The Date Auction (5 page)

“It's some of the best pizza in New York City.”

“Then I'm sure I'm in for a treat.”

“It's so good, I've literally had dreams about this pizza.” She'd had dreams about Harry too, but that hardly seemed like an appropriate thing to mention.

They ordered a pizza with pepperoni and sausage, which they agreed to share. The conversation was light as they waited for their food to arrive. It was too overwhelming to make eye contact with him, and Cora couldn't think of a single interesting thing to say. To Harry, the date was more like a fan encounter, and he had never been a skilled conversationalist. When the awkward silence was finally too much to bear, he said, “It smells wonderful here.”

“Oh yeah. It does.” Harry smelled wonderful too, like an intoxicated blend of cologne and cigarettes and spice and all things manly.

“Do you come here often?”

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

Harry was struggling for things to say, and Cora wasn't making it any easier on him. His conversation starters were destroyed by her curt answers.

When the pizza arrived, it was such a glorious moment that she temporarily forgot that she was sitting across from the object of her lust. With its colorful array of toppings—pepperoni and meatballs and basil—the pizza obliterated her worries. The melty cheese exploded in her mouth as she devoured her first slice.

“This
is
good,” Harry agreed. “It could stand to have a bit more cheese, but it's definitely good.”

“Great. I'm glad you like it.” When she caught another glimpse of his smiling face, Cora was reminded of where she was, and the tension returned to her shoulders. “So, I, uh... I have a confession to make.”

“Fire away.” He hoped it wasn't going to be anything too awkward.

“This isn't the first time we've met, actually,” she said. “I don't expect you to remember me or anything, but... it was three years ago. I saw you at the stage door when you were in Henry IV.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I asked you to sign my program, and you were really friendly. I said something about you spitting on me.”

She was looking at him expectantly, as if she actually
did
want him to remember. It was obviously an important moment to her, but he had no recollection of it. So he simply asked, “Did you enjoy the play?”

“I did. You were great.” Cora had to stop herself after her first two slices of pizza; she didn't want Harry to think she was a pig. “Now that you're famous, do you think you'd ever go back to the theatre?”

“
Am
I famous?”

“I think it's safe to say you're getting there.”

“Well... to answer your question,
yes
. I don't think I could stay away from the theatre forever. There's just something about being in front of a live audience... the unpredictability of it... it fascinates me. If actors were rock stars, it would be the equivalent of a concert. I love it.”

“You're really good at it,” Cora said. “I think it'd be pretty strenuous though.”

“It can be.” In an instant, Harry realized he had spent most of the night talking about himself. He needed to ask a question about her. It was, after all, supposed to be a date. “What about you, Cora? What do you do?”

“Umm...” Her throat was so tight, she had to postpone her need for swallowing. “I... I write.”

“Really? What do you write?”

“Um...” It wasn't anything to be proud of, was it? “Most of the time, I write romance. Although... sometimes I write screenplays.”

“I'd love to read something you've written.”

Cora thought she could feel tears burning behind her eyes. Was he serious? Was he really interested in reading something she'd written? Or was he merely being polite, whilst having no intention of reading a single word?

“When I was in school, I wanted to be a writer,” Harry said. “When I realized I wasn't a rubbish actor, I decided to stick to acting.”

“Are you a rubbish writer?”

Her question made him chuckle. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“I think I'm probably a rubbish writer too. In fact, I've gotten more bad reviews than good reviews, so... yeah. I'm rubbish.”

“Americans don't use the word
rubbish
, do they?”

“Uh... no. Not really.”

“I suspected as much,” Harry said with a smirk. “I was wondering why it didn't sound natural when you said it.”

When the conversation waned, they finished their pizza, which Harry paid for, and headed off to the theatre. It was one of David Mamet's plays, featuring a cast of two. Because they had to be silent during the play, they were temporarily spared from the pressures of polite conversation. Every now and then, Cora would sneak a peek at Harry's profile. He was intent on the play—and strikingly handsome. Sitting next to him, she could barely concentrate on what the actors were doing. Her thoughts were consumed by the man sitting beside her. What did he think of her? Did he have a girlfriend? If he
did
have a girlfriend, she had to be the luckiest woman in the world.

Grow up, Cora,
she chided herself for her childish infatuation.
You don't really know him. Sure, he's unbelievably good-looking, but he might be a jerk, for all you know.

But he didn't seem like a jerk, did he? Harry seemed perfectly polite, if not charming. It was easy to imagine herself falling for him, even though it was highly illogical and completely ridiculous. No matter how much she liked him, it didn't matter. He would never like her. Gorgeous men like Harry Shaw never gave her a second glance, and he was only with her today out of obligation, because she had paid $10,000 for his time.

Her heart was crushed by her thoughts.

When the play was over, and the actors had taken their bows, Harry turned to her and asked, “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it was good.” Since he had paid for their tickets, she didn't think it would be kind to mention her wandering thoughts. “It would have been better if
you
were in it.”

His lips were tilted in a half-smirk. “Do you think so?”

“Definitely. You have a lot of charisma and stage presence. You're really interesting to watch.”

“Thank you, Cora Crosby. You are
too
kind.”

They filed out of the theatre with the rest of the crowd. When they were outside, Harry hailed a cab, opened the door for her again, and dove inside.

“I'm surprised you didn't get mobbed by fans.”

“It doesn't happen as often as you might think.”

“Do you like meeting fans?”

“Of course. It's always a pleasure.” When he smiled at her, she knew Harry's comment was meant for her. She was just a fan to him, just like any other fan. She wasn't anything special, and that was a crushing reality.

She was even more crushed when she realized their date was coming to an end. Harry Shaw would be out of her life, gone yet again.

“I had a lovely time,” Harry said. “The pizza was a brilliant suggestion.”

“Mm. Yeah.” As crestfallen as she was, she couldn't bring herself to utter the usual end-of-first-date pleasantries.

“And it was wonderful to meet you, Cora,” he continued, crushing her heart with every word of implied farewell. “I hope the day lived up to your expectations.”

It would only live up to her expectations if he took her in his arms and covered her face with kisses, as he so often did in her fantasies. “I had a good time.”

The taxi stopped in front of her apartment building.
It was over.
And yet, she didn't want to see it come to an end. There was a question on the tip of Cora's tongue, but she was too afraid to ask. On one hand, she didn't want to see him disappear from her life completely. On the other hand, what if he declined? It would blight her opinion of Harry Shaw forever, and she preferred the version of him that was in her head, the Harry Shaw who was something close to a saint.

“Harry...”

“Hmm?” He was still smiling. It seemed like an awkward smile, but she loved it nonetheless.

“Do you think I, uh...” Cora took a deep breath before forcing the words from her mouth. “Do you think I... I could get your phone number or something? Or, if you'd rather, an email address? It would be nice if we could stay in contact.”

“Uh....” Harry hesitated. His contact information wasn't something he gave too freely, but Cora
was
the girl who spent ten thousand dollars for a date with him. He felt obligated to fulfill her request. Only a complete twat would refuse. “Of course. Can you write it down?”

She produced a pen and paper from her purse as quickly as she could. “Go ahead.”

“My email address is harryrs65 at gmail dot com.”

“And your phone number?”

Oh dear.
Cora wasn't going to make this easy on him, was she? “It's... three two three eight one eight six five four one.” He recited the numbers as rapidly as possible, hoping she might miss one. He peered over her shoulder, stealing a glimpse of her paper. The numbers were spot on.

“I had a really good time, Harry. Thanks for being so nice.”

Her words almost made him wince. If Cora could hear the thoughts that were in his head, he knew she would have a different opinion of him.

She slid out of the taxi and hesitated by the door. “Bye.” She didn't want to say goodbye. She didn't want to see him go.

“Goodbye, love.”

When she closed the door, he splayed his arms across the back of the seat and heaved an exhausted sigh.

At long last, the date auction debacle was at an end! He just wanted to go home, light up a cigarette, and curse William's name. Why did he let William get him involved in something so stupid?
Date Auction
. Who ever heard of such a ridiculous thing?!

An image of Cora's face flashed before his eyes. She didn't seem like a bad girl, and he tried to be as polite as he could, but she just wasn't for him.

As the taxi sped toward his home, Harry wondered why he didn't give her a fake phone number.

Chapter Five

“Oh my god, you are soooooooo cute!”

William couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't believe this beautiful woman, this epitome of perfection, would actually think
he
was cute. He had only just arrived, and her cooed compliment was the first thing out of her mouth.

“You're even cuter in person than you are on tv.” His date reached over and ruffled his hair.

He was curious. “Did you watch Brooklyn Rookie?”

“Um, no. But my ex ex ex boyfriend used to watch it.”

“Your ex... ex... ex?”

“Three boyfriends ago,” the girl explained, which made William wince. If she had replaced her boyfriend three times over, his television show must have been more obsolete than he realized. “I'm Alaina Torres, by the way.”

“Alaina Torres,” he repeated her name a bit dreamily. “That's a pretty name.”

“I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm Mexican.”

William shook his head. He wasn't actually thinking that. The only thing he could think about was the perfection of her face, from her full lips to her button nose to her shining brown eyes.

“But I'm not,” Alaina went on. “My dad was Cuban, and my mom was Squaren.”

“Squaren?”

Alaina erupted in a fit of giggles, which might have been annoying if she wasn't so ridiculously pretty. “Cuban... Squaren. Cube. Square. It was a joke.” She tossed her chocolate hair over her shoulder and winked at him. “Actually, my mom was Austrian. I mean... she wasn't from Austria, she didn't live there, she's just of Austrian descent. And that's Austria, not Australia. I used to get those two countries mixed up all the time.”

William simply nodded his head.

Alaina spun around and wiggled her rear end. “Do you think my butt looks good in these pants?”

“Um... yes.”
Good
was an understatement. He didn't think Alaina Torres' butt could possibly look better.

“Good. Because when I was heading out for our date, my mom said I had sack ass.” Alaina whirled in his direction and gave her hair another toss. “But I don't like it when my pants are super-tight. It's just not comfortable. Oh, and I don't live with my mom or anything like that, she was just visiting me. So...” She cocked her head as she studied him. “Where are we going to eat?”

“We can go wherever you want to go.” If she wanted to go to Hell and back, he would have happily followed.

“Cool, because I'm kind of in the mood for a burger,” Alaina said. “I really like Five Napkin Burger. Have you ever been there?”

“I can't say I have.”

“Well, you'll love it.” Alaina seized his hand and pulled him in the direction of the restaurant, which was only a few blocks away. “They have really greasy burgers, but I mean that in a good way. I like greasy food. I like it when a burger is so greasy, the grease is just dripping off your fingers.”

“R-really?” The thought of it turned his stomach, but he wasn't about to criticize such a gorgeous creature. “You don't look like you would enjoy greasy food.” He was referring to the fact that she was, at the most, a size 4.

“I have a fast metabolism,” Alaina explained. “Extremely fast. After I eat, I'll have to poop it out in twenty minutes.”

“O... kay.” He couldn't remember the last time he had been subjected to such strange conversation on a first date.

“I'm exaggerating, of course.” She fired a sweet smile in his direction. “But not by much.”

As soon as they arrived, Alaina knew exactly what to order: the 5 Napkin Cheeseburger and Fries. After browsing the menu for a few minutes, William settled on a Bacon-Cheddar burger.

Alaina laid her elbow on the table and leaned in his direction. “You really are so, sooo cute.”

“Thanks. And you're very beautiful, of course.”

“Aww. You think so?”

“Absolutely.” William didn't think she would need reassurance. She was the rare sort of woman who was so physically attractive, only a fool would dispute her beauty. “So, Alaina, what is it that you do?”

“I'm a food producer.” When she saw the confusion on his face, she added. “Or maybe you'd be more familiar with the term
table artist
.”