Page 121 of Naughty Dreams
“Blood, my man. How the hell are you?” Sy asked. “Haven’t seen you in our neck of the woods in over a year. You avoiding the Big Easy, since she was so hard on you last time you were there?”
Roy scoffed. “Figured I was so hard on her, she needed time to recover. I reached out to Mick, and he told me you were in my neck of the woods. Decided to drop in.”
“So how’d we sound?”
“Crap as always. Good thing you have a day job. Did you have to pay the owner to let you play?”
“Fuck off.” Trey laughed. “But guess what? Sy and Ihavequit our day jobs. Ros and her ladies worked on our shit marketing and polished it up. Now we have more gigs than we know what to do with. This was a favor for a friend,” he dipped his head toward the bassist. “Miles and us go back a long ways, headbanging together in an 80s metal cover band.”
Miles was fiddling with his amp settings while chugging a bottle of water. The singer was at the high tops, flirting with three twenty-somethings in short skirts and low cut blouses.
Trey glanced at DJ. “Sorry, man, didn’t mean to ignore you. It was just a shock to see this troublemaker in here.”
DJ shook his hand. “You guys sound good, even with amps that need some work.”
“Yeah, the replacements we want are high end, so we’re nursing them along as we save up. We’re doing good, but not good enough for that kind of cash outlay. Yet.” Sy glanced at Roy. “He with you?”
“Yes.” Roy placed a hand on DJ’s lower back, teasing the skin under his loose T-shirt, above the waistband of his jeans. “This is James. He’s mine.”
DJ had thought it a no-brainer question, until he realized the obvious wasn’t what was being asked. Roy’s directness startled him, until the men’s reaction explained it.
“Wow,” Sy said. “Do the Mistresses know?”
An amused look appeared in Roy’s eyes. “I believe Mick picked up on it when I called him.”
“If Cyn knows, they all know.” Sy and Trey grinned. Sy nodded at DJ. “I pity you, James, having this one as a Master. You ever need a fellow bottom to vent with, I’ll give you my digits. He doesn’t let his subs get away withanything. But the best Doms don’t, do they?”
Whoa and holy fuck. He was standing in a bar talking Dom and sub shit with people so immersed in the lifestyle, they didn’t act as if it was anything to have a personal conversation about it. He liked it.
“So how many have managed to put up with him?” DJ shot Roy a look.
“Quite a few in session. You’re the first we’ve met willing to spend time with him outside of it. He must be payingyou.” Trey tossed the insult back at Roy.
Roy rolled his eyes. “You want another guitarist to join you on this next set? I’ve got his guitar, amp and pedalboard in the car, if you think it could squeeze in up there.”
DJ’s stomach dropped out through his feet.
No, I can’t. I really, really can’t.
Sy and Trey exchanged a surprised look, which told DJ this hadn’t been planned. Trey gave DJ a speculative look.
“Got a couple covers on the next set that could benefit from another guitar, yeah. Can he do backup vocals with us, or is he best as the silent strumming type?”
They were talking around him, probably because he looked like he was about to have a panic attack. They also likely thought they were dealing with a newbie and wondering if their friendship with Roy was being stretched to the limit.
“He’s tolerable at vocals,” Roy said with a straight face, “but you guys talk it out. I’ll get the amp and guitar and then grab us some drinks. Want anything?” he asked DJ.
To kill you and dump your body in a ditch, was what came to mind. What version of a safeword would quality for this? His breath was coming a little fast, and sweat had started on his spine. Roy saw it all, and had his hand on him, an easy stroke of his arm.
He leaned in and spoke against his ear. “Dory, you’re just playing music for fun. For the hell of it. Because some part of you wants to. Steve, Pete and Tal are here, aren’t they? You guys rode all night in that crappy van, talked about the music you’d do, bitched about the equipment you wished you had, but when you got here, you felt that energy, that hum that said the crowd was waiting, and you knew you have something to give them.”
DJ bowed his head, his forehead on Roy’s shoulder as he absorbed the words. He lifted it, met Roy’s eyes.
“So, Shirley Temple, extra cherries?” Roy asked evenly.
“Water, extra lemon. And a little paper umbrella in it if they have one.”
Roy smiled. Sy offered to help bring the amp, then Roy was moving away. Just like that. Abandoning DJ.WTF?
