“Get Mom and Aunt Margo to drive down to Tampa. They can pretend to be nurses and sneak into his room with a message from you,” Crosby suggested.
Rose was more practical. “You left a telephone message. You wrote a letter. A registered letter, I might add that was signed for. If he wants you, he’ll answer back. If not, time to move on.”
Time to move on.
Sometimes, Maxine hated her sister’s clear advice. She’d received email notification that the letter had reached the address and was signed for by A. Laurent.
“Maybe you need another rebound?” Crosby had suggested.
Maxine rolled her eyes and instead told her to pick out a nail color for them both. It was a bright ruby shade and when Maxine looked at the name, her heart filled and then slowly deflated.
Ace of Hearts
And now here she was, hanging out in her stunning dress with her ruby red fingernails, while Stuart charmed the line-up of single men.
Stuart put a hand on his earpiece then whispered to the next bachelor, “You’re next.” They waited for Crosby’s cue and then Stuart gave him a good luck pat and sent him out on stage. Immediately the women began cat calling as Crosby read his bio.
Maxine made a face at Stuart. “Is there security?”
For what? These cougars have been drinking whiskey sours for three hours straight and most of them probably had Botox as a meal replacement for the last ten days. If
I was straight, I’d be funneling Gatorade in the corner as prep.”
“A yes or no would suffice,” Maxine said, dryly. “Then yes, there is security—Westley.”
“Crosby said she had it covered! How can she make him do security? He knows nothing about security.”
A group of women hollered sexy nicknames for the bachelor on stage and the room busted into laughter.
Stuart looked up. “Speak of the devil.”
Westley stopped in his tracks. “Wow, Max,” he said. “You should be on the red carpet of an awards show.” He was wearing a pair of jeans and an oxford shirt.
“Have you had to arrest anyone?” Stuart asked. “Or maybe frisk one of the ladies?”
“No,” he said. “I’m only watching the ticket table. Seriously, who cares if someone tries to sneak in?” He angled his chin around, studying the bachelors gathered in their tuxedos.
Stuart gave Westley a careful look. He held up the clipboard. “Why isn’t your name on here?” he asked Westley.
“We’re raising money, not begging for it.”
Stuart snorted. “You’d have those ladies begging for it.”
Maxine watched a red blotch creep up Westley’s neck. She cleared her throat and put a hand on his shoulder. “Um…Stuart’s just saying what a great catch you’d be.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Wes? I bet there’s a few tux’s left. I’m sure one of them would fit you.”
Westley rubbed the back of his neck and carefully raised his gaze to Stuart. “You want to see me in a tux?” he asked.
“Sure. Just make sure to undo the top button,” Stuart advised. “They’ll pay more.”
“The top button of my shirt?”
“No, your pants.” Stuart passed his headset over to Maxine. “Here, take over. I have to go to the bathroom.”
Westley gave Maxine a tortured look when Stuart was safely out of sight.
“I take it you haven’t said anything yet?” she asked.
“No.” His voice sounded on the verge of tears. He let out a sigh. “Let’s not talk about it, okay? Tonight isn’t about my pathetic love life. Let’s keep this going, Crosby is counting on us.”
With desperate determination, Westley and Maxine managed to get the next batch of bachelors on stage without messing up, but the bids were going so quickly it was almost time for the weatherman to make his grand entrance. When the last bachelor—a hardware store owner who loves to cook—took the stage, Maxine turned to Westley. “Quick, go find the weatherman!”
Rose came upon them, out of breath, her camera in one hand and a notepad in the other. “We’ve got an emergency,” she said, red faced. Her hair was coming out of its usual ponytail. “Stu found the weatherman passed out in the bathroom.”
“Call 911!” Maxine was beginning to feel like a jinx.
“Not completely passed out, he’s so drunk he can’t stand. Stu has security in there now, they’ll handle it. But that’s not the real emergency,” Rose said. “Crosby needs a mystery bachelor for the finale.”
“Where are we going to find…?” Maxine began and then she and Rose slowly turned to Westley.
“No way.” He put up his hands to protest.
“Come on, Wes,” Rose said, pulling him toward the changing room. “It’s harmless.”
“Do it for Crosby,” Maxine added. “Besides, everyone will get to see how handsome and irresistible you are in a tux.”
He silently surrendered then. Both girls had him changed into a tuxedo and were pushing him on stage with such efficient ease that even Crosby didn’t notice the delay. She looked confused as Rose ran out Westley’s hurriedly written bio.
With a playful flip of her straightened hair, Crosby started to read Rose’s notes. “We’ve saved the best for last, ladies! Please meet, Westley Nicholls. Hardworking, honest, loyal, and a contributor to the local food bank…”
The audience was so quiet, crickets should have been chirping.
Maxine glared at Rose. “Contributor to the local food bank!” she hissed. “That’s the best you could come up with?”
“It’s a redeeming quality.”
“These women don’t want that.” Maxine cringed, watching Westley stand in the middle of the spotlight like a deer ready to get smacked by a truck.
“…excellent with jigsaw puzzles and never lets his
car get lower than a quarter of a tank of gas.” Crosby started to laugh.
“We have to save him.” Maxine groaned.
Without warning, Stuart raced past, stumbling toward the podium. “Listen, up you wonderful sexy vixens out there,” he said, taking the microphone from Crosby. “Before you stands your greatest dream come true.”
He held out a hand toward Westley. “Named after the impossibly charming Westley from The Princess Bride, he will do your bidding.” Stuart paused and winked at the closest table. “As you wish.”
An excited murmur went through the crowd.
“This man can shop all day and then take you home and make you Chicken Alfredo from scratch while downloading YouTube kitten videos for you to watch. And after he does the dishes, he’ll take you out dancing.”
There was a whistle followed by an “Amen.”
Stuart stood beside Westley and slapped him on the back. “He will dance fast, slow, break, hip-hop and then when you can’t feel your feet anymore, he will pull you close and make love to you with his eyes while you do the tango.”
Someone screamed. “One hundred dollars!” “That’s insulting,” Stuart said. “But a good start.
Did I mention Westley goes to the gym? You could do your laundry in his abs for Christ’s sake.”
“Let’s see his chest!” someone called out from the back.
Stuart shrugged at Westley. “You heard the lady.” A few tables at the front had started to chant,
“West-ley! West-ley!”
Stuart motioned to the sound mixer, and the song
He’s So Shy by the Pointer Sisters began to blare.
Rose began to laugh. “He’s going to kill us when this is over.”
“Oh God. This was a mistake.” Maxine watched helplessly as Westley’s face got redder.
Stuart moved around Westley like he was showing off a new car. He continued, “Cuddler? Check! Athlete? Check! Dapper dresser? Double Check!”
The bidding was now up to five hundred, but Westley could barely crack a smile.
Stuart continued praising him, “Sure he’s handsome and sexy, but ladies, inside this chiseled chest beats the heart of a true romantic.” He turned to Westley and his expression softened. “You’re such a goddamn catch. Why are you even available? Is the world blind?”
The microphone was between them. Maxine could hear Westley’s breathing over the song. “No,” Westley said to Stuart. “It’s because of this.” Then he took Stuart’s face in his hands and kissed him.
For a few seconds the only sound was the Pointer Sisters singing in harmony then the ballroom exploded into cheers. They stepped apart for a moment, then Stuart dropped the microphone and put his hand on the back of Westley’s neck and pulled him close, starting the kiss again. They kept kissing on stage and the bidding exploded.
Maxine felt tears well up in her eyes. Rose’s mouth was hanging open, then she said, “That…makes so much sense, actually.”
The women in the audience were on their feet by this time. When Crosby slammed down the gavel, Westley had raised over a thousand dollars. A whole table of women had pooled their money, insisting Stuart join them as well.
“Love is everywhere!” Crosby grinned. “Way to go, Wes.”
“Is that going to be your headline for the article?” Maxine said to Rose, half-serious.
Rose was glancing over Maxine’s shoulder. Her eyes were as round as fish bowls. “Huh? Yup. No problem.” Then she gripped Maxine’s elbow and practically dragged her across the stage to where Crosby was standing. Rose said, “There’s still time for another mystery bachelor, right? Awesome. Maxine can introduce him. I need you back stage to sign a big check.”
“We can’t put the weatherman on…can we?” Maxine asked.
“Just read this,” Rose said, thrusting a small note at Maxine. Then she and Crosby exited the stage.
Maxine looked out into the audience, temporarily stunned by the spotlight. She tried to squint into the crowd to see Westley and Stuart. There was feedback from the microphone. She cleared her throat and started to read the next bachelor’s bio.
“And now for the real finale,” Maxine said. “Our next mystery bachelor is famous in the Toronto area and is best known for proposing to his girlfriend on stage.” She frowned. This weatherman is totally screwed up.
There were whistles from the crowd and a roar of cheers started from the back. “A million dollars,” someone called out.
Maxine laughed then looked to her left where the bachelor was halfway across the stage. He was holding a bouquet of roses and walking toward her.
“Mon Dieu,” she said.