"All right, honey, let's go over this again," El said while Peter tried to eat his breakfast and get his suit on at the same time. "You are...?"

"Peter Williams, U.S. steel magnate."

"And tell me more about the steel industry."

"Well, it began as a family business—" he said, filling up the coffee pot.

"Boring, boring, boring. What did we discuss?"

"Right…. Uh… You don't want to hear about what I do," he said, leaving the coffee pot behind and focusing on El. "I really want to know more about you."

"Mmm. And why are you still single?"

"Haven't found the right woman yet."

"Mmhm. Who might this right woman be?"

"Oh, well, she's about 5'5", brunette, most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen, smart as a whip, and gorgeous as hell."

"Aww." She kissed him. "Perfect. Okay. Remember, this is a conversation, not an interrogation, so you got to move away from the 'where are you froms' and 'what do you dos,' and, honey, don't make that face."

"What face?"

"That face." Peter realized his whole face was tense and probably looked quite intimidating. He started to move his jaw, losing it up. "Right. Yes." She kissed him again. "Be yourself. You're gonna be great."

"Okay."

"Thanks, hon."

"Bye."

"See ya."


All the bachelors were gathered in a room that made Neal think of pictures from his grandfather's time where the men gathered for a cigar and brandy, leaving the women to their own pleasures.

Peter strolled up to Jones and him.

"Have we met?" Peter asked, as any mingling man around them.

"I don't believe we have," Jones answered, offering his hand. Pete shook it. "Arthur Fort, pastry baron to a multimillion-dollar dessert empire. Ladies love the sweets."

Peter rolled his eyes. Neal introduced himself as well and also shook hands with Peter. Or rather, his alter ego did. He smiled at his handler's baffled look, which was most likely his accent.

"You ready?" Neal asked.

"Are you?"

"Gentlemen, we are about to begin!" their host, Jameson announced. "I will make the announcement, and when I give you the go-ahead, you just take your places on the stairs, okay? Good luck." He left past a red curtain by the end of the room. "Okay, ladies, I have only one question for you!" he called out over the microphone. "Are you ready to meet your men?"

There were cheers and applause, and soon women on the other side yelled:

"Men! Men! Men!"

Neal glanced at Peter. He looked like he was about to panic, face twitching.

"Why do I feel like I need a pike and sword?" he asked. Yeah, it sure sounded like they were about to go into a gladiator arena.

"For those about to date..." Neal smiled and corrected his clothing. "We salute you."

"Okay, ladies, you'll have five minutes to talk to each man. When the bell sounds..." A bell tinkled. "...you simply move on to the next. Now, why don't you go ahead and check your invitations for the proper rotation."

"So, what's your plan?" Jones asked.

"I'm gonna bomb every meeting except Selena."

"Mm. You're afraid you'll cause a frenzy?"

"I'm narrowing the odds. What's your approach?"

"I'm going for the frenzy," Jones said and kept his head high. "I'm gonna try to charm every one of them. I want good word of mouth."

"Sure," Neal nodded.

"Peter?" Jones asked.

"I'm gonna maintain eye contact and remember it's a conversation, not an interrogation."

It sounded like a piece of advice from Elizabeth. Good thing she had not been angry, but honestly, they should have found someone else in Peter's place. That man was a disaster when it came to flirting with women.

"That's all good, but what you want to do, you want to keep it up here when you talk, right?" Jones gestured with his hand at the level of his eyes. "Down here," he moved his hand to bust level, "this is all second-date territory. Okay, so be yourself. Just be yourself up here." He gestured with his hand at eye level with a friendly smile.

"And if you're holding a drink, keep it in your left hand," Neal added. "That way, when you shake her hand with your right, your first touch won't be cold."

Peter moved his drink to his left hand and put his right in his pocket.

"Yeah, it is cold," he said, tense as a taut spring.


"One final reminder," Jameson on the other side of the curtain said. "Some of the men have been known to propose on the very night of the auction, so, please, don't forget to check their pockets for engagement rings. Okay, millionaires, the moment all these beautiful ladies have been waiting for. On your marks, get set... date!"

And to cheers and applause, they walked in a row passed the curtain and down the stairs. Peter glanced out over the exited ladies and felt less like a gladiator and more like a piece of stake.

They all had a number of a table, and Peter localized his. He once again scanned around the room. He saw Diana standing beside Selena, but he let his eyes move to not linger too much and get Selena suspicious.

"Ladies," Jameson called out once all men reached their tables, "it's time to meet your first bachelor for tonight. Five minutes, ladies. Make them count." He chimed the little bell, and a blond woman of Peter's own age approached.

"Hi, I'm Donna," she said, holding out her hand. He shook it.

"Peter."

There was a quiet moment where Peter could not recognize anything but the buzz of everyone's conversations around him. He found himself staring at Donna.

"Hi," he said, feeling like a fool. "Where were you before New York?"

"Cleveland."

"Fascinating." He was not a real bachelor. He was an FBI agent undercover. This was just practice before he met Selena. He put on his 'I'm interested in you'-face. Or hoped he did. "Tell me more about Cleveland."

"I-it's in Ohio."

She laughed, probably uncomfortably. Peter joined to ease up the mood. It did not work. How could he ask a question without be interrogating?

"New York City is wonderful in springtime, don't you think?" Close to talking about the weather.

"I don't know yet," she answered, putting on that awkward smile again.

The little bell chimed.

"Pleased to meet you, Donna," Peter said, and she moved on.

Next was a dashing lady with skin like cinnamon.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Oh, I want to hear more about you," Peter said at once, realizing he just made a huge blunder.

"Okay… um… well—" She held out her hand across the table, and he took it, realizing he had been holding his drink in the right hand.

"Oh, it's gonna be cold. It's cold, isn't it?"

She pulled her hand back and leaned her head on her side, and stared at him as if he came from outer space.

"Is this your first?" she asked.

"Date? No. No, no." He chuckled. "No. No. I date a lot."

"Your first auction, I mean."

Peter felt like a stain on a white tablecloth. Something you did now want there but had to live with.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"You should try to relax a bit."

"Yeah. Yeah, I should, shouldn't I?"

She nodded.

He took some deep breaths.

The bell chimed.

"Gook luck," she said and left.

And there was another one at his table.

"I'm Erica."

"Peter." They shook hands. "Having a good time tonight?"

"Last guy spoke on his cellphone and told me he liked to shoot baby deer."

"That is not what I do. You're far too fascinating."

She frowned instead of being pleased.

"How do you know?"

"I don't know you. Yet. That's fascinating." Someday he would kill Neal for making him a part of this. And sorry El, but he was not going to win this.

"So… why are you single?"

"I'm looking for that… the right person."

"And what does she look like?"

"Uhm… looks like?" Who cared about what a woman looked like? Love was so much more than that.

"Yeah. You must have a dream woman of some kind?"

"How about you?" Peter flipped back. "What does your dream man look like?"

"Wouldn't mind if he looked like Brad Pit. Or Robert Redford."

"Older?"

"Handsome."

The bell tinkled, and Erica was chanced to Diana.

They shook hands and smiled.

"It's not good. She's looking for someone she can manipulate, someone who comes across as sincere but less than self-assured."

"How am I doing?"

"You're great," Diana said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah?"

"Basically, she wants someone with an honest smile."

Peter took a deep breath.

"I can do that. How's Neal and Jones doing."

"Jones will not go home lonely tonight."

Next was Selena.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi."

"I'm Peter."

"Hi, Peter."

Felt awkward, but she did not look uncomfortable.

"You're very beautiful," Peter tried.

"Aw, thank you."

He could not find anything to say. And she was the very reason he was there.

"So, why are you here, Peter?"

He put on his face of focus and interest.

"To find someone special."

"Mm-hmm." She was not interested.

Peter looked about the room. Sighed. Jones and Neal, they knew how to do this.

"But most of these women are only interested in small talk, so..." He gave up.

"Well, what are you interested in?" she asked and seemed intrigued.

"Being caught off guard. Having a conversation that… That goes beyond the 'what do you do?' And 'where are you from?' Selena, there are a lot of nice guys here." He held out his hand, and he took it. "I truly hope you find the one you're waiting for."


"Nothing compares to it," Neal said to a woman named Erica.

"Hunting deer?"

"Fawns, actually. The babies."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, there's a certain thrill in the kill. And—" His phone rang. Sarah, of course, as agreed. "Oh. Oh, one second."

"What are you doing?" Erica objected as he took the call.

"Oh, hey, buddy! What's up? Hold on. I'm on a date. Have a nice day. Say hi." He held out the phone to Erica.

"Go fuck yourself!" she said and walked away. Neal had to hide a grin.

The bell sounded, and another woman appeared.

"Hi, I'm Donna."

"I'm the only son to one of Texas's biggest oil tycoons. Hi."

He fiddled with his phone, checking something.

Donna cleared her throat.

"Excuse me."

"One more minute. One more minute."

She remained by the table for the whole five minutes.

She shook her head as a signal to the next woman.

"Hi. How are you?"

"Ah, tsh, tsh, tsh!" Neal gestured with his hand. "Just one more minute. I'm just checking the Mavericks' score. They're losing again."

"You're so barking at the wrong three here. Did you actually pay to be here?"

"Me, pay? Dad pays for everything I point at. That can actually be boring sometimes."

"Yeah, right."

And another five minutes were up. Then he shook hands with Diana.

"You really don't give them a chance, do you?" she said.

"Checking up on me?" he grinned.

"Always. Talked to Selena. Basically, she wants someone with an honest smile."

"A smile," he said and put on his best.

"The 'honest' part went right by you, huh?"

Selena was up next.

"That is a lovely dress," Neal said with an honest smile. It was beautiful.

"Oh, thank you. A girl has to make an impression, right?"

"Oh, you do. Tell me a little about yourself."

"Well, fortunately, I've done well. Well enough to devote the majority of my time to a few nonprofits. Are you... into nonprofiting?"

"Well, with the right person, always." Neal sighed for himself. That line sounded as something Jones would say.

"Yeah? That's nice."

"Any particular non-profiting that interests you?"

"I have a few favorites, but anywhere my money and my time work for a better world…"

"Yeah, I know what it's like."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Oil. Texas." He gave her a humble shrug. "Grandfather was the last of us who needed to work hard for money."

The bell chimed.

"And switch," their host called out.

"Well, I hope we get to continue this conversation another time," Neal said.

"Yeah, me too," Selena nodded, "It was a little too fast."

"It was lovely to meet you," Neal said, extinguishing his hand. She shook it.

"Great to meet you."

That went just about perfectly.

When the last lady had passed by the men arranged themselves on the stairs. Neal was number three, between Jones and Peter. The first guy went for eight thousand dollars.

"Congratulations," Jameson yelled to the woman who bid. "Next up is Mr. Arthur Fort, the pastry baron of Brooklyn." Someone whistled as Jones stepped up to Jameson. "Shall we start the bidding at Five thousand dollars?"

"Five," said the woman who told him he barked at the wrong tree.

"Six," said Erica.

"Seven," said Donna.

Neal noted Selena did not bid.

"Eleven thousand," said the first bidder.

No one else bid.

"Sold for eleven thousand dollars," Jameson said. And Jones did not seem to mind the date at all. "Our next bachelor is Mr. Nicholas Munroe." Neal took Jones's spot beside Jameson. "Nick has been making the rounds, but now he's ready to take you, ladies, on the date of your lives. Shall we start the bidding at five thousand dollars? Do I hear five thousand dollars?"

Neal looked out over the group and realized what had gone wrong. He was not Selena's type. She was not going to bid. And as he had behaved, no one else would either. This was going to be the most embarrassing moment of his life.

"Do I hear three thousand dollars?" Jameson tried. It was still utterly silent. "Thousand bucks?"

Selena was not waiting for a discount either.

Diana raised her hand.

"Okay, sold!"

After a smile at Diana, Neal hurried away to Jones.

"What happened?" Jones asked, and he might have had a smug smile. Neal could not blame him.

"My plan worked. Too well."

"Our next bachelor is Mr. Peter Williams," Jameson declared. "We'll start the bidding at —"

"Fifteen thousand dollars." The bid came from Selena. The women in the room gasped.

"Wow! Any other bids?" There were none. "Sold for fifteen thousand dollars to the woman in red!"

Well done, Peter! He succeeded where he and Jones' failed. Peter, if anyone, could present an honest smile.