Still, his collar was strangling him, and he wondered how on earth he'd let Wilma Riley talk him into doing this.

"And now, ladies, we come to the catch of the night," Grant said in his mellifluous radio voice. "Tim Lake is a Methodist minister with a deep and abiding love for animals and the Lord. You can't go wrong with this guy, especially if you're looking for something long-term. The opening bid for this gent is set at fifty dollars. Do I hear fifty?"

He was such a hypocrite. He didn't have a deep and abiding love for animals. In fact, he mostly disliked them. Intensely.

The blinding light gave him a headache, and his chest squeezed so tight that he worried about having a full-fledged asthma attack. Long minutes seemed to go by; time hung suspended. And then someone in the audience put up a pink paddle and said, "I bid five hundred dollars."

Tim couldn't see her and didn't recognize the voice. He guessed that Charlene had saved him. He'd heard all the gossip about Miriam Randall and her prediction. Bless her. He didn't think he loved her, but at least she'd saved him from the clutches of those out-of-town floozies who had overtaken the event.

"Wow," Grant said. "Obviously Pastor Tim has a female admirer. Or maybe just a really committed animal lover. Do I hear five hundred and ten?"

No one upped the bid. Grant struck his wooden gavel. "Sold to number six ninety-eight, who I believe is the beautiful and wickedly smart Dr. Andrea Newsome."

Andrea? Andrea had bought him?

He stumbled on his way off the stage. Thank G.o.d, Mike was there to catch him before he landed on his face. They had a moment where they stood eye to eye as Grant Trumbull announced Allen Canaday's name.

"Andrea bought you?" Mike asked, frowning.

"I guess."

"Not Charlene?"

"No. I guess Charlene didn't have a spare five hundred lying around. Andrea's bid was preemptive."

"d.a.m.n," Mike said, releasing his grasp on Tim's shoulders.

Suddenly Tim had had enough of his newfound brother. "Look, Mike, I know you think Charlene and I are some kind of match made in heaven, but if you really want to know the truth, I'm glad Andrea bought me. I've wanted to ask her out to dinner for a while now. The fact is, I'm attracted to Andrea. Not Charlene. So, while I understand that you are looking out for Rainbow's interests, and I realize that Rainbow has connected with Dr. Polk, the fact is, the only woman I'm interested in courting right at the moment is Andrea. And I think she'd make a lovely mother for Rainbow. She understands children, and she's been extraordinarily helpful to me during this transition in my life."

If his words had upset Mike, he didn't show it on his face. Mike simply nodded. "I guess you have a point there. Andrea knows something about kids, doesn't she? We've been paying her for her expertise."

"Yes, we have. But she's gone above and beyond. Especially the day you were arrested."

Mike nodded as the audience erupted in a whole bunch of hoots and hollers. Tim turned to look over his shoulder as Allen Canaday took off his jacket and tossed it to the crowd. The bidding was going fast and furious.

"I'm so grateful I didn't have to go through that," Tim said as he turned back. "But I have a feeling it's going to be ugly when you get out there. You're liable to get torn to bits by those women."

Mike nodded. "Yeah, and I doubt that there's an Andrea Newsome out there ready to rescue me either. This is what happens when you make a sucker bet."

"Good luck."

"Thanks, I'm probably going to need it."

Charlene sat in the section reserved for bidders, clutching her auction paddle. She'd been a.s.signed number 513, and so far she hadn't had any opportunity to use it. She'd been all ready to raise her paddle for Tim Lake, but Andrea Newsome beat her to it with a bid so large that Charlene couldn't afford to counter. Oddly, she wasn't all that disappointed. Clearly Miriam's forecast had been for someone other than her.

Story of Charlene's life.

"I'm sorry," Angel said as he leaned toward her. Angel had bought himself a purple bracelet and was carrying a paddle with the number 639. "I know you were trying to talk yourself into Pastor Tim, but it was not meant to be. Tonight, chica, you and I are going to throw caution to the wind and do what our hearts tell us is right."

Uh-huh, she'd believe that when she saw it.

Allen Canaday came out on stage and started taking off his clothes-a state of affairs that didn't surprise Charlene in the least. She might be man-hunting tonight but Allen was too young for her.

She picked up her drink and sipped. She'd lost track of how many mantinis she'd consumed. Her lips were definitely numb and her buzz had almost turned into dizziness.

"You do not believe me, chica."

"Angel, are you really going to out Dave right here in front of everyone?"

He nodded soberly, which made her giggle, because Angel wasn't exactly sober. He'd probably consumed as many mantinis as she had. And that was a sizable number, even if she couldn't exactly remember the specific number.

"Okay. I can't wait for this." She giggled again.

They watched and sipped their drinks as six more bachelors were auctioned off for remarkably large sums. Charlene pa.s.sed on all of them because they were either too young or too old. And then they called Dr. Dave's name.

And the dreamboat came strolling onto the stage looking perfectly perfect, as he always did. The white dinner jacket was the right touch. He looked cla.s.sic and cla.s.sy and drop-dead gorgeous. His black hair fell over his forehead, and he struck a pose that made him look exactly like a GQ model.

A number of women sighed in unison. Charlene expected the bidding to start quickly and escalate sharply.

But evidently, the out-of-towners had better gaydar than Charlene, because when Grant Trumbull said, "The bidding for Dr. Dave starts at fifty dollars," the hall got utterly silent.

Awkwardly silent.

It remained silent even when she gave Angel a sharp jolt to the ribs.

Dave stood there looking gorgeous and more than a little nervous. He cast his gaze over the crowd, and it locked with Charlene's. He was dying out there. She needed to do something.

She leaned over and whispered furiously. "It's time to throw caution to the wind and follow your heart."

But Angel shook his head. "I can't do it. He would hate me if I bid on him."

So Charlene raised her paddle. "I bid one hundred dollars," she said.

A little, grateful smile softened Dave's mouth.

"Thank you, Charlene," Grant Trumbull said in his smooth voice. "Any other bids on our good-looking vet?"

There were no other bids. The rest of the man-hunters were smart enough to know a bad deal when they saw one.

Grant banged his gavel, and that was it. Charlene had bought Dr. Dave. And the rules of the auction were clear. You could only buy one bachelor. So she was done for the evening.

"I better go pay my bill," she said. "You can find me at the bar later."

"Charlene, don't you think-"

"No, Angel, I'm not thinking right now. Thinking would be bad all the way around. Drinking, on the other hand, sounds like a good plan. And, by the way, I will gladly give you Dr. Dave. I have no use for him other than the fact that he's my boss."

She got up and wound her way out to the foyer where she whipped out her credit card and paid for her date with Dave.

Meanwhile, in the main room, the crowd had gotten really rowdy. Probably because Mike had sauntered out onstage. A little part of her wanted to see what became of him. But before she could return to the room, Dr. Dave intercepted her.

"Uh, Charlene, I'm really glad you were here."

She stared up at him and shook her head. "You and I need to have a chat." She grabbed him by the arm and hauled him outside into a beautiful, balmy June evening.

The sun sat right on the horizon painting everything in a soft, dreamy, romantic shade of purple. Too bad she'd left the party with a gay guy.

She looked up into his face. "Dave, I'm not going to go to dinner with you."

"No?"

"No. I'm giving you to Angel."

His mouth kind of twitched, and he looked like he was fixing to argue with her. So she held up her hand, palm out.

"Don't. You belong with Angel. And really, Angel should have bid on you himself, but he's kind of sensitive about outing you. But here's the thing: Amanda came into the Cut 'n Curl today and told Ruby Rhodes, Lessie Anderson, Thelma Hanks, and my aunt Millie that you are gay. So staying in the closet is going to be tough." She hauled in a big breath, which did nothing to control her dizziness. "Oh, and I understand that Savannah Randall, who is apparently just as good at matchmaking as her aunt, has given her blessing to you and Angel. So you'd be a fool not to go out to dinner with Angel, because chances are he's your soulmate."

Her voice kind of wavered when she got to the word "soulmate." Everyone seemed to be hooking up for life tonight. Except her. She seemed to be headed for a future as a crazy cat lady. She wasn't even going to get to buy Mike Taggart and have her way with him. Not that having her way with Mike Taggart was such a great idea, really, but it sounded better than becoming a crazy cat lady.

"I need another drink," she said abruptly. She returned to the VFW hall, leaving Dr. Dave out in the twilight, looking like a model at a photo shoot.

Mike's auction had ended by the time she returned. She hoped he'd been bought by some fat woman with bad breath and saggy b.o.o.bage. A bunch of not-very-mature thoughts like that ran through her mind as she crossed the room toward the bar.