Chapter 21 #3
The usual jumbo screens would offer closeups on the stage.
Flame and fog special effects were timed for dramatic effect with the music.
The main stage had four platforms at different heights, the steps to them outlined in multi-colored lights.
This arena had a wide lift below the stage to bring bands up from the underground level, but it wouldn’t be in use for this show.
The band would come out from the side wings.
Roy met with G and Warren a few feet in front of the main stage to review strategy. Warren’s team had arrived on day one of the load-in to start the security review process, and he’d been sending Roy and G constant streams of data to keep them up to speed.
All standard operation procedure, and Roy had planned security at plenty of events this large.
But before Roy was hired, Miami was where the stalker had first made contact with DJ, which meant this was likely his home base.
It would be where he’d be most comfortable making an aggressive move toward his target.
“Be as vigilant as you normally are, but tell your people to look for more off-the-wall things than usual. The slightest detail that’s different needs to be triple checked.”
“He’ll be surrounded by thousands of mostly not-psychotic fans, and all of our people are staying hyperalert,” G reminded him. “We have decoy vehicles leaving the venue when it’s time to get them back to base, and we’ve already changed the hotel location for the night.”
Roy nodded, but the grim determination on G and Warren’s faces reflected his own. They all knew the unspoken truth of the security business. There was no one hundred percent guaranteed way to keep a client safe. And this stalker had proven extraordinary measures weren’t beyond his reach.
Roy turned his attention to the main stage.
In his spare time, DJ had been working on the song and choreography that had inspired the trip to Naughty Bits.
While it wasn’t ready to be performed at tonight’s show, they were getting close.
His choreographer, Marshall, and a team of dancers were now traveling with the tour, so they could work on the piece whenever DJ could squeeze it in.
Having dancers be in a music video was one thing; being on a tour was another. It wasn’t the usual thing for a metal band, but DJ seemed determined to incorporate them for the stage performance of this piece.
Since it was when DJ was working on his new material that he seemed most like himself again, no one was arguing with him over it.
He’d dutifully honored his deal with Roy, eating the meals Roy made sure his catering manager specifically brought to him, rather than relying on him to graze from the table offerings. Roy brought him nutrient-rich smoothies at bedtime.
He half-smiled as he remembered the first time DJ absently took a swallow from one. He’d been sitting on the bed, strumming his guitar, humming to himself, but he did a double take. “That’s really good. What’s in it?”
“Healthy shit, but a blend of fruits, nuts and chocolate. Oh, and granola.”
“Sweet. I’m a fan.” DJ went back to his guitar plucking, but he tilted his head toward Roy without looking at him, that flirty thing he did well. “My hair’s starting to curl.”
“I’m a fan.”
DJ smiled. “I always knew you were.”
Coming back to the present, Roy noticed Marshall and DJ seemed to be debating a choreography problem. DJ looked around and, when he found Roy, his expression suggested they’d found a solution.
He came to the edge of the stage. “Roy, if you’re not doing super important security stuff, can I borrow you for two minutes?”
“I’m always doing super important security stuff.”
“You look like you’re just chatting with G and Warren.”
Roy glanced toward his people. “Were we chatting?”
“You never chat, boss,” G responded. “If you tried, your head would explode.”
Despite the banter, Roy headed toward DJ, using the portable steps on the left side of the stage to reach him. “Plus,” Roy added, “When you’re just standing around, you’re writing the next hit song. In case you live to be a thousand and run out of money.”
“My part’s easy.” DJ shrugged. “I dump raw data on my producer and engineer, and they man the boards and make it a hit record.”
“Like handing your accountant a shoebox full of receipts and telling him to do your taxes. Sounds like you should pay them more. What do you need?”
DJ gestured to his dancers and an intent-looking Marshall.
“The lift in this piece is set up like a fight scene, where the dancer tosses me a few feet away. I spin, stumble, land on one knee and raise my head. I rush at him, and he grabs me, flips me down to the ground, and stands over me, hands on hips.”
As DJ described it, Marshall mimicked the DJ portion to demonstrate.
“Since I’m so tall, we’re figuring out the dancer who will aesthetically and technically work best for the move.
These guys, great as they are, aren’t a good fit.
I told Marshall we need a dancer with your size and build, but it’s not that common. ”
“I don’t have time to put on a sparkly costume and dance while protecting you.”
DJ laughed, a warm sound that had heads turning. It had been too long since he’d laughed like that. Roy appreciated hearing it as much as anyone. Maybe more so.
“What that would do to the order of the universe terrifies me. No, I’m wondering if you would do the sequence with me so Marshall can see if I’m right. He’ll walk you through it. It’ll take all of five minutes.”
A squeaking sound had Roy glancing over his shoulder. G and Warren had dragged folding chairs over and taken a central seat in the audience area. G made a reasonable attempt at a poker face, but Warren was grinning. Roy scowled.
“Pull out a phone and I will break fingers.”
“Oh.” Marshall hastily started to put his away, but DJ arrested him with a quick hand to his arm. “That’s different. They work for him. You can film it for your technical requirements.”
DJ looked toward Roy to be sure he was okay with that, and got a nod. “Do I need to change?” Roy asked.
“You might want to take off the jacket, but the rest is fine. Right, Marshall? Is his footwear okay? He’ll be beyond pissed at me if he breaks an ankle.”
Marshall took a closer look at Roy’s shoes, and confirmed they would work. The veteran choreographer was fifty-four, with a frizzy gray mane, a stubbled jaw and perpetually squinted eyes. The graceful way he moved confirmed his history as a professional dancer.
He took Roy quickly through the steps. He also had Roy lift him and execute the move several times, which Roy appreciated, since the repetition was intended to safeguard their show headliner from injury.
If he broke DJ, he’d be way more pissed than if something happened to himself.
DJ stepped forward. “Okay, now with me. Marshall’s one-forty-five. I weigh about one-sixty.”
“You’re one-forty-nine right now,” Roy said. “You’re aspiring to look like a strung-out aging British rocker.”
DJ lifted his lip in a half sneer. “Bite me. Ready?”
“Yeah.”
The choreographer counted it off, and DJ leaped at Roy. Roy caught his hips, did the turn and tossed him—carefully—several feet away. DJ landed in the roll and came up on one knee, then charged him.
The move was so lifelike, Roy’s training overrode the few minutes of instruction. He caught DJ by the waist, spun, lifted and flipped him to his back onto the stage, holding him pinned with a knee and a hand to his chest. Then he remembered and quickly straightened to stand over him.
“Jesus…” someone murmured.
DJ stared up at him for half a second that felt much longer, then Roy offered his hand. Roy lifted him to his feet, and held on an extra moment to steady him, but also really because he wanted to touch him. He made himself step back. “Did that help settle the debate?”
DJ glanced at Marshall, whose mouth was open. He closed it with a snap. “Yes. Yes. DJ, I’ll contact our talent agency and see if we have someone with the body type to pull it off.”
“Good.” DJ nodded to Roy. “Thanks.”
“Any time.”
“Really?”
“No.”
DJ snorted and Roy left the stage. G and Warren rose to join him and trailed him to the exit without saying a word. At least not until they were through the door.
“They might not think you’re sleeping together,” G murmured. “But there’s no doubt in anyone’s minds that you should be.”