Save Me, Sinners

He smiles and then turns to Max. “Ready for the bachelor auction, hotshot? I just might have a surprise in store for you.”

“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

Max doesn't like surprises.

“You’ll see,” the old man laughs as he makes his exit. “Nice to meet you, young lady.”

“Oh, God! Did I scare him off? Did I sound like some obsessive fan girl?” I ask Max, cringing.

“A little bit,” he chuckles.

“Stop it, Max. You're making me more nervous than I already am.” I pull at my hair, an old habit.

“Oh, come on. This is just a stupid bachelor auction. Have a few glasses of wine and you’ll be all right,” he says, winking.

“I don’t like the idea of some rich old woman bidding on you and taking you home for the night,” I complain, but Max just laughs.

“It’s just a dinner and dance. Unless you want to bid on me—in that case, I'm willing to offer other services as well,” he grins his killer grin, the one that makes my knees weak. Luckily I’m sitting down.

“I wish,” I sigh. “But if I could, I would bid on Christopher Alexander. I’d love to pick his brain on how to become a better writer.”

“That old bag. Please! He’d bore you to death by the time the entrees arrive,” he sneers.

“Come on Max, don’t be mean. You know he’s one of the greatest writers of our generation. I've read Waking Sea a zillion times!”

I think back to my college days as a student of English Lit, when I had all the time in the world to devour books by the dozen.

“He has done some good work, I’ll give him that,” Max says thoughtfully. “But he stopped being relevant half a decade ago. If it weren’t for his radio show and this charity gala he organizes every year, people wouldn’t remember him at all. I feel bad for him. Poor guy, trying so hard to be relevant.”

“That’s harsh,” I answer with a hurt look, but Max just smirks.

“I'm just telling it like it is. Don’t shoot the messenger. “ He holds his large hands up in defense.

As the editor and a partner at Coyote, one of the biggest magazines in the country, Max’s idea of relevance is directly proportional to how much media attention he gets. He’s not one for dreams and emotions. He tells it how it is and rarely minces words. But that’s one of the things I like about him.

Besides he has the weight of the world on his shoulders as he attempts to make Coyote successful again. Coyote has been slow to catch up with the popularity of the internet and with hardly any online presence whatsoever, has had a huge decline in sales. Max is doing his best to turn the deficit around, even resorting to putting a celebrity gossip column in their once-serious publication.

“You look incredible tonight,” Max says. I feel the urge to touch his face, kiss his full lips and get lost in his embrace.

“And you look as handsome as ever,” I reach under the table to grab his thigh.

“Looks like somebody is feeling a little hot,” he whispers in my ear, tickling it. “Save that for later, babe…”

Then our attention is distracted by the voice of Christopher Alexander, who’s onstage, about to get things started.

“... And as you know, I'm once again thankful to all of you for turning up in support of this noble cause.” Christopher is in the middle of a speech.

“This is why I don't like authors. The one day of the year they're allowed to speak, they can’t keep their traps shut,” Max grumbles.

“…with that being said, it's time we get to the main event, the bachelor auction,” Christopher continues, eliciting cheers from the female audience in the crowd.

“I've been advised that it’d be a good idea to start the auction with myself, though I'm not sure why anyone would want to bid on this serious, old man,” he says humbly, as the crowd eggs him on.

I’m contemplating placing a bid on him. Picking his brain in order to become a better writer is not an opportunity that comes by every day, but my hopes are dashed as someone puts in the first bid.

“Seven hundred dollars from the lovely lady in the green gown. That, indeed, is flattering,” Christopher levels a winning smile at the crowd.

“Well, there go my hopes of bidding on him,” I sigh.