Page 118 of Naughty Dreams
DJ gave the phone back to Roy. “At the next hotel room, if you want us to have one king and make it more motel than hotel, that’s okay with me. There was a time a fleabag motel was a step up for us. Usually, we were sleeping like sardines in the van with the equipment, and picking up Taco Bell drive-thru. I’d wake up next to Steve’s feet, Pete’s head on my shoulder, Tal snoring…”
DJ closed his eyes. Roy rose to put a hand on his shoulder, bring him close and hold him. “Okay,” he murmured. “A motel it is. I’ll take you out to a Waffle House for breakfast, and have them make you pancakes with a happy face on it.”
“You’re just too good to me.” DJ stepped back and ran a hand over his face. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Depends on the favor. And if it’s usually something I charge for.”
“You know, I’m not the only one around here who’s a wiseass.” But DJ took a deep breath. “Marjorie. Like I told Gilda, I know I’m a total asshole for not reaching out to her. It’s burning in my gut right there alongside of…all of it. They were… We were all her boys. I can’t call her yet, Roy. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but I can’t.”
He gave a bitter half laugh. “She needs to hear from someone who…someone who can tell her where my head is at. That I’ll come as soon as I can. That Iwantto come as soon as I can. I know whatever you tell her will be the right thing.” DJ paused. “You’re my friend, right?”
“So is Moss. He’s been talking to her all along.”
“I know.” Dory pressed his lips together. “You’re not making this easy.”
“You’re not saying what needs to be said.”
“You’re closer to me than anyone in the world right now, Roy. You’re who understands what’s going on with me.”
Roy came to him again. “And why is that?”
DJ put a closed fist on Roy’s chest and tapped lightly. “I trust you, with what’s inside of me. You’re in charge of all of me, inside and out.”
“Okay.” It was close enough, because the answer he was pushing Dory to put into words was big for both of them. “You want me to call her before we head out to breakfast?”
“Yeah.” DJ retrieved his earbuds and music player from his bag. “I’m going to listen to this in the bathroom while you’re talking. I just…I can’t listen in.”
“Okay.”
DJ headed that way, but paused in the doorway without turning. “Roy?”
“Yeah?”
“What I just said, about trusting you with what’s inside of me. In charge of all that. Is that…how it feels to have a Master?”
He’d been wrong. DJ did want to say it. He just hadn’t been sure if what he was feeling was right. Or would be accepted. His shoulders were tense, his head tilted to the right.
Yes, a bodyguard job was temporary. But he’d done enough powerful one-time sessions with subs to know temporary didn’t mean insignificant. Still, Roy’s reaction to it was heavier than expected, making a part of him want to deflect. Tell himself he didn’t want to mislead DJ, give him the wrong impression.
Boil that away, and it was Roy trying not to risk too much of himself. Which really left only one right answer.
“Yeah.”
DJ nodded, then stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. After a moment of sorting his thoughts, Roy called the number Moss had given him.
“Hello?” Behind the façade of pleasant courtesy, the female voice held a boatload of grief and exhaustion.
“Marjorie, this is Roy Bloodwell. I handle DJ’s…” He stopped himself. “I’m DJ’s friend.”
“You’re his bodyguard.”
“He told you about me?”
“He did.” He heard a squeak, like she’d pulled out a chair to sit down in her kitchen. “He usually calls me once a week, making sure I have everything I need, and telling me how he and the boys are doing.”
A sucked-in breath came over the line. “My apologies. I can’t talk much about any of it without falling apart. Just tell me he’s okay.”
“He’s okay. I’m with him.”
