d expectantly. Lucky Jada.
“Jada speaks fluent Japanese, is a qualified fighter
pilot, and an Olympic gymnast . . . hmm.” The MC winks.
“Gentleman, what am I bid?”
Jada gapes, astounded at the MC; obviously, he’s
talking complete garbage. She grins shyly back at the two
contenders.
“A thousand bucks!” one calls.
Very quickly the bidding escalates to five thousand
dollars.
“Going once . . . going twice . . . sold!” the MC
declares loudly, “to the gentleman in the mask!” And of
course all the men are wearing masks so there are hoots of
laughter, applause, and cheering. Jada beams at her
purchaser and quickly exits the stage.
“See? This is fun!” whispers Mia. “I hope Christian
wins you, though . . . We don’t want a brawl,” she adds.
“Brawl?” I answer horrified.
“Brawl?” I answer horrified.
“Oh yes. He was very hot-headed when he was
younger.” She shudders.
Christian brawling? Refined, sophisticated, likes-
Tudor-choral-music Christian? I can’t see it. The MC
distracts me with his next introduction—a young woman in
red, with long jet-black hair.
“Gentlemen, may I present the wonderful Mariah.
What are we going to do about Mariah? She’s an
experienced matador, plays the cello to concert standard,
and she’s a champion pole-vaulter . . . how about that,
gentlemen? What am I bid, please, for a dance with the
delightful Mariah?”
Mariah glares at the MC and someone yells, very
loudly, “Three thousand dollars!” It’s a masked man with
blond hair and beard.
There is one counter-bid, but Mariah sells for four
thousand dollars.
Christian is watching me like a hawk. Brawler
Trevelyan-Grey—who would ha一ve known?
“How long ago?” I ask Mia.
She glances at me, nonplussed.
“How long ago was Christian brawling?”
“Early teens. Drove my parents crazy, coming home
with cut lips and black eyes. He was expelled from two
schools. He inflicted some serious damage on his
opponents.”
I gape at her.
“Hasn’t he told you?” She sighs. “He got quite a bad
rep among my friends. He was really persona no
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