Fans kept glancing at Ryder, frowning or smiling, then looking away when Ryder didn’t respond.
“Roper?” A short man in jeans and a checkered shirt headed right for them and pulled out a chair. “How was the show? Sorry I missed it. I was doing a shoot. Is your brother coming like we talked about?”
“He is.” Ryder stood with a short nod and shook the man’s hand. “How goes it?”
“Good, good.” The guy looked at him and stuck out a hand. “Joe Gresham.”
“Charles.” This guy didn’t need his full name. “And this is Ryder, not Roper.”
“Oh. Yeah?” Gresham laughed and took a seat. “Damn. You boys look so fucking alike.”
“I’ve heard that a few times. Roper’s on his way down. He wanted a shower.”
“Now I’d pay to see that.”
Ryder wrinkled his nose.
Their server brought their beer and set them on the table. “What can I get you?”
“Rum and Coke.”
No please or thank you. This guy was losing his respect more and more every time he opened his mouth.
“Also four shots of Patron for the table.”
Ryder shook his head. “Not for me, thanks.”
“Nor I.” He had Ryder’s back. And he didn’t care for shots in any case.
Gresham waved them off. “Four shots.”
He didn’t so much as twitch, but he also had no intention of even touching the shot glass when it arrived.
He was ready to leave the table with Ryder right now, but he respected that Ryder had made a promise to Roper.
He also respected that Ryder was setting his own boundaries, with his backup.
“So Roper told you what I’m looking for? He told me no video—” Gresham shook his head. “Which is a shame, but he said he thought you’d go for a photo shoot. You have a great look. He told me that’s natural. The hair? Wild.”
“It’s just hair, but we didn’t do anything to it. It’s just hair.” Ryder was trying to smile, but it wasn’t working.
Charles looked around the bar wondering why it seemed like they were always waiting on Roper. He wondered if Ryder always had.
“It’s a great look,” Gresham repeated, as if “great” were the only adjective in his vocabulary.
It was entirely possible.
“Mr. Gresham?—”
“Joe,” Gresham waved him off again. “Please.”
“Mm. Okay.Joe. What is it you do exactly? Roper mentioned something that sounded like marketing?”
“I make calendars, posters, that sort of thing. I’m currently making a Hot Rodeo Men calendar, and we want the twins.”
“I don’t…”
“Hey, y’all. How’s it going?” Roper came up, beer in hand. “Sorry, but I smelled like bullshit, and I needed a bath.”