The Auctioneer

Chapter II: Cruising

   Professor Edward Lee has to slap his pale face as his eyes are glued to the revolver. It was just sold for a skyrocketing price. However, the amount of money does not concern him, but how the gun her family used to own was resurrected in life. He can't be wrong since the company that auctioned it is legitimate, and he never heard they ran into authentication.

   He took a closer look at the overhead projector as people in the lobby started to pack up and leave. Organizers are busy taking notes of the sales since it will take days to ship the items to the bidders.

   Edward rolled out one of the papers he is holding into a messy table. He cleared up the empty wine glasses and ashtrays. He reached out for his blue hanky and wipes out the rectangular table. The paper bears the last photograph of the 1851 Colt Navy. He traces every inch of the gun with his right index finger, and back and forth, his head looks at the projector's display.

   The professor was completely dumbfounded. Edward was a hundred percent sure it was their great-great grandfather's revolver. He gulps with his dry throat. He knew it would be good news for his family. But how is it possible?

   Edward's mind roams back to his memories when he was in 7th Grade in Minnetonka, Minnesota. He was living on a farm with his family in an ancestral house. His father was Edward Lee Sr. and a great-great-grandson of Gen. Robert Lee. One fateful evening while their family was having dinner, unidentified men in a pick-up truck suddenly threw balls of gasoline in their front house. In a matter of seconds, the two-story ancestral home burnt into ashes. They all managed to escape, but all their property and wealth were destroyed without a trace.

   Including his great-great grandfather's historic revolver.

   Edward's blue eyes ended up scanning the leaving people, hoping to find a glimpse of the gun. He has to find an answer. Did the weapon survive the hellish flames? It can't be.

   More questions pump into his head as he suddenly saw a familiar figure he just bumped into today. It was her. It was the woman who just shoved his hand in the elevator. She has the revolver encased in a clear, plexiglass box. She is walking upstairs, accompanied by the auction's emcee and another middle-aged woman.

   Without hesitation, he sprung up, made his way to scattered red Victorian chairs. He maneuvers himself from the busy staff cleaning up the lobby. He was able to set foot on the staircase.

   "Hey, wait!" he shouted.

   Security of The Company is always quick. Three tall men with dark suits blocked Edward's vision. Two of them held him by the arms, and he felt the stone fingers almost crushing his bones.

   "I need to speak to her!" he pleaded. But the men don't need to hear his bullshit. He has immediately shoved away. One of the men shows his Glock on his side. Edward, being a man of intelligence, knows it is the alternative to the phrase 'back-off.'

   Maya and her company went through.

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   The start of December signals the coming of winter. The steel railings on the entrance of Gemini Auction Company are starting to get icy. The five-story building has been proudly standing for 34 years and cloaked herself as a prime auction company. Despite its age, the building is still a refutable establishment, competing against auction giants like American Auctioneers.

   Large led monitors are flashing their latest features of artifacts the company has sold to hundreds of bidders. With modern sofa sets and tables, the expansive European-inspired patio serves as the guests' and employees' entertainment area. It displays huge photos of the founder and hall of fame auctioneers, including Maya's father, Arthur Johnson. Upon entering, the first thing to notice is the expressive reception counter. Its white walls are illuminated by soft blue lights and brown couches for waiting for people to sit.