Chapter 12 #5
When he finally returned to the guest cottage, he slept, had a quick shower, then went into town. He met with the local police department, making sure they were in the loop on everything happening with their famous resident. They were satisfyingly cooperative and concerned.
He should have known the day was going too well.
As he got into the SUV, G was calling. She had the current shift.
“Boss, we have a problem. Or rather, we don’t have a problem, depending on how you look at it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The stalker sent a bouquet and condolence note. Before you ask, nothing traceable. Of course.”
“How did DJ react?”
“Like his current zombie self. I thought. But then…well, we’ve been fired.”
Roy swerved to the shoulder and stopped the car. The pickup truck driver behind him who hit his horn in annoyance got one look at Roy’s face, lifted his hand in apology and sped onward. “Explain.”
“An hour later, DJ called me into the den. He told me he’d be having Moss send a big fat wire transfer to the company account, because our services are no longer required. He thanked me, very politely, and had Henry’s people escort me off the property.
“Housekeeping packed up your stuff. The terrified maid who gave me your bag apologized about fifty times. Milton looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm. On the up side, the kitchen staff made us some tasty road snacks and lunch. Warren will be happy.”
“Where are you? You didn’t leave him?”
She scoffed. “I don’t work for the stubborn brat, I work for you. Unfortunately, without legal recourse, I am standing outside the gatehouse, and Todd and Stan, who’re currently manning it, feel awkward as hell. They’re adorable. What do you want to do, boss?”
“Hold there. I’m on my way.”
“I figured.” She paused. “Just FYI, he told them not to let you in. You specifically.”
Last night, DJ had held onto him for dear life.
He’d woken up, received the flowers, fallen into a vat of self-loathing for seeking the comfort, for allowing himself to be alive, and gone scorched earth.
But Roy thought the idea had been simmering for longer than that.
He recalled DJ’s odd behavior in the garden when they first arrived, the finality of that one comment. Thanks for getting me home.
“Is your car switched off?”
“Yeah.”
“Stay on your cell phone like you’re making some calls. When I text you that I’m close, try to start it. Pull the stranded motorist bit.”
“Bat my eyes, no need for a throat punch. Got it.”
“Todd’s a good guy. He’ll take a look under the hood. By the time he realizes there’s nothing wrong with it, I’ll be past him.”
She sighed. “Being a smoking hot female is such a hardship.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Roy wasn’t in the mood for humor. He was ready to be the ton of bricks about to come down on Dorian James.
DJ had been smart enough to have Henry remove Roy’s access to the security system, so the only way in was old school stealth.
Plenty of fans had tried that, and Henry’s guys excelled at courteously repelling their attempts. But a lovesick girl was not a trained security professional. And Roy had G.
G wouldn’t play it out as a helpless female with car trouble. She’d be a pissed-off Xena warrior wanting to gut her rental because it wasn’t working. As if being let go from the job wasn’t bad enough.
Since Todd wasn’t any happier about it than they were, it made sense he would offer help. Henry’s people trusted Roy’s people, and they cared about DJ.
But they also weren’t idiots.
So when Roy, having left his car out of range to cut through the woods, slid past the gatehouse on the far left side, Todd bent further over the engine of the car and Stan conveniently studied monitors for other parts of the property.
The vote of confidence helped settle some of what Roy was feeling. Maybe it would be enough to keep him from strangling his client.
Once in the house, he planned to avoid any direct encounters with the staff. He didn’t want to get them in trouble for not alerting DJ to his presence.
But he didn’t need to go into the house. As he approached the house through the west garden, he found DJ by the pool.
A ridiculous unicorn float that Pete had bought drifted on the water. Tal’s lighter and ashtray were on a side table. The pug print beach towel Steve liked was on a lounger. Several sets of drumsticks were stuck in planters. Tal kept them everywhere, in case he wanted to tap.
Steve’s neatly folded towel said the items had been deliberately left. Milton had realized or hoped their presence would be a comfort.
He might be right, but Roy remembered the hotel room. An argument could also be made that at this stage of grief there was too much evidence of the band’s presence. It reinforced the road trip idea, but first Roy had to get his job back.
DJ sat in a chair, facing the backyard and studying the tall brick wall. “Alice Cooper said when you reach a certain level of fame, you become a prisoner in your own home. Barbed wire would be cheaper and more honest.”
He didn’t look toward Roy as he spoke. He obviously wasn’t surprised that Roy had gotten past security to have this confrontation. Though maybe he’d hoped Roy would take a hint and they wouldn’t. Too bad.
“Wallowing in the price of your extraordinary fame isn’t a good look for you.
” Roy sat down in the chair next to him and stretched out his legs, lacing his fingers on his stomach.
His leg brushed DJ’s bare foot. He’d gotten dressed today, which meant jeans, no shirt, and the ichthys, but he didn’t wear any of his beaded bracelets and, though it was always hard to tell, it didn’t look like he’d brushed his hair.
“You’re not my protection detail anymore. You don’t need to be here.”
“Do you know how bad it looks for my reputation, you letting me go after the plane blew up?”
It was hard for Roy to say it in such a casual way. It didn’t matter that he’d done his job. He should have anticipated it, so he’d failed. He knew DJ was feeling a similar but different weight of guilt and responsibility. Roy wasn’t putting up with it, from either of them.
“I’ll give your firm a five-star rating, if that’s what you’re worried about.” DJ’s voice stayed monotone.
“My clientele doesn’t find me through Internet review sites.”
“We do, actually. Www dot Celebrity Ass Wiping services dot com.” DJ dropped the snark. “Roy. Go away. Fuck off.”
“Look at me, you idiot child.”
Roy chose the provocation deliberately, but it didn’t spark a reaction. It detonated an explosion.
DJ shoved up out of the chair. It toppled, taking out the small table next to it, holding an untouched mug of tea. The ceramic shattered on the concrete. There’d also been an uneaten peanut butter and banana sandwich with a side of chips, the kitchen staff doggedly tempting him to eat.
Roy was already out of his chair when DJ bull rushed him.
Roy backpedaled, absorbing the force of the charge to control it.
Grabbing DJ around the body, he swung him in a circle and let go.
DJ flew into the pool, landing with a loud splash.
Roy damn near lost his balance and followed him, but training brought him back to his feet.
DJ surfaced a few feet away, swearing, and his enraged eyes pinned Roy.
“Get out of my house,” he said.
“No.”
They eyed one another as DJ pushed the weight of his hair out of his face. After shooting him a measured look, Roy squatted and extended a hand. “You try to pull me in, and I will find endless ways to make you regret it.”
DJ’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. “Despite all this happening, your Dom side can still make my dick hard. Even in freezing water.”
His attention moved to the unicorn raft and his face crumpled. When he dropped and started screaming in that underwater world, punching his fists so blue waves churned above him, Roy hurt all over, but he waited.
DJ surfaced to gaze dully at the unicorn, then trudged toward the steps leading out of the pool. He sat on the top one, his ass in six inches of water.
Roy pulled up a chair to the concrete lip. He draped a towel over DJ’s shoulders and sat down, close enough that DJ was able to lean against Roy’s leg. Roy rested a light hand on his shoulder.
“This doesn’t change anything, Roy. I don’t need a protection detail anymore.”
“So you’re just going to let him have you,” Roy said evenly.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“You think it’s okay to give up, give the guy who murdered your brothers what he wants.”
DJ showed Roy a cold eye beneath wet curls. “I’m going to give him what he wants, and then find a way to gut the bastard. After that, nothing else matters.”
That made more sense, and explained all of this. DJ was a survivor and a protector. Giving up wasn’t his style. The wound had been deep enough to pass as the truth, though, because DJ wanted to give up. He just intended to take the asshole down with him.
“You think it’s your fault, what he did to your friends.
This twisted psycho will use that against you.
He’s been two steps ahead of us, so he thinks he’s smarter than me or you.
But he isn’t. With everything he does, we’re getting closer, because he’s establishing patterns and clues to who he is, and how he’s doing the things he’s doing.
“And it’s bullshit, by the way,” Roy added. “It’s not your fault. Your friends would tell you that, too. Except maybe Tal. He liked to yank your chain.”
"You're such a dick."
Roy squeezed his shoulder, tracing a few beads of water along it. "You told me things happen for a reason. Like Tal coming into your lives. Maybe I came into your life now, you lucky bastard, to help you through this."
DJ’s sigh took his wide shoulders up and then down into a slump, but he laid his head against Roy’s knee. Roy tugged gently on his wet hair.
“I scraped together a family out of nothing.” Normally, every syllable DJ spoke suggested the beauty he could bring to a song. Right now his voice was flat as a coffin bottom. “He took it away in a second. That’s how fragile it all is.”
“I’m so sorry, Dory.”
DJ watched the unicorn float, drifting their way. “Tal’s laughing at me, you know he is. ‘See, you dumb shit? You never had to save me, because I wasn't going to be your problem or anyone else's long enough for it to matter.’"
The float bumped against his legs. DJ touched the whimsical face, the golden horn. Then he sent it back toward the center of the pool. When he got up, Roy suppressed the urge to steady him. DJ gathered the towel around him, his eyes hollow, his face blank.
“I’m going back to bed,” he said.
“All this melodrama wear you out?”
“Fuck you,” DJ said, but without heat this time. “You’re not fired. For the next few days, I’d rather you handle things, Roy. Tell everyone to leave me alone.”
Roy rose and put a hand back on his shoulder, his thumb caressing the pulse in his neck. “If you need that kind of care, you’re not talking to your bodyguard, Dory. So you don’t tell me. You ask me.”
DJ swayed, almost broke, but Roy watched him pull it in, hold onto it. “Please, Roy. Please…Sir.”
Now Roy was the one gut punched. He tightened his grip. “Go to bed,” he said. “I’ll take care of things.”
“Okay.” DJ lifted a hand to hold onto his forearm. His need to be held was almost palpable, but Roy thought he might need it held out of reach more. Yearning was a good way to remind someone they were alive.
So he called on every ounce of willpower to stay still, unbending, and DJ stepped back. “You’ll know when it’s time for me not to stay in bed anymore. Right?”
“You can count on it.” Roy held his gaze. “But just FYI, you try something like this again, I’ll beat your ass into next week. In front of your whole staff, by the way.”
“Milton will need a tranquilizer.” DJ’s gaze flickered with a dull light. But when his mouth tightened, that light went out. Giving Roy a nod, he turned away.
Roy was well aware DJ wasn’t keeping his guitar or any other instrument close, and he hadn’t crossed the threshold of his home studio to make any music. He hadn’t written in his notebook since the crash. He’d become a blank page himself, the empty void preferable to anything else.
He still needed time to grieve, but ultimately, making sure he left that sea of hopelessness and returned to his music was every bit as important as keeping him alive.
Staying alive didn’t mean a damn if he stopped living.