“—and what’s more, your shoes do not match your belt.”

Zeph squeezed River’s shoulder and leaned in to murmur, “You were doing better before that tangent. Back to the subject.”

Right. Yes. River fanned himself with a hand, spreading his stance as he glared at Flynn.

Flynn’s weight shifted to one foot as he folded his arms and gave River a cursory up-and-down with obligatory lip curl. “Girl—”

“Amazingly, even less impressive than your belt is your failure to uphold your contractual obligations. So I encourage you to check your diary again,” River finished, jutting out his chin at the manager. He rapped his nails on the counter, hard and rapid clicks like machine gun fire.

His chest was tight with anger. How dare Flynn try to flick him away like some unwanted promoter? They’d booked this place specifically, and if they were going to be denied, he wanted a damn good reason.

Frankly, half of his anger wasn’t even about the situation. He was irritated with Zeph for not manning up and talking about his feelings. Whatever was going on in his head, hiding it away wasn’t helping either of them.

Flynn wordlessly turned and strode for the office. Within moments, before River could even finish the rhythm he was drumming on the bar top, he was back. Another, older guy followed him.

To his credit, the guy looked clueless but nice enough. He ran a hand back through his hair as he looked between the three of them, then at Flynn. “I understand there’s confusion over booking dates?”

“There’s no confusion,” River told him. “A booking was made and confirmed for our show. And now Flynn tells us there’s a double booking? I’m very unimpressed with the professionalism here.”

“Oh, well. Is there?” the guy—maybe the owner—asked Flynn.

Flynn looked uncomfortable and nodded. “Yeah. But I told them they can’t perform tonight, and uh, this guy turned into some whiny bitch.”

“Flynn.” The owner’s voice was sharp and reprimanding, and River fought back the urge to grin. He hadn’t wanted to add that to his list of things to lecture Flynn on. “Who’s the other booking?”

Flynn didn’t make eye contact. “Uh, the band I told you about—”

“With your nephew?”

River sucked in a breath, covering his lips with the tips of his fingers after a moment when he realized that had been audible.

“Well…” The owner seemed to hesitate.

Oh, hell, no.

“Surely if they’d booked first, our booking wouldn’t have been taken,” River interjected, leaning in over the bar. “And we’d have gone to some other bar that actually hosted us courteously. We might be a bunch of sissy queens, but we bring in crowds. You know we do.”

He wasn’t even trying to be polite, his lips a narrow line, his shoulders tense. Then, he went for the kill.

“It looks an awful lot like nepotism—don’t look surprised I can say words more than two syllables, while I’m being a catty little motherfucker, Flynn—if you let his nephew push us out.”

The owner looked at Flynn, and River knew he’d won before he even said a word. “I’m afraid we usually go with the first-booked act.”

“Dirk—”

“We can work something out,” River told Flynn. He hated making a peace offering, but there were a hundred ways Flynn could ruin their night or their tips if he didn’t. “Shows always start late. What time were they supposed to be on?”

Dirk saw his point. “They could open for them,” he nodded. “Or play live music for some of your songs…”

“Oh, nuh uh.” River held up a hand. They weren’t going to risk some horrible band ruining the soundtrack. Good tunes were critical. “I’ll compromise on the opening, but not that.”

He realized a moment later that technically, Glam was supposed to be doing the negotiations. But when he glanced at her, she was standing back, drumming her fingers on her chin and looking amused. Zeph was staring at him.

“Fine.” Flynn looked slightly less unhappy than he had a minute ago, but his expression as he reached out to shake hands with River and mumble a half-apology were anything but apologetic.

Oh, well. There was nothing he could do to River that would catch him by surprise. Especially not with Zeph watching his back.

When Flynn and Dirk disappeared for a moment to talk, River sprawled against the counter and winked. “Result.”

“That… was…” Zeph trailed off. Then, he shook his head. “You actually bared your teeth there.” He gestured at Flynn. “And he… I mean, I knew gay clubs get… you know… dramatic…”

River snorted. “Understatement.”

“But… did he actually imply you’re all, um… a bus full of prostitutes? And then you insulted his shoes? And his… his… contractual obligations?” He looked stunned, like he was retelling himself the story just to be sure he’d heard everything right. “I think I should have punched him. I just wasn’t sure when.”

As Glam snickered, River joined in and giggled. Oh, if Zeph thought that was drama, he hadn’t seen anything yet. All he’d done was apply a little bit of force at the right moments to get their way.

“Welcome to showbiz, darling.”