"Heartbroken." Ten moodily shoved a table into a better position on the floor so we waiters could move around easier between them later on in the night.
Aw, hell. This was the third night this week Gamble hadn't come in. "He and Professor Girlfriend didn't make it, huh?"
"He's a complete mess," Hamilton said with a sad shake of his head. "I've never seen anyone so upset after losing a girl before. He really loves her."
"Damn." I shook my head.
What a shame. I'd been jealous of Gamble and his woman two weeks ago when she'd come into the bar to see him. They'd had this intense connection between them. It was upsetting to know the bond they'd shared hadn't kept them together. And it gave me no hope whatsoever for my own situation. But it didn't keep me from my plan either. Mission Extract-Info-From-Lowe was definitely a go.
Glancing at him as he slotted the money drawer into the cash register, I tried to gauge his mood. Thank God he didn't emit any heartbroken vibes. He'd seemed pretty melancholy after his confrontation with the cougar. I hoped like hell his girl hadn't dumped him, because then he certainly wouldn't give me any information about her cousin.
But tonight, the man looked pretty damn perky. He was whistling some tune I couldn't name under his breath. So I opened my mouth to ask what had him in such a good mood when Ten made a gagging sound behind me.
"Dude, what the hell is that on your shirt?"
Hamilton appeared next to him a second later, grimacing as he stared at my back as well. "Looks like someone puked down your back."
"Shit." I grabbed the shoulder of my shirt and tugged at it while I craned my head around to see. And yep, Julian had lost his supper all over me before I'd taken him over to Mrs. Rojas's tonight. "My kid must've spit up on me."
Ten's jaw fell open. "Excuse me? Did you say kid? Since when do you have a kid?"
I frowned, still trying to twist a glance over my shoulder to see how bad the damage was. "Since about three months ago."
"Shut the fuck up." Ten kept gaping stupidly. "Why the hell did you never tell us you were a dad?"
I stopped twisting and shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't figure stories about diaper changings and crying spells were something you cared to hear about."
"Well, no, but . . . " He shook his head, still dazed. "Damn, man. Did you forget to wrap it up or what?"
I sighed, realizing how long it was going to take to explain my situation—for which I'm sure Ten would raze me for taking on someone else's kid—when Jessie, our boss until her dad recovered from his heart surgery, strolled out from the back hall that led to her office.
"Good. You're all here." She clapped her hands together gleefully. "Wait." She paused as she glanced at the four of us. "Where's Gamble?"
"Sick," Ten hissed at her. "Leave him the fuck alone."
"Damn." She chewed on her bottom lip. "I was going to have you do an auction night since we hadn't done one in a while, but if there's only going to be four of you working—"
"We can handle it," I was quick to speak up. Auction nights brought in a shit ton of cash, and I could always do with more cash, especially since I was going to be spending more on a babysitter now.
"Well, then . . . handle it." Jessie waved a hand in my direction, which basically told me I was in charge. Then she turned away and marched toward the exit, leaving us to 'handle it' by ourselves.
"What's auction night?" Mason was the first to ask after she was gone.
"Oh, baby, are you in for a treat." Ten rubbed his hands together gleefully. "The customers have a little bidding war—only on a ladies' night, mind you—for some lucky woman willing to pay the most to have the bartender of her choice personally cater to her for the rest of the evening."
"The best part is the guy who's chosen gets fifty percent of the take," I told him.
Mason's eyebrows furrowed and he glanced over at Quinn, whose eyes had grown to twice their normal size.
"We're going to auction off . . . ourselves?" Quinn sounded scandalized.
"Hey, it's fun." Ten knocked him in the shoulder, roughing him up a little. "All you have to do is flirt and talk to the broad until closing and make sure her drink never runs out. All the chicks dig it."
"And you get fifty percent of the haul," I repeated.
But neither Quinn nor Mason seemed all that enthused by the idea.
"Dude." Ten pointed at my back and shook his head. "You might want to clean that shit up. No woman's going to choose you with baby crap on your back." Then he shook his head and muttered something about me being a dad before he loped off to finish rearranging the tables.