There’s a good chance this could all go horribly wrong. I could end up with some fat, old, sweaty, rich guy with bad breath and thinning hair.
But even if that is what happens, I’ll still wake up tomorrow morning a hell of a lot closer than I am right now to being able to pay my mother’s way into the drug trial that will kill off the cancer trying to steal her away.
And she would do this for me.
Hasdone it for me.
“You’re really brave.” Madison’s eyes soften as they move over my face.
I swallow hard, fighting through the unrelenting nerves tearing up my insides. “Tell me that when I make it through this without barfing on the stage.”
Madison leans in with the gloss wand. “As long as you don’t puke right now, because I’m pretty sure if you puke on me then I’ll puke on you and I really like that dress.” She goes to work carefully smearing the sticky sheen across my lips, giving me time to sneak a peek around the room.
I scan the faces of the other women willing to auction off something most people consider sacred, hoping at least one of them might look as nervous as I am. They should be. We’re all in the same boat.
But the other women all seem excited and relaxed. Like we’re not all about to go home with whoever’s willing to pay the most money to be the first guy to stick it in us.
Madison’s gaze follows mine and she leans in a little closer. “I think you might be the only actual virgin here.”
“What?” There was literally only one question they asked when I called the number Madison slipped me one night after work. “You have to be a virgin to do this.”
“Stop moving your lips.” Madison’s expression is serious as she focuses on her task. “And you have to claim to be a virgin to do this.”
“I can’t imagine these guys would be happy to find out they paid for something they didn’t get.” I’m suddenly worried for the rest of the women in the room. Do they not realize the kind of men we’re dealing with here?
Because the kind of men willing to spend tens of thousands of dollars to take a woman’s virginity are not the kind of men who will react well to being lied to.
“That’s not your problem.” Madison leans back as she recaps the gloss. “That’s their issue to deal with.”
I wish I could feel the same, but my concern only grows, spreading from the other women to me. “What if whoever I end up with thinks I’m lying?”
Madison immediately starts laughing, but quickly clamps one hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.
I press my lips together before remembering she’s covered them in sticky shit. “Point taken.”
“It’s not a bad thing, Pais.” Madison tries to smooth over the reaction, but it’s too late.
And maybe that’s a good thing. It’s a reminder that it doesn’t really matter what I do.
How I act.
Judgment comes either way.
There’s no escaping it. I know. I’ve tried.
And if people are going to judge me no matter what I do, then I might as well do what will help my mother get better.
So I will have time to fix things for her.
The door to the room we’ve all been sequestered in opens and the older woman who seems to be the organizer of this event steps inside. Yvonne’s probably my mother’s age -it’s hard to tell since my mother doesn’t look her actual age anymore - and she’s tall and slim and decked out in an understated evening gown that makes the one Madison loaned me look like it came from a rack at Target. Her unlined face eases into a calm smile. “We’re about five minutes from showtime, ladies. Everyone ready?”
Ready is not a word I would use to describe myself right now.
Committed, maybe.
Determined, probably.
Terrified, definitely.