She smiles back at me through her own tears.
“So without further ado, let’s move onto the auction,” Michael says. “Starting with lot one from our very own news desk. Tell me, good folks of Charleston, do you have what it takes to read the news?”
CHAPTERTEN
SOPHIE
“You sure about this?” Michael still looks annoyed as I walk onto the stage. He’s conveniently switched off his microphone so he can annoy me. “We’d raise a lot more money for kids like Benji if you let me auction you off for dinner.”
“I’m sure,” I tell him, even though I’m not. There was a moment back there while I was watching the video with Benji that I wondered whether I’m doing the right thing.
But people have told me they’ll bid. I asked everybody at each table if they would like a daily forecast and they all thought it was a great idea.
Even the frat lawyer guys at table two.
“News and Sports raised a hundred thousand dollars between them,” Michael says. “Let’s see what you can do.” Then he points at the front of the stage and I walk over, making sure I smile and look confident, because I want this to work.
I need it to.
“We’re on lot ten of the auction, ladies and gentlemen,” Michael says, having turned his mic back on. “Featuring Sophie West, everybody’s favorite weather girl.”
I keep smiling, even though I’m a meteorologist and not a weather girl and I know Michael said it to rile me.
“Now this one’s a little different,” Michael continues. “Instead of dinner with the girl of everybody’s dreams, she’s offering a three month personalized daily forecast for the lucky bidder.” He lowers his voice. “Of course I’d prefer dinner but…”
Everybody laughs, so I laugh too. Then I turn and roll my eyes at him in what I hope is a cute Meg Ryan kind of way, though my intentions are definitely more deadly.
“So let’s have our first bid. Shall we start at ten thousand?” he shouts out.
He started the other lots at twenty. I’m pretty sure nobody has missed that. And there’s a pause that’s way too long and I start to sweat underneath the blinding spotlight. Maybe I made a mistake.
“Ten,” somebody calls out and I exhale heavily.
“Fifteen,” another voice counters. It’s hard to see anything standing here on stage. I blink to get acclimatized to the lights.
“Twenty.” I recognize that voice. It’s Ava’s. I smile harder because I know she won’t let me fail.
“Thirty.” That voice is closer. From table two. The guy who was sitting next to me during dessert – the handsy one. He looks smug.
“Forty,” Ava counters.
“Fifty.” The lawyer smiles lazily. I squint and try to look in Ava’s direction, shaking my head. I don’t want her to bid anymore. Myles already spent a fortune on the table and I don’t have the money to reimburse her if she goes over forty.
Handsy guy smiles at me. I start to reconcile myself to the fact I’ll be giving him weather forecasts for the next three months.
At least it isn’t dinner.
“Okay then, any more bids?” Michael says because the back and forth bidding has stopped. “I guess—”
“One hundred thousand.”
A gasp goes through the crowd. I cover my eyes, trying to see who it is. Please don’t let it be a jetsetter who flies to a different country every day. Forecasting that’ll take up most of my free time.
“Do we have any takers for one hundred and ten?” Michael asks. He doesn’t seem very excited by the high bid.
“Going once,” he says. “Twice. And sold to the gentleman in the middle.” Michael nods to one of the production staff who walks to the table where Ava and Myles are sitting.
Did Myles bid for me? That’s incredibly sweet yet I’m going to owe him forever. I’ll have to babysit until Charlie’s thirty.