Hands shot in the air, waving frantically. Looking decidedly less nervous, Culvie started rocking back and forth, hip cocked on each shift, almost like she was striking a little model pose every few seconds.
Sam groaned. Michael sighed, then looked for Kat. She was watching him. With a smile and a one-shouldered shrug, she turned her back to him to pull a beer.
Thank God for small favors she wasn’t going to cause problems.
Together Sam and Michael watched as numerous women were auctioned off, with varying results. The girls each had their ego stroked, and the guys felt like flexing their wallets in a bid for attention. Win-win, as far as all participants were concerned.
“I told you from the start, we’d go to ten. Our tenth girl is Iris who… Where’d she go?” Red shielded her eyes from the light and started scanning the crowd. “Iris, going once, Iris going twice… Okay, you’ve missed your chance, girl.”
“And that ends that game,” Sam said, rolling his empty glass between his palms. “Want another water? I’m getting another juice.”
“Sure, thanks.” Michael passed him his glass and settled back in the booth, ready to relax for another few hours until Kat was cut and could leave.
“I promised ten, and you’ll get ten. Here’s our tenth now. Come on up, Kitten!”
He blinked, sat up straighter, and watched as Red tugged, and another bartender pushed until Kat, looking surprised and not all that excited, climbed up onto the bar.
“Kitten here is our newest bartender. If you haven’t met her, then now’s your chance to welcome her to the Sin’s Inn with a bang!” Red laughed, and Kat smiled, hands on her hips. “Do a spin, Kitten, and show the men what they’re aiming for.”
Like the nine auctions before, Michael heard several catcalls and a few coarse suggestions. And like the nine ladies before her, Kat did a quick spin, ending with her hands in the air, a grin on her face.
She looked at home in the spotlight. She was having fun. Was the reluctance all a ploy?
And damn it, why was he even sitting on his ass while she was up there? Standing, he began to weave his way through the crowd toward the bar.
“Kitten here is not your garden-variety bartender. No, no, boys, and she’s not here to help her ‘work her way through college.’” Red ended this with air quotes and a wink. “She’s a special one who’s ready to ace your heart and backhand into the right man’s arms. She’s a tennis pro!”
“Jesus Christ,” Michael growled as he threaded the needle between two men who were shouting suggestions about strip tennis and getting a good grip on their rackets. Coming to a stop at the edge of the bar, he motioned for Kat to get down.
She didn’t even look in his direction.
“Kitten here is guaranteed to hold you to love… in tennis anyway. But love’s not on the menu tonight, boys. Open the wallets, and let’s see how we welcome our sweet tennis-playing bartender!”
Kat did a little runway walk down to the end of the bar and back again, clearly enjoying herself.
Michael had to unclench his fists before they started shaking. What the hell was she doing?
A man behind him offered a hundred, which had been the standard opening bid for almost every woman before. A few men raised it by ten or fifteen dollars each until it was just under two hundred. Nobody had received over two hundred that night.
And through it all, Kat looked unruffled, even posing for a photo when someone held up their phone.
When he heard Red utter the words, “Going once,” he nearly lost it and yelled out, “Two hundred fifty.”
Kat’s eyes found his in the crowd, and hers widened a fraction in surprise. But her smile stayed in place, frozen, as if she wasn’t sure how to act.
“Two fifty,” Red purred. “Now we’re talking.”
“Hey, isn’t that guy famous?” someone asked to his left.
“No, he just looks like it,” said another.
“No, he’s a Bobcat,” a third commented.
“Going once, going twice, sold to the Bobcat with excellent taste!” Red called out, ruining any chance Michael had of getting through the experience unrecognized.
Or was that Kat who ruined it…
“Kitten, go claim your prize. Or is it the other way around?”
The bar crowd laughed, and Red signaled with her hand, and the music began to throb again. Kat stood still as a statue on top of the bar, as if she’d forgotten how to get down.
Michael approached—the seas of humanity parting for him all of a sudden—until he reached the end of the bar where she stood.
Red hopped down so she sat on the bar beside Kat’s feet, her own legs dangling over the edge. “So, looks like you scored my newest bartender. Couldn’t let her go to another fella?”
“Is she done for the night?” he asked, still craning his neck to watch Kat’s expression. It was blank.
“Done?”