Page 66 of Naughty Dreams
“If she’d done nothing else perfect, and she’s pretty much been perfect in every way, she’d have won my heart right here and now. So let’s make it official. We solemnly swear”—DJ looked at the other two men, and they finished the oath together—“toneverwrite a song about her.”
“What?” Moss looked between them, confused.
“Writing a song about the woman you’re marrying increases the chance of its commercial success by fifty percent—” Steve began.
“Which is good,” Moss pointed out, but Pete made a tutting noise to silence him and let Steve finish.
“—and increases the chance of divorce by triple that amount. The gods just love it when a song can haunt a guy for the rest of his fucking life.”
“Steve will write her one on their sixtieth wedding anniversary, when he’s reasonably sure the relationship will work out,” DJ assured Moss.
“You’re my best man,” Steve told him. “You get to wear a tux, too, which I knowyouhate. Since you barely know how to use a button, you’ll need help working the studs.”
“Dickhead.” But DJ’s humor disappeared as he looked toward the plane. “I wish he’d been here for that.”
“We’ll do a toast on the plane, and he’ll feel like he was.” Steve gave DJ a hard, brotherly hug, and murmured in his ear. “It’s going to be okay, man. She’s right. You did the absolute right thing.”
“Now you tell me.”
Steve stepped back and exchanged a glance with Pete before Pete gave DJ the same kind of hug. “It wouldn’t have done us any good to push you on it before you made up your mind. You’re more soft-hearted than us bastards, but twice as stubborn. You weren’t there yet, and you have more clout with Moss and the record execs.”
DJ refused to look toward Roy, close enough to hear the conversation. If he gave DJ anI told you solook, he’d stick his tongue out at him.
“Not more clout,” Moss said. “He’s just more articulate.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolled his eyes, then sobered. “We have good fans, man. If we tell them we’re getting Tal the help heneeds, the ones that count will understand. You’re right. We need to take care of one another. That’s what it’s all about. Marjorie taught us that.”
Pete nodded. “She told us everything we do needs to reinforce it. This does, big time.”
Even though it still hurt like hell.
DJ couldn’t take his eyes off the plane. “Maybe I should cancel the Atlanta Mission thing. I need to be with you guys.” With Tal.
“Give him some breathing room.” Steve put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s going to be mad at you. We can get his head in a different direction on it, so by the time you join us in Denver, he’ll think it was all his idea.”
“Good trick.” But DJ knew they were right. And he never bailed on a charity thing. He was supposed to do a private solo performance and mingle with the shelter residents and recovery program participants. He’d also conduct an exclusive interview with a trio of press outlets who’d promised heavy coverage of the organization’s efforts and needs.
In the meantime, Steve and Pete would get to Denver and make sure everything was set for the show. It wasn’t the first time they’d handled that when DJ had to lag behind.
As he and Moss moved back to the VIP lounge door, Steve, Pete and Lonnie got on the plane. When the stairs were rolled away and the door was closed, DJ thought he saw Tal at one of the windows, shooting him the bird. Lonnie waved at him from another window. If it hadn’t been tinted, that big diamond would have been flashing.
“Sorry, DJ,” Moss said. He was good at reading the moods of his band members, and what was inside DJ was screaming for a place to go.
“I’m going to go back to the studio until it’s time to head for the Mission event. Think Green can give me an hour with some drums?”
“Drums?” At DJ’s look, Moss bit back any questions. “Yeah. When do you want it?”
“Give me a couple hours. I’ll go to the hotel first. While you’re in Charlotte, you might want to see how the arena renovations are going so we won’t have any surprises when we hit that venue in the spring.”
“Already planned to. I’m a multi-tasker.”
“Yeah, Steve told me that. You can drink beer and whack off at the same time.”
“While balancing a spoon on my nose. Don’t forget that.”
The levity helped some, but not much. Though Roy held the door for him, DJ didn’t look at him. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to respect the rules Roy had laid down about how they were supposed to behave while they were both doing their jobs.
He’d hurt Tal, hurt him deeply, and he’d left the other two to deal with the immediate fall out. He felt shitty, in no mood to perform, and he needed to get his head on straight so he could. Right now he didn’t feel like he deserved to reach for his music and the escape it provided him. Which was bullshit, but there it was.
