Sellevision by Augusten Burroughs Read Free Book Online Page B

the ring. He leaned closer and his nostrils flared.
    “You call this an engagement ring?!” he bellowed. “It’s a chip, nothing but a chip.” Trish frowned and looked at the ring.
    Mr. Mission glared at Steve, who was sitting on the couch in a fresh state of shock. “Where the hell did you say you work?”
    “Price Waterhouse,” Steve replied.
    “Well, that explains everything,” he hollered. “You’ll never amount to anything as long as you work for someone else.”
    “Oh, Daddy, don’t be hateful,” Trish whined. “Steve has a good job. He makes almost half a million dollars a year.”
    “Half a million dollars a what?” he demanded. “A year?” He got up and stormed toward the doorway. “Gunther!” he yelled.
    The servant appeared almost instantly.
    “Get Jim Lewis on the phone and tell him to open the store immediately. We’re coming over now. And get the car started.” Then he stomped angrily over to his daughter and said, “Give me that thing,” pointing to her finger.
    Reluctantly, she slipped the ring off her finger and set it in her father’s outstretched hand. He made a fist around it and abruptly shoved it into his pocket before walking to the minibar and pouring himself a tumbler of scotch.
    Steve looked at Trish, who gave him a shrug and mouthed the words, That’s Daddy .
    Then, at just after midnight, the three of them, along with Gunther, went to Tiffany & Co., where her father demanded to see the best and largest diamond in the store. When the seven-and-a-half carat stone was delivered to him on a black velvet cushion, he took the original engagement ring out of his pocket and plunked it next to the diamond.
    “We want to trade up,” he barked.
    Jim Lewis, the store’s senior manager, inspected the engagement ring. He recognized it immediately for what it was—a good quality stone worth approximately $4,000. Then he looked at Mr. Mission. “Well, sir,” he began, “I’m afraid the difference in cost will be quite substantial.”
    “Surprise, surprise. Let’s get this over with. I want to go back home and get some sleep.” He pulled his checkbook out from his breast pocket.
    “Absolutely, Mr. Mission,” Mr. Lewis said. He then retrieved a sales form and a calculator from beneath the counter. He subtracted the price of the original engagement ring from that of the rare, perfect quality seven-and-a-half carat stone. “Here you are, Mr. Mission,” he said, sliding the completed form in front of the impatient millionaire.
    “What the hell is this?” he grumbled. “I don’t have my reading glasses. Just tell me how much the damn thing is so I can write a check and we can all get out of here. This is taking far too long. Time is money.”
    Mr. Lewis cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. That will be one million, four hundred thousand dollars.”
    At hearing the price of the stone, Steve’s jaw unhinged.
    Trish left his side and ran to her father, kissing him on the cheek.
    Mr. Mission filled in the check, scrawled his signature at the bottom and turned to his daughter. “See, my little princess? One and a half million, just like that.” He snapped his fingers in the air.
    Gunther’s head instinctively turned.
    “Nothing is too good for you.” He kissed his daughter on the forehead. Then he looked at Steve and glared. “And you ,” he warned, “better not go shopping in a Cracker Jack box ever again.”

    “H
    i everybody, welcome to Sellevision. I’m your host this evening, Leigh Bushmoore, and for the next hour I invite you to kick off your shoes, get into a cozy pair of your favorite pajamas, and join me for Slumber Sunday Sundown,” she said, standing in the bedroom set.
    Cut to Slumber Sunday seven-second intro.
    Leigh took a quick sip of water from a bottle that was hidden out of sight of the camera and sat on the edge of the bed.
    Smiling broadly into the camera, Leigh asked viewers if they shared her frustration at “always forgetting to moisturize your