Page 22 of The Auction
JAXON: Ouch.
That’s cold, Cricket.
Like… ice bath in the Arctic cold.
You’re lucky I’m into emotional unavailability.
She rolls her eyes so hard on screen it’s a miracle they stay in her skull. She says something to her date—laughs again—and it grates like nails on a chalkboard.
JAXON: I sure could go for some fried goat cheese with fig jam right about now.
She freezes.
Head tilts. Eyes narrow. She glances at the plate that just hit their table.
CASSIDY: Are you here?
JAXON:
She starts scanning the room like she’s about to start flipping tables. My head falls back as my laugh bounces around my empty penthouse.
“God, this is better than cable.”
She texts again, fingers flying.
CASSIDY: Are you spying on me??
Jaxon: I prefer the term vigilant admirer.
Or if we’re being formal—light stalker.
Definitely not spying. That implies clearance.
This is more of a… rogue operation.
On-screen, she looks around once more—slower this time. Like she’sreallyconsidering it.
Then she types something, slams her phone facedown.
CASSIDY: UNBELIEVABLE.
I shift one of the camera feeds, zoom in tight on the dude’s face.
“What a fucking cocksucker.”
He’s a very animated talker. I take a series of world-class screenshots, catching him in perfectly ridiculous expressions that look like he’s both constipated and holding in a sneeze.
“Ew!” I squint and lean closer to the screen like it will help. “What the fuck is that?”
I zoom in. And this couldn’t get any better than if I were scripting it.
Tooth spinach.
Big ol’ leaf wedged in his front teeth like he’s pre-gaming for a Jurassic Park audition.
JAXON: You should tell him he’s got something in his teeth.
Like, half the produce aisle.
