L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

“Stunning, my dear. But don’t forget these,” she said, handing me the sparkly white
pumps.
I slid my feet into them and took a few practice steps in my heels, feeling utterly
ridiculous and overjoyed at the same time. Yes, I could dance in these; in fact, I
suspected I would be doing just that after the auction, which by my estimation should be
over by now. I was glad to have missed that part.
“It’s time!” Matilda announced, taking me by the arm and tugging me across the foyer
towards the ballroom.
“What? Where are we going? The dance hasn’t started,” I protested.
But Matilda wasn’t listening. We were moving so quickly, I had to place a hand on my
tiara to keep it from falling o. We reached the ballroom and I entered behind Matilda,
making sure she was screening me from view. As I peeked around her shoulder, I saw a
line of beautiful women, each taking a seat onstage. Among them was an attractive
local news anchor, a model who looked like a young Naomi Campbell, an actress from
the same TV show as one of the men who had been auctioned, a pretty blond cellist from
the New Orleans symphony, two beautiful Italian sisters who owned one of the top spas
in town, a few “daughters of” … and Tracina, who was now more than a little tipsy in
her slightly off-kilter tutu.
“There’s one more empty stool,” Kay announced into the microphone, cupping her
hand over her eyebrows to scan the back of the room. “But maybe she left.”
Please make me invisible, I prayed. I can’t cross the room in this dress, to be auctioned o
in that crowd. I’d make a fool out of myself.
“She hasn’t left!” Matilda yelled, pushing me forward.
“There she is!” Kay crooned. “It’s Miss Cassie Robichaud, one of our lovely volunteers.
Now, doesn’t she look enchanting!”
Matilda placed her hands on my shrunken shoulders. She must have been able to tell I
had died a little inside. She whispered in my ear, “Remember, Cassie, this is Step Six:
Confidence. You have it in you already. Find it. Now.”
With one last nudge, I was launched into the crowd, and I made my way slowly, eyes
heavy on me. I curved around the tables, my skirt brushing chair legs and calves. As I
crossed the empty dance oor and headed to the stage, the dress elicited some oohs and
aahs. But the healthy wolf whistle from the balcony actually made me laugh a little. Had
it really been meant for me? When I passed Pierre’s table, I tried to avoid eye contact
with him. I climbed the stairs and passed Tracina, perched on her stool like an agitated
bird.
“You seem more and more interesting the longer I know you,” she hissed as I took my
seat.
“Let’s begin, shall we?” Kay started the bidding with the news anchor, who, after a
erce back and forth, went for $7,500 to the general manager of one of the waterfront
casinos. The model, who’d made aggressive attempts to get Pierre’s attention, was
crestfallen when Mark “Sharky” Allen, the Gem and Jewel King with the cheesy latenight
commercials, battled it out to the tune of $16,000 to win a dance with her. The
sisters went as a package deal and two of the debutantes attracted ve-gure bids.