Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
While Tal was gone, a question came up about one of the drum sequences. DJ took a seat at the kit to work it out with Steve and Pete.
DJ was proficient on a number of instruments, not just the electric guitar.
Seeing DJ do the drums, coordinating with Pete and Steve, calling out to one another as they fine-tuned it, wasn’t hard to watch.
As he ran through the sequence, he showed a smooth grace and power in the shift of his shoulders.
The line of hip and thigh muscles drew the eye as he worked the foot pedal for the main drum.
Tal returned shortly after that, and put in enough rehearsal time to satisfy the band they were ready for the next show. His drumming was on the mark, probably because he’d gotten his score and evened out. A mostly functioning addict. For now.
They worked out the music for a new song DJ had written, and then, since some other big name group members were in the building, using the isolation and vocal booths to lay down tracks, they finished out by inviting them in for a jam session.
In between songs, they shared playing techniques and anecdotes. When Warren arrived, they were recalling how the pianist on BTO’s “Takin’ Care of Business” had been a random pizza delivery guy with classic piano background.
“How about Dave Grohl?” Steve laughed. “Nineteen years old, sleeping in his crappy van with his Scream bandmates before their next gig. A bang on the door, and he’s asked to play drums for Iggy Pop, because he needed a fill-in drummer for that same show.”
Watching rock icons make music and share stories of the life they and others like them led was a dream come true for any music fan. Roy wanted to stay and listen, but he had things to handle. After he turned things over to Warren, he headed for the control room door to make a quiet exit.
DJ had seemed fully involved in the conversation, but he looked Roy’s way and raised a hand in farewell. Roy gave him a cordial nod.
DJ had wanted him to know he was aware of him. Jesus.
The kid was direct, he gave him that. And too trusting. When Roy reached his hotel room, he thought about the conversation they’d had in DJ’s dressing room. No sub should offer it up to a Dom like that, one he’d barely met.
But DJ’s track record said he protected his private life and kept firm control of his talent in a business that targeted the too-trusting like hawks going after chickens.
Since DJ had made the decision to put his life in Roy’s hands, how big a difference was there between that and the trust level required for a consensual BDSM session?
Moss had sent Roy the concert footage. After he took a shower and changed into his sleep shorts, he got a beer from the mini-fridge and sat down in front of his laptop to review it.
His mouth tightened as he watched the fan grab DJ’s arm, but he couldn’t fault the readiness of Henry’s team member or DJ’s handling of it.
Despite Roy’s strong temptation to stop the crowd-pleasing contact during shows, there was a legitimate reason to keep doing it.
The stalker didn’t want to kill DJ in an opportunistic stabbing or shooting.
But he might put himself in the front rows to get closer to his obsession.
Roy had told Moss to have continuous camera coverage there going forward.
They could scan the footage for repeat appearances or anyone who sent up flags.
While the stalker’s stated goal wasn’t to kill DJ, that didn’t relax Roy’s vigilance. If he was able to take him, it would end in DJ’s death, because the reality couldn’t live up to his twisted fantasies.
Roy would have preferred that kind of certainty in his own imaginings about the rockstar.
He was already cataloging moments that had nothing to do with security.
How DJ had eased closer when Roy put his hand on the edge of the dressing room door, preventing him from shutting it.
That last look before he left the studio tonight. All the teasing comments.
But just because he liked looking at the dessert menu didn’t mean he had to order from it. Roy shifted his attention to the reports from G and Warren and typed out some further direction for them.
At the Miami show, all three teams would be in play, with one accompanying DJ to his aftershow commitments and then back to the hotel to get him tucked in for the night.
Roy imagined pulling the covers over that long body after using him up, making him serve Roy until he was spent. DJ’s thick lashes would fan his cheeks, his talented voice hoarse from begging for the orgasm Roy would allow only when he heard that strain reach a breaking point.
He might have to figure out a way around that. DJ needed his voice in working condition.
He was just fantasizing, but DJ had straight out offered. Roy acknowledged there was a certain kind of sense to it. But desires could rationalize what was foolish. He needed an objective opinion.
He sent a text, and a minute later the phone rang.
When he hit pause on the concert footage he’d resumed, his unhelpful laptop froze on a close up of DJ working the guitar like an extension of his body.
His head was tipped back, eyes half closed, neck and chest gleaming with light perspiration, curls damp against his sculpted cheek.
“Yeah, boss?” G’s voice was crisp and sharp. He’d never heard it otherwise. She’d told him sleep was a weakness of the unmotivated.
“I’m not calling as your boss. This is a Dom to Domme question.”
“You want to know if you should top your submissive client when you’re off shift.”
“Tell me it’s not that obvious to everyone.”
“No. Brick walls are more expressive than you. But for those who know how to read the language, the chemistry between you is a solid eight on the need-to-jack-off-in-the-shower scale.”
“How about on the stupid-to-even-be-considering-it scale?”
“Three,” she said, surprising him.
“Explain.”
“You compartmentalize better than anyone I’ve met, and your training is so embedded, it’s changed your DNA.
Someone could be holding a gun to your own mother’s head, and you’d be calm as a lake.
You package up your emotional side and send it to a safe room where it can’t hear or see anything.
It’s actually a little scary, like seeing Captain America and Dexter in the same body. ”
“Nothing scares you.”
She scoffed. “Plenty of things scare me. Nothing makes me back down or show it. Roy, I’ve seen clients do their best to piss you off because they shit on anyone they’re paying.
You put them back on their heels with that stare that teaches them to behave the way you expect them to behave.
It’s almost as toe-curlingly delightful to watch as when you do it in session with a sub. ”
“I don’t take clients who act like that.”
“Sure you do. You remember the pop princess you considered strangling daily? When you assess a client, you figure out who they are. You see the scared little girl behind the diva antics, or the insecure geek cloaked by machismo. Once you take the job, you let them know no matter how bad they act, you’re not abandoning them.
But you’re also not going to put up with their shit. ”
G didn’t volunteer unsolicited advice, but when requested, she told him where things stood. She never tacked her opinion of what he should do onto it. She trusted his judgment, and knew he could bear the responsibility of his decisions, no matter how heavy the weight.
“So do you think DJ falls into that category?”
Her answer surprised him again. “I don’t think he has a category.
He’s a different animal, Roy, and that’s why he’s caught your attention.
He’s on top of things, for his band, for his people.
They all love him. He never craps on anyone, he’s polite and caring, and dedicated to his craft.
If he had a party-animal stage, it’s in his past and he's over it.”
She paused before adding, “He’s an artist first. Things of beauty, what’s emotionally complex, appeal to him. At the moment, that appears to be you. Don’t laugh.”
“I’m laughing.”
“Sounds like it.” Her tone was dry.
“He’s not an experienced player. He says he can keep it separate, getting into it only when I’m off shift. But if he’s my client, I’m never off shift.”
“You’re always 24/7, regardless of the client.
A personal life has to cross that threshold to find you.
But look, if you think this kid is a charismatic pretty face tripping your hormones, go to a club, wear out a few grateful subs, and reassess.
If you still want to go down this road with him, set the ground rules and put it on whatever footing you want.
“Since he doesn’t have experience, you could set it up as a mentoring thing. Easier to keep the lines bold and out front. And every job has a limited shelf life. Only until the threat is eliminated, right?”
“Which means I could hold off on any decision about it until the job’s done.”
“Yeah. But if you’re interested, it’s probably best to explore it while you have a reason to be in his life. You’re not looking to set up house, and once the contract’s done, you know how it works.”
Roy pursed his lips. “I don’t want to take advantage of a Florence Nightingale reaction.”
Every bodyguard was aware of it, as well as cops, firefighters, doctors and nurses. Put in positions to protect or care for the lives of others in an immediate way, often at a difficult and scary time in their lives, it inflated and created an unrealistic bond.
“You make people feel safe, Roy,” G acknowledged. “But DJ seems more concerned about his people than himself. Gut reaction? His interest is genuine, a sub wanting a Dom for the right reasons.”
“You’re not saying much to make me go in the opposite direction.”