When Robert told me we were going to an event for a special cause this Friday, I was hoping we were going on a fund raising where we could paint faces and/or sell stuff on a stall. You know, the way they did it on Daddy Daycare.
Why would I assume this, you ask?
Well because it involves children.
Children that were orphaned and/or abandoned by relatives. Some of them taken willingly there because their parents couldn't afford to raise them properly while the others were either taken out of the streets or rescued from child slavery.
It's sad to read about them as fictional characters, but it was far worse when it sinks into you that there really are children out there who are supposed to be inside warm, welcoming homes instead of the cold outside.
So whoever thought of this ingenious plan to gather all those who can afford a fancy watch in three different kinds of gold, is worth thanking.
This event just so happens to have this requirement that you're supposed to earn enough money to pay at least seven employees' annual salary in a month. I guess its better this way.
Distributes the money (almost) equally. Keeps the cash circulating and giving someone the feeling that they did something to help those in need. Makes them feel superior. As much as the actual help of being there for the kids is important, the truth is, they can't operate without the money.
But hearing a man talk non-stop about who can bid higher was starting to irritate me. Not going to complain though. The money they're giving away for an antique or limited edition piece would go straight to charity.
Pulling at my sleeves for the nth time, I tried to look interested on the exchange happening among the men. The tattoo from my unfortunate night in the garage was almost gone. I don't know what Mitchelle used but I hate it. I was hoping it would come off in at least two weeks with some eager scrubbing. It's barely noticeable now but I wasn't taking any chances.
And I regret wearing this midnight blue dress that keeps getting caught on the foot's chair whenever I moved. But it had sleeves long enough to cover the tattoo so I'm trying to just get through the night.
I've been sitting like royalty for two hours now. Not because I was with a lot of filthy rich folks and I was trying to look poised (although that was something for me to consider) but because Damon left a ton of macaroni and cheese for me to eat before he left this morning. It was too late when Robert arrived to pick me up and told me that it was a formal gathering.
I knew it. Damon was trying to sabotage me.
Robert even went out of his way and got me a dress.
Okay so it's not much of a big deal.
He invited me. Maybe he felt that it was something he should do as a gentleman and a sorta date. That's how they do it on the books I've read. The guy gives the girl what she needs. Reading a lot of that cotton candy stuff comes in handy sometimes.
"Fifty thousand!" I almost jumped when Robert raised his hand, a grin on his face.
I grabbed the glass of water to my right and drank half of its content. Almost instantly, my eyes began to water and the urge to cough violently was so strong that I could tell me my face was turning purple.
Definitely not water.
"You alright, Catherine?" I felt someone's hand lightly rub my back. Attempting a smile, I ended up giving him a thumbs up instead. He took the glass I just drank from and frowned.
YOU ARE READING
Her, Saving GraceRomance
She wasn't that drunk. So the six-foot something creature rummaging through her fridge half-naked, at eight in the morning was real. Now here's the tinsy winsy problem; She lives alone. ------------------------------------------------ Let's just say...