Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him down so his eyes are nearer. I tip up my chin and whisper one word. “Done.”
I don’t need to hear him reciprocate, his dadgum smile tells me more than words could. He’s finished falling and I’m the one catching up.
Chapter Ten
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Clover
ICAN HEARMercer’s welcome home parade ending on the other side of town, the band blaring, from my place on this portable stage in the center of town square. Today’s festival has been a success, but as Mama predicted, I am the main attraction. My parents had my auction for charity while Mercer’s parade was ending so he wouldn’t be able to be here right away. They’re keen and crafty. I can’t blame them, or anyone who thinks I’ve lost my mind, because it feels maybe I have. I broke Mercer’s daddy’s truck when he was giving me head in the cab two days ago. The orgasm was strong, and he was making these throaty, feral noises that turn me into a maniac. I kicked the gear shift in a fit of pleasure and it broke clean off. I’m not sure how Mercer explained it to his daddy, but Mr. Ballentine looked at me funny when I saw him at DR last night.
Even Tannie couldn’t keep this auction from happening. She offers a weak smile from the side of the stage where everyone is gathering, waiting for my daddy to come out and do the honor of selling his daughter. I pouted for the three hours it took to get primped and fussed over like an F.F.A. animal. I’m wearing the dress my mama selected, a pink confection covered in brightly colored oranges. Some have stems attached and others just seem to be rolling around on their own accord. I would have picked it out for myself on a different occasion, now it’s been tainted, and I’ll probably never wear it again. Even if I don’t want to be here, don’t want to date another man, I’m already on Clover Wellsley autopilot. My wide pageant grin is perfection, and my shoulders are proud and back. I don’t think I’ll ever kick the habit of putting my best face forward, even when it’s a detriment.
Clasping my hands behind my back, I smile and nod as those gathered make eye contact. They study me. Wait for me to falter. I can pick out the suitors straight away, heck I even recognize some of them from my time on the dating circuit. Seersucker suits, slicked-back hair, and golden Rolex watches appoint their wrists. It’s the summer uniform of the rich and infamous. Like, what Patrick Bateman would look like if he spent the summer in the Hamptons instead of murdering people for fun. Another habit I haven’t kicked, wanting their eyes on me, craving the attention that others seek. Even as I think it, I know I really only want Mercer’s attentions. All of them. All of the time. I’m antsy right now, shifting from one foot to the other, because I haven’t seen him since early this morning when he was sneaking off my property, a pair of my lace panties stuffed in his pocket.
My dad parts the crowd, his commanding demeanor startling and awing Greenton residents and visitors alike. He grabs the microphone sitting on a chair next to Tannie, without even glancing at me. “How about the parade for Mercer Ballentine?” he booms, stance wide, the light blue and white checked pants breaking on his shoe at the perfect degree. The crowd cheers, and my father’s eyes light. “A real hometown hero. I’m happy to welcome him home.” Like any skilled politician, he’s using this as an opportunity to campaign. “My lovely wife, Mrs. Wellsley, organized it from top to bottom.” More cheers, applause, and catcalls break out. I shift again, sweat breaking out behind my knees. The attention will turn to me soon.
My dad asks if everyone is enjoying themselves and if we should plan another event soon. The crowd agrees like he knew they would. Every single resident of Greenton is out and about today. The festivals and town parties are one of few causes for celebration. “Where are all of my eligible bachelors?” Dad booms. The women by the stage tidy up, smoothing dresses, and patting their hair. Vultures waiting to see who gives up bidding first.
I reach down into the hidden dress pocket and turn on my mic, and try to keep my hands relaxed by my sides. It’s hard when I want to strangle the man who gave me life.
“May I introduce you to my daughter. The philanthropist, the domestic goddess, Clover Wellsley.” More seersucker cuts into my line of view and I hold my smile steady. “Today’s auction will be for one date with Clover! All of the proceeds will go to the women’s and children’s shelter right here in Greenton. This cause is dear to Clover’s heart, so I hope that you’ll open your checkbooks and show her you have something in common.” Dad finally looks at me. There is a flash of an apology in his eyes, but he knows it’s too late for that. I don’t flinch, nope. It’s my time.
With my mouth shut, I run my tongue along my top teeth as a last preventative measure to ensure I don’t have lipstick where it shouldn’t be. “Welcome, welcome,” I say, schooling my face, perfecting the stance, one leg crossed over the other, heels pressing close together. “He’s right,” I say, my voice echoing through the speakers. “It is near and dear to my heart. I’ll give the fine print details really quick before Daddy starts the bidding.” Mercer’s band music fades in the distance and the silence cuts as everyone focuses on me. It doesn’t affect me like it does most people. It’s like a pageant. You sort of pretend you’re someone different and fade into character. I deliver the fine print of the contest, take a bit to enlighten everyone about the shelter, then list my favorite foods and describe my favorite type of date.
There are about eight men in front of the stage, their mirrored sunglasses hiding their excitement. “Get it started, Mayor Wellsley,” I say.
A nervousness swells in my chest as Daddy starts the bidding at twenty-five dollars. Slicked-back man number one throws his lace auction paddle in the air, a yellow stain waving at me from his armpit. Mama made the paddles especially for this occasion. They’re embarrassingly pink and the numbers are written in a swirly script. Bachelor number five throws up his paddle and calls out, “Seventy-five dollars.”High rollers, I think, a swift annoyance replacing my nervousness. Minutes tick by like this, a painful crawl until we’ve reached one thousand dollars. This is where I expect people to bow out. The threshold where rich people pause and consider what else they could do with that same amount at the mall. Is the tax deduction really worth it?
“For charity, guys,” I add in, tilting my head to the side. This auction is just for show. The shelter is completely funded because of our family wealth—it’s a drop in the bucket. The people of Greenton don’t know the depths of the Wellsley’s pockets and shows like this make my daddy look more human, more like them. It’s integral to keep our family grounded and in good standing with our community. What will me leaving do to that reputation? I might be madder than sin today, but these people are still my family—the people who love me in their bent out of shape way.
One thousand dollars jumps to two thousand, and all but two bidders have bowed out. The other bachelors set their lace paddles on the edge of the stage and wander over to the beer garden. The women who were loitering around the stage earlier have now all magically appeared in the beer garden as well. Dog eat dog. These are bachelors from the city. A ticket out of here and on to a better life that won’t be around often.
A familiar face appears, weaving through the crowd growing now that the bid has increased. He grabs a random lace paddle off the stage, and my smile widens. I declined his proposal and yet here he is saving me. Making eye contact with my daddy, he extends the lace in the air and proclaims, “Five thousand dollars for a date with Clover Wellsley.”
My daddy’s eyes light. A man who has money and who wants to date his daughter. Little does he know; this man swings a bat for the other team. When the other men look defeated—hanging their heads, I scramble to say, “Winner! Winner! You win!” When Daddy sees my excitement, he closes the bidding and asks for the winner’s name. After thanking everyone for attending the festival and those bidding, I switch off my mic and descend the portable stairs next to Tannie.
She pulls me into a hug. “Mercer is on his way here. Joe just texted me to say it was the end of the parade. I’m sure he’ll come right quick to save you.” I’ve just been saved, but I never told Tannie about this man’s proposal. No one else knew.
“Out of everything you just said, I’m most concerned with the name Joe.”
Tannie rolls her eyes. “We’re just chit-chatting.”
“Right, I know what that actually means.”
She pulls the mic off the collar of my dress, her eyelashes fluttering. “Go meet your suitor, Clover. Don’t worry about what I’m doing.”
“It’s ironic that you worry about my every move,” I say. “It’s merely a business transaction. You know how bad Joe is for you. I worry about you.”
“Not everyone has your kinda options.” The mask of cool indifference slides into place, and I barely recognize my best friend. I can’t hide my background from her, and therein lies the complication. This will make leaving her that much easier.
“You’re right. It’s none of my business.” And with that statement, she knows what I’m really saying is that my life isn’t any of her business anymore either. I hand her the black box from my pocket, the wireless headset, and meet her gaze. “Great job with the festival. You really did an amazing job.” A compliment to ease the sting. “Enjoy yourself today.”
Tannie’s eyes flare as she tries to decide what to say, but I don’t give her the opportunity. Edging my way around several people, I make my way to where my daddy is talking to Preston Sears. “That went well,” I say to my father. To Preston, I extend my hand and drawl, “Thank you so much for your generous contribution to the shelter. I appreciate it so much. Shall we have a drink at the beer garden and discuss our date?” I don’t miss the spark in my father’s eyes when he realizes exactly which family Preston belongs to as he examines the check.
Preston takes my offered hand and kisses it instead of shaking it. “I’ve been dreaming of the day I’d get to be in the graces of the beautiful Clover Wellsley again. I daresay you do not disappoint, ma’am.” He offers an elbow, and I link my arm into his. All eyes are on us as he ushers me forward.
“Dear God in Heaven, Preston,” I mutter, teeth clenched. “I’ll pay you back double for this. You don’t know how much it means to me.” I keep my tone low, but I know Preston hears me because of his wide grin—eyes crinkling in the corner.
