It was weird to wake up discontented. Every morning of their trip, River had woken up lazy and satisfied, but still itching for another round.

But the sex last night had been… lackluster, that was a good word. Not bad, not awkward or painful, never that. But almost… out of touch?

River still wasn’t sure what was wrong. At the casino, he’d spotted Zeph off by himself, happily playing the slots. Then he’d gone outside for fresh air and alone time. He’d come back in and all had seemed well for that evening until they left, but when they’d tumbled into bed together, it had happened all over again: one minute he’d been fine, and the next he’d been withdrawn and quiet.

Afterward, drifting off to sleep, he’d seemed upset, but he’d pretended to be asleep and River had respected his privacy.

Zeph still didn’t seem to want to talk about it. As they went out for brunch, then came home and got ready to meet the management of their venue that night, Zeph was a silent shadow.

So River started joking, chatting about this and that, trying to draw Zeph out of his head if he wouldn’t talk about what was going on in it. Glossing over it came easy to him, and it seemed like the best course of action.

“What’s the gym here like?”

“Not much to speak of,” Zeph admitted. “But it does the job. There’s free weights, and as long as you have those, you’re set.” When River made a face, Zeph eyed him. “Don’t tell me you do cardio.”

“I like biking.”

Zeph snorted. “It’s a waste of calories. It doesn’t even burn those effectively, either.”

“Uh huh,” River grinned. After the last day of being withdrawn, he liked seeing him worked up about something.

They picked up Glam on the way by, and she and Zeph chatted about the gym all the way to the car. As Zeph drove, he explained the benefits of different types of weight lifting—high impact, resistance, something something.

Glam was arguing that something called “hit” was better, and Zeph insisted even that was overcomplicating things. That was about the gist of what River understood, but he didn’t need to understand more.

Oh, God. Now he was understanding how his best friend, Kyle, tuned out pretty men just to hear the sound of their voices. I need to update him on all of… this… as soon as we’re back. But the thought of returning to L.A. wasn’t a welcome one.

“Is it this place?” Zeph asked, breaking his reverie as his lover and driver squinted down a one-way street. “Fucking one-ways.”

“You could reverse up it.”

Zeph’s lips twitched. “You can find innuendo there, I’m sure.”

“Look for it yourself.”

“There’s definitely innuendo there,” Glam snickered.

As Zeph circled the block, River laughed. “It’s gonna be one of those days, huh?”

It didn’t take long before Zeph found a parking lot a block away, grabbing a ticket on the way in. He tried to wave them ahead but they stuck around, waiting for him to be ready before they set off for their newest venue.

“Is this the swishy cocktail bar?”

“No. That’s the night after tomorrow, for closing night,” Glam reminded River.

“Duh. Right.”

“Button-down shirt swishy?” Zeph asked, clearly listening in to their conversation.

Glam winked at him. “Darling, you’d fit in anywhere in a mankini.”

River choked back a laugh at the look on Zeph’s face as he worked through that one in his head. “Not mandatory, though.”

“Shh, no, you’re supposed to tell him it is! Work with me,” Glam hissed.

Zeph chuckled deeply and shook his head. “You two.” They turned the corner to the bar, and River felt that familiar shiver of anticipation.

It took longer than usual for him to hit it off with the manager on duty. Flynn wasn’t saying something. Soon, Flynn excused himself and headed to the office to see about arrangements for the night.

River leaned on the bar and tapped his nails against the counter, leaning over to check behind it. A tidy bar usually meant a decent club; similarly, a bar with beer splashes and glued-down bottle caps before the place opened was never a good sign.

This place was all right, actually. Not slick, but clean and well-kept, despite being on the shabby end of chic.

Glam had dragged Zeph off to introduce her to the bouncer by the time Flynn returned.

“So, uh,” Flynn addressed River, tugging at the top fastened button of his white shirt—the third one down—as he approached.

“That sounds like bad news.” River wasn’t impressed at being made to wait for whatever the hell this was about.

“I guess so. It looks like we’re double-booked tonight.”

River continued staring evenly at Flynn and raised one brow slowly, a move he’d perfected to make guys squirm.

“So, uh,” Flynn said, tugging at his collar again, “you can’t perform tonight.” Flynn raised a hand as if to dismiss him with a casual wave.

River heard Zeph and Glam approaching by the way their breaths caught, and Glam made a noise of protest.

River raised a hand slightly to tell them he’d handle it. And boy, would he ever.

Whatever had upset Zeph, hopefully this wouldn’t be enough to make him shut down again today. He didn’t want his lover to see him getting nasty, but if that was what it took to make a venue honor its booking…

River ran through the numbers in his head. At this hour, it would be impossible to find another venue—even in Vegas. They were relying on the income—less so him than some of the others who didn’t have full-time jobs.

And even if they didn’t need the venue, he’d tear this guy’s head off for thinking he could shoo them away like irritating queeny barflies.

Sorry, Zeph. You’re about to get a crash course in the scene.