Page 77 of Naughty Dreams
DJ bent his leg, bracing one foot on the seat cushion. He was moving as if in pain. Stress and trauma could do that, sink right into the bones. “Let’s do it in here.” He waved at his other guest chair.
Roy pushed open the door all the way and glanced at Moss. Warren made a silent gesture that told Roy he’d go outside with Jim.
When Moss came to the door, DJ’s jaw tightened like an overturned screw. He stared harder at the curtain, rather than looking at his manager.
Moss sat in the matching chair facing DJ. He didn’t say anything, a moment of silence in honor of the dead.
Roy stayed at the door in bodyguard statue mode. He knew he should have stepped away, but he didn’t.
“I’m sorry, DJ,” Moss’s voice was thick, his eyes wet. “Before I say anything else, tell me what you need fromme. The statement I put out there about respecting your privacy, that can hold things at bay for now.”
“Yeah.” DJ’s voice was as rigid as his body. “Thanks. Honestly, right now, I just want to go home and be left alone, so tell me what you need.”
“Understood.” Moss did what Roy would do. Cleared his throat, straightened his back, and used his job to get through it. “I can involve you in the decisions about Steve, Tal and Pete, or you can sign your executorship to me, and I’ll handle the arrangements and tap you for anything I’m not sure about. Whatever you want.”
DJ extended a hand for the paperwork. Moss put it against a binder, a solid surface for the signing, and DJ took the pen from him. Without reading it, he signed and initialed where Moss pointed.
“That it?”
“My secretary will notarize it and two people in my office will witness. DJ, can you look at me?”
DJ kept staring at the wall. “Not right now, Moss. I just…can’t.”
“All right. I understand.” Moss touched his hand. “I need to give you a message from Marjorie.
DJ’s expression went more blank, but he didn’t protest as Moss read it from his phone. “‘I love you. Call when you’re ready. I’d like to help you scatter their ashes, if you’re okay with that, but I’m here for anything you need. You also have a bed here.’”
DJ’s lips pressed together. As Moss pocketed the phone, he said, “One last thing. I think we should arrange something for the fans. You don’t have to go to that,” he added quietly.
“I won’t be there,” DJ said at the same moment.
“That’s fine. I just wanted you to know.”
DJ’s head snapped around. The zombielike demeanor disappeared, the light in his eyes pure menace. “You think a big sentimental cry fest will boost record sales? Pad your retirement fund before Survival’s market value plummets?”
If a rattlesnake had struck him, Moss couldn’t have looked more startled. But Moss wasn’t facing the insightful frontman he’d described to Roy. This was the foster kid who’d learned early to trust no one, and be ready to fight whoever made the mistake of taking advantage of him.
Pain was a master at stripping away the civilized layers, revealing those parts of a person that never fully healed.
Roy stepped forward, drawing DJ’s attention. “DJ, your fans are hurting. Not the way you are, but when you surface, you’ll want them to have had this. Steve, Tal and Pete would appreciate it, too.”
Moss had recovered enough to recognize what Roy had, and went with a lame attempt at humor. “Especially Tal. You know he loved when women made a fuss over him.”
DJ didn’t smile.
“Dory.” When the belligerent brown eyes turned his way, Roy met the attitude with a steadfast gaze. “Moss didn’t deserve that.”
Moss’s gaze became thoughtful at the gentle tone of reproof in Roy’s voice. Circumstances would explain the blurring of professional lines, but Roy didn’t play school kid games. If Moss figured it out, then so be it. Taking care of DJ for the near future was likely to erase those lines entirely, especially if he was going to need what Roy suspected he would.
DJ pondered it, his head bowed, then he raised his chin to look at Moss. “Do what’s right by them and for the fans. I’m okay with whatever you decide. And…sorry. That other comment was uncalled for.”
His voice was strained. “I haven’t been that person in a long time, but right now, he’s an old enemy taking up too much space inside me. You loved them, too. I know that. I’m just not… Right now, I’m barely a human being.”
Moss’s jaw tightened. He knuckled away a tear fast, not wanting to burden DJ with his own grief. “I get it. It’s okay.”
With a brief expression of relief, DJ turned away, done with the conversation. Moss rose, moving like an old man himself. Roy held the door, giving DJ one last look before he shut the door behind them.
In the living room, Moss turned to face Roy. “What does he need? Other than to be left alone.”
