Page 17 of Naughty Dreams
“Dory, this is serious. You need to kick him to the curb.”
DJ cracked a flashing eye. “I don’t abandon my brothers, Roy. Tal needs us.”
“You grew up with Steve and Pete. They deserve that kind of loyalty. Tal is a different animal, and you know it.”
DJ straightened. “Tal is a different animal because he didn’t have us, the way we had each other. Things happen for a reason, and he’s part of us now so we can help. Wow, you’re cold. What would Jesus do, man?”
“He’d say if someone isn’t listening to you, shake the dust off your feet and move on. Yes, my mom took me to church every Sunday, and made me do vacation bible school in the summer.”
“Why am I not surprised?” DJ sighed. “Well, Jesus wasn’t a foster kid.”
“Technically, I think he was.”
DJ’s expression eased into rueful humor. “You have an answer for everything. Trust me, Roy. I know what he is, and I’mmanaging the problem as best as current circumstances allow. I respect your job; let me do mine.”
The last two clients Roy had protected needed their managers to do most of their thinking for them. G had reinforced what DJ confirmed now. When it came to his bandmates and the people who were part of Survival’s success, DJ was head of the family. Pete and Steve deferred to him as their unspoken leader, and they also were older than him. Even Tal did, when the drugs weren’t making him a rebellious adolescent ass.
“Crap. I’m going to get a faint buzz off that shit. Time to hydrate myself like a camel.” DJ closed his eyes briefly, then glanced at Roy again, sending him a tilted half smile. “Thanks for caring, man. It’ll be all right.”
“If he puts anything in your drink again, he’ll learn to play drums with your dainty teacup up his ass.”
“It’s a very manly mug, from the local radio station that played our music before anyone else did. So if you put anything up his rectum, I prefer it’s not that.”
DJ headed out of the bathroom. Roy sighed and followed him. After he briefed Warren and took over the shift, he tuned back into the live room to hear Tal babbling an apology.
“DJ, man, I’m a dick, I’m sorry. That was a crap move.” Though his eyes were glazed, his behavior said Steve and Pete had gotten through. “It wasn’t the strong stuff, I promise. No worse than weed.”
Roy rethought putting Tal’s head through a wall, but DJ nodded. “Don’t do it again, okay? Trying to vomit that shit up is going to do worse things to my throat than that January night we spent in the van in Ohio. I’ll need a few dozen lozenges to keep it loose.”
“Oh man, it was freezing that night,” Pete recalled. “Steve wouldn’t stop spooning with me.”
“You were fatter then,” Steve said.
DJ had looked toward Pete and Steve a beat before Pete spoke up. A hundred messages passed between them. Steve still looked pissed, but he offered the insult in an amiable, if slightly stiff, voice.
“Let’s call it a day.” DJ closed the distance between him and Tal and put his hands on either side of the man’s gaunt face. Tal stiffened, his countenance shifting to uncertainty. Roy saw a flash of tiredness and despair. DJ moved to Tal’s shoulders and squeezed, a reassurance. “Hold it together, man.”
“You know it. I always do.” Tal stepped back, shrugging off the moment, but added, “I’m going to stay and practice a little more. So I won’t let you guys down at the festival.”
“You won’t. Don’t wear out your hands.”
Tal shrugged. “The way I play, my wrists are going to give out eventually and I’ll need someone to cut my food for me. I’d rather give it my all now. Hey, you know Blue Mod is going to be there? We need to get those guys to jam with us on stage. The crowds love it when we do spontaneous shit like that.”
“Long as we play the songs they want us to play first,” Pete noted. “Else Moss will be chewing our asses.”
DJ nodded, his expression carefully relaxed. He cleared his throat. “Tal, when you get done, why don’t you crash in my suite tonight? I have an extra room like I usually do.”
“Thanks. Maybe. But if I practice late, I’ll just sleep here with my drums, until the roadies come pack them up tomorrow.”
As Tal determinedly went back to his kit, he looked to Roy like a person floundering in deep water, about to drown but refusing to grab the life ring.
DJ looked at Pete and Steve again as he spoke.
“Okay, Tal.”
The outdoor festival had a raucous and enthusiastic crowd. There were ten bands scheduled, and Survival was the headliner, coming out to perform once the sun had gone down and the stars came out.
On one dramatic rhythm sequence with the bass and drums, Tal going at his kit like a demon and Pete working his bass like a galloping horseman of the Apocalypse, DJ leaped from one of the stage’s raised platforms back to center stage.
