$10,000,000 Marriage Proposal Read Free Page B

Mary, which was her first, tasted much better than she’d expected. As she sipped it, she looked more closely at the poster. There was no TV network mentioned on it anywhere. No logo. Hmmm. Maybe this guy was just eccentric enough not to have sold the rights to his story. She pulled up the website on her phone. Nothing there, either, just information for interested candidates. Apparently, applications were due today. In person. At a downtown address that, as the internet confirmed, was the Staples Center. Oh, this was going to be good. Janey downed half her Bloody Mary (for courage), stopped in the restroom to check that the morning’s trauma wasn’t written all over her face, and drove downtown with a sense of purpose. A ten-million-dollar marriage proposal. It was a waste of her time, but, as of this morning, she had nothing but time.

Chapter 7
    Caroline tried to be strong, but the five-hundred-dollar carrot that her mother had dangled proved irresistible. She reminded herself that—unlike the umpteen auditions her mother had sent her on—this time the only reward she anticipated was 100 percent guaranteed. This was the very definition of realistic expectations. She had zero chance of rejection or disappointment. On the contrary, she would waste away a morning with a bunch of desperate women in exchange for the funds to buy a brand-new computer. It was a good deal.
    Caroline reentered the crowded stadium. Maybe the best way to get through this would be to pretend it was a social experiment. Who were these women? And why were they here? She hadn’t sat in her car for long, but somehow there were now twice as many women lining up for applications. Each was dressed in what she, this morning, had presumably deemed a marriage-proposal-winning outfit. Waiting in line, Caroline tried to characterize them. There was a powerful contingent of ladies in formfitting minidresses flaunting their curves with varying degrees of good taste; then there were the standard LA pseudo-Bohemians, a faux-casual tribe of blown-out blondes with expensive jeans and four-inch heels; and, finally, there was a woeful minority of average women in nondescript business casual who appeared to have simply stopped by on their way to work. What might this room look like if a woman had made the offer? Caroline found herself musing. It would be a sea of clueless dudes in generic navy-blue suits, she thought, and none of them would be penalized for lack of originality.
    There must have been nearly two hundred women ahead of her in the line for last names beginning with A through F. At this rate, she’d be waiting for at least an hour just to get an application. This never happened in fairy tales.
    Welcome to the fairy tale from hell.

Chapter 8
    Suze had managed to be relatively productive for most of the three hours she’d allocated to this farce—huddled in a corner answering e-mails—but just before her timer went off, a male voice came on the PA system.
    “Thank you all for your patience,” he said warmly. Was it him? Was he here, hidden in some security lookout, secretly checking out the candidates?
    “While we anticipated a response like this—ten million dollars is a lot of money—” He was interrupted by whoops and cheers from the assembled crowd. “This will require a serious effort. We are trying not to waste your time, so we have already selected a number of you to move to the next stage. Please do not be hurt or offended if you are not called. You are all worthwhile people, but we are keeping one man’s taste and personality in mind. We hope you understand. Thank you for your time and courage. Please refer to the numbers on your application receipts.” He then began to read numbers, as if announcing the winners of a lottery. There was a rustle of paper as the women pulled out the stubs from their applications, where their numbers appeared in the upper-left corner. Suze’s number was 2111, and it came up almost right away. She had a