Before you lies a deed of gift for this yacht, issued with the generous permission of its rightful owner, my dear friend. Starting bid: thirteen dollars. Let the bidding begin!
Oh, and what a beginning it was—
Campus literally teleported out of his mopey little sit- down with himself and ended up right by the pedestal. Behind him came Flora's friends, shoving past Peyota with elbows and knees. There was some rustling by the entrance, and it became clear what was happening: the designer had just found her uncle and brought him by the hand, but the moment he saw Manu, he bolted straight for him.
Evelyn was yelling louder than anyone:
Fourteen bucks, fifteen! One- fifty! Come on, hurry up and raffle off that damn tub! — She normally didn't talk like that, but you could see where she was coming from.
As soon as the whole crowd got there and started shouting over each other, raising the bid by a dollar, then ten, then more, the host landed on Lorenzo's final offer:
Three thousand dollars, going once, going twice… — and then hurriedly added, — A million dollars. That's my bid. Sold to Mr. Manu.
Today, human destinies and expectations were broken — the director was surveying the funeral procession that the once cheerful chaos had become. Pain, disappointment, and hopelessness — that was the vibe now. Manu gave a sweet little smile and explained:
I don't actually have that kind of But Danny's an old childhood friend, so I won't have to pay. Plus, the yacht stays with him anyway. I just wanted to grab your attention and give a little demonstration of how indifference can morph into rabid greed.
Truly, this is a Bargain Basement Fair… and also, a Fair of Transcendental — The corners of the Copy's mouth first went up, then dropped back down after seeing the mortal despair in Evelyn's eyes, — But… Conceptually solid!
Most likely, the whole wounded- dog mood wouldn't have lasted long, and Manu wouldn't have avoided the fate of being the scapegoat for the pissed- off crowd. No one would've given him a shot at redemption — but the subjunctive mood once again collapsed under the weight of a hysterical female scream from the cabins (which were supposed to be empty!):
Help! Please! He's going to kill me!
Vanna was the first to react, having just rolled up to the group and now shaking everyone with her commands:
Guys, someone's in trouble! Go! Run!
Now, Flora had always considered herself a cautious person and never wandered into dark alleys, especially without security. Her survival instinct kept her from sticking her nose where it didn't belong. But all the written rules got thrown out the window within the frame of her own film, and she got swept up in the chaotic current of bodies.
Her friends were the first to rush to help — which didn't surprise her at all, since they were actually kind and compassionate people. Then came Manu and Leilani, followed by Flavius shouting:
Run? Where to?! Whatever! I like running!
Bringing up the rear was Flora with Campus trailing her like a lost duckling. He was already yelling explanations as he jogged, huffing and puffing in a way no real fairytale character ever would — but sadly, his real- life carrier was a pudgy man in oversized jeans from the - good dad and caring husband- collection. Though he was neither, and kept blurting out:
Oh man, this is going to be wild! Hahaha! There's still booze in the galley, and it's dark enough to fool around with everyone. Best day of my life!
That's when Flora really started doubting whether joining this group had been the right call — but still, she got swept up by the flow and burst into the superstructure with the rest of them. That same current was now moving down a hallway made of green plastic, and Flora was distracted by something completely different than the random woman screaming on the ship. It was about money and connections. As always.
Where does Manu get friends with yachts this big? Sure, it's not VIP- class, but it's not a dinghy either. And if he's got such powerful contacts, why's he even hanging out in our trash circus?
Something here doesn't add up…
Escape from reality, failed acting ambitions, wanting to make new friends and have a good Could be anything. — shrugged the Copy mid- stride, followed now by the thunderous stomping that meant Auntie was charging in with her camera to film this bit too. — Look at Evelyn — she's gotten into the role of a camerawoman and loves it as much as I did back in the early days of my career.
There was an unfamiliar sadness in Copy's voice, and Flora felt like someone had taken a cleaver to her liver. She suddenly understood, with painful clarity, that at the end of her path there would also be saturation—total exhaustion from the art she so adored. Finita la commedia.
Before you get there, you might want to buy something bigger than a pack of kimchi, you broke little gremlin. — snorted the influential director, and just like that, all her sudden soulful vibe evaporated into thin air.
The door to the desired cabin was shut. A whole crowd had gathered around it, everyone side- eyeing one another, wondering who'd be the first to suggest kicking it down.
No cops around, and nobody here's got the juice to bust that thing — Wheezed Evelyn from a distance, and Lorenzo backed her up: That nerve- wrecking voice has finally gone quiet, which could mean something Could it be that something actually happened to that gorgeous stranger? — His husband demonstrated the situation vividly by sliding both thumbs across his neck. Sensitive soul that he was, Lorenzo covered his face and groaned.