Going Bovine

Going Bovine Page 127

When I get offstage, Gonzo welcomes me with double high-fives. “Dude, you rocked the house!”

“Thanks, Gonz. Have you seen the goons who stole Balder?” I ask. The hot sun and my nerves have gotten the best of me. I’m starting to cramp up again, and my vision’s a little blurry.

Gonzo shakes his head. “Not yet, man. Hey, you okay? You don’t look so good.”

I’m sweating freakin’ bullets. “I’m just overheated.”

We’re pushed along with the crowd down to the beach, where they’ve built a large, open-air platform designated STAGE THREE. It’s a Marisol event. In her bright pink sarong and half-shirt, she’s waving to the crowd and blowing kisses, her long black curls shining under the sun. If we’ve found Marisol, we’ll probably find the goons.

“Hey,” I ask a girl who’s on her way in. “What’s this show?”

“Some kind of auction for charity,” she says. “They let people come up onstage to auction off their most valuable or weird possessions. The more bizarre you are, the better chance you’ve got of getting on.”

We thank her and push through the crowd. On stage, this chubby guy’s standing there with an autograph he got from some movie star. A few bids are traded back and forth and the gavel comes down on a final price of $125. They usher the next idiot onstage. I can’t believe it. It’s Keith. And he’s holding Balder, who’s been outfitted in a frilly pink dress, pantaloons, and a white lace bonnet.

“Gonzo,” I say, pointing.

He starts to laugh but stops when he sees I’m not in a joking mood. “Dude, they put him in a dress.”

A security guard the size of a compact car steps in front of us. He puts out a hand to stop our progress. “You can’t go in unless you’re part of the auction.”

“That’s our gnome! They stole him from us!” Gonzo yells.

The guy pushes us back, away from the stage. “Fine. You have the winning bid, you can get him back.”

I stick my hand in my pocket, feeling the slickness of those six one-hundred-dollar bills. “Fine. We’re in,” I say.

The guy hands us paddles and we push our way up to the front. Keith is blabbing on and on about how he and his buddies kidnapped the gnome from the dean’s house in the dead of night, making up a bullshit story so he’ll sound hot. Marisol acts all enchanted. She flips her long, dark hair and gives Balder a kiss, then lifts his dress to show off his pantaloons.

Balder’s bearing up with his usual stoic grace, but I know under that Zen master expression is a seething cauldron of gnome rage.

“I can’t believe that guy. What a freakin’ poser,” Gonzo snarls.

Two supertall dudes crowd next to us, making it hard for us to be seen.

“Here. Climb up and get ready to bid,” I say, boosting Gonzo onto my shoulders.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Gonzo asks. “You strong enough to hold me?”

“I can hold you long enough to win back Balder. You just be quick on that paddle.” Gonzo’s heavier than I thought, and my muscles feel the strain, but I can hold him for the five minutes this should take.

“How much we got?” Gonzo yells down.

“Six hundred,” I croak back. My neck’s killing me.

Keith finishes his shout-outs to a million buddies back home, and the bidding starts. It’s fast and furious at first. Bids fly out from all over. But when it reaches three hundred bucks, most people drop out. It’s just us and some other guys, bidding back and forth in twenty-five-dollar increments.

“Do I hear three fifty?” Marisol shouts to the crowd. “I’ve got three fifty!”

“Gonz! Who’s bidding against us?” I say with effort. For a Little Person he is solid.

“Those ass**les from the car. His buddies,” he says.

Gonzo’s paddle goes up. The bidding goes back and forth, till we reach $525. We’ve still got $75 in the bank. I’m sweating like a mofo. My muscles are getting stiff and twitchy. Man, not now. Please not now.

“They’re weakening,” Gonzo yells.

His paddle goes up. Marisol calls out $525. The twitch travels down my arms and into my legs. My knees are buckling.

“G-Gonzo,” I sputter. “I can’t hold you.”

“Just one second, dude.”

The guys make a counterbid of $600. Marisol wants it over. She yells going once, going twice, just as my legs give out and I fall to the ground with Gonzo on top. I hear Marisol shout, “Sold!” We’ve lost Balder.