Chapter 13
I don’t get home until the next morning. I’m wearing the same dress I had on last night, and my hair is a mess. I get amused looks on the subway and in the street, and I realize this must be what they mean by “walk of shame.” It’s funny — I don’t feel ashamed at all. I feel amazing, happier than I’ve ever been.
When I get in, already nearly noon, Radha is sleeping on the couch, the TV on. Hearing the door she shoots up mid-snore.
“Were you waiting up for me?” I ask.
“No…” She squeezes her eyes shut and shields them from the light streaming in through the window. “Yeah, I was.” She flips on her phone and sees the time. “Wait, you never came home!”
I shake my head, enjoying the shock on Radha’s face.
“You were with Cash?”
“Yeah.”
She looks down at my dress and heels. “Wait, did you… Holy crap, did you sleep with him?”
I’d love to take a photo of her right now, looking like I just told her I’m a 1,000-year-old Martian warlock. “We didn’t go all the way,” I say at last.
She nods and licks her lips. “But you two… did some… things?”
“Yeah, there were… we did… have a good time,” I say, beaming with pride.
Radha laughs. “Look at you. From nun to slut in a night.”
I snort, laughing too. “Thanks, Radha. I wouldn’t go that far. I still have my… eligibility… for the auction.”
Radha rolls her eyes, the humor evaporating from her expression. “Shit. I thought you’d be out. Is that why you didn’t go all the way?”
I nod. “I would have. I wanted to. Cash stopped us, so that I can still get the money from the auction.”
“Are you serious?” Radha mutters. “He’s so keen to give you millions of dollars? That doesn’t strike you as a little weird?”
I shake my head, getting a little annoyed. “It’s not about the money. He wants me, and I want him too. And I’d like to help him beat Orson.” I explain to her about Erin, Cash’s ex-fiance, and how Orson tossed her aside. “He’s a revolting man, and I want to see him lose just as much as Cash does.”
Radha nods patiently, though I can tell she’s not convinced. “Orson’s a scumbag, I get it — but what if he wins? He’s just going to bid a bazillion dollars, isn’t he? And then you have to sleep with him, instead. How can you stop him?”
I flash a conspiratorial grin. “Cash has a plan. We’re going to play Orson Bishop for a fool, make him think he’s going to win. It’s going to be perfect.”
“Great,” murmurs Radha. “I’m really glad.”
“No, you’re not,” I sigh. “Why not?”
She stares at me in disbelief for a minute before answering. “Why not? Because I’ve been against this from the beginning! Because you shouldn’t feel you have to sell yourself just to get ahead in life! Wendy, you’re a smart person and a hard worker — you’re going to succeed. You don’t need to do this.”
I turn my back to her so I can say what I have to say; I don’t want to see her when I do. “Maybe I don’t want to work hard for once. Maybe I’d just like to be a millionaire and not worry about working for a very long time.”
I feel Radha’s hands on my shoulders as I gaze down at my feet. “I get it,” she says. “I do. But you’re making yourself crazy, and I don’t know that you’re ready for what might happen. I know if Orson wins, you will want the money, but how will Cash feel?”
Oh, God.
“Devastated.”
Radha nods. “Could you do that to him?”
“I don’t know.”
She lets go of me. “Better figure it out, Wendy.” Her face suddenly gets hard, like she’s about to try and yank off a hangnail. “Because if you don’t make a decision before the auction, I’m calling off the trip to Europe.”
“What?” I scream. “Why?”
“Because I won’t enjoy being there with you if we’re both angry about this auction thing the whole time. You shouldn’t be doing this to yourself, Wendy, and the trip is the whole reason you got involved in the first place.”
“That’s not fair!” I shout, tears already streaming down my cheeks.
“Oh, it’s not? And how about seeing my best friend willing to sleep with a fucking creep rather than just letting me pay for the trip? How do you think that makes me feel?”
“This isn’t about you!”
Radha shakes her head. “I can’t do it, Wendy, I’m sorry.” She grabs her purse and heads for the door, putting on a pair of sandals. “I have to go. One day, you’re going to see that there’s a million good reasons to have sex with somebody, but this has gotten out of control.”
“Hey, you can’t just leave like this!” I snarl, trying to get in the way of the door, but Radha’s already there.
“Bye, Wendy. See you later.”
She doesn’t stop to keep the door from slamming on her way out, and she doesn’t come back until late that night. I only hear her because I’m still awake and crying.
—
The next several days go by in a stupor of anger and desperation. I try to study, but I can’t concentrate. When I’m not miserable about Radha, I’m paralyzed with need, Cash running through my mind until I have to relieve the pressure myself.
For days, Radha refuses to speak to me, staying in her room except when she has to make her meals. Whenever I try knocking on her door to talk, the music in her room gets louder, and I eventually take the hint.
To make matters worse, my attempts to get in touch with Orson Bishop are also met with silence. The days leading up to the auction keep going by, and I haven’t been able to suss out his plan. Cash tells me there’s nothing I can do about it but wait and see.
“Can’t you talk to Orson?” I ask Cash one day.
“If we’re both trying to get in touch, he’ll know we’re still together,” he replies, shaking his head. “It has to be you.”
“Okay,” I say. “Will I see you on Friday before the auction?”
“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got a business meeting; it just came up. But I’ll see you that night, okay? No matter what happens, we’ll work it out.”
The day of the auction, I wake up to voices in the apartment I don’t recognize. Getting out of bed I see Radha is fully dressed and speaking with a middle-aged woman I’ve never met.
“The kitchen is really nice,” Radha says to the woman. “We’ve been on a very thorough cleaning program, so you shouldn’t have any problems there.”
“What the fuck, Radha?” I ask, now fully awake.
“Sorry,” says the woman. “She’s just showing me around. I won’t be here long.”
“‘Showing her around?’ What’s going on?”
Radha shuffles up to me and whispers in my ear. “I think it might be time to get my own place. Nothing’s decided yet-”
“I don’t believe this,” I say, stunned. “Just like that?”
“No,” Radha says, drawing out the word. “I said it’s not decided-”
My phone rings an alert, and we both know what it is: a message from The Virgin Exchange.
Radha rolls her eyes. “You better get that. It could be… you know… important.”
“We’re not finished here,” I say, too angry to be heartbroken.
I open the app to find a new message:
If you’d like to meet to discuss the auction, I’ll be at the Dorchester Tavern, Columbus and 70th until two. — Orson
With a wicked grin, I turn to Radha. “This is going to work,” I tell her. “You’ll see.”
—
I practically fly through the city, taking the first cab I can find and promising a twenty dollar tip if he can get me across town in less than ten minutes. On a Friday afternoon, that requires a bit of maneuvering that makes me thankful I haven’t eaten yet today. He gets me there at just about one, and I find the tavern quickly.
The place doesn’t look open — inside the windows, I see nothing but darkness — but the heavy, wooden door isn’t locked. The interior is very dark and chairs are resting upside down on the tables, but there are a few people sitting at the bar, including Orson.
Dressed in simple slacks and a white button down shirt, he sips from a pint of very dark beer. He doesn’t notice me at first, so I take a second to watch him. I expected, in a candid moment, to see some kind of expression — boredom, anticipation, excitement — but I get nothing. He reads from a newspaper while drinking as if it’s part of his typical daily routine. I don’t know, maybe it is.
Finally, I take a seat next to him.
“Hello, Ms. Hart,” he says, not looking up from his paper. “You’ve been messaging me all week. What is it?”
The lines I’ve practiced run through my head, and I try to keep my voice steady and natural. “I want to know what your plan is for tonight.”
The man laughs, surprised by my boldness. “Oh? Why should I tell you?”
Here goes.
“Because I’m sick of this rivalry between you and Cash. I’ve had enough of it. I just want to get paid tonight and then never see either of you ever again.”
Orson nods pensively, finishing off his beer. “Interesting, but it doesn’t answer my question. I promise you’ll get paid, Ms. Hart. Why do you need to know more than that?”
I take a deep breath, trying to look impatient. “How much are you talking, Bishop? I want at least ten million.”
Orson snorts. “Cassius hasn’t offered you that much? Word is, you’re as hot in the loins for him as he is for you.”
“Not since The Gala, when I saw what immature children the two of you can be. He’s offered me one million; any more than that, and he’s says I’m not worth it.”
“That doesn’t sound like Cassius,” Orson says, his expression darkening.
I shrug. “Maybe I’m not the only one getting tired of this rivalry. It sounds pretty expensive.”
Orson sighs and flips to the center of his newspaper, where I see something has been inserted. He pulls it out and sets it on the bar in front of me. With a hollowness forming in my chest, I see it’s a stack of full-size photographs. On the first one, I see myself and Cash getting out of a limo in front of his building. The next depicts us heading inside, holding hands. Finally, there’s a third image of us leaving, our clothes and hair disheveled after that wonderful night together.
“Remind Cassius that I have spies, too,” says Orson. “This was after The Gala, Ms. Hart. I’m aware of the fact that you and Mr. Swain are an item, and that he aims to win. I’m not going to be suckered into bidding low so you and Cassius can have your cake and eat it too. I’m going to place a bid he won’t bring himself to match, and you will eventually decide that you would be an idiot not to take it.”
Fuming in rage, a pair of tears slip from my eyes. Damnit, Cash. I thought you knew what you were doing. What’s worse, is that I’m not sure Orson is wrong — if he’s talking about as much money as he’s intimating, how can I turn it down?
“I’m really going to enjoy beating Cassius this time,” says Orson, folding up the newspaper and leaving it on the bar. “I’d ask you to say hello before The Auction, but I know you won’t see him. I’ve had one of my company’s subsidiaries make a new proposal to Swain’s company, so I know he’ll be in meetings right up until tonight. I wonder if he’s figured it out yet.”
“I’ll call him,” I say, my voice hoarse.
“Try it. You won’t get through, not until tonight, anyway.” He gets up, patting me on the shoulder. “See you then, Ms. Hart.”