Scream For me

WESTON

“Where am I supposed to be?” I don’t even attempt to hide my annoyance that I’m in a packed room full of strangers. I’ve done very well at avoiding situations like this for the last several years. Mirabelle always insisted that as a billionaire and philanthropist, my face needed to be seen, but I prefer the exact opposite. I’d rather write a check and keep to myself and my business. I’m not exactly the kiss-ass and rub-elbows kind of guy.

“In the main booth, over here.” Daphne ushers me to a booth in the back corner, her hips swiveling in a tempting little manner as I walk behind her.

“And what am I doing?”

“Did you not read the email I sent over?” She looks genuinely upset like this is a life-or-death situation.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Figures,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “This is the main booth where everyone is dropping off their baked goods. You register them and then place them on the tables.”

“Is someone going to be helping me or am I just expected to figure this all out?” She’s getting more irritated by the second, which amuses me.

“You’re a billionaire business owner, Mr. Vaughn. I’m sure you can navigate a bake sale.” I stare at her, waiting for a real answer. “Yes, Matilda Bernard is supposed to be here already.” She glances around the sea of people. “Let me find her and send her back to you.”

“Mr. Vaughn, such a pleasure.” I turn around to see Mr. Fein scurrying toward me, a huge grin on his cherubic face. This guy is nice but damn, is he annoying.

“Rick, good to see you.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“I can’t thank you enough for your generous offer to auction off a long weekend on your private yacht. It’s going to be such a treat for whoever wins that bid.”

“It’s the least I could do.” I look up to see Daphne hurrying back over to me.

“Mr. Fein, we have an issue. Matilda Bernard came down with the flu so we don’t have anyone to run the main booth with Mr. Vaughn.”

“Oh dear.” He clutches his chest and looks over at me, then back at

Daphne as if someone is about to die. “Well, why don’t you do it?”

“Oh no,” she says emphatically. “I’m supposed to be handling the bids for the silent auction.”

“Nonsense. I’ll handle that. You stay back here with Mr. Vaughn.” He waves at someone in the crowd. “Excuse me,” he says before walking away.

“Guess it’s just me and you, kid.” She looks over her shoulder at me with a scowl. “Relax, I promise not to irk you too much.” I wink at her, knowing it’ll probably annoy her all the more.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend to be nice just to annoy me.”

We spend the next half hour logging and organizing the baked goods. I write down who brought in what and she places them on the table with a little price sign.

“Now what?” I ask as the crowd dies down and people mill about.

“We wait for people to pay us. They’ll select their baked goods and we take the cash.”

“What was with your pissy comment in my office the other day?”

“Don’t play dumb, Mr. Vaughn. It doesn’t suit you.” She smiles as she takes cash from a woman and places it in the box.

“Thank you, these look delicious,” the woman says, holding up the tray she’s just purchased.

“Can’t go wrong with lemon bars,” Daphne says before taking a dropoff from someone else.

“I’m serious.” I take the tray of cookies she hands me.

“You should be mindful of what you say in front of children. Your daughter asked me what pissy meant when she was at my apartment and when I told her it was a bad word, she told me that’s what daddy called you.”

I almost burst out laughing but I stifled it, completely forgetting that I had said that in front of her. “Well, if the shoe fits.”

“It doesn’t,” she says defensively. “I’m not normally pissy. I’m a very pleasant and fun-loving person. You just bring out the worst in me.”

“I won’t argue with that. It’s probably true.” She stops what she’s doing and looks over at me, probably surprised I just agreed with her.

“Thank you for doing this by the way,” she says, her tone suddenly softening.

“Did I have a choice? You came into my office pretty hot.”

“I guess I did, huh?” She laughs and it’s sweet. I think it’s the first time I’ve heard her genuinely laugh. “I was frustrated.”

“I understand the feeling.” Although I’m sure my frustration is completely different than hers.

“Oh, can you?” she asks, nodding toward the booth door that is just a large curtain. I reach around her, my chest brushing softly against her back.

She turns her head to look back for a second and her hair tickles my nose.

She smells sweet and sugary like one of these desserts, vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. My mouth waters, imagining running my tongue up her exposed neck.

I watch her cross the room, placing the baked goods down and arranging them when a man approaches her. They’re far enough away and, mixed with the other conversations happening around, I can’t make out what they’re saying but she starts to laugh. She reaches her hand out, playfully smacking his arm.

“I doubt he’s that funny,” I mutter as she almost doubles over. The guy looks like a douche, your typical blond, overmuscled gym bro who thinks it makes him look bigger to wear a shirt and pants that are two sizes too small. When he walks away, I notice his sockless ankles showing with his deck shoes.

“Hi,” someone interrupts my staring and I turn to see a woman with a young boy at her side. “I have some baked goods,” she says, thrusting some store-bought cupcakes at me.

“Your name?”

“Xana, hey!” Daphne jogs back over to the booth, waving at the woman standing in front of me. They embrace when she approaches. “I was wondering if you were going to make it.”

“Yeah, sorry. I had to go pick up my nephew first. Is the kids’ fair in the gymnasium like last year?”

“Yes, he can head in there if he wants. Miss Pettigrew and a few other parents are watching in shifts. You ready to go have some fun, Peter?” she leans down, asking the young boy who nods his head. “Okay, you know where to go.”

“Mr. Vaughn, this is my best friend Xana. Her nephew is two years older than Daisy and goes here.”

“Pleasure.” I nod. “Did his parents get out of volunteering?”

Daphne flashes me a look. “They didn’t get out of it. They’re traveling internationally for a family funeral back in Spain. Normally, they would be here as well.”

Xana eyes me with a strange grin on her face before turning to Daphne. “You want to talk over here for a second?” She motions for her to follow her around the corner.

“I’ll be right back,” Daphne says to me as she links arms with her friend and walks out of sight.