Page 9 of Naughty Dreams
“I’m going to my dressing room to get out of this makeup,” DJ said, rising. “I’ll meet you guys at the limo.”
A chorus of agreement answered him, while Roy intercepted him at the door. “If you have ten minutes, I want you to meet my other team leaders.”
“Sure. Just bring them to my dressing room.”
When the rap came on the door, DJ was sitting at a vanity table. He drew in deep breaths, his shoulders expanding, contracting. The post-show centering exercise helped release the chaotic energy a show created, leveling him out for aftershow demands. As he did it, he flexed his picking hand in a tendon exercise for his fingers.
He’d left the door open so was aware when Roy arrived. Another point in the man’s favor, he waited for DJ to finish his breathing exercise and acknowledge him before he stepped inside and introduced the woman and man accompanying him. G was wiry and sharp-eyed, while Warren, a tough-looking bastard in his fifties, had the Sam Elliott, comfortable in his own skin, “don’t mess with me or I’ll kick your ass” vibe.
Roy didn’t waste time on preamble. He knew DJ was on a schedule.
“G’s a country fan. She likes swarthy beefcake, so she has no interest in you.” Roy swept his gaze over DJ’s lean frame. “She’d also rather wear earplugs than suffer through what you call music, but she’s a professional. She’s done SERE training so she can perform her duties under duress.”
DJ gave Roy a mildeat shitlook. “Obviously, building up my ego isn’t in her job description, either.”
“You have an army of screaming fans for that.”
DJ rose and offered his hand to G. True to Roy’s description, he detected no starry-eyed groupie in her manner. She had astrong grip, a short, sassy hair-cut and direct green eyes. Her smooth face was like silky marble. The black slacks, white shirt, a sidearm and a well-cut jacket gave her a sexy and severe look.
Every celebrity had to deal with people who wanted something from them or only saw the fame. Someone not like that brought a different challenge, a mixed bag of relief and trepidation. The trepidation was theoh shit,they might see the real me.Asshole, dork, not the image. The shadow negative.
The larger the star, the more fragile the ego. It became easier to assume the role and not show the shadow anymore.
Hell, that shadow thing is good.DJ grabbed his notebook from the dressing table and jotted the words on the page. “Sorry, I know this is rude,” he said, not looking up. “But if I don’t get it down, I lose it.”
Roy had already anticipated him, lifting a subtle hand to the other two so they knew not to interrupt him. DJ caught it in his peripheral vision.
As much as the insight pleased and impressed DJ, it was nothing personal or specific. Roy was familiar with working with performers. The other pitfall of meeting someone who treated him like a human being was the temporary desire to latch onto them the way a patient did to a doctor or nurse.
Or a shrink. Probably more accurate.
“Hate your music, but your lyrics are inspired, Mr. James,” G said unexpectedly when he set the notebook aside. “Maybe you could let Jason Aldean or Miranda Lambert do a cover of your songs.”
“Tim McGraw would be better,” DJ said. “His song selections come closer to the essence of mine.”
Amused approval filled her blue eyes. “Solid choice.”
Roy gestured to the older man. “Warren did protection detail work in the heavy metal scene in the nineties and aughts. Henormally handles our corporate clients in foreign countries, but he’s getting back up to speed fast.”
When they shook hands, Warren whistled. “Strong for a scrappy, skinny guy,” he observed.
DJ wiggled his fingers. “Roy crushes skulls to get that kind of grip. I just play the guitar. Since you aren’t officially working yet, all of you are welcome to come to the afterparty. Really good food and top shelf alcohol.”
“Thanks, but that breaks the first rule of security,” G said. “We don’t party with clients.”
“Need to stay sharp. Understood.”
Warren flashed him a grin. “Nope. Civilians couldn’t survive how we party. We’re hardcore.”
DJ liked the look of these two Roy back-ups. “I’ll keep that in mind. Roy, can you stay a moment? I need to ask you something.”
Roy turned to his two employees. “I’ll meet you at the hotel. We’ll go over tonight’s report and work out the next few days.”
After G and Warren took their leave, DJ sat down at the vanity again and started wiping off what his makeup artist had applied a few hours before. Roy stayed by the door.
“That report you were talking to them about,” DJ said. “Can you send it to my phone?”
“You want to know the details?”
