Chapter 10 #3
“All right. I’ll head up to Charlotte. One of the guys I’m thinking of is up there, but it’ll take some face-to-face discussion.”
“No problem. Take the limo. I’ll ride with Roy in one of the SUVs.”
His stomach hurt like a bitch, but it was done. No going back. DJ looked at Steve and Pete. “Sorry. The flight’s bound to be awkward.”
“Not nearly as much as when Pete and Nancy were still together, and she decided mid-flight to Australia that Pete should ask her to marry him. She squalled and cried crocodile tears the whole rest of the trip. We really should have tranq’ed her.”
“Tranq’ed who?” Lonnie had emerged from the VIP lounge. She held up a handful of lime and cream hard candies. “Talked the lounge staff into giving us a bunch of these. Steve loves them,” she told DJ. “I also talked up Survival. Everyone is going to download the album that just went platinum.”
“Watch out, Moss, she’ll have your job,” Steve said lightly, sliding an arm around her.
“I may give it to her.” Moss was already scrolling through his phone as manically as Tal on a bad trip.
Lonnie’s gaze passed over the somber faces. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Steve squeezed her shoulders, but before he could tell her, Pete interrupted. “You’re making me lose my bet. I told Steve you’d bail on us halfway through the tour, because you’d figure out following this loser around is a waste of your much bigger brain.”
“Well, I would have, but he gave me an incentive.” With a beaming smile, she removed her left hand from her pocket to show an engagement ring, a marquis diamond surrounded by garnets.
“Whoa, holy shit.” DJ welcomed the shot of much-needed better emotions. As he stepped forward to hug Lonnie and Steve, he could tell the others felt the same. Even Moss stepped down from the panic ledge. “That’s fantastic, man. Congratulations.
“You kept this way the hell under our radar,” Pete accused the guitarist.
Steve shrugged. “She deserved to know about it before anyone else.”
“I hear you, man.” Pete embraced Steve next. “You’ve gotten the best break of your life. And considering the fabulous life we lead,” he winked at Lonnie, “That says something.”
“She’s way out of your league, so stay rich and famous,” Moss advised. “That’s your only leverage.”
“Can’t hardly get her to let me pay for a meal,” Steve said drily. “She’s determined to show she’s not interested in me as a meal ticket.” He bounced his eyebrows. “So it must be something else I do for her.”
“Comic relief?” Pete queried after embracing Lonnie.
“Stop it.” Lonnie swatted him, but her smile was at full wattage, especially when Steve drew her back to his side.
“You’re the best decision I ever made,” he told her.
“Mine was letting my friend drag me to that party at the Met. I never would have found you on the stairwell.”
“Cowering from horny art matrons,” Pete said solemnly.
Lonnie looked around. “Where’s Tal? I want to tell him.”
As DJ explained, her mouth tightened, but she squeezed DJ’s hand. “You did the right thing,” she said staunchly. “He’s probably feeling out of sorts and self-conscious right now. I’ll go show him the ring and let him tease me about it. It will help him feel better.”
“Tell him he’s going to be a groomsman,” Steve said. “He loves to wear a tux.”
“You got it.”
She moved toward the plane with her quick, light step, a skinny girl with straight hair, gold and blue striped leggings, and the determination of a bulldog.
“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—“to never write 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 know you hate. 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 an I told you so look, 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 he needs, 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.
Back at the hotel, the trip in the freight elevator was silent. DJ leaned against the back wall while Roy took his usual position in front and removed his gun from its holster. The first time he’d done it, he’d told DJ why.
The elevator is a vulnerable point. If someone knows where your room is, they’ll be waiting when the door opens. I wouldn’t have time to draw. I prefer stairs, but some of my clients don’t like walking up thirty flights to the penthouse.
“Crazy, right?” had been DJ’s dry comment, but right now the recollection couldn’t bring him a smile. Once the elevator opened, the gun was holstered, and they headed to DJ’s suite. Jim and Carl were there, watching the hallway.
Once in the suite, DJ went into his room and closed the door. He took off his Rush 1980s Tour T-shirt, washed his face in the bathroom sink, and ran cold water over his neck. Then he sat cross-legged on the bed and stared at the mirror. He was seeing himself as a kid, seeing Steve and Pete and Tal.
He hadn’t listened for the click that said Roy had left the suite to take over one of the spots and send Jim or Carl to another hotel post. DJ didn’t want to know he was more alone than he felt.
He thought of one of Leann’s questions. What do you think is one of the most noticeable differences in an adult who’s been a foster kid? For the four of you in particular?
His answer? “We’re like soldiers in trench warfare. That feeling that you only have each other. You don’t turn on one another, don’t push each other away.”
Don’t hurt one another.