Page 151 of Naughty Dreams
When he called, Mick also asked how Sy and Trey were handling things, a question Roy knew carried Cyn’s concerns. Before Cyn had met Mick, Sy had been a regular submissivepartner, and he and Trey were favorites of her closest Domme friends, the “Mistresses” Sy had referenced at The Rocking Duck.
Roy reported they were adjusting reasonably well. During one of the few afterparties DJ had agreed he and the rest of the band would attend, Roy had run into Sy in the hallway outside the swanky club. Roy was checking their egress path, since DJ was ready to go. It was one in the morning, and the kid was tired, but this city had a lot of influencers and music people to schmooze. Moss wouldn’t push him any more than necessary, but DJ had understood his responsibilities and was doing his best to get back to meeting them.
“Doing all right, Sy? Figured you’d be heading out with a girl on each arm. There were plenty of them there.” All of them eager to warm DJ’s bed, though they’d settle for the temporary band members or anyone they thought could get them close to him. Techs, roadies and Moss, as well as Roy and his teams, routinely got imaginative overtures.
“I directed them Trey’s way,” Sy said with a shrug. “I need a different type of woman to get my engine going.”
Roy gave him an understanding look. “One that likes to be in charge.”
“Don’t usually find that in band groupies. At least not in any safe, sane or consensual way.” He shot Roy a grin. “But that’s not a complaint. This is fucking Make-A-Wish stuff. When it’s done, I’ll be back in New Orleans with good stories to tell, and enjoying the Dommes at Club Progeny who’ll cut my ego down to the proper size.”
Roy didn’t say so, but he thought DJ was planning a different path for Sy. He might never have Tal’s innate brilliance as a drummer, but he was damn good and working hard to get better, rehearsing even after the band called it a day. His technique wassolid, and he had enough passion to demand more from himself, ask for more from the drumming gods.
When DJ was working out a musical snag, there was chemistry between him and Sy, an echo of what he’d had with his former bandmates.
If DJ offered him a permanent spot, Roy anticipated that Trey would take over leadership of their New Orleans band. Trey was enjoying the hell out of this, but the blood in his veins ran on the New Orleans music scene. Roy anticipated he would be content to return to it.
Up until this opportunity had presented itself, Sy might have said the same, but he was rising to the challenge like a man who’d discovered deeper levels of himself, and wanted to explore that terrain where it could go.
Roy liked Sy but, more importantly, when DJ made connections with him on their song arrangements, it reminded DJ he hadn’t lost the lifeline to his music.
Roy didn’t have a similar track with Survival. When he succeeded at his job, it would be over. But there was a flip side to that which didn’t allow self-indulgent wallowing.
If he failed at it, it would be over as well.
Miami. Twenty thousand people would be in the arena. The stage design included three fifty-foot-long extensions jutting out from the main stage. One went straight out from the center, the other two diagonally, left and right. The fans grouped around the extensions would get closer interaction with DJ, Trey and Hal when they moved out onto them during the performance.
The usual jumbo screens would offer closeups on the stage. Flame and fog special effects were timed for dramatic effectwith the music. The main stage had four platforms at different heights, the steps to them outlined in multi-colored lights. This arena had a wide lift below the stage to bring bands up from the underground level, but it wouldn’t be in use for this show. The band would come out from the side wings.
Roy met with G and Warren a few feet in front of the main stage to review strategy. Warren’s team had arrived on day one of the load-in to start the security review process, and he’d been sending Roy and G constant streams of data to keep them up to speed.
All standard operation procedure, and Roy had planned security at plenty of events this large. But before Roy was hired, Miami was where the stalker had first made contact with DJ, which meant this was likely his home base. It would be where he’d be most comfortable making an aggressive move toward his target.
“Be as vigilant as you normally are, but tell your people to look for more off-the-wall things than usual. The slightest detail that’s different needs to be triple checked.”
“He’ll be surrounded by thousands of mostly not-psychotic fans, and all of our people are staying hyperalert,” G reminded him. “We have decoy vehicles leaving the venue when it’s time to get them back to base, and we’ve already changed the hotel location for the night.”
Roy nodded, but the grim determination on G and Warren’s faces reflected his own. They all knew the unspoken truth of the security business. There was no one hundred percent guaranteed way to keep a client safe. And this stalker had proven extraordinary measures weren’t beyond his reach.
Roy turned his attention to the main stage. In his spare time, DJ had been working on the song and choreography that had inspired the trip to Naughty Bits. While it wasn’t ready to be performed at tonight’s show, they were gettingclose. His choreographer, Marshall, and a team of dancers were now traveling with the tour, so they could work on the piece whenever DJ could squeeze it in.
Having dancers be in a music video was one thing; being on a tour was another. It wasn’t the usual thing for a metal band, but DJ seemed determined to incorporate them for the stage performance of this piece.
Since it was when DJ was working on his new material that he seemed most like himself again, no one was arguing with him over it.
He’d dutifully honored his deal with Roy, eating the meals Roy made sure his catering manager specifically brought to him, rather than relying on him to graze from the table offerings. Roy brought him nutrient-rich smoothies at bedtime.
He half-smiled as he remembered the first time DJ absently took a swallow from one. He’d been sitting on the bed, strumming his guitar, humming to himself, but he did a double take. “That’s really good. What’s in it?”
“Healthy shit, but a blend of fruits, nuts and chocolate. Oh, and granola.”
“Sweet. I’m a fan.” DJ went back to his guitar plucking, but he tilted his head toward Roy without looking at him, that flirty thing he did well. “My hair’s starting to curl.”
“I’m a fan.”
DJ smiled. “I always knew you were.”
Coming back to the present, Roy noticed Marshall and DJ seemed to be debating a choreography problem. DJ looked around and, when he found Roy, his expression suggested they’d found a solution.
