Page 131 of Naughty Dreams
“You’d come here to see her, and to keep your balance.”
“Yeah. You can lose yourself in it. The adulation, the wild life. People will let you get away with shit you can’t imagine. Actually,youcan. I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
DJ stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. In the moonlight his short hair made his face look severe, but it also gave his beauty an enhanced edge.
The kid didn’t know how not to be appealing.
“People who make success their primary source of nourishment…it’s not pretty. Fame isn’t something you can hold onto.” He glanced at Roy. “It doesn’t matter if you write or perform the best damn song ever. Eventually, your audience outgrows you or ages out. The ones coming behind them want someone they feel like they discovered. Until some clevermarketing person repackages you in a way that makes themthinkthey’re the ones that discovered you.
“One of the greats from the 1970s told me that, when I had the privilege of jamming with him.” DJ sat up and propped his elbows on his knees. The woodpecker was making his way up the elm. A slight smile touched DJ’s lips as the bird turned upside down, then sideways.
“You took me to The Rocking Duck to put me back in touch with the music,” he said thoughtfully. “But for more than that, too. Sy and Trey.”
“Pretty and smart. A powerful combination.”
“Bite me.”
“I believe I just did.” Roy shifted. “Moss has plenty of studio musicians on speed dial, but I thought hanging out with band members who feel about music like you do would remind you they’re out there.”
“For a rational hardass,” DJ noted, “you’re surprisingly sensitive at times.”
“If you’re going to insult me, I’m kicking you off the roof.”
DJ chuckled, then frowned. “I told Moss not to cancel the shows that were booked more than three months out, but the clock is ticking. He’s probably swallowing whole bottles of Tums daily right about now.”
Roy stroked DJ’s back. “People want to see you. I personally don’t give a rat’s ass about that, if it’s not the right thing for you, and neither does Moss, not when he’s wearing the friend cap versus your manager. But I know you care about your fans, and the tour dates that had to be cancelled bother you.”
DJ closed his eyes and dropped his face against his hands. When he spoke, he didn’t lift it, so his voice was muffled. “Can I borrow your phone?”
Roy pulled it from his jeans and put it on his thigh. He called up Moss’s number from his contacts. DJ opened his eyes and saw it. He didn’t move.
“Your choice, DJ,” Roy said quietly. “You’re my priority.”
When DJ at last picked it up, he caressed the terrain beneath it. Roy tapped his wandering fingers. “Fondling me is not a permissible delay tactic.”
“You’re so strict.” DJ hit Moss’s number. A look crossed his face that suggested a baby version of the panic attack he’d had at The Rocking Duck, but Roy closed a reassuring hand on his biceps and he steadied.
“Hey, Moss.”
While Roy couldn’t hear the response, he could pick up the tone. Moss sounded glad. And awake. He was as much of a night owl as his clients.
DJ moved past the chit chat:yeah, I’m good, trip’s going good, and launched right into it.
“There are these two guys. After you and I talk, I’m going to give Roy the phone so you can get their contact info. Ask them if they’d be willing to fill in. Not a permanent gig, no promises. But I think they can handle those first show dates we haven’t cancelled. We’ll modify the set list and music as needed. Fans are going to be nicer for the first few shows, right? And no one will care about new material. They’ll want to hear the old stuff. Roy promised he’d shoot any hecklers.”
Roy sent him an amused look. DJ shrugged.
“See if that bassist we met in LA last year…what was his name? Hal Jones? Yeah, okay. Ask him if he wants to join. We’ll use the rehearsal space at my house, where it’s private and less chance things will get leaked… No, I’m not ready for them to stay in the guest rooms, but I’ll put them up at the Biltmore hotel. If we can’t make it work, then we do something else. But let’s give it a try.”
He paused, absorbing Moss’s flow of relief and enthusiasm, but then his manager said something else, and his expression tightened. Roy flattened his palm, giving him more of his warmth, the reminder of his presence. DJ looked toward Roy. Holding his gaze also seemed to help.
“Thanks, Moss. I…you’ve been what I need you to be, and one of these days, when I pull my shit together, I’ll be able to say better how much it means. For now, just…thanks.”
DJ disconnected and gave Roy back the phone.
“I like using your phone. I might never get another one.”
“How are you going to call your sex operators?”
