Ok.
Shane and Carmen met five years ago. And they met great. They both agree on that.
And, the way I saw it, those two poor bastards had more than a chance.
It was a rainy October day in a small town not too far from Seattle.
A boat was blowing the last of the tourists off the city.
My old friend Shane was there to mount an exhibition. She is a photographer, you know. A good, successful one.
That day, she was attending an auction.
She loves those tiny statues from Asia, you know. Those Buddhas, those goddess, those little pieces of marble that look so good on the fireplace.
She had taken a full day off from her exhibition just to buy some of that stuff.
And I really can’t get it, because I like food, and I like girls, and I like… well, toys, but not that kind of useless stuff.
But Shane does.
And she was there on purpose.

Flashback – Shane

This seat is uncomfortable and my ass hurts. But I act nonchalant, as usual, as the auctioneer shows the audience the item I am here for.
“The next item up for bid is an exquisite Japanese carving, circa 1300… “, he says, politely, “…A rare relief of a Shinto goddess, very richly detailed. The intricacies of the Orient…”.
“100”, I say, cutting in and slightly lifting my hand.
I don’t need him to explain what kind of item is that.
I already know it. I just want that statuette, and I don’t have much time.
My exhibition will start in less than six hours and I have to go back in town, get ready and meet my numerous guests.
“I have 100 dollars from the beautiful young woman in the black raincoat”, the auctioneer says, a pleased tone in his voice.
A satisfied grin appears on my face as I cross my arms. Nobody seems interested in that statuette. It’s gonna be mine in less than two minutes.
“150”.
The auctioneer turns her head, narrowing his eyes at someone I can’t see.
“Do I hear 150 dollars?”, he says, smiling politely.
“150”, the voice repeats.
A feminine, very firm – and yet charming – voice.
“150 dollars, ladies and gentlemen”, the auctioneer echoes.
I frown.
“200”.
And I lift my hand.
The auctioneer looks back at me and smiles, delighted.
“200 dollars. I have 200 dollars ladies and gentlemen”.
I stretch out my legs, nodding.
“220”.
I turn around, my eyebrows furrowed, trying to see where that voice comes from.
And there she is.
My lips part in surprise.
At the opposite corner of the room, sitting on a chair as uncomfortable as mine but looking much more at ease than me, there’s a young woman.
I scan her from head to toes.
Twenty-five, circa. Long, wavy hair. Dark hair. Tanned complexion. Clever brown eyes showing determination, self-confidence and, probably, even an innate stubbornness.
A perfect, exotic face. And a body… Well, a body to die for.
She half-smiles at me, biting her bottom lip and raising her eyebrow, as if to say: this is a challenge, dude.
A challenge? Nobody challenges Shane McCutcheon and wins.
Nobody.
I smile back, wordlessly accepting her challenge.
“Do I hear 220 dollars for this exceptionally exotic item?”, the auctioneer says.
“250”, I reply, lifting my hand and leaning back on my seat. I keep a nonchalant eye on the beautiful stranger.
“280”, the woman immediately exclaims.
The auctioneer glances at me, then at her, and smiles.
“Alright. I have 280 dollars ladies and gentlemen. Is this my final offer?”.
I sigh, caught off-guard, mentally thinking about how much I’m ready to pay for that statuette.
The truth is that I perfectly know that the item isn’t worth more than two-hundred bucks.
Another truth is that if I don’t offer more, I’ll lose.
I’ll lose the challenge, the statuette and probably even the girl.
“Ladies and gentlemen…”, the auctioneer says, waking me from my reverie, “ 280 dollars going once…”.
I clear my voice. Alright, alright.
“300”.
The auctioneer stops, the small hammer already in his hand.
“300! Do I hear 300?”.
“305”.
Fuck, I think.
“305 dollars. I have 305 dollars. Do I hear 305 dollars?”.
I stare at the young, exotic, beautiful and incredibly bitchy woman. My eyes are annoyed but the truth is that I feel admiration, above all.
“305 dollars going once. Going twice…”, the auctioneer starts and the girl smiles a megawatt smile. She is extremely satisfied and she isn’t doing anything to hide it.
“…Sold… To the pretty lady in the white sweater”.
The hammer drums soundly on the wood stand and I think: fuck.