Savannah nodded. “And we’ll be here for you. Guys, we are the only people in the world who know about what’s happening tomorrow night. Provided we all get chosen, and I truly believe we will, we need to have one another’s backs. Our nondisclosure agreements and contracts are ironclad. We can’t tell anyone how our marriages came about or that we’ve been sold in an auction. It would forfeit our deposit, and I’m certain none of us want to risk that.”
Everyone around the table nodded quietly, but she continued. “We also have to consider what would happen if word got out to the media. I imagine it would be a hit to Jade’s family business—as it definitely would be to ours. The McAllister name means something where we come from, and if any of our business associates got wind of The Marriage Auction, we’d be at risk for losing it all. Honor and our good name are everything in our neck of the woods.”
“She’s right, y’all.” Dakota backed her sister. “We’re in this for at least three years with the possibility of longer if the matches are good ones, or we fall in love with our partners. Having one another to lean on when things get hard will be a welcome respite from the secrets.”
I nodded. “Let’s exchange cell phone numbers. At least then we won’t be alone in all of this.” I could barely believe my ears at my suggestion. I hadn’t had a new friend in four years. Friends were dangerous. It meant building attachments. And when you lived on the go, there was no room for attachments.
“Yeah!” Savannah chirped, happy as a clam. Her sister nodded in agreement, as did Jade and Memphis.
Ruby frowned as she replied, “I only have a pre-paid phone, but I’ll get a new one with my deposit and send you all the number. I’ll write all of yours down on a piece of paper if that’s okay.” She looked down and away as though ashamed.
Savannah reached out across the table. “I only just got a phone before I went to college. It’s okay. You’ll text when you can, right?”
Ruby nodded avidly. “Thanks, Savannah. I’m really happy to have all of you in my corner. I’ve only ever had my sister. It’s really nice to know we’re not alone.”
Shocking myself further, I reached out and took Ruby’s hand. Then, as if we were about to have a kumbaya session out in the forest under a full moon, the six of us locked hands with one another.
“Let’s make a pact to stay in touch regularly. We can call ourselves ‘The Candidates Club,’” Savannah suggested, smiling widely.
“To The Candidates Club.” I offered my best fake smile. These people were nice, and each of us had our reasons for entering into the auction, but none of their situations had life and death stakes. Ultimately, this was a competition, and I needed to keep my head in the game and my eye on the prize.
I was out of options.
This was my last chance at having what I desperately needed…a way out.
Episode 6
Makeover Madness
RUBY
“Shit, shit, shit!” I raced down the hallway of the swanky Vegas hotel in my bare feet with the clothes I intended to wear today thrown over my arm. My long blonde hair was in a wonky, messy bun at the top of my head that I’d slept in last night. I jetted into the sleek elevator and pressed the button to go up where this morning’s meeting was supposed to have started fifteen minutes ago.
“Please don’t kick me out of the auction for this.” I groaned as I shoved off my pajama shorts and wiggled into my nicest jeans. They had rips in the knees, but my sister, Opal, swore it was the style nowadays. I don’t have a clue what’s in fashion. Being born and raised in a trailer in one of the poorest towns in Mississippi meant I didn’t have a plethora of beautiful clothes at my fingertips. No, everything I owned, even what I was currently wearing, was thrift store to the tenth degree. Heck, these jeans might even be men’s, as they had five buttons that were giving me hell as I tried to get them all buttoned up before the elevator brought me to the right floor.
I had on a plain white ribbed tank, the same I’d slept in, and no bra. I immediately shoved my arms into the one decent black blazer I owned, slipped it over the tank, and closed the button at the front to hide my braless breasts.
In my hands I held my favorite pair of black patent-leather stripper heels. I tossed the shoes to the floor and tugged my hair out of the messy bun. I slipped on the shoes, thankfully without falling on my ass with how fast I was moving, bent over and shook my hair out, then stood up. My hair fell into a sheet of golden messy bed-head waves that would have to do. I didn’t have makeup on, but from what I understood, today we were getting assessed by the beauty team before tonight’s auction. That meant I didn’t have to do my makeup—so point for me. I quickly balled up my pajama shorts and tucked them into my ratty purse before slinging it over my shoulder.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to the unmarked offices of The Marriage Auction. All they’d given us originally was an address. Now I knew what was behind the sleek glass entry doors and wasn’t surprised to find Madam Alana waiting for me in the reception area wearing another fierce suit. This one a chic cream color. Her legs were shiny and golden, as though she’d just been sunbathing, though I knew better. That shine came in a bottle. We had the same stuff back at the strip joint. Except she didn’t look like she was about to go ride a pole, but maybe a rich CEO.
“Ms. Dawson, do you always arrive to your engagements after the scheduled time?”
I frowned. “Are you askin’ if I’m always late? If so, then no. I swear, ma’am. But I didn’t hear the wake-up call from the front desk and the alarm clock contraption that was on the bedside was too difficult to figure out.” I inhaled and continued on a rush. “Every time I messed with it, music came on. Then there were these drunk guys that shared the wall with my room, and they were up all hours of the night partying, so I put in ear plugs to get a good night’s rest, and then…”
She held up her hand to stop me from continuing. “You woke late. I understand. No need to go into further detail. Follow me. Your stylist awaits.” She snapped her fingers and took off at a brisk walk down the long hallway. I quick-stepped after her because the woman was damn fast on those high heels, and I knew how to walk in stilettos. Technically, I knew how to rock a pole in sky-high platform stilettos too, but I’d neglected to put the stripper part of my job on my application. I didn’t think a rich man wanted an exotic dancer on his arm, so I kept that info to myself. I just hoped it didn’t get me into a heap of trouble when it came out. Not that I’d be telling anyone.