Singer-songwriter and self proclaimed rock goddess Callie Phelps, aka ‘Callie’, removed her headphones and hung them on the stand next to the microphone, then stepped out of the soundproof booth. “Make sure they don’t make me sound like Minnie Mouse. Everything we did last week is too high and squeaky, I hate it.”

Callie looked from the sound engineer, who was nodding, to her manager, who tipped his head toward the small conference room off of the studio.

“What’s up?” she asked, leaning back in a chair and propping her feet up on the table, crossed at the ankles.

“Just need to go over some schedule items," he said, closing the door softly. "Uhm, you have the Young People Awards tonight-- your dress and jewelry are in your room, shoes are on the way. Hair and makeup will be in around 4, you need to be ready before they get there. And I was asked to remind you to not chew gum on the red carpet.”  He glanced up quickly and then went back to his notes.

Callie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Just for that, I’m gonna put in a big piece of gum and pop bubbles during my interview with ‘Entertainment Tonight’. Is Curtis coming?” Curtis Soul, her on again-off again boyfriend  hadn’t yet committed to attending the event, even though his band ‘Soul Train’ was nominated for several categories.

 “Haven’t heard from his manager. I’d think he would let you know by now. I’d plan on going alone. Now then, on to some talk about your album."  Jason fidgeted in his seat a little nervous at the reaction he was about to get. He didn't see why he was the one who always had to the dirty work. They always called her directly with good news... but they called Jason when they wanted her to know something she wouldn't want to hear. He was definitely not paid enough for this gig.

"I'm hearing some chatter through the Jive grapevine and they're not all that... thrilled ... with the songs they have so far.  Uhm… they have someone they want you to work with on some new stuff. They want to hear something a little... different, they said.”

Callie bristled, as Jason knew she would. She was on her third studio album, the previous two being platinum selling albums. She was practically born singing and could write a song in her sleep.  She wouldn’t think she needed any help and Jason did not enjoy being the one to tell her that the label thought she needed it.

Sure enough, Callie's eyes narrowed as Jason spoke. “Work with? New? Help? What language are you speaking? Everything I write is new and I work alone. What does that mean? And who is this person that's supposed to help?”

“Uh... well-- he’s a producer and a song writer. He's really very good."  That's it, Jason. Sell it to her. Sell it!  "They just want you to have a uhm… softer touch on this next album. They’re not knocking your talent, you know, you just need a little finesse.”

Jason had tried hard to be nonchalant, but  Callie was steaming.  “Finesse? Do they KNOW me? Who is this guy?”

Jason stalled, clearing his throat, then flipping through his notes. “Jason! Who is it? I probably have never heard of him, huh?”

“Uhm. You probably have.”

Callie paused. Could it be someone uber famous? “Wait. Is it someone I WANT to work with? Timbaland?”

He squelched a laugh, masking it with a cough. “Uhm, no it’s not Tim. He’s R&B, you're Rock?”

“And? He's versatile. So who is it? Fuck, I don’t have all day, I have to go put on an ugly dress and tacky jewelry and pretend I care about the YPA’s. “

"Uh, it’s JC Chasez. You know him from—“

Callie practically shot fire as she pounded her fist down into the wood surface of the conference room table. Jason jumped, startled as she screamed, red faced and almost frothing at the mouth. 

"WHAT?! NO! I KNOW where he’s from. And NO. FUCK NO. NO.”

“Callie…”

“NO!  He’s not gonna turn me into cotton candy and bubble gum. NO. Tell them NO. I won't do it. Nuh uh. Nope. NO.” Callie trembled with anger and shook her head violently. 

Jason sighed, took off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose.  He was definitely demanding a raise. “I did, Callie. I did. And they started threatening to push the album back. I know you don't want that... that's the beginning of the end. You know that. Look, the angry rocker chick has worked for two albums and that’s good. But you need something different-- the label just thinks you need to tap into a new sound.”

“I don’t HAVE a new sound. My sound is… my SOUND. I’m not gonna sing about loving some guy to the depths of my soul or some shit like that. And where has he been? They want me to work with some guy who’s voice hasn’t seen the light of day in like, what, ten years?" She folded her arms defiantly. "Oh, I’m very confident in their opinion of me as an artist.” 

Tossing his glasses and notepad on the table, Jason stood and paced the room. His face was marked with frustration and impatience and he picked at his goatee as he paced--- a nervous habit that he hadn't developed before he started working with Callie. Finally he stopped, hands in his pocket and faced her.

"Callie, let me relay the message that was given to me. 'No' is not an option. You don’t have a CHOICE. It’s this, or they push your album back, because they don't want a full record of the same songs that could have gone on your first two. Cal...you’re on a great track right now, you have momentum. This guy--he’s willing to help, just to give you a new perspective.  Something new to write about. It's him, or take a break until you have something new to give them. Fight all you want but those are your choices.”

In the last throes of her tantrum, Callie kicked the chair next to her and sent it flying. “I want to talk to my record rep.”

“That WAS from your rep, direct from his lips. Your meeting with JC is on Tuesday, in LA. You fly out Tuesday morning, EARLY.  I’ll have your ticket tomorrow. Do you need a pickup?”

She fumed and glared at him. He glared back, staring her down-- ultimately the best way to win an argument with Callie. Finally, she relented and stood, storming toward the door and flinging it open. 

“Are we done? I have to go be fake for some cameras.”

Jason nodded. Callie stomped out of the room, picked up the large bag she never went anywhere without, and walked out of the studio. When he was sure she was gone, he wilted and sank into the nearest chair. He HAD to find a new job, soon. 

A few minutes later,  Callie's two door coupe screeched out of the parking complex and turned onto a main arterial, headed toward the hotel she’d basically called home for the last five years. She tore through the streets, one hand on the wheel and  flipped through her missed calls with the other, pressing ‘send’ when she saw a call from her best friend and mentor. She  launched into an expletive laced rant as soon as Paula picked up.

“I mean, can you fucking believe that? They might as well pick up some homeless guy off the street to produce my album. I don’t know who he’s worked with, I know nothing about this guy as a producer, all I know is he used to be in some weak ass, bubble gum boyband and I am NOT interested in that.”

“Wait wait wait. He put out an album, I thought? Maybe. I don’t remember.” Paula crunched something in Callie's ear, one of her pet peeves.

“I don’t really give a shit. Where is he NOW? Nowhere! I don’t want to work with some washed up has-been. What are they THINKING?! I’m so frustrated.” Callie barely missed sideswiping a car and flipped off the driver that honked at her.

“Okay, well..." Paula smacked and Callie groaned inwardly. "You’re told you have no choice, so just do the minimum. A couple of songs, stroke his ego, smile at the label, and move on. This isn’t worth pushing things back, Cal. If he’s not good, the shit will never make the album and you don’t have to worry about it. Okay? Calm down, breathe.”

“I'm fucking PISSED. I have to fly to LA to meet with this guy on Tuesday. Can you imagine, if the songs don’t even make the album, what a colossal waste of time this will be?”

“Look, Callie…they wouldn't saddle you with someone who doesn't make them money. Just try to have a good attitude. I gotta go, hon. I have a client on the way. I hate clients that want to use up my relaxing Sunday mornings.”

“Whatever. You’re living your dream. I’ll pop by when I’m in town, okay?”

“What pop by? You’re staying here. See you Tuesday,” Paula said, then hung up.

A few minutes later, Callie parked in front of her hotel and tossed her key at the valet.

‘Time to squeeze my ass into something ugly for the next 10 hours.’ 

…

After a bumpy, tumultuous ride, wheels finally touched tarmac and Callie was relieved.  Flying always made her airsick, and she couldn’t wait to get off of that metal contraption. As soon as the doors opened, she shot out into the aisle and out onto the jet way.

“Callie. Callie! Dammit Callie! What’s your hurry?” Jason hissed as he rushed to keep up with her.

“I feel like I’m gonna puke, and I don’t want to talk to anyone.” She pulled her ball cap down as far as it would go and slipped on a pair of designer sunglasses. “Is there a car for me?"

“Go ahead. I’ll head to baggage claim.” Jason shook his head and ambled off to pick up the checked luggage while Callie rushed toward ground transportation. Amid the bright  bursts of light  from flash photography and endless screams of 'Callie! Over here! Callie! Where are you going? What brings you to LA?' she dove behind the open door of the Town Car and let out heavy sigh. 

“Hi, we’re waiting on one,” she said, as the driver slid into his seat.

“Okay. Just let me know when we’re ready.”  

Jason appeared with two rolling suitcases and dumped them into the trunk, then let himself into the car. “Thanks for the help. You don’t like tips?” he shot at the driver.

“Knock it off, Jason. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh really, Miss ‘Is there a car for me?’ I swear you get more spoiled everyday.”

"God, that plane ride was brutal. We couldn't fly private? Do I have time to stop by Paula’s before I meet this guy?"

“Yeah, but not long. Are you sure you don’t want to stay at a hotel?”

“No, I want to stay with Paula. I need the comforts of home, or some semblance thereof. Tired of hotel rooms and room service and restaurant food.”

Callie glanced out of the window at the familiar Los Angeles landscape and chewed her bottom lip. LA made her nervous, for no reason. It just didn't seem real. Plastic. Fake. Superficial. She much preferred the grit of Chicago, where the damn seasons changed and the people were real and not everyone was a barbie doll or an aspring something-or-other.  This guy WOULD live in LA... where all the hot little tartlets lived.

The Town Car arrived at the swanky lofts that Paula called home and work. After years in the entertainment industry, she hung out a shingle and became an agent, preying upon her contacts in the business to help other people achieve their dreams—or at least star in commercials and bad movies until the right opportunity came around. Paula threw the door open and captured Callie in a hug. Jason blew past them and rolled Callie’s suitcase into the living room.

“We’ll be back in two hours. Be ready, we cannot be late. Hi, Paula. Great to see you. Gotta go, meter is ticking. I’m staying at the usual place, call me if you need me.”  With that, he swept out of the loft, cell phone plastered to his ear.

Paula snickered, closing the door. “Since when is Jason so busy? He doesn't fool me with that act. He’s listening to football scores, ten to one bet.”

“I’ll take that bet and raise you that he’s stalking his ex girlfriend and listening to her voicemails to see if she’s moved on,” Callie said, giggling.  “So, I have two hours, which should be just enough time to give me a tour of this place. If I ever wanted to live in LA I’d  buy one of these.”

Paula gave her a tour of the two story loft, still so new you could almost see the builder’s dust. Callie marveled at everything from the stainless steel appliances to the marbled floors to the expansive view of downtown from the floor to ceiling windows that surrounded the living space. Paula poured tall glasses of tea and took Callie to the rooftop patio, where they sat and chatted until Jason called, demanding to know why she was not waiting outside.

“I guess I have to go meet this guy. I don’t know when I’ll be back, I’ll call you!” she yelled from the elevator. Callie took her time walking from the lobby to the side door where Jason was waiting in the car. He started in on her as soon as she sat down. Callie already didn't want to go to this meeting; if she had to listen to Jason gripe the entire way it would be torturous. 

“Jesus, Jason--you act like this guy some kind of big shot, second coming of CHRIST. We can be five minutes late. Relax!  SHIT.”

They rode in silence to a West Hollywood address and piled out when the driver pulled into the parking lot. Jason checked them in at the front desk, and was told their meeting was in a conference room on the third floor and that JC had already checked in and was waiting. Jason cut his eyes at Callie; Callie ignored him and headed to the elevator.

“Hi, Jason Walsh, nice to meet you JC. This is Callie,” said Jason, shaking his hand and gesturing in her direction. Callie intended to skip the pleasantries and took a seat opposite the tall man with blue eyes, a perfect coiffure of dark hair and a day's growth of beard.

“Great to meet you, Callie. I enjoy your work,” JC said, his voice smooth and his smile friendly, his hand outstretched to shake hers. Callie stared into eyes electric blue, then let her gaze travel down  to his plain t-shirt under a zippered jacket and loose blue jeans. He stood like a fool, his hand still reaching for hers, and cocked his head at her, his smile fading slightly. 

Jason coughed and glared at her. She sucked her teeth and sighed, then limply shook his hand. 

“You, too,” she lied. "Thank you."

He sat and took a sip of coffee, then reached into a bag and pulled out a folder, a notebook, and a pen.

‘Nerd,’ she thought. 'This won't take long.'

"That coffee smells good. Did you get that here?”

“Uhm, yeah there’s a... like a... espresso machine thing down the hall. It's like a dollar for a cup--I could… do you want me to get you some?” He started to stand and stopped when Callie lifted a hand. She dug a dollar’s worth of quarters out of her wallet and handed them to Jason, who darted out of the room and down the hall.

“That’s what I have a lackey for. I don’t want to delay you. Let’s get this show on the road. What am I doing here?”

JC cleared his throat and jumped in head first. “Uhm, well the label asked me if I would, you know, work with you on some songs for your next album. I should really be asking you what you’re doing here, what do you, like… want to do with your next album?” 

“What do I want to do? I want to record some songs and release them. What do you mean, what do I want to do?”

He chuckled lightly at her response. “Uhm, I guess what I mean is that… what message do you want to send? What part of you do you want to put into your music? The label just thought you might need some perspective on uhm… another message, another direction.”

“I don’t have another message. I write what I feel, what others feel. People relate to that, obviously. The message is fine, why does it need changing?”

Jason returned with her coffee and set it in front of her, whispering that it was hot. Callie rolled her eyes. ‘Duh, it’s coffee?’

“Well, ok, let’s not think of it as changing your message, as sending out a DIFFERENT message.”

“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t have a different message." Callie paused and took a sip, wrinkling her nose at the bitter taste. "Look, I’m not interested in becoming some weak, lovesick ballad singer. I’m not one of those cheesy pop singers who can't sing anything but 'ooh boy I love you so'. I don’t KNOW why I’m here, except I’m told I don’t have a CHOICE but to be here. I didn’t pick you.”

Jason interrupted. “I… I think what Callie is saying, JC, is that—“

Callie's eyes flashed and she whipped around to face her manager.  “I can speak for myself. Do you have to be here? Why don’t you have your nose removed from JC’s ass and park yourself in the lobby?” 

Jason looked from Callie to JC and back to Callie, and back to JC. JC shrugged at him. It’d be ugly if they got into it; Callie had no shame. Jason packed himself up and quietly stepped out of the room.

Callie watched Jason leave and turned back to JC, who was fidgeting with a pen and slightly pink.

“Jason is my step brother. My mom made me hire him so she could keep an eye on me. We rarely get along, but he’d rather do this than go get a real job, so…” she shrugged.

“Okay...let’s uhm… let’s backtrack." JC twirled a pen in his hand and leaned forward.

"Believe me or not. I know what it’s like to have your own ideas about where you want to go and what you want to do and to have the label tell you that's all wrong, and tell you what you’re going to do. What you’re going to record, and how you’re going to record it. You and I--we don’t HAVE to work together, to tell you the truth. If you don’t want to, I’m out."

'Halellujah!' Callie thought.

"BUT," he added, "I’ve listened to your music-- I bought both your records--and you're good. Really good. You're very talented." JC paused and Callie stared. A raised eyebrow told him to continue.

"As you know, I have a lot of experience in the business-- and not that you don't--- and probably not experience you respect, but  enough to know that if you release a third album of the same songs you've always sung, it won’t be received with the same enthusiasm. There was a lot of fatigue with your second album— it didn't sell as much and it didn't sell as fast, and only two singles off of your second record broke the top ten. Your debut singles rode the top five like a cowboy at a rodeo."

"Okay, but historically followup albums don't do as well as debut albums. So? I'm being punished because my career follows the trend?"

"You're right... but Jive is gonna be looking for a record that does as good or better than your second  album, and I get the idea that what you've turned in isn't it.  They won't release a third record of the same stuff and risk a flop."

Callie stared, entranced by his voice and his hands that never stopped moving as he talked about the fickle nature of  popular music, keeping ahead of the curve and growing with the audience, and on and on and ON, until she thought he'd talk her into oblivion.

“Are you gonna talk all day or can I have a turn?” she interrupted. He laughed, a gut level, hefty guffaw. “Ears are falling off. So, you’re saying I need to like… change it up a little bit. Bring something fresh to the table.”

JC pointed at her, excited. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Ok, there's gotta be, like... twelve ways to say,  for example, ‘I hate you, and I want to cut your dick off'. So...let’s talk about the other eleven ways you can say that, because you’ve been saying it the same way for two albums, 24 songs, 10 singles, 8 videos now. Say it a new way. Or say something else.”

Callie fought a wave of impression. He knew his numbers… more importantly, he knew hers.

“I can get behind that. I guess. So… where do we start?”

"With songs. Have you started writing for your new album yet?”

She rolled her eyes.  “I'm already recording the new album.  I’m always writing, not specifically for an album. I thought you were some kind of hotshot song writer.”

He ignored her jab. “Do you have anything I can look at?”

Callie pulled a large expandable file out of her bag and slid it across the table. She carried the bulk of her songs with her at all times. When she was bored, she read through them and reworked them and rewrote them and worried over them, trying to come up with better imagery, better phrasing, that elusive number one hit.

“Those songs don’t leave this room,” Callie said, pointing at the file.

He glanced at her before opening the tattered case, shaking his head. “Honey, I don’t want your songs. I just want to see what we have to work with.”

“I’m just saying. And don’t call me ‘honey’. It’s condescending. My name is Callie.”

“It’s a habit. I call everyone honey. If it slips out, I’m sorry. I’m not being condescending.”

Callie had walked in expecting to hear a weak spiel about how she needed to write love songs, fire him, and be back in Chicago by dinner. Now suddenly, she was handing her book of songs over to him. No one had held that book but her in years.

“So… why would Jive want me to work with you? Where’ve you been? You haven’t had an album out in… I don’t know how long. That can't be good. I don’t know any artists you’ve produced. Why are they dumping you on me? Or me on you? Are you supposed to prove something to them?”

JC didn't even look up the stack he was sorting through. "Jive probably hopes you'll do some research and find out that I asked to be let out of my recording contract, because what I gave them, they didn't want, and they didn't push it and it flopped. And they probably hope you're scared into turning in something generic that fits into their box." 

“Well, you definitely don’t need any help in the songwriting department. You should write for other artists, you know. You just have this... poetic way of saying things.” He set the pages he was sifting through down on the table.

“So, why is it that everything you release has the same tone? Anger, revenge, being alone, loneliness, being used—is your stuff autobiographical?”

“No. Just… what I relate to the most. I’m not a ‘Oh gee golly I love this boy so much’ kind of singer.”

“I… get that. But even the hardest of hearts have a soft center. You’re not all stone, I’m betting.” He flashed her a smile that made her heart flutter, and that irritated her.

“I see where this is going, and no. No sweet, sick love ballads for me to belt out. I’m not interested in that.”

“I wasn’t saying that. I’m just suggesting we come up with a different topic.”

“Ok, go. Give me one. Outside of sunshine and puppies, and ‘I want to marry him’ what is there?”

For a minute, JC had nothing to say. How could he make her understand?  “Callie, I’m on your side. What I see here, in these songs, is not what shows up on your records.  THESE are good writing that aren't angry and sullen, they're powerful, they tell great stories. Why aren’t you releasing THESE?”

"I never offered them up. I don't even know why I showed you those. They're...personal." Callie played with a lock of hair, twisting the curl around her finger, shrugging one shoulder. “You uhm… you think they’re good enough for an album?”  

“Some of them. Some are kind of rough, but I see two here, right off the bat, that I’d love to hear you sing.  You’re right, you know-- you don’t write sunshine and puppies, but not everything has to be ‘I hate you and I want to cut your dick off’.”

Callie laughed, in spite of herself. “You like that phrase, don’t you?”

JC laughed with her. “It gets my point across. I know you said the songs don’t leave the room but could I get a copy of a couple of these?”

She waived him off. “Fine, whatever.” He left and came back with copies, refiling her songs and sending the file back to her. He moved to a closer seat and spread out several songs.

"Okay, so these are good material right here; nice imagery, great flow, awesome lyrics. This one," he picked up a sheet that Callie was very familiar with. It had been handled so much the edges were curled  and the page was permanently discolored from all of her eraser marks and white-out. "Let’s Start Over, is a hit. It has number one potential. Your first, if you do it right. I was thinking--”

“I can’t do that one,” Callie interrupted, shaking her head. "No. Nope, not that one."

JC paused for a heartbeat. “You can’t.”

She shook her head.

Deflated, JC asked, “Okay. Any reason why?”

“It’s very ‘Gwen Stefani’.”

An eyebrow shot up. “It’s about someone you know.”

“He’d be PISSED. And I can’t sing that song without getting all emotional. I have an image to uphold.”

JC started to speak and hesitated, then decided to go for it. “The bitch image is so last decade. It died with Alanis. Time for a new image. How about..." He stopped to think, then grinned as it came to him.  "Strong, empowered woman who owns her feelings"?”

Callied groaned. “How about that sounds lame as shit?”

JC laughed and wiped tiny beads of sweat from his forehead. “Okay. When people buy your music, they feel like they’re buying a part of you. They feel like they’re getting to know you. So, the Callie you want them to know is….”

Callie blinked, her brown eyes carrying an impish sparkle. “I hate you and I want to cut your dick off.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at herself and was relieved when he threw his head back and let out a throaty laugh. She liked the way his eyes almost disappeared when he laughed. Not that she was paying any attention. She hadn’t heard from Curtis in days but she was still enamored with his blonde hair and hazel eyes and wicked sense of humor. ‘Let’s Start Over’ was about Curtis, but she couldn’t let him hear it or think it was about him.

“I’d have to rewrite this song. It can’t go in as is.”

“Okay, a slow yes. I can take that.” They glanced through the other songs that he’d pulled out and ranked them in order of those that needed the most work.

“So, do you really think this ‘new message’ thing is gonna work?”

He lifted his pen from the pad of paper he was using to take notes. “I can’t make any guarantees. The only constant is change. An audience won't buy the same album over and over. And if  you've gone two years and haven't changed at all, I have to wonder what you're doing with your life, you know?" He shrugged and then packed up his notebook and copies.

“I have to get to a studio myself, so I need to get going. It was great meeting you, Callie. I'm really looking forward to working with you. Do you-- should I just contact Jason to start scheduling some time?  We both have some stuff we need to juggle, I'm sure.”

“Yeah, he’ll have my schedule. I know the label wants to hear more songs in a couple of months.”

“Then we have a lot of work to do. I’ll be in touch.”

Callie stayed behind, finished her coffee and scrolled through her phone, just to have some peace and quiet. SHIT! Curtis had called but didn’t leave a message. She dialed him back, but it rolled to voicemail.

“Hey, Curt, just calling you back. I was meeting with a producer. You will NOT believe who. Call me, I’ll turn the ringer on. Bye.” She turned her ringer up and dropped the phone back into her bag, adding her file of songs to it, and walked out to find Jason pacing the hall.

“So? How’d it go? I saw him leave, in a hurry. What'd you say to him?” Callie ignored him as they rode the elevator down to the lobby and out the front door.  Finally, she said, "He'll call you to arrange some time for us to work together. Try not to schedule me too long in LA. I hate it out here."

“So, you’re gonna work with him?” Jason  asked, waving at the driver waiting across the street.

Callie slipped on her signature shades and glared at Jason.

"Do I have a choice?"

***

“Curtis, what is with the phone tag? Why can’t I reach you? At least leave a voicemail, asshole. Call me.”

Callie punched the ‘off’ button on her cell phone and dropped it back into her bag. She hadn't spoken to more than Curtis' voicemail in weeks, and hadn't heard from him since he’d left her a terse message that he’d be skipping the awards show. She'd hoped to see him before he headed to Toronto, but now she was back in LA to work with JC on the first two songs they'd picked from her collection.

Paula was putting her up again. Callie was full and slightly uncomfortable—she’d scarfed down two cinnamon rolls, just happy to be eating something fresh out of an oven. She made a few calls while waiting for the car to come pick her up.

‘I’ve GOT to get a car here. I hate waiting for other people,’ she thought to herself.

The phone rang in her bag. 'Finally, dipshit,' she thought. Without checking the display, picked up the line.

“Curtis.”

“Hi, honey!” came her mother’s sing-song voice. Callie closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t handle much of her mother. Most days it was all she could do to remain civil.

“Hi, mom. What’s up, I’m on my way to a session.”

“Well, nothing’s up," she cooed sweetly. "I just, you know, checking in on you. I don’t hear much from you. I get all my news from Jason.”

“Well, that’s what he gets paid for, isn’t it?  Your husband’s son is a WINNER.”

Her mother sighed. Callie did not take her second marriage well, but she was sure that Callie’s father would want her to be happy. Ever since he died suddenly, she had been cold and angry and their relationship was virtually nonexistent. Jason was older than Callie, but Callie thought he was a daddy’s boy and they never really connected as family. He wasn't a bad manager, and really, no one else would put up with her tantrums. He did what needed to be done and had done so for six years. Callie got pleasure out of making her uncomfortable for caring about her career and wanting someone she knew close to her.

“Anyway" she continued, ignoring the obvious insult to her stepson. "Jason says the label has you working with a new producer? Some unknown?”

“He’s not unknown. Just not really famous for his producing.”

“Oh. So… but… you’re still working with him?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for blue eyes. Jason tells you tons of shit, but doesn't tell you the whole story. I don’t have a choice. The label wants to hear something different and… well I just don’t want any trouble right now. We’ll see where it goes. If he sucks, that’s the end of that. I’m not going to waste my time.”

“Well, alright. If you’re confident...”

“Don’t worry Mom, your spa days won’t come to an end anytime soon. I gotta go, the car is here. Talk to you later.” Callie ended the call before her mother could sputter and insist she wasn’t living off of Callie, when she knew full well she was.  They all were. Callie couldn’t fail anytime soon—her family’s quality of life was mortgaged on her next hit.

“I’m pretty sure 11 does not mean 11:45. What time did my manager tell you to show up?” Callie fumed as she stepped into the car.

“11:45, miss.” The driver showed her his assignment sheet. Callie sighed, riding in silence, not offering up an apology for her rant. She watched the city speed by as the car maneuvered back to West Hollywood, this time to a residential area, up a winding road to a large, three–story, squarish white home.  The front door opened as the car pulled into the driveway.

Callie tipped the driver, extra for her bitchy tone and said she’d call him when she was ready to leave.  JC stood in the doorway as she climbed the front steps and stepped aside to let her into his house.

“I hope you don’t mind meeting here," he said. The sound of the door closing almost echoed up into the vaulted ceilings. "I work a lot at home-- I have a studio downstairs. We’ll just be more comfortable here than in some meeting room. Can I get you anything?”

Something smelled so delicious it made her mouth water. “Do I smell coffee?" JC nodded and bounded to the kitchen. Callie dropped her bag on the floor next to a massive table in an even bigger dining room and looked around. The furniture was eclectic but classy, in dark woods and bold colors. Vintage prints and works of art were framed and hung liberally throughout the dining and living room. Along one wall stood a tall glass case with built in shelves that held miniature statues and multiple awards.

‘So obviously, he knows what he’s doing. Or did, at some point,’ she thought.

“I just made this pot, so it's nice and hot. It’s good stuff, from some gourmet shop my mom found. Her new thing is sending me coffees of the world, or something like that.”

“It smells amazing. Thank you," she said, gingerly holding the steaming mug.  "I’m a big fan of coffee,” Callie said, taking a sip. “Oh my GOD. That IS really good.”

“I told you. I’ll send you home with some beans, if you want. I have a ton of it. She… she goes kinda nuts.”

Callie fought a pang of jealousy as she enjoyed another taste. “Your mom sounds sweet.”

JC beamed. “She is. So, uhm. I thought we’d work downstairs in case you wanna hop on a keyboard or something. You play, right?” He tipped his head toward the staircase.

“Is the sky blue?” Callie shot out, following him down the stairs and down the hall.

“Thought so. So, we talked  about six songs, right? One of them you said you’d have to rewrite. Did you work on that at all?”

“Some,” Callie said, setting her mug down on a worn table of thick, knotted wood. They sat opposite each other, he in a chair and she on the couch, and she spread out her recent work for him to peruse. 

"This song is giving me a shitfit. I guess, since it's like real life, like... something that actually happened, that I’m trying rewrite it about something that never happened and bring the same level of emotion and... it's just not coming to me.”

“Well, what's the backstory? Maybe we can draw some parallels.”

Callie stalled for time, not feeling comfortable enough yet to discuss her relationship troubles with him, let alone her relationship troubles with a fellow well known artist. "Uhm...let’s work on a different song, for now. I just… I need more time.” She snatched the page up and tucked it away in her bag.

JC seemed unfazed. He nodded and pointed to the page nearest him. “Okay. What about…this one? Damn near perfect, it just needs music. What are you thinking?”

They discussed a few options and decided on something rocky and upbeat with a driving bass line would really bring out the bridge and chorus. She started to hear the song in her head as he hummed and tapped on the table and imitated a heavy bass guitar. He hopped up and picked up a guitar and plugged it in, strumming out the skeleton of the song. Callie started to sing the lyrics she’d long since memorized, trying not to smile at how easy it had come together.

 “Okay, so we just need to work on the verses for that one.  We can talk about that after we’ve slept on it a little bit, if you need to.” He made his notes as Callie read over the lyrics again, singing it to herself in her head and imagined the music behind it.

“What do you think about starting out a little slower, not ballad slow, just quiet.  Then, building up to that heavy, hard beat through the chorus, and then backing down for verse two. From there I could belt the bridge and then carry it through the end. That way it ends high energy but I’m not screaming into the fadeout.”

“Or, we can just work on the verses right now,” JC said with a wide smile. “I thought you’d need a minute to come up with something.”

“I DO know how to write a song, Mr. Really Famous Nsync Guy.”

“Oh, ow…” JC feigned hurt, then went back to his notes.

“Aw, poor you.” Callie sighed and looked around the room. “You have some nice equipment down here.”

He stopped writing and looked around as if noticing the expensive collection of recording equipment for the first time. “Thanks. This is like, my second home. I’m always down here.”

Callie stood and gazed at the control board. “Someday when I settle down, an in-home studio would be nice.”

“Yeah, it is pretty nice,” JC answered absentmindedly.

“Blowin’ Me Up.” Callie said, suddenly. “That was you?”

JC blushed. He was in this room all day everyday. He forgot there was actually stuff to look at on the walls. Nsync, Drum line, and Schizophrenic posters plastered one wall, where Callie stood gawking. “Guilty,” he said shyly.

“I loved that song. I never knew that was you.”

“It’s me. A LONG time ago.”

“And it was on your album, right? Why didn't it do better? That song kicked ass.”

“It did alright. Uhm. Come back over here. Billable hours.” JC waived her back to the couch and she resumed her seat.

“You and your billable hours. Sorry, I didn’t think I was prying. Posters all over the wall and such.”

“I just only have a few hours today. I want to make them count. So…” he cleared his throat. “Let’s Start Over. Talk to me about it. I know it’s personal, but I can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m helping you with.” JC sat back in his chair and crossed one ankle over his knee. He was wearing socks but no shoes, loose jeans and a tshirt. Callie stared at him for a second and then tore her gaze away.

“Ok," she said, wringing her hands nervously. "So. You know Curtis Soul? He’s the lead…well, the only singer in ‘Soul Train’?”

“Your boyfriend, right?”

“Sometimes. Anyway. We have been having some rocky times for the last… forever. Since we met. It was hot and heavy for a very long time. Curtis was an older guy and I was in lust with him and I liked that he was in  a band and we 'got' each other, you know? So we were together about a year, and then we split up. And got back together. And split up. And then got back together, and then Soul Train got signed-- which they didn't expect-- and then I got signed and it's been an on again off again thing for years." Callie paused, fighting the swell of emotion. She hadn't talked about the 'young love' part of her relationship with Curits in a long while.. It just reminded her how dysfunctional they were now, and made her wish she could just let him go.

"I just can’t connect with him like I want to.  Like I used to be able to. I like him, he says he likes me…he says he LOVES me.  Just when we get together, it’s feast or famine, love or war. We’re either all over each other or we hate each other. This going back and forth… it’s rough. I’ve invested a lot in Curtis and… sometimes I think if we could just start over, go back to when we met and when it worked… maybe it would go better. So, that’s, in a nutshell, what it's about.”

JC nodded thoughtfully, hands clasped on his chin, and tapped his nose with a finger. “Mkay. I see how it would be hard to substitute exact moments in there. I wouldn’t want to sing my relationship either. But, if you don’t want to sing the song as is, and you want the song on your album, you have to come up with some alternatives. What if it wasn’t so…specific?”

“What do you mean?"

“I mean that maybe you can change..” He picked up the page of lyrics and started crossing out words, substituting other words in their place. They went back and forth on reworking the song and an hour later, both sat back, staring at the messy page that would only make sense to the two of them.

“See? Easy.” JC said, glancing over at her.

Callie stared at the page. “Oh yeah. Piece of cake. Now tell me, Producer Man. Music—and if you say this is a ballad I will get up and walk out of here and not come back.”

JC wagged his head from side to side. “No no no. Standard rhythm—nothing upbeat, nothing too slow. What did you have in mind when you wrote it?”

Callie liked how everything always came back to her, her intent, what she wanted. She was prepared to walk out if she felt like he was going to try to take her into a soft, weak position but he was playing off of what she wanted, and enhancing it. She was starting to like him, against every bone within her.

They talked more about the music, tossing ideas back and forth. Suddenly, JC sat up, checked his watch, and grimaced. “SHIT. I’m supposed to be downtown right now.  I don't mean to be rude, but I need to shower.” He stood up and she followed him up the stairs. “Uhm, you have to call a car, right? Where are you going, I can maybe drop you off? I’m gonna be out of here in 20 minutes, I don't think they'll get here in time.”

“Uhm, I’m staying with my friend, Paula. She lives in those new lofts, downtown. Republic, something?”

“Cool, that’s like ...around the corner from where I’m going. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” He dashed through the living room and up the stairs and then it was quiet.

‘I’ve GOT to get a car,’ Callie thought to herself. She was embarrassed to be dropped off on the way to some event. And how was HE going to an event? She hadn’t been invited to anything… that she knew of. Callie shook her head to get rid of the sinking feeling. Ever since he’d told her his story, she was paranoid that she was on the way out. She didn’t want to become desperate to stay on the map.

Loud thumping down the stairs interrupted her thoughts and she looked up to see JC in a pair of black slacks, a white shirt, and matching jacket. His hair was still wet but combed into place and the scent of his cologne was intoxicating. He was chatting on the phone and pointed toward the stairs to the garage. Callie swallowed and stood up, following him to the garage and stepping into the passenger side of the luxury vehicle.

‘Ok, so he did REALLY well,’ she thought, looking around. Her coupe looked like a Yugo in comparison.

“This car… is amazing. It totally makes me want to trade in my coupe.”

“Thank you, this is my baby. I love her.” He turned the switch,  the engine purred to life, and he pulled out of the garage and down the street. They talked cars for a few minutes and then moved to Industry talk.

“So, what event are you headed to? I don’t get invited to anything but every award show ever created.”

“An award show,” he said, laughing. “Some dinner for something positive or another thing. I can’t remember. But lucky for you, it’s downtown and I can drop you off.”

“Thank you, so much for doing this. I feel like I’m a teenager, having to be dropped off at a friend’s house. I need to get a car here but I’m never really here long enough to need one, and Jason just automatically arranges a car.”

“Well, normally I wouldn’t have anything going on, I’d still be working and it wouldn’t be a big deal. I just… had to leave and I couldn’t leave you in the house, by yourself.”

“Well, I appreciate you doing this. I recognize the building, right up there,” Callie said, pointing ahead. He switched lanes and pulled in the parking lot, putting the car in park. He started to get out, but Callie stopped him. 

“No, no, don’t get out. I’m ok. Thank you. Have a great time tonight.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you on Thursday, same time?” Callie nodded and shut the door, stepping back so he could pull away. When he didn’t move, she walked around to the driver side, where he had rolled the window down.

“I’m not leaving till I see you walk in that door. Go on, now, I’m late,” he said with a laugh, and the window slid back up. She opened the door with flourish and walked inside. His car drove past, flashing his headlights before he pulled back out onto the street.

Callie sighed and headed toward the elevator. While waiting for it to arrive, her phone rang. She checked the display, and it was Curtis! Her heart skipped a beat and she picked up the line.

“Hey,” she said, stepping into the elevator.

“Hey, yourself. What’s with leaving me a bitchy message? You’re the one that never answers your phone when I call.”

“If you could just let me know when I can call you and you’ll actually be available, we wouldn’t have to play phone tag. Don’t yell at me, I’m not the one hiding. Where are you?”

“Toronto. Got a show tonight. Don’t you follow our tour schedule?”

“Whatever, Rockstar. I know you’re in Toronto. You’re in Toronto all week. I meant, right now. Hotel? Venue? Car?”

“Venue. So who’s the producer?”

Callie stepped out of the elevator and knocked on Paula’s door. She waved at Paula as the door opened and stepped in side. “Oh, you don’t want to know. It’s not as funny a week later.”

“Who is it? Is he lame?”

“No, not lame. Just… I didn’t expect things to go as well as they have, so I can’t really pick on him now.”

“Whatever. Callie Phelps can always pick on someone. Who is it? Tell me."

“JC Chasez.”

A loud, long cackle burst over the line.” I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you clearly. I thought you said JC Chasez, that weird dude from the Backstreet Boys or some shit.”

“It's 'Nsync, and I did.”

“Aww, MAN. I KNOW you had a fit about that. Are they serious? I told you, you should have gone with Atlantic. They’d never dump that guy on you.”

“Yeah I didn't like the idea at ALL at first but they said I had no choice. I don’t mind so much, now. He's cool, and I have some new songs we’re working with and I think they’re gonna sound good.”

“If they make the album.”

“Yeah, if they make the album.  It’s a numbers game, you know that. Why are you so negative?”

“Why are you taking up for him, is my question? He must be cute.” Callie rolled her eyes and plopped down in a comfortable chair. Paula had disappeared into her den--Callie could hear the canned laughter of some TV show coming from back there.

“Shut up, Curtis. Where’ve you BEEN all week? Why couldn’t I reach you?”

“Busy, baby. Busy.”

“Well, what did you do instead of the YPA’s? I only agreed to go to that because you said you were going. People is all over our ‘breakup’ because we weren’t there together.”

“I had stuff to do. Didn’t feel like flying in for one night. I called you, said I wouldn’t be there.”

“Yeah, after I already had my dress and shoes on.”

“Jesus, Callie, what do you want me to do? I couldn’t go, okay? What are you doing this week? Maybe you can come up?”

“I have sessions all week. I have an album to put out. I was trying to get together with you before this process started because I’m gonna be pretty busy up until and through the release.”

“Well, maybe I can come out to LA after this week.”

“I’m headed back to Chicago after this week, and you’re in New York.’ Callie sighed heavily.   “This isn’t working, Curt. I can’t… I know we wanted to try again but I can’t do this. You only talk to me when you want to,  your band has a show almost every night, when I’m free, you’re not. When you’re free, I’m not. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Wait, wait… Callie…” his voice softened. “It’s not like I don’t care about you. It’s just… we’re just going, all day, everyday. I’m tired and by the time I get to the phone, I just don’t feel like talking. You’re on your third album… this is our second. We’re still proving ourselves, working like we’re brand new. You know we have to strike while the iron is hot.”

“Yeah, I don’t have a problem with the work. I just… our schedules are completely opposite right now.”

“Not completely. Look, let me see what I can do, schedule-wise. Maybe I can leave right after our last show, hit Chicago for a couple days and then meet them in New York. No promises. I want to see you, I’m just… I have to work some things out, I guess.”

‘Okay,” she relented. ‘JC, you were right. I’m not all stone,’  she thought.

“So what time is your show tonight?”

“We go on at 8. Our opening act sucks. I hope people don’t leave.”

“Curtis!”

“What? It’s true. I don’t know what they call that, but it’s not music. Just a mess of guitar and drums. How do they even have fans?”

"Oh, how soon we forget. Remember when Soul Train was doing high school proms?”

“The difference, Callie, is that we didn’t suck!”

“Yeah, ok. That's your opinion.  I’m starving, so I’m gonna raid Paula’s fridge and kick back for the night. Let me know about Chicago. And stop hiding from me.”

“Ok. Have a good night, Cal. I love you.”

“I love you, too Curt. Have a good show.” Callie ended the call, not feeling particularly in love with Curtis, but was far from the anger she’d felt that morning when she still hadn’t heard from him. She wasn’t’ sure how much longer she could deal with his excuses, but… you were supposed to carry each other through the hard times, right? Right?

…

Two days later, Callie sat in front of a keyboard, sheet music and lyrics in front of her. Humming out the tune she was hearing in her head, she wrote and played, wrote and played, then reviewed it, changed it, wrote and played.

“Sounds like it’s coming together,” she heard from behind her. JC peered over her shoulder and hummed the notes she had written. “Oh, that’s not gonna end well, right there. Remember you have to go a up full step at the end of this line, to hit the chorus. You’re gonna hate yourself if you go from that low to that high.”

‘You and your cologne need to step off. I know what I’m doing,’ Callie thought, but edited the notes anyway. They hummed the bars together and then tested a launch into the chorus.  He nodded and stepped back. Callie smiled to herself.

“Yeah, so you were right. You want a cookie? You’re a producer.”

“I would love a cookie,” he joked, then stood at the console. “When do you think you’ll be ready to record these two?”

“Uhm… provided we get the lyrics worked out today and tomorrow… I need to get the music to the band for them record the track… week after next maybe? Is that too late?

“Nope, perfect. I was thinking the same. And while the band is working on that we can move on to some other songs, then record the first two while the band works on the next ones.”

“You’re a machine.” Callie was becoming accustomed to his relaxed but no nonsense work ethic.

“On purpose, hon—Callie. Sorry.”

“It’s ok.  I know you’re not being condescending.” She absentmindedly played a short tune on the keyboard and then stopped.

JC's head shot up. “What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing, " she answered quickly.

"Callie. That was awesome. What was it?"

"it's...just something I used to play a lot. Out of habit, my fingers just automatically go there.”

“What song is it?”

“It’s not anything released. I… I wrote it for my dad. He said it was his favorite song. I sang it at his funeral.”

JC slid next to her on the bench, his tone of voice solemn. “I was sorry to hear about your dad. There was a big write-up on him when he passed.”

Callie did a double take, her eyebrows raised. “Yeah, there was. How did you know…?”

“Well, my parents live in Chicago. He was big news up there. That's... kinda how I know about you.”

"Really... wow.  I don’t meet many people who know about Charlie Phelps.”

“I’m a jazz fan, so whenever I’d go see my parents I’d stop in to the Club and see him. He had those magic fingers, flying all over the keyboard.”

Callie laughed and imitated him, playing one of his famous tunes with lighting fast fingers.

JC laughed and gave her a short round of applause. “Yeah, exactly like that. Whenever I try it my fingers end up all tangled together.”

“I can’t do it for more than a few bars.” Callie sighed, playing the tune again, slower and sadder. “I miss him. I tell myself I got into music to honor him and make him proud of me. And then I go out and sing ‘I hate you, I want to cut your dick off’. He so would not approve of the stuff I sing… but it’s what I relate to, right now.”

“And that’s ok. It’s you. Don’t feel bad about being yourself. It’s just that… you should let yourself change and your music should reflect that. Even Alanis and Avril had to let go of the Angry Chick Rock thing, even though it served its purpose, in its time. You see people like Kelly Clarkson mixing a little angry chick with a little sensitive chick with a little strong chick. I think a mix of your uhm… previous sound and these new tunes are gonna totally throw people for a loop. In a good way.”

“Let’s hope.”

“So…left turn… what’s up with Jason? Why are you such a bitch to him?”

“I’m a bitch to everyone," she said, plunking random keys on the keyboard.  "it keeps people away from me."

But he's family," said JC.

Callie's head whipped toward him and her fist slammed down onto the keys. "Jason is NOT my family!  He is my mom’s husband’s son and I'm not impressed with either of them.  Dimwit had been out of Business school a year when I got signed,  and was running a division of his dad’s company. It wasn’t doing too badly, so my mom talked me into hiring him on a short term basis, until I found someone permanent."  She ran her fingers through her hair, her hands shaking. JC sat silently, waiting for her to continue.

"Well, that was six years ago. No one else would put up with me, and Jason... well by now, he knows how to handle me.”

JC tilted his head toward her, as if he was ready to hear a secret. “And how does one ‘handle’ Callie Phelps?”

Callie blushed, laughed, and then admitted, “One ignores her until she stops throwing a temper tantrum. Now you’ve learned a BIG secret.”

“Ah ha. I’ll tuck that away in case I need it.”

“You might," she said, playing with the keyboard again. "I won’t be this nice for much longer. Pretty soon I’m gonna start throwing Diva fits.”

“I thought we were already past that.”

She shook her head violently. “Oh no, no no. I’m even ruder to people I like.”

“Oh, great. So much for getting you to like me.”

Callie stopped playing with the keyboard and smiled at JC. “Now you've gone and done it! ”

Callie flung the door open at the sound of the loud, heavy knock, and was bowled over by the linebacker sized man with a mane of blonde hair and hazel eyes that made young girls swoon.

“Curtis!” she screamed as he lifted her up off of her feet and twirled her around.

“Hey baby. I said I’d come see ya,” he laughed, setting her down.

“I’m so happy to see you! Where’s your bag?”

“Home. I just popped by to see you.”

Callie’s eyes narrowed. “Curt, you're...staying at home? You hate your mom's house.  You usually stay with me.  What’s up with you?  You’re so weird lately.”

Curtis licked his lips and looked nervous. Gesturing toward the couch, he pulled her further into the room. “Uh, Callie. Come here, babe. Sit. Let’s talk.”

“Nuh uh. You’re not gonna call me ’babe’ and then say let’s talk. I don’t want to sit. What?” Callie crossed her arms and stood in front of Curtis, looking up at him, her brow furrowed in anger.

“Uhm, look Cal...” Curtis swayed from foot to foot, and then an indignant expression crossed his face.  “We had a good thing but uhm… I’m just not feeling it anymore. I’ve been kinda seeing someone for a few weeks and we’re really getting along and, uh… I’m gonna give it a go. I’m sorry, it seems like you were right about our schedules and… stuff.”

Callie blinked. “Okay. So, you wasted time and money to fly here to break up with me?”

Curtis’ mouth formed a small ‘O’ and he sucked in a breath. “Well… I didn’t plan on breaking up with you in the first five minutes I saw you…”

Incredulous, Callie gasped, eyes wide and blazing. “You! You! We… you were gonna… and then… UGH! OUT ! FUCKING get OUT!”

Callie tossed the door open and stood next to it, not looking Curtis in the eye, panting in pure anger. Curtis shrugged and sauntered through the open door. “Thanks for the memories, babe.”

“Fuck you,” she said and slammed the door behind him. A framed photo fell off the wall and spun on the floor. Callie breathed heavily, in and out, in and out, trying to process what had just happened. She stood fuming for a few minutes and then, fighting tears, screamed at the closed door,  "I HATE YOU AND I WANT TO CUT YOUR DICK OFF!”

…

 “Ready to work, Callie? We got a lot of stuff to cover, two songs we haven’t even looked at yet.” JC stopped talking and tilted his head at Callie, who was staring off into space.

“Cal? You okay?”

Her head whipped around, her eyes on fire. “Don’t call me that.”

JC jumped back, startled. “Okay. How about I call you honey instead?”

“You are NOT funny. Let’s just do this, okay? I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

JC put down his notes and pen. “Okay. What’s up? I can’t work with you like this. I need you creative. What?”

Callie remained silent for a long moment, looking down at clasped hands. Then, quietly, she said, “I want to pull ‘Let’s Start Over’.”

JC's brow furrowed. She could see him attempt to remain calm. “Pull it? I… we worked hard on that. We go to vocals next week. Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious.  I don’t even want to THINK about that song or what it means, or who it’s for and I don’t need that asshole thinking that song is about him.”

“I’m guessing we’re talking about Curtis.”

Callie lifted her eyes enough to roll them at JC. “Good guess, genius. I told you that song was about Curtis.”

“Well.. but...we changed some of the words so it would be more generic, less specific. It would still be too much for you to sing it?”

Callie huffed. “I don't know how to say this any clearer, JC. I want NOTHING to do with that song!”

“Okay, okay. I don’t want to take it off the schedule yet, but we’ll just move on to the other songs, and if you change your mind, there’s room for it.”

“I won’t.”

“Just… just in case. More for my convenience.”  Callie didn’t answer. JC looked around, uncomfortable.

“I’m gonna grab a cup of coffee. You want some?”

Callie nodded.  He disappeared and reappeared with two steaming mugs. They sipped in silence and JC watched the bands of tension across Callie’s forehead disappear. Her hands stopped shaking and the color returned to her cheeks, the pasty white skin gone.

“This is good. Your mom knows how to pick coffee.”

“Yeah, she does.” More silence followed, nothing but the sounds of sipping.

“Curtis….” Callie started, then cleared her throat. “Curtis came to see me, last week. Between the Toronto and New York tour dates. He flew all the way to Chicago. To come and see me and tell me... that he’s been seeing someone else. And that he was gonna ‘give it a go’. I’ve never…EVER… met more of an egomaniac than Curtis Soul.”

“So, you wouldn’t want him to think you were pining for him with this song or anything.”

“Exactly. That’s why I want to pull the song. I know we put a lot of work into it, and thank you for your ideas on it. I just… I don’t think I could handle that song right now. It’s… it’s really fresh.”

Josh nodded slowly. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

Callie paused and gave JC a sideways glance. “You know that is a dangerous sentence, don’t you?”

Laughing, he nodded again. “I realized that, the second it came out of my mouth. You wanna take your mind off of it? Work on something else?”

“Billable hours,” Callie grumbled, rolling her eyes, but sitting forward.

“Time’s a wastin’!” He set down his mug and picked up his folder. “I took the liberty of going through the rest of the songs we picked, and made some notes; let me know what you think.”

Callie took the folder and flipped through the pages and pages of notes he’d made. He was very… thorough… and exacting. He knew exactly what he was going for and how to bring it across.

She shrugged, closed the folder, and tossed it on the table.  "Not your best work there, Mr Chasez. You've GOT to be kidding me," she spat out.

He stared at her. She stared at him. He stared at her. She broke into a smile and laughed, tapping him lightly on the arm. “You’re no fun to play with. You were supposed to freak out.”

JC flashed a smile at her and shrugged. “I don’t freak out. I was practicing my ‘Callie handling skills’. How’d I do?”

“Terrible. Jason usually does at LEAST a round with me.”

“Well, when I’m not billing for my time, I’ll go a round.”

“Oh, I am looking forward to that. I bet you don’t have a mean bone in your body.”

“You will soon find out. Back to work, Boss. Really. You didn't like any of my ideas?”

“I see a couple that might work. I’m willing to try it your way.”

They bent over the list and worked steadily, building off each other’s ideas and thoughts. Several hours had passed and Callie’s stomach rumbled. She blushed and clutched herself, willing it to go away.

“I’m sorry. I pushed you right through dinner. You wanna...let's take a break, get something to eat? I’m hungry, too.”

She tossed down her pen and pages of song lyrics. “Food. Direct me to it. Now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, climbing the stairs. “What do you feel like eating? Do you care?”

 “Food. No.”

“Alright, your chariot awaits,” he said, opening the passenger door to his car for her. They talked lightly as they rode to a neighborhood diner where JC said he ate often.  They took a booth in the back of the restaurant, away from the patrons and each ordered the special. They continued talking while waiting for their meals, through dinner, and on the ride back.

“Thanks for uhm… listening. Earlier. I hadn’t told anyone,” Callie said, sinking back into the studio couch. “Though, people could probably guess by all the pictures of Curtis tonguing down that skank everywhere. I swear if they could stand still, he had his tongue down her throat.” Callie shivered at the thought.

“No problem. Do you know her?”

Callie shook her head. “Groupie, I'm guessing. He met her in Chicago, though, the last time he came through town. To see me. The comedy writes itself!”

“That’s gotta be tough to deal with.”

“Sort of," she said, picking at a loose thread. "I’m more embarrassed than anything. We were falling apart anyway. The last time we talked, I tried to break up with him and he was all ‘no, no let me come see you’. So then like a moron, I’m all ‘okay, come see me.  Bring your groupie girlfriend who would not give you the time of DAY if you were not Curtis Soul and come break up with me in person’. Why wouldn’t he just let me do it over the phone?”

JC shrugged. “For some guys, they have to do the breaking up. It’s a power thing. And I can tell by looking at Curtis, he likes to have the upper hand. Didn’t you say he like… only talked to you when he felt like it?”

“Yeah. He would hide until he felt he could grace me with the sound of his voice.”

“Why did you put up with that? I would picture Callie Phelps as Supreme Queen Bitch; you WILL treat me right, or hit the DOOR!” He added a finger snap and a head roll that made Callie scream in laughter.

“You. Are a dork!  I do NOT sound like that. It sounds more like a string of filth, and then a door slamming.” She sighed. “I don’t know. I guess, I loved him. Or thought I loved him. I wanted it to work… but… I think the business has gone to both of our heads. I got scared to be without someone so I hung onto him. He now thinks he can have anyone, so he detached himself from me.”

He ran a hand down her arm, grasping her hand. "It’ll be ok. Time marches on, and then you'll look back and think ‘I was a dumbass for missing that guy’. You’ll see.”

Callie took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “You're right... I feel like a dumbass already!”

The sound of JC’s laughter warmed her heart more than she wanted it to. Callie told herself that she was just lonely, and not to give in to random attraction. She had to focus; there was plenty of work to do yet. No need to complicate things. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. JC released her hand and rubbed his together.

“So. Let’s hop on a keyboard and bang something out."

 ...

Hours later, Callie straightened her back, stretching her arms above her head, then brought them down to pull her long hair out the ponytail it had been in all day. Tousling her hair and yawning, she turned to find blue eyes fixed on her. Caught, he looked away and busied himself gathering up the pages that were spread around the studio. Callie smiled to herself. ‘You still got it,’ she thought.

“Uh, so we got a lot done today. We can skip Thursday, if you want. Save you some of your budget.” He offered the option but looked like he didn't really want her to take it.

“I’m not worried about my budget… but if you have something else need to do, there’s no sense in us taking that time slot—“

Flustered, JC stammered,  “Well... I... I mean I always have something else I could do. But, I did set aside that slot for you so… if you want to work, cool. If you had something else you’d rather be doing, like, I dunno watch grass grow, get a root canal, have a mammogram—go for it. “

“Hmmm, all of those options sound like fun but uhm… gosh, I think I am gonna go with working.”

“You sure?”

Callie gave JC a shy smile. “Yeah. I don’t have friends here, really and if I’m not working I’ll just be sitting around eating room service and watching TV. Or yelling at Jason. I’d rather work.”  ‘And see you’, she thought, before she could stop herself.

His eyebrows shot up and a spark flashed in his eyes. “You know what? Let’s take Thursday off, at least a couple hours and go hang out somewhere. You get a day off and don’t take it, that’s a crime in California.”

Callie hesitated. It sounded like fun but an afternoon dodgeing crowds and cameras hadn't sounded like a good time in years. “I can't really... hang out, JC.”

“Sure you can. I’ll come up with something-- I have my ways. Come on, after the Curtis thing and having to spend all these hours with me, you deserve a break.”

“So, as a break I get to spend more hours with you?” Callie let one eyebrow creep up in skepticism before she smiled. “But it sounds fun. Same time?” She picked up her bag and dug through it, searching for her cell phone.

He nodded, hands in his pockets and rolling on his feet from toe to heel, and back to toe. “Yeah. So, you need to call your car? I can take you, if you want. I don’t mind.”

Callie found her phone and took a breath, looking up at him. “I already paid for the return trip. I appreciate it, though.” She offered him a weak smile and dialed the car service. It was a lie, but his friendly nature caught her off guard and made her want to spend time with him. She didn't WANT to want to spend time with him.

...

“What do you mean, staring at you?” Paula asked, chewing into the mouthpiece on the phone.

“Paula, do you MIND? I’m practically eating your chips WITH you.”

“I’m HUNGRY, I’m sorry. It was a long flight and I slept through dinner.” Paula spent one week a month in New York--this was her week in New York and she and Callie did not rondeavu in time for her to stay at the loft, so Callie was at a hotel.  “Anyway. Staring. Describe the staring.”

“Are there different ways of staring? Staring. Looking at me. Not blinking. STARING!”

“But what was his expression? Blank? Was he practically drooling? Were his eyes all the way open? Half closed? Mouth open or closed?’

“What?”

“Tell me, it matters!”

“Uh… expression...I dunno kind of blank. Eyes half open, mouth open, sort of.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmm.” Paula mused.

“Hmmmm what? What does that mean?”

“Me thinks Producer Man has a crush on thee.”

“Oh, stop. There’s a giant leap from looking at me and has a crush on me.”

“Oh, but not just looking. STARING. And the half open eyes, partially open mouth say he was thinking something sinful.”

“You’re making this up.”

“I am. But I still think he’s crushin’ on you.”

“Paula, you should stop watching soaps during the day. You’re FULL of drama.”

“Speaking of drama… why am I staring at pictures of Curtis tonguing down some chick other than you on Page Six?”

“Fuck. It made Page Six?”

“That’s what I’m looking at. You guys are off again?”

“Yeah. He broke it off last week, but he’d already been seeing her for a few weeks. Curtis CANNOT be alone. His girlfriends always overlap. I’m out of that rotation.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really, disbelieving one. Really.”

“Okay. If you say so.” Paula crunched another chip in her ear, then smacked through her next question. “So, Producer Man. How’s it going? You have any faith in him or you dumping him?’

“Not dumping him. Yet. We’ll see what the label says about the first two songs and then we’ll say we have faith in him, but he’s not all that bad to work with. He’s very regimented. We’re definitely on track, I’ll tell you that.”

“Good, very good. I told you. If he’s working with the label he can’t be all that bad.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m tired of listening to your chomping. It’s gross. Oh, by the way. We’re taking a couple hours off Thursday and ‘hangin’ out’. I'll fill you in afterwards. Bye!”

Callie ended the call and laughed. She loved doing that to Paula. The phone rang in her hand a half dozen times and she giggled as it rolled to voicemail again and again. Callie would talk to her AFTER she hung out with JC. 'Till then, she could suffer.

…

“So you got your deal when you were, what, 19?”

JC leaned over the worn, splitting, wood banister that hung over the pond where they stood feeding day old bread to the mama and baby ducks. He dropped a few chunks of bread into the water and smiled as they all swam toward them. Callie tried not to notice how his entire face seemed to smile, not just his mouth. His eyes almost disappeared as his high cheekbones rose even higher, and he had that 'crinkle smile' that reminded her of her dad's earnest grin.

“Yeah. Jive was chomping at the bit since I was 17. Then I graduated and tried to decide if I was gonna go to school, or sign a record deal. I felt like the label was gonna stop asking, so I signed. My mom was practically salivating at the advance I got. She made me sick.”

“Is that why you live in a hotel and not at home?”

“That, and I felt it was ridiculous to spend money on an apartment or a house I’m never in. This way I get my needs met, my place is clean, I can keep people out—namely my family—and I’m not tied down to it forever. I can check out whenever I want. Plus, get peace and quiet. I do my best writing there. It’s so comfortable.”

They divided the rest of the loaf of bread and spread the chunks around the pond. The ducks and fish feasted on the sourdough morsels. JC crumpled the plastic bag that had held the bread and shoved it in his pocket, then nodded his head further down the path.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, watching impromptu football games, couples taking romantic strolls, and dogs running after Frisbees. Callie wore a hoodie over a ball cap pulled low over her eyes. JC, amazingly, was not disguised at all in short sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and didn't seem worried about being recognized.

“So. You never really answered my question—the one I asked you on the first day. Where’ve you been? Last anyone really heard of you, you were backing up Justin Timberlake and singing pop drivel.”

JC stopped and stared at Callie, trying to decide if she was serious. He noticed that small dimple appeared in her left cheek when she was trying not to smile. That dimple was apparent and deep in her cheek, and he shook his head and laughed.

“Almost got me for a minute, there. I wrote some of that drivel, man!”

Callie laughed, unable to hold a serious gaze any longer. “I told you it was coming. I’m a bitch to everyone. So? Answer me, Producer Man!”

“So, I’ve been around," he said, walking on. "Mostly behind the scenes. I like the show. Hate the business. It can really jade you, you know? You sign a deal and you think all your dreams have come true and you get to go out there and just spill your heart and spew everything all over an adoring audience. And then here comes a record rep… ‘JC we want to see this’; ‘JC we want you to do this’; ‘JC we need you to forget anything you thought you knew about what you wanted and sign on to our agenda and make us some money’; ‘JC we need you to go ahead and accept the fact that despite your hard work and talent, we just don’t feel like promoting you… but have ya heard of that Justin Timberlake? Man, he’s awesome isn’t he? We’re spending a lot of money on him, and Weird Al Yankovic’." He laughed a short, bitter, smile-less laugh. 

"Do you know how much it sucks to come behind Weird Al? Not that he's bad or anything but… the guy releases a record every five years that’s basically one long JOKE.”

“I can’t imagine that, but it must be painful.”

“It just doesn’t put me in a hurry to get back in front of the microphone again. And they obviously don't care for me to be, unless I want to give them what they're looking for. Which, I'm no idiot-- they want another Justin. I can do R&B.. I can do pop. It's just... not ALL  I can do and I hate being tied down to one thing.  At least I know I can write, and I’m a fairly competent producer, if I say so myself. I dunno, what do you think? I heard you tossed a chair when they told you I was working with you.”

“I didn’t toss a chair. I kicked a chair. And my initial reaction went something like ‘FUCK NO! NO, tell them NO!’ “

He laughed as she reenacted her tirade.  “And now?”

“Don’t force me to be nice. I have an image to uphold." 

JC laughed but didn't push. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Callie said,  "Ok, a secret… I’m impressed. I like your style.  A lot. I was VERY wrong about you, you're way more versatile than I thought you would be. And you didn’t try to push me in a direction I didn’t want to go. And you like to stay on task. Excellent work ethic. And you serve great coffee. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Right, got it. And if anyone asks, you’re impossible to work with. No talent whatsoever, needed your hand held, and threw a lot of fits.”

“Try to use the word DIVA a lot. I love when I get called that, just because I have an opinion.”

“And curse like a sailor.”

“You can thank Charlie Phelps for that. He had a serious mouth on him. I’m tame in comparison.”

“You’re tame in comparison to a lot of people, actually. I heard Gwen Stefani would make a trucker blush.”

Callie grinned ear to ear. “I love her. She’s my idol.”

“Maybe you two can meet and curse at each other all day.”

“Okay, so you don’t curse?”

“Oh no, I do. Often. It’s just different coming out of…” his voice trailed off as he continued walking down the path.

“Coming out of what? A woman? Sexist.” She smacked him on the arm and he feigned pain.

“Ow! I wasn’t gonna say that. Exactly.”

“What, exactly, were you gonna say, then?”

JC walked in silence, smiling to himself. He liked to keep her guessing.

“Hey! Producer Man! Answer me!”

“My name is JC. Or Josh.”

“Whatever. Answer me. JOSH.”

He stopped and faced Callie, smiling slightly. “I was going to say, Bossy, that it seemed different coming out of a mouth so pretty. So there.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows and turned away from her to keep walking.

Callie stood speechless, and much to her dislike, blushed. She blinked and regained her composure, catching up to him and muttering, “Just like a man to try and get one over by going straight to the physical. I’m smart, too.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are. I never said I thought you were dumb.”

“Good. Because I’m not.  I got a scholarship, you know.”

“Full ride. I know all about you, Callie.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Creepy, JC.”

“The internet is a bitch,” he said, glancing over at her. “So, why choose this when you could have sailed through college? Because of your dad?”

“That, and like I told you, my mom was chomping at the bit over my advance. My dad had life insurance but it wasn’t much. She blew through that fat check pretty quickly. Married her worthless husband soon after she spent the last dime. Moved him and his spineless son into the house my dad built. That’s why I moved when I could, and don’t live at home.  I could have gone to college-- but how was I gonna get out there? What was I gonna do while I sat in classes and imagined playing piano and guitar and singing and writing songs and performing for huge crowds? I know now that I'd have been distracted, and felt like I missed out on a calling.

"My mom was kind of in a bad way and her husband is no better. While I was away at school, the house would have been foreclosed on, the cars repossessed. She'd have gone to court for not paying credit card bills. Jive came calling one last time and I took the deal, to bail her out. I felt… feel… a lot of pressure to provide for her. She's all I have. I love her... but I can’t stand her. She wanted me to hire Jason so I couldn't hide anything about my career from her. Every time something changes with my contract or I start a new album, or the label has a concern, Jason runs his mouth and she gets nervous.  I fund her lifestyle. It makes me sick but… what do I do? If I fail--if this album flops--I get dropped and we all go in the poorhouse, living off of… HIM. I can’t do that, JC. I just can’t. If Jive doesn’t like these songs we’re working on… I don’t care how much I like you as a Producer; I have to go someplace else.”

“I totally understand that. Totally. The more I hear from new artists about the pressures from family, the more I realize I have it pretty good. My parents will take gifts but not money. If I can support myself, they’re happy.”

"I imagine it made it so much easier to tell Jive to fuck off. You don’t have anyone hanging off of you.”

“True. They supported me, whatever I wanted to do. Either way, they’re behind me.”

“You would hear my mom screaming from here if I told her I was leaving the label. And Jason, too. He’s making a lot of money off of me.”

“Can I… overstep my bounds a little?” JC stopped and faced her, hands in his pockets.

Callie shook her head. “You don’t ASK if you can be rude. You just go for it.”

“You gotta drop the dead weight. If you’re doing music for the money, to pay the bills—doing what the label wants because you’re scared of being dropped—personally, those are horrible reasons to stay in this business. I wouldn’t get eaten up for that... you could get a job at JC Penney to pay the bills." 

Callie looked away, knowing he was right, feeling trapped nonetheless. 

JC continued, "You know what makes this worth it all? At the end of the day, I have something I am proud of. Everyone else might hate it, but I’m proud of it. You have to enjoy what you’re doing, and find something it does for YOU. Otherwise… it’s a waste of your time, my time, and their money.”

Callie bowed her head, the conversation becoming a little too personal, and her wall coming down a little too far, too fast. “Yeah, well. Easier said than done,” she snapped, and walked on.

It seemed quite unnecessary now, though. JC knew where he could go and not be bothered. Maybe no one cared who he was… but no one bothered her either, even after she lowered her hoodie and removed her ball cap and sunglasses. JC picked on her and said she “looked like the UnaBomber with all that shit on.”

Callie didn’t quite know what to make of JC. She’d have to be dead to not think he was handsome, but he was hard to read, and not that she was or had time to be interested. From the start of her career, Callie had become sensitive to people trying to get close to her because they thought they’d receive benefits of being her friend. All of her old girlfriends had fallen away after realizing they weren’t all getting cars and jewelry from Callie now that she’d hit it big. Anyone new who came into her life received the cold shoulder until they more than proved they were after more than being able to say they know her.

JC was obviously looking for a career-boosting hit—but unlike her other hangers-on, he was helping her create one. He hadn’t asked her for a thing except for her to dig into her craft and create something that made her happy, meant something to her. JC seemed laid back, unassuming, a hard worker and very likeable. So damned likeable that it unnerved Callie. She was used to her brazen attitude keeping people at arm’s length. That meant she didn’t have to waste her time with fake people and those who were out for themselves. JC seemed to completely ignore the arm, and Callie had unknowingly let him in closer than she’d let anyone in a long time.

“You in there, somewhere?” JC was snapping his fingers in front of her face. Callie blinked and looked down at the song they’d returned to his house to work on. She’d been daydreaming about performing it for a sold out crowd, and they were loving it!

“Yeah. Sorry. I was thinking about this song, actually. What’d you ask?”

“This part… could go one of two ways. Both sound good, I think, so you pick. Follow your heart.” He pointed at two separate sheets of music, and Callie looked from one to the other, quickly singing the part in her head a few times.

“Let me ask you something,” she said, setting the pages down. “Which do you like better?”

JC saw where she was going and shook his head, grinning at her. “This isn’t MY song. It’s yours.”

“I know. I just want to see if we’re on the same wavelength.”

“Uh uh. Pick. PICK, woman!”

Callie sighed. “Fucker. Two.”

“Two it is. I liked that one, too. We should go TO the store.” He laughed at his own joke for way too long, and then played the part including the variation they’d just chosen. “And your opinion now, is…?”

Callie shrugged, trying not to smile. “Your jokes aren’t funny. The song is alright.”

JC stared and sighed. “Okay. Completely ignoring the fact my joke AND that change rocked your face off, I am calling the verses done. You want to call it a night? It’s pretty late.”

“Are you tired?” ‘Please say no.’

“Nope. This is primetime for me. But, I don’t want to run you into the ground or anything. I can go forever.”

“I’m ok, for now. I don’t want to know what time it is, though. We’re almost done. It’ll be harder to pick this back up another day.”

“I agree. Moving on!” he declared, dropping his pen and reaching behind him for another sheet of paper. Callie found herself staring at his back and admiring how his shirt stretched across it as his muscles ripped beneath it. Why he chose to hide what looked to be an amazing upper body she could not understand and was afraid to ask. If she had the female equivalent, Jason would have to tie her down and have clothes glued onto her.

He dumped a pile of pages in her lap, muttering something about the bridge, and digging through another stack in front of him.

“It’s here, I have it,” Callie said, tapping him on the arm.

“I knew it was somewhere. Sorry, I’m not usually so disorganized. I pulled it out because I had an idea and I wanted to focus on it. Tell me what you think about…”

What seemed like mere moments, but must have been hours later, Callie glanced toward the door of the studio and thought she saw sunlight. She stood and poked her head around the door and looked up the stairs—sure enough, red bands of sun were streaking through Josh’s living room and painting a bright glow down the stairs.

“We totally pulled an all-nighter,” she said, starting to yawn. “See? I can’t know what time it is, I’m automatically tired when I find out it’s late.”

“That’s what I like about being down here but it does sort of throw your clock off. Good you didn’t know it was late. We finished your song and solved world peace!” JC grinned and stretched his arms above his head. Callie couldn’t decide if she should stare at his arms or the small band of flesh that showed as his t-shirt rode up. She was driving herself mad and decided to stare at neither. She’d be pissed if he was staring at her the way she wanted to stare at him.

“I’m happy with the song, but I want to hold off on it for a day. Sleep on it. Is that ok?”

“You’re the boss. Just know that we probably need to get it to the band like next week so we need to do sheet music.”

She threw up her hands to tell him she wasn’t protesting, then picked up her bag and tossed it over her shoulder. “I know, I know. I’m gonna hit the road and get some sleep. Thanks, for… yesterday. It was a lot of fun.”

“You’re welcome. I had a good time, too,” he said, walking with her up the stairs and to the door.

“So… I’ll see you…” Callie hesitated. They had a session scheduled for next week, but sort of hoped she would not have to wait until then to see him.

“Uhm… you’re in town for awhile, right?” She nodded.

“Well, why I don’t I give you a call… it’ll be late, but maybe we can do something tonight. Or tomorrow. I have some studio time scheduled today and sometime tomorrow but I should finish up pretty early. I know you said you don’t have many friends here and it’s not like you can just… go out. I’d hate for you to be holed up in your room until Tuesday. “

“Well, Paula will be back Sunday,” Callie said, willing herself to shut up. “But,”she added quickly, “she’s usually beat from the flight from New York, so… yeah if you want to hang out, let me know. I’ll be in and out on some interviews and stuff but for the most part I should be free.”

JC smiled warmly and reached to open the door. “Cool. I’ll definitely call you. And you can always call me if you’re like… going nuts. You can… hang out or whatever. Seriously.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. Get some good sleep,” she said, stepping outside of the house. A brief but unmistakable ‘snap’ caught her attention and a car squealed as it drove off.

“You’ve GOT to be fucking kidding me.”

“What was that?” he asked, stepping outside.

“I think it was a photog.”

“Oh, awesome. This is gonna look great in the blogs. You better call Jason. I need to call Eric.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, drive safe,” he said, distracted and already dialing. Callie followed suit as she stepped into the rental that Jason had arranged for her.

Jason picked up after three rings and sleepily answered. “Holy fuck. What are you doing up and why are you calling me?”

“Time for you to earn your paycheck. I pulled an all night session with JC, just now leaving. A photog was sitting outside the house. It totally looks like we spent the night together.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Jason asked, still groggy.

“I want you to act like my manager and make sure nothing damaging gets printed! I’m a bitch, not a slut. Keep it that way!” She slammed her finger down on the ‘end’ button and tossed the phone into her bag. She needed to concentrate while she drove in LA and yelling at Jason would be distracting.

…

“I’m not talking to you.” Callie would believe Paula was genuinely hurt if she believed anything ever genuinely hurt her.

“Whatever. You wanna hear about what we did, or not?”

“Did you fuck him?”

Callie gasped, then laughed. “PAULA!”

“Ooh, defensive. Did you?”

“No. Why am I friends with you? Delusional bitch.”

“Seriously, did you?”

“Seriously, NO!”

“Then I don’t care what you did. Do you WANT to fuck him?”

“Paula. “

“God, you’re boring. That guy is sex on a stick. I’d do him in a second.”

“You’re welcome to him,” Callie laughed. “Like he’s mine to give away.”

“Dear heart, when I think of me, late 30’s, size 8, which is fucking plus size in LA, and you, with all that… hair, and those… eyes and that body, and your snappy attitude, I think I know which gal he’d rather wake up next to.”

Callie cackled in response. “Anyway. How’s New York?”

“Rude and cold. I love it here. Why’d I move away?”

“More work in LA? Beautiful brand new loft you didn’t pay $12 million for? Warm weather? Stop me anytime.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m too old for this shit. So what’s on your plate this weekend? Certainly not sitting in that room.”

“Ah, I got some interviews to do, some mail to answer, some appearances to make but most of it, yeah… sitting in this room. And I might hang out with JC sometime. Just to get out of here.”

“Oh really… hmmm. Can we go back to the ‘do you want to fuck him’ question?”

“Paula, please stop. I have to think of him as a business partner right now. Don’t make me think of him differently.”

“You can’t think of him as a business partner and then ‘hang out’ with him, Callie. Don’t bullshit me. I’ve been around that block twice.”

Callie fell silent.

“Fine, don’t answer me. I’ll drop it, not because I’m beat, but because a client just buzzed up. We’ll continue this conversation later. Bye.” A click in her ear ended the call and Callie hung up.

‘The question isn’t do I want to fuck him,’ Callie thought, sliding under the covers. ‘It’s if I WANT to want to fuck him. And I don’t. It can’t happen. End of story.’ She closed her eyes and rolled over, her nose brushing against the t-shirt she hadn’t changed out of. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the weave of the fabric.

“Fuck,” she growled, sitting up and pulling the t-shirt off, then collapsing against the pillows.

…

“We have the amazing Callie Phelps here, ready to sign anything you put in front of her, so come on out and see us! You can also pick up the new CD by ‘Soul Train’, that one hit #1 this week! Callie, you’ve got to be excited about your man at #1!”

‘Oh this is rich. RICH. The POPE knows Curtis and I aren’t dating, so I’m sure this guy knows. He just wants to hear me say it.’

“Well, I’m sure Curtis and the guys are excited. ‘Soul Train’ put a lot of work into this record, and they’ve been touring nonstop for a few months, so I haven’t actually seen him in awhile. But really, who wouldn’t be excited about being at the top spot? I’m proud of him.”

“There’s a huge rumor going around that you guys aren’t together anymore, truth to that?”

‘Fucker.’

“I like to keep my business to myself and I don’t usually respond to rumors. Whether Curtis and I are dating is between Curtis and I and has always been between Curtis and I. I am proud of him, though, no matter what. It’s something we all want for ourselves, so how can we down another musician who’s able to achieve that?”

“Well, there we go. No definitive answer, but I’m gonna go with breakup for $500. We’ll be right back after this break. Come buy some music and meet Callie Phelps!”

The DJ removed his headphones and handed his mic to an assistant.

Callie gripped his arm and didn't let go. Wide eyed, he stared at Callie as she hissed. “One more question about Curtis and I’m walking out. I’m not kidding. We clear?”

The young man turned crimson and stuttered. “Uh uh uh, sorry, I-I-I was told to-“

“Ask until you get an answer, I know. You can tell that asshole Mark Bonham- he’s your PD right?” He nodded. “Tell Mark he’s a sleazebag, and Callie sends her love. And that he can tell Curtis that Callie said ‘Fuck You’. I mean it, one more and I’m gone.”

“Okay. Okay. No more. We have another break in ten minutes and…” he pointed at several girls standing around with pens and paper. Callie put on the smile she reserved for fans and waived them over, signing everything put in front of her, taking pictures and giving hugs.

“So, how’d it go?” Jason asked, chewing in her ear.

“Why do I know people who can’t talk on the phone without eating? Call me when you’re done masticating in a gross manner.” Callie hung up and the phone rang again in a few minutes.

“Fine, I’m done eating. How’d it go?”

“About as we expected. Two Curtis questions before I threatened to cut his balls off. I sent him back with a message to Mark, who was to send a message to Curtis.”

“Evil. I’m sure Curt will love knowing he got a rise out of you.”

“Six of one, half dozen of the other,” Callie said, navigating the LA side streets, looking for the cross street that would take her to West Hollywood. “How did it sound?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.”

“What good are you?”

“It’s not in my contract to bow at your feet, Callie. You didn’t want me to come, so I didn’t. I was supposed to listen to some boring remote broadcast instead of going to the skate park?”

“You’re too old for that shit. You’re gonna break a leg. And then who’s gonna manage me?”

“I could manage you with my eyes closed, Callie. All I have to do is say your name and people go ‘oh yes sir!’” Jason laughed like a fourteen year old and Callie rolled her eyes, turning onto the street she was looking for.

“Gross. Well. I’m off for the night, so don’t call me.”

“Wait! Where you going?”

“None of your business.”

Callie parked behind several cars pouring out of JC’s driveway and climbed the hill toward the house. She could hear laughter and music from her car, the sound growing louder the closer she got. The garage door was open and she could see people milling about the backyard, talking and laughing. She walked through the garage, past the two cars parked there, and out to the well lit back patio. The pool glimmered in the evening light and small groups of men and women were scattered about the area.

“Hey,” she heard from behind her. She turned to find a tall, stocky but not heavy man with blonde hair and a friendly face.

“Hey.”

“You’re Callie. JC said you were stopping by. Come on through,” he said taking her hand and leading her through the patio area into the house from the backdoor.

“Josh! Callie’s here!” Tyler yelled, then pushed her inside and closed the door. A group of people were inside, lounging on couches and chairs, some on the floor laying on pillows. A few were playing a video game, the rest were watching, talking, or listening to the music playing overhead. No one seemed to notice that she’d walked in.

“You made it, awesome!” JC said, coming from around the corner. “You want something to drink? How’d your radio… thing… go today?”

“Uhm. Fine, it went fine. Yeah I’ll have… a beer. I guess,” she answered. “Who… who are all these people?”

“My friends, Tyler’s friends, friends of friends.”

“Who’s Josh?”

“Me. My name is Josh. It’s… a long story. Look it up on the internet. I’ll quiz ya Tuesday. Come get your beer,” he said, leading her through the house to the kitchen and plucking a cold bottle out of the fridge.

“You’re getting the good stuff so don’t walk outta here with that. They’ll all want to know if they can have one, and NO!”

She winked and held the bottle out for him to open it, taking a sip after he did. “So, just as I thought, the DJ was all over the Curtis question.”

“Yeah? How’d you answer it?” JC sat on the counter, opening a beer for himself.

“Oh the typical ‘I’m proud, they worked hard, good for them’, bullshit. Then he asked AGAIN, like he just wanted me to SAY Curt and I broke up. So I had to go hardline on him.”

“I don’t talk about my personal life.”

“Exactly.  It’s not like I’m crying in my beer over here, but we did JUST break up. Maybe I can’t talk about it yet. I know what it is. Curtis is friends with the PD over there, Mark. Mark is a whore for ratings, so that situation has all the makings of Mark telling his DJ to ‘ask till he gets an answer, don’t let up, make her say it’. Fucker.”

JC laughed, then pointed at her still full bottle. “Have another sip. And keep sipping until you’re not so worked up about it, ‘K? Curtis is not worth all that.”

“I know. Maybe I can get slightly drunk and write a good song about it.”

“Maybe. It could be your first country hit.”

Callie started signing in a heavy western twang, “We broke up… You won’t shut up... Let me go… Cause I said so… Stop asking them… if I miss you… if I missed you… I’d… I’d…hmmm…yeah I got nothin’.”

JC laughed. “Maybe country is not your style.”

“I’m gonna stick with what I know.”

“Good look. Come meet some of my friends. They’re weirder than I am. Fair warning.”

Callie gave up trying to remember names after the twelfth person she’d met. She was just going to call them ‘that one girl in the blue hat’. It’s not like she was going to see these people often—or again. She was hanging out to pass the time, not make lifelong friends.

She, JC, and a few other people were caught up in a random conversation until the wee hours of the morning. Most of Tyler’s friends had followed him out when he left for a club and the remaining stragglers had left one by one soon after. Callie looked around to the mess in the yard and the house and was disgusted. This was the reason she never invited anyone to her place—she couldn’t stand what pigs people could be and how they mistreated other people’s things. Her mom’s husband was a pig du jour and she couldn’t even stand to go home. She shivered at the memory of her last visit.

“No way you’re cold. It’s so warm out here,” JC said poking her.

“No, I was looking at this mess. Your friends are pigs.”

He sat up and looked around. “Yeah, that happens. It won’t take long to clean up. It’s just garbage. If I had to choose between clean friends who never came over or pigs who stopped by a lot to hang out with me… well it’s obvious which ones I choose.”

“Completely,” Callie said, draining her cup.

“So… you have friends at home, right? None of them ever come out, even for a weekend?”

“I really only have a couple of friends. Paula, who I met ages ago. She knew my dad. And this one girl I haven’t even really talked to in awhile. She lives in Chicago, but she’s just never around when I’m home. Or she doesn’t want to talk to me or hang out with me.”

“Why would someone not want to hang out with you?”

Callie turned to look at JC, staring him in the eye.

“What? It’s an honest question.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but I’m kind of a bitch.”

“The word is DIVA. You’re so not,” JC said, waving her off.

“You don’t think I’m bitchy?”

JC shrugged. “What do you want me to say? Yeah, you’re a raging bitch. I still hang out with you. That’s no excuse. People just have to understand where you’re coming from and like… get you.”

“And you… get me?”

“No. But I’m on my way. And in the meantime, I don’t mind figuring you out.”

“I don’t want you to figure me out, JC. I want you to produce my album and help me hit number one. That’s all I want from you.”

“And you’ll get that. To the best of my ability. But you wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t want more than that.”

Callie snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not talking about THAT-- I’m just saying—I think you want me to understand you, to know … like I said… where you’re coming from. You want me to like you. “

“Whatever, Dr Freud. Let me know when you’re done with your analysis of Callie Phelps. You want some help cleaning up? It’s getting under my skin. I won’t be able to sleep knowing you have to clean this up.”

JC held up a finger and grinned. “See. You’re not a bitch. You’re a nice person. Just to the right people.”

“Shut. Up. Get up and help me.” Callie stood and offered a hand to help him up from his chair.

“Spoke too soon.”

It took an hour but finally, Callie could relax. She tied the last bag closed and left it in the kitchen for JC to take out to the garbage can.

“I don’t believe you made me clean my own house. That’s what I have lackeys for,” he said, mimicking her.

“Unlike Jason, your lackeys probably have a backbone.”

“I think Jason has plenty of backbone.”

“You think? Why do you say that?”

“He still works for you, right?”

“So?’

“So a wimp would have quit a long time ago. Jason’s plenty strong. He knows exactly what you need and what you want and he gets his point across. He’s not afraid to throw his weight around on your behalf… so says Eric. That guy’s got plenty of backbone. You underestimate him.”

“Maybe. I just… I guess I feel like he got pushed into doing this. I don’t think this is what he WANTS to be doing with his life, but instead of standing up for himself, he’s a good boy and does what he’s told. He’s never once stood up to his father or my mother. They push a little bit and every morsel spills out.”

“You never know. Maybe this isn’t what he started out to do, but he’s not horrible at it. I mean he doesn’t have you showing up for stuff on the wrong day, or late for engagements, does he? He’s not bilking you out of millions. You hope.”

Callie paused, her head tilted. “Are you always this optimistic?”

“Kinda,” he said, grinning.

“Damn, that’s annoying. I’m leaving. I want to hit Melrose tomorrow. “

“I’ll walk you to your car. It’s kinda dark out there.”

Side by side, they slowly picked their way down the hill to Callie’s car. The night air was soundless except for their footsteps and crickets.

“Thanks for inviting me over. I’m sure I’d have been on my second banana split by now if I was in my room.”

“I’m glad you came over. Really. And I’m glad I could feed you alcohol instead. Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah. I didn’t drink much. I’m kind of scared to drive in LA so I didn’t want to get too drunk.”

“Cool. Cause you can stay if you don’t think you’re okay to drive, really.” They reached her car and he stood next to her on the driver’s side. She pressed the button to unlock the door.

“Stop, JC. I’m fine. Thanks though.” She leaned over to give him a quick squeeze, and then ducked inside the car. ‘Why did I do that? Callie, I swear to God…’

JC tapped on the window. Callie started the car and pressed the button, the window sliding down with a loud squeak. “I clearly have a high class vehicle here. I’m also turning in this piece of shit tomorrow and getting another car. What?”

“Drive safe,” JC said softly.

“I will,” she answered after a moment.

“Uhm. My session got canceled tomorrow. I was gonna… waste time working on my record but… do you want company tomorrow?”

Callie’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted to be alone. Part of her longed to hang out with him again. The lonely part of her won.

“Uh, sure if you want. You don’t have to, I’ll be ok by myself.”

“You’re more than ok by yourself. I asked if you wanted company.”

“Yes. I want company. Fucker.”

“Meet me here tomorrow at 11. We’ll take my car. This is a piece of shit. I consider that a term of endearment, you know,” he called, walking back up the hill.

“What?”

“Fucker. I call all my friends that. So thanks!” he laughed as he turned and walked back toward the house.

“I want to hear nothing else of hotel staying. It’s just ridiculous, expensive, and not homey at all. Now you can stay here whenever you want.” She tossed a brand new set of sheets at Callie, still in the package.

“Wash those and put them on the bed. They’re DIVINE. I got them in New York, insane thread count, so comfy. Ok. So.” Paula took a seat in the plush chair in the corner of the room while Callie unpacked.

“Talk. You know what I want to know and don’t be shy.” Paula laid on hand over the other on her knees and her expression was expectant.

“There’s nothing to tell, Paula.”

She huffed. “I don’t want to hear that bullshit. Come on, out with it.”

Callie turned around, a shy smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Well. He IS cute. Very cute. And very nice. TOO nice. The kind of nice where you don’t notice that he’s been asking questions and you’ve been answering them. He might know more about me than Curtis knows.”

Callie shrugged, and returned to unpacking. “But, there’s really nothing happening with him. He works hard. He’s very talented. I like his style and he’s bringing out a different side of me. We’ll see if Jive agrees when we meet with them.”

“You can seriously keep your hands off of him?”

“Yes, I manage to not jump him, Paula.” Callie turned around and grinned. “And it’s hard work, too. Did I mention he was cute? His arms are… oh my God. I can’t talk about this, I’m gonna start gushing and I hate when I do that.”

“Tell me! You’ve touched them!” Paula brought a hand to her lips and her eyebrows rose. She was ever the drama queen.

Callie shook her head. “You are too old to be acting like this. Yes, I’ve touched them. They’re amazing. He gave me a hug when I left his house yesterday. He’s just a beautiful man. But really… there’s nothing going on. Outside of him staring that one night, he doesn’t seem to be like… interested.”

“That’s nonsense. You’re hot, you’re young, and you’re single. What’s to not be interested in?”

Callie shrugged again and emptied her suitcase, then removed the sheets from their package. “Oooooohhhh. Big pimpin’. These ARE soft. I’d have bought you sheets, Paula.”

“I know you would have. But I can buy my own sheets. You have more than enough things to worry about than the sheets on my bed. But thanks.”

Suddenly tired, Callie sank onto the firm King Size mattress.

“You okay?”

Callie leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, dropping her head so it was nearly between her legs. Her voice was muffled as she spoke.

“It just doesn’t get any easier. Every year that passes I think I’m gonna hit some sort of big… mark in my career that will make me say ‘Yeah, Daddy would be proud of this.’ But every year, I feel like I’ve sunk lower and lower. I enjoy it less and less. I feel trapped and no matter what I do, I can’t escape it. And it’s 11 years today and I can’t even go visit his grave. I bet my mom won’t go up there.”

Paula got up and sat next to Callie on the bed, offering her hand. Callie took it and sighed heavily.

“I miss him, too. I miss being out on that stage with him, trying to keep up with him. Kids today think they know what show business is all about—Jive has you running here and there doing radio interviews and mall spots and award shows and call it work. No, no. Working was 8 shows a week. In heels. And a short dress. In a smoky club—“

“And better not complain!” Callie finished, laughing.

“Yeah you heard that a time or two, I know. Ah, Charlie. He was quite the character. And it was just so odd… one night he was there and he was on FIRE. Fingers flying, voice floating out over the speakers, full of energy. He was ON. And then the next day I got that phone call. It still doesn’t seem real. Every time I go home, I drive by the Club and expect to see his name on the Marquee—‘Come sit with Charlie, Thursdays Fridays, and Saturdays, 8 & 10pm’.”

“Time flies, huh?”

“It does. But Callie… and I tell you this all the time… Charlie was very proud of his little girl. Very. You could tap dance around crackers on the kitchen floor and he would beam as if you won a Grammy. What needs to happen is that YOU need to be proud of what you do, of what you write, of what you sing and YOU need to get out from under everything OVER you. Why you continue to fund Julia and James’ lifestyle, and employ a member of the family—well don’t ask ME to explain it. You’re being used, and you know it, and you’re pissed about it and do nothing. Charlie wouldn’t be proud of that.”

Callie released Paula’s hand and stood, gathering up the sheets to wash them.

“Times, they are gonna be changin’ Paula. I feel it in my bones. Something has to change.”

…

“You’re wasting my time, Producer Man. Billable hours!” Callie pointed at her wrist and tapped it.

JC nudged her with his elbow. “You didn’t look it up, did you?”

Callie blushed. “I…. did look it up, actually. I just don’t CARE. Can we work? Sheet music. C’mon.”

“I’m gonna assume you don’t know, if you don’t tell me and then I’m gonna have to tell the story, and you know I can’t tell a story in under an hour—“

“Ok, ok! Good LORD you’re annoying!” Callie sighed, and rolled her eyes, but was smiling. “There was already a Josh on the Mickey Mouse club, so in order for people to not confuse the two of you, you were called JC. It stuck. FOREVER. The end.”

JC gave her a sarcastic round of applause. “Good job! Was that so hard?”

“Ugh, it was such hard work, pressing the buttons on the computer on my own. I need to get a lackey for that.”

“Smart. Ass.”

“You know it. So you have homework, now.”

JC rolled his eyes and grinned. “Oh, here we go. What?”

“My real first name is not Callie. Find out what it is. By Thursday. Can we work now?” She lifted the lid on the piano and tapped out the intro to one of the songs they were working on.

His grin turned smug and he chuckled slightly. “Calpernia Joy Phelps. Is your name. Do I get extra credit?”

Her jaw dropped as she laughed. “For being a dork? That is SCARY!”

“No, what is scary, is having Calpernia for a first name. Ok?”

“My dad loves my name. Hush, Joshua Scott. Work? Billable hours? Producer Man?”

“Fine. We can work, now. Calpernia.”

Callie eyebrows shot up. “If you cherish all of the fingers on each of your hands, I sincerely encourage you to STOP calling me that. I’m serious. Promise me, JC. Please? I hate it.”

“I promise. I’m sorry. Let’s get to work. So… uhm. I got this back, today.” JC handed her a disc. She knew what it was without even looking at it – it was the background for ‘Let’s Start Over’, ready for her to record her vocals and then to be mixed.

Callie sighed, turning the thin disc over and over in her hands.  A few weeks had passed and the pain and embarrassment of the breakup were not so palpable, but she still didn’t feel like she could do the song justice, and not with Curtis planting people in her path to get her to admit to the press that they’d split. He would see it as she did not intend it, as a plea for him to come back. She hadn’t actually thought of him in days and wanted to keep it that way.

She handed it back to JC. “We can table this, right? For now? I’m just not ready to work on that one. I don’t know that I will be, anytime soon.”

“I didn’t think you would be, but I had to present the option to you, since it was done. This puts us behind, though so let’s work on the other ones so they can get them this week.”

The pair worked a very long, very hard day and well into the night. By the time Callie was pulling out of the driveway, the sun was peeking up over the horizon, but another song was complete and ready for the Music Director to look at and work with the band. The following day, she and JC would sit in on a rehearsal and listen to ideas while they ran through it for the first time.

Callie caught a few hours of sleep but was back up again before 10am. Head in palms, elbows on table, she stared at bland plate holding a slice of toast with peanut butter smeared across it. Paula’s slippers slap- slapped against the wood floors as she walked in from her den.

“You look like shit. Are you getting sick?”

“No. Just tired. We worked, all day yesterday. Like the sun was coming up when I left. That thing you say about kids not knowing what work is? Fuck You. I’m tired from SOMETHING and it’s not playing.”

Paula giggled and leaned against the counter, waiting for a new pot of coffee to stop dripping. “Producer Man is a slave driver, it seems. Good for him.”

Callie gave her a dirty look and flipped her off, then got up from the table and headed to the shower.

“You want your toast?” she called. Receiving no answer, she grabbed the slice and took a bite, then a sip of piping hot coffee. “She can make another piece,” she said, mouth full of peanut butter and coffee.

…

“Oh my God. Okay. No more all nighters. I’m sorry. You look like shit.” JC sat next to her in the empty rehearsal hall and gave her leg a pat. How he was bright eyed and smiling, even, was beyond her.

Callie glanced over at JC, slowly raised her fist to eye level and lifted her middle finger, then slowly lowered her hand and faced forward again. JC found this entire episode very amusing, but showed some sympathy and offered to get her a cup of coffee.

“Jason is bringing me a VAT of coffee. And a MAC TRUCK of donuts. This is gonna be a long day.”

“But fun, I can’t wait.”

Callie again turned her head in JC’s direction, a vein in her head throbbing. “JC?” she said quietly.

“Yeah.” He leaned in close.

“Can you turn your damn optimism down... just a little bit? It’s really bright and shiny and annoying today.”

JC hid a girn and nodded. “Sorry, it only comes in one volume. You’re not excited to hear your words come to life?”

“Yeah. Deep down. WAY down. But I’m cool and I don’t show it. Smooth,” she said, holding out her hand and imitating a smooth, straight line.

JC shrugged. “I’ll be excited for the both of us, ok?”

“Yeah you do that. I’ll catch up. Here’s Jason.”

Jason handed Callie the largest cup of coffee he could find and a bag from Dunkin Donuts.

“You look like shit. You get any sleep?”

Callie looked from JC to Jason and shook her head. “It’s no wonder neither of you have girlfriends. You’re so smooth. You don’t tell a girl she looks like shit. I always resemble a rare flower. Got it? Flower.”

Both men nodded and tried not to laugh. “Flower," said JC.  "Yes, Callie,” said Jason.

“Fuck you both,” said Callie, and stole away with her donuts and coffee.

Callie’s Music Director had been with her since the beginning. He’d worked with her dad a few times and when she called him six years ago, he jumped at the chance to help her career along and he’d been around ever since. Brian knew her better than she knew herself, and was always pushing her to do something different. He was happy to see someone else in the mix—and had LOVED ‘Let’s Start Over’. He was anxious to see what else was coming up.

JC and Brian were like two peas in a pod in short order. Callie sat between them and watched ideas volley back and forth, trying to keep up and retain what she actually thought she could pull off well. They met for a few hours with Brian and then the band started showing up for rehearsal, so JC and Callie sat and watched him go over the parts with each section.

“They pick things up super fast,” JC said, bobbing his head to the beat.

“Yeah they are really good. Which is great because I’m always behind.”

“You wanna hop up there and belt out a line or two? See how it sounds?”

“Let them get through it one time, first, JC.”

He turned to glance at her, surprised. “You scared to sing in front of me?”

Her brow furrowed, as if his question was ridiculous. “No. Scared of sounding like shit in front of you though. I’m not ready.”

“You’ll never be ready if you wait for it to be perfect. Hey, Brian,“ JC called. “Don’t you think Callie should try out a couple verses, see how it sounds?”

“Absolutely. Come on, baby. Clear out those pipes.”

“I hate you,” she muttered, setting down her coffee and trudging to the center, near the piano.

“From the top,” ordered Brian, and the band struck the beginning chords that Callie could play in her sleep by that point. From somewhere, her smoky, sultry voice appeared and rang out over the music through the first verse and chorus. The second verse was more of the same and the band hadn’t learned the bridge yet. Callie glanced over at Brian as the music faded, and he nodded, satisfied.

“Happy?” she asked, as she took her seat next to JC again.

“Very,” he said. “You have an amazing voice. I hear so much of your dad in you. Even when you rock out, it’s jazzy. It’s awesome how it blends.”

“Don’t suck up to me, JC.”

He paused for a beat. “I’m not. I’m totally serious.”

Callie tucked an errant hair behind her ear, embarassed. “Ok. Thanks. He’s my dad, of course I sound like him. You want a cookie for your amazing revelation?”

“You never came through on the last cookie you promised me.”

Her head whipped around to glare at JC. He had his arms spread out across the backs of  their chairs and he was very nonchalant. He gave her a large goofy grin and went back to bobbing his head to the music.

Callie bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from laughing. ‘How was he not offended by that? I’m such a bitch to him and doesn’t take the bait, ever! Fucker. Wait. That’s a good thing. So what do people call him when they hate him?’

“Callie? You in there?” JC waved a hand in front of her. She smacked it away.

“What?!”

He pointed toward the stage, “Brian’s trying to get your attention.”

Callie hopped up and joined him at the piano, going over the finer points of the bridge and how the song would end. Callie didn’t notice that JC had slipped out of the room until Brian called rehearsal over and she turned around to find him and his bag gone.

Much to her disappointment—well, she was disappointed. She’d grown to feel comforted by him and kind of liked sparring with him. And, she wanted to apologize for her comment to him earlier. She was tired and he was irritating her and she lashed out. She had no idea if he was mad, or just had to go, but she would find out and fix whatever was wrong.

She got voicemail when she dialed his number and left a brief message for him to call her back when he had time. Her phone rang out as she was walking into Paula’s. Callie dumped her bag onto the couch trying to find the phone before it rolled over to voicemail.

“Hey. Are you mad at me?” she asked as she picked up.

“Hey. No. Should I be?” She could hear people and music behind him and squashed any jealousy that he was having guests and hadn't invited her over.

“Well. I was particularly bitchy today. I realize that,  and I beat up on you pretty bad, and I’m sorry. I thought you might have been mad and left.”

“No, I had another appointment and you had it under control so I snuck out. I’m sorry, I should have told you I was leaving but you guys were on a roll and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, okay. Long as you weren’t upset.”

“Not at all. I mean, some days are just bad days. Today was a doozy but I figure I deserved it for keeping you up all night and it wasn’t even any fun.”

“Aw, it was fun. I mean, it didn’t suck.”

“Well, that’s all I ever want, is for people to be able to say that working with me doesn’t suck,” he said, laughing.

Callie giggled with him. “I’ll shout it from the rooftops; ‘working with JC Chasez doesn’t suck!’”

"Thanks for that vote of confidence. People all over the world will be calling me after they hear that. ‘I hear he doesn’t suck. I HAVE to work with him’.“

“My pleasure. Make sure I get a cut of your promotional windfall.”

“Of course. It’ll all be due to you and your glowing recommendation. Uhm, how are you feeling now? Better?”

“Shaky. I think I drank an entire coffee bean plant today. I’m gonna get a hot shower and crawl into a bed and not get out of it until our session Thursday.”

“Sounds like a plan. Sleep tight and see you Thursday.”

“You bet, and I’ll be in better spirits, I promise.”

“You better not be. I like you feisty. See you Thursday.” He hung up before she could ask him what that meant.

‘He likes me feisty? The hell?’

“Well hi, Giggles with Her Producer Man.” Callie turned to find Paula leaning against the door jamb.

‘Well hi, Nosy and Listens to People’s Conversations. Brian says hi and wants you to marry him.”

Paula let out a belly laugh and walked further into the room, kneeling onto a cusion on the couch.

“Ah, Brian. If I was ten years younger, blonde, big boobed and dumb as a stump, I still wouldn’t be perfect enough for him. He flatters me. Tell him I said hi, and meet me at the courthouse. So how was the day?”

Callie gave her a brief rundown of the progress and seemed happy with the rate that things were going and the quality of the work. “It’s amazing how we can be behind, but ahead. I don’t know how he’s keeping the schedule moving but he is. Whatever. I write, I sing, I play. Everything else is his job.”

Callie shrugged and glanced at Paula. Paula crossed her arms and stared at Callie but didn’t say anything.

“What?”

“You don’t fool me. You called him to apologize for being a bitch? Have you ever done that in your life? Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

Callie stopped to think. It did seem odd… but Paula didn’t understand the situation. To further confuse things, neither did Callie, really. Was it that he practically held her future in his hands? Or was it that she was trying very, very hard to not feel something more than a business partnership, not to have more than a working relationship with him?

“Paula, if you met him and knew how sweet he was you’d feel bad about being mean to him. AND he doesn’t ever respond to it. Today he tried to pay me a compliment and I was the meanest bitch EVER and he didn’t even flinch!”

“Maybe not outwardly.”

“Right. So, he disappeared, and I thought he was mad, so I called to find out what happened. He had another appointment and had to go, so he snuck out. He’s fine. But I’m exhausted, worrying about him being upset with me for the last four hours. It would totally throw off our balance if I screwed it up right now. I can’t afford that. ” Callie yawned and rubbed her eyes, stumbling toward the shower.

“I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up till Thursday.”

“Yes ma’am.”

…

Late nights and long days kept Callie near the bed on Wednesday. She could have ventured out, but Paula had made her room so comfy that she didn’t really feel the need. The room was cool, bright, and comfortable, furnished with a large flat screen TV, a DVD player, a CD/AM/FM stereo, alarm clock, and a bookcase full of Paula’s Murder Mystery book collection. The room featured a large sized guest bathroom, so Callie didn’t even have to leave the room to visit the facilities. She did, however need to eat—Paula even had that covered. She dropped a tray near Callie’s door at breakfast and lunch and knocked to let her know it was there. Callie sat in her room and ate and read and watched TV and movies and left her dishes on the tray, which disappeared soon after.

By dinner Callie had a bit if cabin fever, and at the scent of chicken and mashed potatoes, she opened the door and padded down the stairs, taking a seat in one of the leather covered bar stool chairs that circled the perimeter of the kitchen.

“Heya sleepyhead. Feeling better?” said Paula, setting some iced tea in front of her. Callie downed it before she nodded to the affirmative.

“You know I’m gonna have a photo shoot for my album coming up, and you’re serving mashed potatoes?”

Paula laughed and shrugged innocently. “Hey, I’m done dieting to the size of an emaciated crack whore so I can look good on TV. The label isn’t telling you that you have to lose weight, are they?” Paula whipped around and glared at Callie.

Callie shook her head no. “No, just me. I don’t want to look like an emaciated crack whore. I just don’t want to look pudgy in my photos. I should be working out right now. I’ll have to call Rick next week and have him do a work out for me.” Callie dreaded it, but made a mental note to get in touch with her personal trainer back in Chicago.

At the mention of Rick, Paula turned, a bright, flirty smile on her face. “Oooh. Rick can come visit you!”

“You’re such a horndog. You want everyone in my life.”

“Just living vicariously. Everyone I meet is gay or 19.” She flipped off the burner under her potatoes and got out two plates from the cabinet.

“You don’t have maid service for dinner, Miss Phelps. Off your ass, fix your plate. I don’t want to hear any complaining about how many potatoes you shove in your face. And have some salad,” she ordered, pointing at the freshly tossed greens she’d just brought out of the refrigerator.

“Salad is for rabbits,” grumbled Callie, but dumped a generous portion into a bowl and had her dressing on the side.

They sat side by side at the bar, chatting and talking over dinner.

“So really. Producer Man. You like him, don’t you?” Paula took a sip of tea but her eyes never left Callie's face.

Callie's fork clanged onto her plate as she dropped it. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Yes, I like him, in the way that I like people who are helping me to not flop my third album, in the way that I like people who can read the label suits better than I can and can predict what they might be looking for better than I can. In the way that I like people who have talent and don’t mind sharing it and who bring out the best in me, stuff I never thought I would be or could be doing. So, yeah I like him, but sorry, not in the way you want me to. I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Paula. You have me focusing on things that don’t matter, for the situation I’m in. Even if I liked him, he doesn’t like me like that and I can’t date him. I just don’t even want to think about it.”

Callie got up from her stool, raked the garbage from her plate and added it and her silverware to the dishwasher.

“Thanks for dinner, I’m going back upstairs.”

“STOP,” Paula ordered. Callie froze, then turned around.

“Come here.” Callie obeyed, glaring at Paula.

“What?”

“You spent… 1 minute, 32 seconds telling me how much you don’t like Producer Man. Me thinks thou dost protest too much.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him. I like him plenty. Just not the way you want me to.”

“It’s not a way I want you to. It’s what I see and you won’t admit to.”

Callie paced from one side of the living room to the other, running her fingers through her hair in frustration.

“Maybe you’re seeing wrong. And maybe there’s nothing to admit to. And even if there was, what can I do about it? Hm? Nothing. I have a career I’m trying to keep from tanking. I need to be recording, touring, performing, working. I have NO time for a man right now. So… even if I do think he’s THE MOST handsome man I’ve ever looked at, and he’s the nicest man on the planet, and he makes me do things I’ve never done before like CARE if I hurt his feelings… there’s nothing there. Even if there was something there, I’d squash it till there was nothing there. I’d hurt him, Paula. Bad. I can’t do that, to him.”

Callie paused and patted Paula on the shoulder. “I’m headed up for the night. Thanks for dinner, it was great. I feel 4lbs growing on my ass right now.”

Later that night, Callie tried to sleep, but she tossed and turned. Her conversation with Paula rolled round in her mind. With it rolled JC’s face, that incredible smile, those eyes, and not to mention the rest of him. Conversations they’d had were played and replayed and Callie looked for any clue she could cling to… she just didn’t find any. JC was friendly—very much so. But past the session where he’d been staring at her, he hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash in an inappropriate or suggestive manner. They’d become close the way friends come close, by talking, but he didn’t flirt with her. He didn’t touch her unnecessarily and he didn’t seem overly interested. If there wasn’t a reason to see or talk to each other, they didn’t.

Was Callie displeased that she could not find signs that JC wanted something with her? Wasn’t she the one who said nothing could happen, she didn’t want anything to happen, and she didn’t WANT to want anything to happen? So why, now, was she upset that nothing was happening?

‘You get what you ask for, Miss Callie. You asked for nothing, and you got it. Deal with it. And go to sleep, acting like some sort of lovesick puppy. You hate this shit.’

With that, Callie punched the pillow beneath her, rolled over and willed herself to sleep.

“So, two questions. Three questions.”

“Four? Do I hear five? What?”

“Are you gonna have any more barbeque pork? Cause if not, I am a pig and I will eat it.” JC lifted the white Chinese food container and shook it at her.

“No, I’m done. Rick is gonna be SO PISSED at me. I’m not following his eating plan at all.”

Callie sat between the coffee table and the couch, on the floor, and JC sat across from her. She moved herself back so she could lean against the couch and rubbed her full stomach. JC dumped the remaining pieces of pork onto his plate and piled rice on top of it. Callie closed her eyes; she couldn’t watch him eat. It was like watching a tornado devour a plate of food and he would surely try to talk while ate.

“That was only one question, Producer Man.”

“Oh. Second, you have a choice of where you want to record your vocals. I’ll go wherever you want, but I don’t want to do them here just because I like using other studios. The equipment is newer. Better. So we can record in LA, if you want—I have access to Babyface’s studio. It’s really nice. Or we can go back to Chicago and use the studio you’ve used to record everything else. Totally up to you, I’ll go wherever you want.”

“You won’t be pissed if I pick Chicago?”

JC shook his head while picking rice out of his teeth. ‘How can I still think he’s cute while I’m watching him do that? Gross.’ “My job is to produce these songs. Period. Where you want to record them is up to you.”

“When do I have to decide?”

“Soon. We’re sending the last song to Brian. We probably should have been doing vocals the last couple of weeks.”

“Okay. Don’t hate me, but I kind of want to go home. I’m gonna have to be back here for tour rehearsals for awhile so if I can get a ticket out of here I want to take it. But you don’t have to stay up there the whole time.”

“I’m probably gonna fly back and forth but the majority of the time for a few weeks, I’m gonna make you hate me. We have a lot of work to do. You with me?”

“I’m with you.” Callie paused, clasped her hands and set them on the table in front of her. Her solemn pose caught JC’s attention and he lifted an eyebrow as if to ask ‘what?’

“Uhm. Are you going with me to my meeting next month?”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“I—I need you to. Please.” Callie blushed, realizing that she was humbling herself before him. If she had to beg, she was prepared to do so.

She didn’t have to. “Then I’ll go. I’d love to. Don’t be scared. Believe me. If they were dropping you, you’d know by now. There will have been several meetings about ‘concerns’ and ‘direction’ and ‘performance’. You’re fine… they just knew you had more in you. And they were right, weren’t they?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

JC tilted an ear toward her and grinned. “Excuse me, what? I didn’t hear you?”

“YES,” she answered louder.

“Oh, and who was your Producer? Do we know him?”

“Some idiot who doesn’t suck. Quit fishing for a compliment.” Callie balled up a napkin and tossed it in his direction. He caught it and dropped it onto the table.

“Well, you need to clean up this mess so we can get back to work.” He winced at her icy glare and started the cleanup process. After a few minutes she pitched in until the table was clean and the garbage was dumped.

“Third question,” JC said, sliding next to her on the bench in front of the keyboard. “Now, just think about it, keep an open mind and just… consider it from a holistic point of view…”

“Ok. What am I thinking about, holistically?”

“Is there ANY way I could get you to record ‘Let’s Start Over’? Any way? Could I beg? Plead? Promise to name a puppy or a star or a moon after you? Please?”

Callie tensed up and heaved a sigh. “What’s with this song? Why do you want me to record it so bad? Why do I have to keep saying no? I asked to pull this song from this record, JC. Why is it still hanging around? It shouldn’t even be an option!”

JC sat quietly, unmoving except for the tap tap tapping off his pen against the keyboard frame.

“JC. Don’t ‘handle’ me. Talk.”

“Callie… the song is really good. REALLY. GOOD. When we sat at that table, at our first meeting, and I picked up that song and read it… I’m serious, I’m not shittin’ you, I got goosebumps. It’s a hit, Callie. It could be your first number one. Aren’t you sick of peaking at three?”

“Yeah, but—“

“But what? You walk into a room and rearrange it so it’s comfortable for you. You scream at your manager at the drop of a hat, have NO qualms about threatening to cut a PD’s balls off and, might I say, you treat me like utter shit sometimes—what are you scared of? You have the entire world right in your grasp. You’re really afraid Curtis might think this song is about him? Newsflash-- Callie you could sing about toilet paper and Curtis is gonna think that song is about him, because it came out of your heart and your mind and your soul and he was a part of that. Every song that comes out, I can identify with, somehow. If Curtis sees himself in a song, then GOOD. Then you wrote a great song that painted a picture that someone could relate to, very personally. And if he starts talking about it, awesome. That’s press for you. All you have to do is smile and go hardline.”

“The less they know…”

“The more they want to know. Right. Callie, you can do it, I know you can. I’m NOT gonna let you fail; I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t push for it if I didn’t think it was good.”

Callie took a deep breath, closed her eyes and gave a brief nod. Before JC could do a victory dance, she put up a finger. “BUT. We do it last. I don’t want to waste a lot of time on it, if it isn’t gonna work and if it’s not gonna go, I’m not gonna force it. I want it at the end so if we need to drop it, we can.”

“Alright. It’s a deal,” JC said, offering his hand for a shake. She shook it, but held on when he began to pull back, and wrapped her other hand around his.

“Hey. I…I’m sorry. For treating you like shit. You have done a lot for me these past few weeks, even when you didn’t have to and even when I had a very ugly attitude about you at first. And now… I feel like that meeting next month will go so awful without you there. Thank you. I appreciate you. I really do.”

“Aw,” he said, patting her hands wrapped around his, giving her a smile that made her stomach drop to her knees. “Thanks for that. I know this is rough. It’s hard to give up control and open yourself up to someone you don’t know and have them kinda tell you ‘you’re doin’ it wrong’ but you’ve taken it in stride. This has actually gone a LOT better than I thought it would. And I know when you get really bad is when I’m pushing you a lot, but I also get really good work out of you when you get worked up, so… I don’t mind.”

“That must be what you meant when you said you liked me feisty.”

JC blushed and nodded. “Something like that. Yeah. And you did say you’re even ruder to people you love. I figure by the time we’re done with this record, you’ll be throwing things and slamming doors and if you’re not, then I’m not doing my job or you don’t like me very much.”

“Well, let’s get to work on me being ruder to you. I want to go home. Shall we?” Callie released his hands and laid hers on the keyboard.

“Yes ma’am. Go. Verse 1. Sang it!”

…

Callie spent a half hour flitting from room to room in her suite, smiling stupidly to herself. She was happier to be home than she’d ever been. She looked forward to bathing in her own tub, sleeping in her own bed, cooking in her own kitchen. A buzz interrupted her homecoming celebration and she leaned on the button near the front door.

“What?!”

“What, what? Let me in, woman!”

“Alright, already.” Callie pressed a second button and waited. A few minutes later she heard the elevator ding as it opened and unlocked her door. Poking her head out of her room, she smiled at JC as he lumbered down the hall with a suitcase and his laptop bag.

“Didn’t you hire me any lackeys? I have to do actual physical labor? How you doin’, honey?” He leaned down to touch her cheek with his, and then walked past her into her suite.

“Labor builds character. Don’t stop, keep walking. We’ll just dump that stuff in the guest bedroom, right there, on the left.”

JC glanced around before setting his suitcase down next to the queen size bed. “Okay if I lived here, I’d never check out either. I guess it beats a mortgage and having to like, buy furniture.”

“Yeah, it’s not so bad. Expensive but convenient and flexible. I think they’ve just determined I’m never leaving. They’ve stopped asking. So the room I got you for your stay doesn’t open up for a few days. Yours is just a one bedroom but it’s really nice and you’ll be very comfortable. Until that’s open you can stay here. ”

“Is it close?”

“Two doors down,” she said, waving him back out to the hallway. “This is your bathroom, please don’t be gross. There are plenty of towels, soap, and shampoo, whatever you might need. Toothpaste, deodorant, stuff like that. Down that way are the laundry room, and the kitchen. Sitting room, living room, and my room. That’s basically it.”

“Great. You have a nice place. You know what I want?”

Callie rolled her eyes. “I’m not a mind reader. No, I don’t.”

JC chuckled and pointed a finger at her. “See, you love me. That was… so rude. I would love a deep dish Chicago pizza. You know where I can get one?”

“Do I know where you can get authentic deep dish Chicago pizza? Are you out of your MIND? I only know about 12 places! Let’s go.”

“Uhm. Do I need like… a hat or anything?”

“Nah. You’ll be fine,” she called out as she headed for the door. “Let’s go, I’m hungry.”

 ***

“Hey Callie?” JC asked, gripping the armrest between them.

“What?” she asked, pressing end on the cell phone and reaching behind her to drop it back into her bag.

“I’d like to live…. Please. Can you slow down and maybe watch the road?”

“Oh, you’re fine. This is how we drive, here.”

“Uhm, I don’t see anyone else straddling two lanes and making wide turns while talking on the phone. Seriously, if you want to kill yourself, that’s awesome. I want to live. And you get the bigger airbag.”

Callie sighed. “Fine,” she said, applying the break. “So where are your parents? Don’t they live out here?”

“They’re a bit outside Chicago. I thought it’d be too far to drive there and back everyday but I’ll be going out there whenever I can. It’s nice to be working here; it’s been a long time since I could see them for more than a few days.”

‘Must be. I’ll not be visiting my mom while I’m home. I try hard to avoid her.”

“I think that’s a good idea, actually. You don’t need anything negative right now. SHIT!” he screamed as she narrowly missed the bumper of a Lexus, making a turn into a pizza parlor parking lot. “God DAMNIT! Who taught you how to drive? FUCK!”

“Jason taught me how to drive actually. You’re a big fan of Jason, aren’t you? C’mon, say something positive about my driving, now. C’mon, Optimism man.” Callie poked and prodded him as they walked through the parking lot.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking. I might have to go with an insult to Jason on this one. It’s pretty bad. You violated several traffic laws back there.”

“Oh hush. I’ll buy you some pizza,” she said, pulling the door open.

A loud explosion of “CALLIEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” erupted as soon as she stepped inside, startling JC and putting a wider smile on her face. “Hey everybody!” she called out to no one in particular and then received and gave what seemed like several hundred hugs.

Tillie, part time owner, full time waitress, hugged Callie and led them both to her favorite spot. “You want your usual or are we adventurous?”

“Tillie, this is JC, he’s a producer I’m working with right now. JC, this is Tillie, a woman my dad flirted with every time he came in here, despite the fact that she’s married to one of his best friends and he was married, too. He sat right here every Sunday afternoon and I’ve never been served by anyone other than her or her family.” Callie beamed with pride as Tillie bent over and kissed the top of her head.

“That’s because you never come in here anymore. You’re so skinny. Record companies don’t let you eat? What’ll you have, sweetie?” she asked JC.

“I think I’ll let the expert order for me but I’ll have a beer to drink. Anything you have on draught is fine.”

And order she did. By the time they rolled themselves out of the restaurant, 3/4ths of a large pie was gone, several empty glasses of beer were on the table and they were ushered out without receiving a check. “Get us a number one hit and we’ll talk about what ya owe. Knock ‘em dead honey!” Tillie yelled out behind them.

“Nuh uh,” JC said, snapping his fingers at Callie. “Gimme your keys. No way do I trust you with my life. Plus, you drank a lot.”

“I did not, I’m fine.”

“Calpernia, give me your keys.”

“Oh my God, I’m hating you a lot right now. HERE,” she said, tossing her keys at him. He unlocked her door and after she crawled inside, walked around to the driver’s side.

“As I was saying before I had to fear for my life,” he said, pulling out of the lot and out onto the busy street, “I think we need to keep all negativity away from you, except for Jason. No parents, no old friends that just piss you off. If you hate your maid, give her some time off. Hate your sound man, get another one. Negativity is really distracting to you and it totally destroys a whole day’s work. Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, I can’t help but hear you, you’re right here.”

“Not hearing. Listening. Do you agree with me?”

“I absolutely agree with you, Producer Man. You’ve never been more right, EVER about things that are completely obvious.”

“You’re a smart ass.”

“Feisty. And I thought we agreed on DIVA.”

“Way past DIVA, honey.”

“See, I think the use of ‘honey’ is getting a little condescending. Am I wrong?”

“Right there? No. I was being condescending. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m not.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

Silence fell over the car as JC navigated his way back to the hotel.

‘Oh my God, I like him. How much fun is he?’

“I agree, by the way,” Callie said softly. “Seeing my mom will erase everything we’ve done for the last six weeks. I can’t afford to roll backward. I’ve told Jason I don’t want to see her or hear from her till my album is out.”

“Good move. It sucks you have to do that, but good move. Where do you park?”

“Don’t be funny. I valet. Park in front.”

“Wow, you are spoiled.”

“Don’t start again, Producer Man.”

“Do you even know my name?”

“Joshua. Joshua Scott Chasez. Sleepy. Shazzam. J Shazz. Daddy. Want me to stop?”

“Please.” They stepped out of the car and the valet took over. JC opened the door and held it open as Callie walked through and followed her to the elevator.

“I’m full. I’m ready to put on my fuzzy socks and my fat pants and vegg out. How about you?”

“I—I don’t have fuzzy socks. I feel left out.”

“I have an extra pair. We shall be fuzzy sock twins and watch a movie and relax, because tomorrow I will HATE YOU.”

“Looking forward to it.”

…

“Why do you keep stopping?”

“Because you’re holding back. I need you to BELT that part out. Take a break, walk it off, and let’s start at the top. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Callie took off her headphones and set them on their rack and turned around, leaning her head up against the soft cushion padding the wall. She felt like she’d been standing in that exact same spot forever. She was trapped inside this box and couldn’t come out of it until she was done. Thinking about how much further they had to go was daunting and Callie suddenly felt overwhelmed.

The studio door opened and closed behind her and she felt a strong hand on her back.

“Callie, are you okay? You want to call it a night?”

“No. I mean, I’m okay. I just need a minute.”

“Okay. I’ll head back out. Just checking on you. Let us know when you’re ready.”

“Mmmhmmm,” she answered as she heard the door open again and then close.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, she mustered up enough strength to turn around. An hour later, JC called a wrap and Callie breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hate me yet?” he asked, as they dropped the car with the valet and walked into the hotel.

“Oh no. I’m reserving my hate for like, next week and the week after, when we’ve been doing this shit for 13 hours a day, several days in a row. My hate would be wasted right now and it would bottom out way too early.”

“You analyze levels of hate?”

“I spend a lot of time alone. Gotta think about something,” Callie teased as they stepped off the elevator.

“Might want to think about how weird your fuzzy socks are.”

“Shut up, JC.”

“See? That was ever so rude. You love me.”

Callie answered with a middle finger as she stumbled off to her room.

“Night, honey.” His greeting was met with a closed door.

 Each day thereafter was more of the same—at the studio by nine, work until 2, break for lunch, work until 8, break for dinner, work until 11, sometimes beyond. It was a grueling schedule, but productive—JC was a machine and kept a regimented recording schedule that he held Callie to. He’d expected a lot of whining and pushback, but once she entered the studio, Callie was a professional and worked until the job was done. Over and over again, JC was impressed with the sound of her voice and what she could do with it, what lengths he could push her to.

“We had a power outage up here; everything’s all stupid right now. It’s gonna take me a few hours to get it set right again, I’m sorry. I tried calling, but I’ve been kind of freaking out up here.

“Hey man, shit happens. Anything we can do?”

“Naw, I just… I just need to check everything, make sure nothing blew out and reset some stuff. Give me a couple of hours?” The short, bearded man clasped his hands together, his blue eyes open wide and eyebrows raised.

“No problem. We’ll be back in a few. Give me a call when we’re ready.” JC ushered Callie out of the studio.

“Is this gonna put us behind?”

JC shrugged, nonchalant. “It shouldn’t. If it’s out all day, that’s when we might have a problem. So, we have a couple hours. Show me something.”

“I’ll show you something, alright,” Callie said, but smiled. “There aren’t many places the two of us can go. I thought about the trolley, but that’s a lot of people. You’ve probably been to the Sears Tower?”

He nodded.

“Okay. You’re kind of a nerd, so… Aquarium? Planetarium? Observatory. That place is really cool.”

“Could you pick any places more touristy? I’ll get mobbed and so will you.”

“Oh, look who has an attitude? You have any ideas?”

JC paced the hallway, deep in thought. Suddenly, his head popped up and he looked over at Callie who was leaning up against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other.

“What?”

“You love me, don’t you?”

“It’s debatable. Why?”

After a minute, his expression softened. “Can you take me to see my mom? And can I stop and pick up some flowers for her?”

The tone of his voice surprised her and melted her heart. She wished she felt for her mom what he obviously felt for his. She couldn’t deny his request, and nodded, heading for the elevator.

“She’s at work? Where?”

“Northbrook.”

“That’s not far from here and there’s a florist a couple of blocks up.”

JC fidgeted in the car on the way to the florist, and then, armed with a bouquet of mixed flowers, on the way to the office building where his mom worked. He talked incessantly about nothing—Callie sensed he just needed to talk, and let him. She found the building easily and pulled into the visitor parking lot.

“I’ll wait out here, if you want.”

“You don’t have to sit out here. You can come in. My mom is a fan,” he said, grinning at her. “Unless you just don’t want to.”

Callie hesitated, but decided to go for it and got out of the car. JC signed them in at the front desk and then took the elevator to the 4th Floor. She laughed inwardly as the receptionist tried hard to remain professional, but her mile wide smile was a dead giveaway. A few minutes later, a young woman in a sharp business suit came through the security doors.

“Hey Josh! Come on back. Your mom is just coming out of a meeting; you can surprise her in her office.” She led them through a maze of cubicles and office space and stopped at a door marked K. Chasez. They entered the comfortable and warm office and took seats opposite the large desk piled with papers.

JC’s knee bounced and he fiddled with the ribbon tying the flowers together. At the sound of a female voice down the hall, he glanced over at Callie, a half grin on his face. “That’s her,” he whispered.

A short, blonde woman in a crisp suit, arms full of notebooks and reports bustled into the office, humming to herself. When she saw JC, she dropped everything she’d been carrying and gasped, turning beet red.

“Oh my GOD. You SCARED me! Come here!” she ordered. He towered over her but bent down to give her the sincerest of hugs, handing her the bouquet of flowers.

“Surprise!” JC said, laughing, and bent to pick up her folders and notebook. Setting them on the desk, he glanced over at Callie as if he’d just remembered she was there. Callie sat shyly in the corner watching the exchange.

“Mom, someone I want you to meet. This is Callie, the artist I’m working with, here.”

“Oh, I know who she is, honey. Come around here, Callie. You deserve a hug for putting up with him this long.” Callie stood and accepted the hug from Karen, even hugging her back.

“So, how is the recording going?”

“Was going great till today. They had a power outage and now everything’s kind of ‘off’. So, we got a few free hours and Callie brought me over here to see my mommy.”

“Well, I’m so happy you showed up. Are we going to see you at the house? You know your dad will want to see you.”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to get a lot of this recording out of the way, then we can start taking a few hours off and I can come out. If we’re out all day today, we’re gonna have to make it up. Gotta work, first, mom.”

“I know, I know. I just… would like to see my son while he’s working here.”

“Alright, I’ll try,” he said, rolling his eyes but grinning at her. “So, you guys doing okay? Need anything?”

“No, we’re fine, we’re fine. How are you? How’s Ty?”

“I’m great, Ty’s great. Everyone’s great. Heard from Heather?”

They chatted animatedly and Callie’s eyes went from her to him and back to her. She marveled at how easily they spoke to each other, at how close they seemed and how well they got along. JC turned into something of a little boy around his mom. He sat forward and leaned onto her desk. She covered his clasped hands with hers and picked things out of his hair as they talked. That would bug the shit out of her but he didn’t even seem to notice.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and JC glanced at Callie. “I think we’re being called back.” He answered the call and spoke briefly, and then hung up.

“Yep. It’s all good and they’re ready for us. We gotta hit the road, mom but I’ll be out there in a couple of days, okay?” JC stood and hugged her for a long, long, long moment. She clung to him and closed her eyes and when she opened them, they were brimming with tears. JC kissed her cheek, whispered that he loved her and walked out of her office. Callie gave her a quick hug on her way out and left Karen to sniffle and wipe her eyes.

JC was quiet on the drive back to the studio. He stared out the window and gave one word answers to any questions Callie asked. She finally gave up and drove, parked, rode the elevator up to the studio and planted herself in the booth in complete silence.

Shards of sunlight peeked out from over the horizon, threatening to burst into brightness at any moment. Callie and JC, bleary eyed, exhausted, but with contentment and accomplishment coating their stride, walked out of the studio and climbed into Callie’s car.  They’d take the day off so Callie could rest her voice.  JC  planned to  drive out and visit his family.

“You alright?” JC asked, as Callie stood in front of her door. She nodded but didn’t go in.

“You wanna come down, for a minute? Unwind?” he nodded toward the suite he was staying in, a few doors down. “Come on,” he said, taking her by the arm and pulling her with him.  He slid his keycard in and the latch popped open. He shoved her inside and she made a beeline for the comfortable couch and sat, staring at the TV but it wasn’t on. JC disappeared and reappeared in sweats and a t-shirt. He plopped heavily next to her.

“Callie, you don’t look good. What’s up?”

She stared and breathed, unblinking, then a tear escaped and slid down her cheek.  JC rushed to her side, an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to his chest.

“Callie… what’s wrong? Did I say something? I'm sorry.”

“No, it's not you,' she said, fighting tears. "I’m just jealous."

“Jealous of what?”

Callie felt small and spoke quietly. “Of you. Your family. That you get to go visit every Sunday, because they love you and want to see you and be with you.  I’ve alienated everyone I know, to the point that no one wants to be around me. I just feel really alone."

“Oh, honey,” he soothed, rubbing her back. “There are people on this earth who adore you. Paula, Tillie, Me. Not that I matter, but still.”

Callie sniffled but didn’t respond. She futilely wiped at her tears, and grabbing her bag, dug through it for Kleenex.

“Here, you were looking for tissue? Let me help. How do you find anything in here? It’s like a black hole.”

She laughed through her tears. “I have a highly sophisticated organizing system.”

“I see,’ he said, finally finding the package of tissues and handing them to her, returning his hand to her back. “You can come out to the house, if you want.”

Callie sat up and waived him off. “No, no. I don’t need a pity invite, JC. I think I’m just tired. I’m gonna let you rest now. Thanks.” Callie quickly got up and headed for the door.

“I’m serious; you can come, if you want. I’ll call you, before I leave.”

“I’ll be sleeping, don’t you dare,” she answered, and walked out.

Callie entered her own suite and dropped her bag on a chair. She stomped through her bedroom to the bathroom where she turned on the shower. As soon as the temperature was right, she stripped and stepped in, letting the hot steam spray beat on her back and shoulders. Anyone who said this wasn’t work had never worked with JC before. She felt like she’d been breaking rocks for the last week.

‘You fucking idiot. You sat on his couch and CRIED? What, in the entire FUCK, is wrong with you? You need to shape it up Callie. Shake it off, let it go. That man does not want you. You made your bed, you lie in it. DEAL.’

Callie stepped out of the shower, donned a long t-shirt and climbed in under the covers. She didn’t even know what to think, to herself, about herself anymore. The more she tried to fight it the less effective she was. The more of herself she showed to him, the more he accepted but he still showed no sign of wanting anything more than a friendship, a working relationship. She couldn’t just ‘let it go’, ‘shake it off’, as she’d told herself to do. If she could, she’d have done it.

‘Maybe things will be easier when I’m done recording. Then I won’t see him everyday and spend every waking minute with him.’ Callie’s heart sank at the prospect, and before anymore tears could come, she rolled over and breathed deeply, falling into sleep.

...

An incessant ringing in her ears interrupted a dreamless sleep. Callie blinked against the bright sun in her eyes and looked for the source of the ringing. It stopped, then started again.

Cell Phone.  ‘Argh. He IS calling me.’

“WHAT?!” she screamed as she picked up the line.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Be right down.”

“J-“ he hung up before she could even finish his name. She sat staring at the phone in her hand, shaking her head. Moments later, there was a knock at the door. Callie marched through the suite and threw the door open, infuriated.

JC stood in the doorway, staring. He couldn’t help it. His eyes would not leave her body and his feet would not move. Her thin t-shirt clung to her womanly curves. She was quite obviously not wearing a bra, but her breasts were perky nonetheless, nipples poking out of the thin material. The shirt hit her mid thigh—mid beautiful, smooth, lovely shaped thigh, and his eye traveled down her leg to her calf and small feet with fire engine red toes.  He lifted his eyes to her face, void of any makeup but very simply pretty, and her hair a wild, disheveled mane, piled high upon her head in a messy ponytail.

Callie let him look her up and down, then caught his attention with a tilt of her head. He blushed and finally tore his eyes away. “What are you doing here? You told me to rest, then woke me up.”

“I’ve been ordered to not show up for dinner without you. Get dressed. My mom is cookin’,” he said as he blew past her into her suite.

“I’m not going,” she said, curling up on the couch and covering herself with a blanket.

“Yeah, you are. Come on. Chop chop. Really. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Then you’ll be sitting there all night. I’m not going.”

“I’ll wait,” he said, slouching down on the couch and resting his legs on the ottoman.

“Have I ever told you that I HATE you?”

“A few times.  It really warms my heart. Come on, get dressed.”

“I’m. Not. Going.”

JC stared at Callie and she stared back. He turned so he was facing her, and took one of her hands in his.

“Callie,” he said softly. “Please come. It’ll be relaxing. No pressure, I promise, you’ll get a hot home cooked meal, no one will bug you. You can lay on the couch for 7 hours for all I care. I won’t have a good time knowing you’re here by yourself. Please?”

‘If you don’t get your ass up and go get dressed…’

Callie sighed. “Fine. I’ll be right back.” She was fully aware of him watching her walk away as she stomped to her bedroom to change. Minutes later she came back out.

“I’m about to share a secret with you,” she said, sitting next to him and digging through her bag.

“Uh oh. What is it?” he asked, putting down the magazine he was flipping through.

Callie set the bag down and looked at him. She was wearing her glasses, not her contacts and wanted to see if he’d noticed something unusual about her. Right away, his eyes grew big and he laughed.

“Holy shit. Are you some kinda freak?”

“Yes, I am some kind of freak. I have Heterochromia, or two different eye colors. I usually hide it but my eyes are  ‘just saying no’ to contacts today.”

“Wow. I’ve never seen that before. So you have contacts to match the brown eye then?”

“Yes, one clear and one colored contact so my eyes match. They don’t exactly match but no one looks close
enough to be able to tell.”

“The uh… the green one is hot.”

Callie swallowed hard. ‘Don’t be an ass. Don’t be an ass. Don’t be an ass.’  “Thank you. Ready?”

“Yes, but I’m driving. I want to get there alive.”

“My driving is NOT that bad! Stop whining!”

“I’m gonna issue a formal complaint against the state of Illinois for issuing a drivers license to you.”

It felt good to be back on teasing terms with JC. Callie laughed and ducked into the car and they took off.

…

Callie had surprised herself. After about an hour she relaxed and really enjoyed the time spent at the cozy family home. They were warm and loving-- very laid back and obviously involved in their son’s life, but  not obsessively like her mom. They clearly just wanted him to be happy. Oddly, she found herself at the feet of Karen Chasez, figuratively so, asking her about her own mother and what approach she should take. The advice Karen gave would take some bravado but she also agreed it was a step Callie would have to take in order to really be free. She looked forward to being completely free more than anything.

In the car on the way back, JC smiled over at her. “You have a good time?”

“Yeah. Your parents are great. Thanks for MAKING me come.”

“My pleasure,” he answered. “You ready to go on 'Let’s Start Over' tomorrow?”

“Yep. It was nice to take a day off before I had to jump into it. I can’t believe this is the last song.”

“Yeah. These last couple of months have been… busy. Amazing, though. You have so much talent, Callie. So much inside you. I mean that.”

“I think I believe that, for the first time. Thanks for bringing it out. Jive knew what they were doing when they assigned you to me.”

“Callie…” JC hesitated. She turned to look at him, staring blindly out at the road. Finally, he said, “I asked to work with you. I didn’t expect them to say yes, or make it sound like you HAD to work with me but I offered it and I asked for you specifically.”

“Why?” she asked quietly.

“Because of what you just said. I heard something else in you and it didn’t look like anyone else was willing or able to try to bring it out. I told them I could try and they let me.”

“I don’t think I’ve had anyone request me, before. I’m… I’m shocked. And… flattered. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I’m even in one piece, still.”

“Don’t get too cocky. We have one song left and it’s gonna be the toughest song I’ve ever done. I think I just wanna give it one complete run through before we break it down, see where we stand. Really, if it’s too much work, I don’t want to waste time on it. My voice is tired, I’m tired, I’m sick of that little room.”

“I gotcha. It’ll be good though. And worth your time. Promise.”

Callie sighed and slumped down in her seat, watching the traffic go by.

…

“ ‘Kay, sorry. I know I’m picky. Can we go back to that little break between Verse 2 and the chorus?”

“Don’t apologize. You’re the boss. Ready when you are.”

“Start it.”

Callie bobbed her head in time with the driving guitar chords and hard drum beat, coming in exactly where she needed to and singing from the pit of her stomach. If this song was going in, she was giving it all she had. Thankfully, she had a lot.

They worked and reworked and worked the song over and over, took a break, and came back and worked more. JC sent Callie for a walk around the building before her last take. “Clear your head, relax, psych yourself up, whatever you have to do. When you come back be ready to KILL this song, ok?”

Callie took a few minutes for herself out on a ledge where the building employees must stand outside and smoke, during the day. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a very tall cliff. Her options were to stay there and flirt with jumping off, her toes gripping the edge in fear, or to just take the leap to something better. No safety net, no going back. She was tired of standing on that cliff. She needed to make a move, and soon.

Ready to face the most emotional song she’d ever written, she headed back upstairs to the studio. JC stopped in mid conversation with the engineer and smiled at her. She smiled back, gave him a thumbs up sign and then headed into the booth.

3 minutes, 24 seconds later, JC’s voice came through the headphones. “Come out here.”  Callie hung up the headphones and came out of the booth. JC looked like he was about to explode, and waved her over to the speaker.

“I want you to hear this.” He pressed ‘play’ and she knew immediately what he meant, and wanted to hear it, too. It was a part near the end, the last run through the chorus when the music dropped out and it was just her voice ringing out, ragged, emotional, but strong and carried through to the end. Callie couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face as she heard the playback.

“Mama likes, mama likes! Can I hear the whole thing?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said, and skipped back to the beginning. Callie sat, bowed her head, closed her eyes and tried to listen to herself objectively. She didn’t move an inch, didn’t bob her head, tap her foot, make a sound until the song ended. When it went off, the room was quiet as JC and the engineer waited for her reaction.

When Callie lifted her head, she was grinning ear to ear. “Producer Man, you are the SHIT! I love it!”

Relieved, JC grinned. “You do? You serious?”

“Yes. Hell yes. I don’t want to touch it. It’s PERFECT!”

“Yeah, I’m not messin’ with it at all. It’s great. You did it.” He turned to her, away from the engineer who was recording the song to disc, and winked, his lower lip caught between his teeth. She winked back, and hopped up and down.

“Play it again! Play it again!”

“Okay, okay, hold on a minute,” he said, laughing. JC hit play and they listened to the playback together. JC’s head bobbed wildly to the music, his arms punching out the beat—Callie had as much fun watching him listen to it as she had listening to it herself. They both loved the ending chorus and replayed it several times.

“It’s money, baby! It’s money,” he said, over and over until she put her hand over his mouth.

While Callie was happy to see the song be transferred to disc and zipped away safely in JC’s bag so it could be mixed, she was sad that it meant the last of their recording sessions. JC would work with another producer on mixing the songs and would meet her in New York in a few weeks for her meeting with Jive. Past that, they had no further obligations to each other. Callie had a few fixes on previously recorded songs but for the most part, she was done. It had been a rough journey—but JC had promised it would be worth it, and it was.

“So, when are you heading back to LA?” Callie asked as she stood outside her suite and watched JC walk toward his.

“Uhm… probably in a few days. I want to see my parents again before I head out. Why?”

Callie shrugged. “Just wondering when I can finally be rid of you,” she teased.

He pointed at her. “I’m onto you, Calpernia.”

“Stop calling me that! This is why I can’t be nice to you,” she said, giggling as he walked into his suite.  “Hey. Hold on.” Callie walked past the two doors between their suites and he stepped back out.

‘I don’t believe I’m doing this,’ she thought as stepped close, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. She felt his arms close around her waist and he held her tight for the briefest of moments and then let go.

“Thank you, for everything,” she whispered in his ear, and then stepped back. He was beet red and seemed uncomfortable, so she pulled away and let herself into her own suite.

JC walked into his suite and closed the door behind him. ‘What was that? Just a thank you? How many artists thank you with a hug and a kiss?’ He didn’t know if he should be encouraged by it or take it at face value but coupled with what he had seen of her the other day it felt nice. Really nice.

Callie walked into her suite and dug into her bag for her phone. She needed backup.

“You realize it’s 11pm here, right?” Paula asked, yawning into the phone.

“Be quiet, I have something important to talk to you about,” Callie said, stretching out on her bed. “So, you were right. About JC. Producer Man. I like him. I don’t know what to do about it but I do and I can’t make it go away and I don’t know that I want to, but tonight was our last recording session and I won’t see him again until next month, so…well, I gave him a hug and I kissed him. Do you think that was dumb?”

“On the cheek. Why?”

“Just asking. So. What are you calling me about, again?”

“Well he seemed kind of… uncomfortable. I wonder if I shouldn’t have.”

“Guys like to be kissed by pretty girls. I doubt he’s offended. But you’ve spent two months yelling at him and being bitchy to him and suddenly you turn on the charm… don’t you think he’s confused?”

“Yeah. I guess he would be. I didn’t tell you what happened yesterday.”

“Good or bad?”

“Uhm… I dunno. You tell me. Yesterday, we worked all night and decided we would take the day off. I was gonna hang out here, he’s was going to visit his family. Well he decided I was coming to dinner, and beat down my door. Dumbass that I am just gets up and answers the door in a t-shirt.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhh. So he got quite a view of Miss Callie.”

“He was looking pretty hard.”

“Callie, do I need to explain men to you? Of course he was looking hard. So, now… what?”

“Well. Now. He goes home. And I finish my album and I see him in New York in a few weeks. Past that, unless we see each other on purpose or at random industry events…” Callie sighed.

“And so you choose now, on the Eve of Never See Him Again, to admit you like him.”

“Paula, you're not helping!”

“I’m not trying to!  I was willing to talk about this, weeks ago, but you insisted that you didn’t feel anything for him, so I let it go. Now that you do, you want me to pull some magic potion out of my ass, and I don’t have one. The magical time and place would have been when you had a reason to see him. Now you don’t and now you’re gonna have to chase him, which I know Callie Phelps doesn’t do.”

Callie hung up the phone rather discouraged and feeling stupid. Not for doing what she did—it was innocent enough and she could play it off as gratitude—but for feeling anything in the first place. She told herself, again, that it was a useless hope, a stupid wish, and willed it to go away.

A light knock at her door interrupted her self lecture. She opened the door to find JC standing there in the fuzzy socks she’d lent him, with a silly grin on his face and a pizza in his hand. “Thought I’d give these one last spin,” he said, kicking his foot up. 

Callie giggled and let him in and went to change into her own pair.

...

“You didn’t think I was getting out of here without spending some time with you outside of a studio, did you?” JC pushed the empty pizza box across the table and, sitting on the floor, stretched his arms across the couch he was leaning against. Callie sat next to him, laughing at how silly their feet looked in their fuzzy socks.

“I feared it.”

“Well, you were WRONG,” he barked in her face.

“Gross,” Callie wiped her face, and then wiped her hand on his sweatpants.

JC pulled back to look at her, smiling at her mismatched eyes. “That green eye is hot.”

She laughed. “You told me that, yesterday.”

“I did. I still mean it. Yesterday—I didn’t mean to stare like a pervert. At the door. I'm sorry.”

Callie laughed, remembering the look on his face as his eyes traveled her body. “Did you enjoy that little peep show?”

“Hell yeah. I… uhm… have been waiting for you to say something.”

“About yesterday?”

“I felt a lecture coming on.”

Callie shrugged. “Not worth it and I really wasn’t offended. I'm the one who opened the door half naked. It’s not every day you get JC Chasez to ogle you. I promise not to write a bitchy song about you.” Callie glanced up and winked.   

“If you do, make sure you rewrite the lyrics so I don’t know the song is about me.”

“But hey, even if you do, I wrote a great song...” Callie started to laugh.

JC laughed with her. “… and painted a great picture…”

“How many times have you used that line? Did I get swindled?”

“I’ve used it a few times. You got swindled, but just a little bit. I do believe the song is a hit and I do believe your songs kick serious ass. It’s a win- win situation, but we’ll see what the suits say.”

“You think the suits will like it?”

“Hard to tell, with them. Depends on the climate of the industry or whether or not their eggs were scrambled the right way at breakfast, you know? It’s hard to predict, so try not to worry about it. Just believe in yourself and your talent—“

“—and my producer—“

“—and your producer, thank you, and things will work out. You did good work. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you. I’m proud of me, too.”  

 “I should… let you get some sleep. You gonna be around tomorrow?” JC got up from the floor and stretched, cracking his back. Callie was not not NOT staring at his belly as his shirt rode up, momentarily admiring the trail of hair into his sweatpants.

“Yeah. Come on down.”

“I thought maybe we could do some of that touristy stuff you tried to kill me with a few weeks ago.”

“Are you gonna whine about that every week?”

“I had planned on it.”

“Get out. This is why I can’t be nice to you. Call me when you wake up.”

“You love me. Night honey,” he said, closing the door behind him. Callie turned the deadbolt and knob lock and leaned against the door.

‘You have no idea.’

Callie sat on the bed in her hotel room, back against the headboard, feet stretched out in front of her and clad in  fuzzy socks. She felt trapped and claustrophobic, but had been asked to stay in for awhile until the crowd outside the building could subside. Somehow, the fans always knew where she was staying, and were gathered around the front of the hotel, making Callie wish she’d let Jason hire security. If it got any worse, she’d take him up on it—if she could find him. He took off hours ago and she hadn’t heard from him since.  

She stared blankly at the TV screen, not really watching it. To pass the time, she tried to write, but her notepad and pen had long since rolled out of her fingers and now lay empty next to her on the bed. Callie checked the phone again and again and again.

‘There’s nothing wrong with the phone. He just hasn’t called.'

Callie hadn’t seen JC in almost a month. She didn’t WANT to miss him. To want to see him. To want to spend time with him. She just did. She had stopped fighting her feelings for him—she just didn’t know what to do about them. Since their meeting with the label was approaching, they’d kept in touch but communication was erratic and ‘surface’. Callie looked forward to just seeing his face, his eyes crinkle when he smiled, hearing his laugh in person, and letting him calm her fears and nervousness about how the next day would go.

A light ‘taptaptap’ came, finally, and Callie hopped up to check the door. ‘Calm. Calm. Breathe. It’s just JC.’ After a breath, she cracked the door enough to peek out. There he stood, casually dressed in dark jeans, a t-shirt and a fleece pullover. Callie could hardly contain her excitement to see him.

“What?”

“What, what? Let me in, woman! Hurry, before someone comes.”

Callie stepped back and swung the door open, allowing him to step inside.  “When did you get here? Did you see that crowd out front?”

“I, like, JUST got here and checked in. Yeah I saw the crowd, we came in around back.”

“I came in through the back, too. Somehow they knew I was here. I suspect Jason had something to do with this, but I can’t prove it.” Callie glanced through the sheer curtains toward the street and screams rose from outside. She rolled her eyes and drew the heavy curtains closed.

“Have you been trapped in here all day?”

Callie nodded. “They asked me to stay in until the crowd went away. It’s not happening. ”

“Keep checking the window like that and they won’t," he said, taking a seat on the corner of her bed. "How are you?”

“Nervous,” Callie admitted, resuming her spot against the headboard. “I tried to write, even. Nothing.”

“Oh man. Must be pretty bad. You can write songs about toilet paper, I hear.” Callie smiled despite her queasy stomach. This is what she’d been looking forward to—someone who could make her smile and forget her troubles.

JC reached out and played with her toes inside the colorful and soft sock material. “You pulled out the fuzzy socks? Did you bring some for me?”

“You know I did,” Callie grinned, pointing at her suitcase. "They’re right on top. Put ‘em on, get up here.”

Now twins in fuzzy socks, JC and Callie sat on the bed and talked far into the night. Some catching up, some dreaming of the future, some personal exploration. Callie was entranced by the mere sound of his voice, no matter what he was saying. She had only to ask him a question and he would talk into oblivion until she wasn’t even really listening anymore. Somehow the conversation drifted to topics more personal and Callie dared to ask the question on the tip of her tongue and the front of her mind.

“So, you don’t like… date at all?” Callie hoped the question was casual enough. Just in case, she didn’t look at him—rather, she became deeply engrossed in a loose thread in the comforter.

“I date. It’s just… hard sometimes. I mean… to date in the business is hard because we have such crazy schedules. To date outside of it…”  he sighed and seemed to want the conversation to end, but kept going.

"It’s like… I try to be real with people and I feel like all I get is fake back.  I mean, every girl says ‘I wish celebrities acted like real people, and didn’t expect perfection and talked about more than themselves and the business’. I try to be that and do that-- I can't be anything other than ME, you know... but then I'm boring because I’m not namedropping and all about who I know… or cheap because I don’t drop money on them like they want me to, like they deserve that just because I know them.  Even if I meet someone I really like, I don’t have the time to dedicate to her like I really want to. It's not fair to her, but I really AM that busy.  I work all night, sleep all day, travel at the drop of a hat.  I dunno... I’m not looking for a girlfriend, right now. I just don’t want to deal with it.”

Callie nodded, her heart breaking. ‘It’s a good thing you didn’t tell him anything back in Chicago. He’d have shut you down. Good girl. Now shake it off.’

“What about you? It’s been awhile since you and Curtis broke up. Anyone out there for you?”

“Well, I spent two months with this dork, recording my album,” she answered, with a snort shooting him a smile though she wanted to cry. “Other than that, it’s been so busy, I don’t even think I’d notice anyone right now.”

“Do you want to date? I mean, just in general, not a heavy relationship thing?”

Callie shrugged. “Sometimes. It’s nice to have someone to come home to, so to speak. Someone who’s always there and who cares about you, and knows you. And who won’t scream while you drive. " She looked up and winked at him, then went back to her loose thread.

"But… like you said, it’s hard, because I'm always going going going, or sleeping. And it’s hard knowing who wants to get close to me because they want to be friends and who wants to get close because they want something. And a lot of times guys--especially guys in the industry-- want… something... and nothing more. I like to say I’m a bitch, not a slut.”

“Callie, you’re not a bitch.”

“Tell that to everyone who’s ever called me ‘That Bitch Callie Phelps’.”

“Well, yeah but you don’t have to embrace that. Why would you take that on as some kind of identity? That’s not you. Okay, so you’re brash, outspoken, opinionated, blunt, spunky, impatient—“

Callie smacked him on the arm but laughed loudly. “Okay! God!”

“I’m just saying… but you’re not a bitch. You just… put up a wall. And you don't let anyone get close to you. And you don’t want anyone to see through the wall, or climb over it or pick through it. You don’t want anyone on the other side of that wall without your permission, and not many people get permission. It's understandable.You just never know what people want from you, and you’re more likely to get screwed over.”

She nodded thoughtfully, taking his words in. “Yeah. I had a lot of friends, at one time. But they sort of… faded away after awhile. When I couldn’t come home as often, and I couldn’t bring them all out on the road with me, and I wasn’t sending expensive shit back to them… they decided there weren’t any perks to being my friend. Eventually they stopped taking my calls. Stopped sending emails. Stopped being there. Sometimes I go home and cry into my pillow about being lonely, and then I remember-- I counted on people who couldn't be counted on. I thought I had people who cared about ME, but they only cared about what I could BRING to them. So, for a long time, I’ve been on my own. By myself.  The only one obligated to care about me is ME. So, I have to protect myself.” 

“I care about you.”  JC’s voice was soft and low, his tone earnest. He laid a hand over hers as she fiddled with the loose thread and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Callie turned her hand over and he laced his fingers between hers. For a short moment she enjoyed the feeling of her small thin hands in his large, strong ones. Then, before her heart could start wishing and hoping again, she let go and stretched, just for something to do with her arms.

“I'm pretty tired. I’m gonna go to bed, so get out.”

“There’s that love you have for me, rearing its head.” JC stood and stretched, gathering up the fleece pullover he’d pulled off.  Callie’s eyes were drawn to the patch of skin that showed as his shirt lifted, tracing the line of hair into the band of his jeans.

“Don’t stare at my gut. I need to hit the gym,” he said, patting his belly. It made a funny, flat sound that amused him and he repeated it on his way to the door.

“Your gut is fine. Stop that.”

JC turned before opening the door and surprised Callie by sweeping her into a hug. “You’re gonna be fine, tomorrow. Get some good sleep.  Meet me downstairs at ten and we’ll ride over together, okay?”

She nodded, and he surprised her again by dropping a light kiss on her forehead before opening the door and walking out.  She locked it and heaved a giant sigh.

‘Why does he confuse me with stuff like that? ARGH!’

...

Ten am found Callie standing in the lobby of her hotel, behind a large burly man with shoulder length curly blonde hair. The crowd outside had dispersed but was back with a vengeance that morning and the hotel manager was on the verge of calling the police.

“I’m not going out there,” Callie said, looking up at the security detail that Jason managed to arrange.

“No ma’am, you are not. Sit tight. Move away from the door so they can’t see you,” he said, directing her to the seating area in the lobby. The ding of the elevator announced JC’s arrival and he looked around, shocked.

“Whoa. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I came down here and it was…. like that,” Callie said, pointing at the crowd outside the window.

“Callie, we had the car pull around back, to the underground entrance. Let’s go. JC, you riding with us?” Jason ushered them all into the elevator and pressed ‘B’.  Callie, JC and Jason piled into one car. The security detail followed close behind. Through the blackout windows Callie could see a throng of people pressing toward the front entrance of the hotel as the car crept past them.

“I think we should move hotels, Jason. And this time don’t tell all your friends where you’re staying so you sound cool.”

“I didn’t tell anyone we were staying here, Callie. You DO have fans, with message boards, you know. There IS hotel staff involved. Not everything that fucks up in your life is my fault.”

“Let’s… let’s calm down,” said JC, coming between them and silencing them both.  “I feel like I’m talking to two kids. You’re both too old to act this dumb. Jason, I agree Callie needs to move and the move needs to be confidential. Can you take care of that?”

Jason sighed heavily, pulled out his cell and began to make phone calls. Callie glanced at JC and found him looking at her. A lift of his eyebrow seemed to ask if she was okay. She winked to let him know she was, and mouthed ‘thank you’, to which he offered a small smile and looked ahead.

 ***
“Callie, good to see you again. JC, you as well. Jason, everyone, have a seat.”

It was a very ‘us against them’ feeling… on one side of the table sat short men in dark slacks and white shirts rolled up to the elbows as if they had been called away from backbreaking work cranking out the hits to attend this meeting. On the other side were Callie, JC, and Jason, prim and proper in suits and dress, ready to talk business.

“So, let’s just get down to it. Tell us about the new songs you’ve been working on, and the work you did with JC.”

Callie launched into a short speech she had prepared, taking ‘the suits’ on the journey from writing to recording the four songs that they would play. JC had great input and they played off each other comfortably. Heads on the other side of the table nodded, and Callie didn’t sense any negativity or hesitance.

“It sounds like you’re excited about what you’ve brought, so let’s hear something.” In unison, they each sat forward, pens down, hands clasped, elbows on the table. ‘Like fucking robots,’ thought Callie.

JC moved to the sound system built into the entertainment center in the room and played each of the songs he had brought, making a short introduction before each one.  He was saving Let’s Start Over for last, hoping it would blow them away.

“This last song is one that Callie wasn’t even gonna record, but I talked her into it because I think, and I want to know how you guys feel about it, but I think it’s a hit. It’s called Let’s Start Over, it’s totally classic Callie sound with a heavy rock flavor… it’s ballad-y without really being a ballad, is what I like about it… so… here we go.”

Callie bowed her head, wanting to see their reaction to the song, but afraid of what it would be. JC nudged her. She looked up at him and he winked. She smiled in return and sat forward as the guitar chords seemed to jump out of the speakers and her sultry, melodic voice sang over them.  Callie could already see their heads bobbing, lips being bitten, imagined feet tapping. One ‘suit’ started writing as he listened. The other three didn’t move as verse two passed and the track built up to the chorus. As Callie’s voice nearly screamed out over the full sound, she saw slow smiles spread across a few faces. JC was rocking out in his chair and Jason was practically head banging.

‘Am I the adult, now?’ Callie thought, laughing to herself.  If she was pressed… forced… she had to admit that Let’s Start Over was likely the best song she’d ever written, and recorded and it would be a blast to perform. She almost couldn’t wait to start rehearsing it with the band.

“Uhm… can we hear that again, JC? Just… one more time.”  JC grinned and pressed play again, and turned it up. Three suits leaned back in their chairs, arms crossed, deeply contemplating and glancing at each other.  This time, Callie let herself enjoy listening to the song. This was her! Her music! And they seemed to like it!

“Well,” said the ‘leader of the pack’, chuckling. “That’s what we here at Jive like to call good music!  That was uh… that was very good. All four, were great, and I assume we want those on the album.  You did excellent work, Callie. We appreciate you following the feedback given and for working with JC on those. JC, of course, you did a great job producing and writing. Quality work. Uhm…. let’s talk the other 8 singles, and for good measure let's have JC bless them-- you're on a roll, kid. When are we thinking of releasing?”

A flurry of paper and pens and light conversation filled the room and the two sides of the table got down to business.

…

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh. My. God.”  Callie paced the elevator lobby, hands on her head, smile on her face. “I can’t even believe it. I can’t even believe it.”

“I told you, you didn’t have anything to worry about. Didn’t I tell her, Jason?”

They stepped into the elevator as Jason nodded. “I think you told her that.”

“Oh my God. That went so well! I totally didn’t expect that. Wow.”

“I guess I have more work to do. THANKS!”

“Yeah, Producer Man. You’re not quite free of me, yet. Let’s go eat. I’m starving!” Wolfe, her security, met them at the front door and ducked Callie and JC quickly into the car. Jason leaned in to let them know he’d ride back with the security vehicle.  

“I’ll get us all moved to another hotel. Wolfe and his team will get your bags and bring them to you. You guys go eat, relax. I’ll call you with the hotel address soon as we get moved. Give me your key cards.” Jason collected them and stepped back from the car tapping the hood.

“Where to?” asked the driver.

“Southern Hospitality, please.” JC grinned at Callie and she rolled her eyes.

…

“So we should go out, tonight. Have some fun.”  JC stared out of the blacked out windows in the car, on the way to the new hotel.

“We? You got a mouse in your pocket?

“You love me so much today. I can’t even stand it.” 

“Where do you want to go?”

“I know a couple of places that are fun, but won’t really be going till 10 or 11.”

“Till then, it’s me and the fuzzy sock coalition and a stack of movies, because my ass has not slept well in days, worrying about this meeting. I can finally RELAX.”

“Ok. I’ll call you around 9 or so, then.” Callie nodded, resting her head on the seat, trying to stop herself from hoping he would ask to join her.

“You uhm… what movies are you watching?”

“I dunno. I just grabbed a stack from the video store near the hotel. For all I know, I have Porky’s 1 through 4. I don’t care, as long as I am not standing up.”

“I liked Porky’s. That was a good series.”  Callie glanced at JC to see if he was serious. Thankfully, he was quietly laughing to himself.

“Do you want some company?”

‘There it is. The question you were hoping to hear. Don’t be an ass.’

“I’d love some,” Callie answered softly.

“Great, I’ll have Jason come sit with ya.” 

"Fucker.”

“Thank you,” he said between laughs. The car pulled into yet another underground driveway where Wolfe was waiting to accompany Callie and JC upstairs.

“Looks like we gave the crowd the slip. They’re all still hanging out front of the old hotel. No one here, and this place won’t stand for crowds outside.” He handed each of them a room key after they stepped onto the elevator. Callie glanced at his room number and her heart leapt. He was right next to her!

“Luggage is in your rooms. Check to make sure nothing’s missing,” Wolfe continued. “Will you be leaving again?”

“Not till later on tonight, but I think we’ll be okay. I’d rather not have someone on my ass all night.”

“I’ll do my best to stay out of the way but if you need me, know that I will be around. Have a great day,” he said, holding the elevator doors open and letting them step out before he let them close.

“Well. He’s very… militant,’ JC commented.

“Yeah he’s… local I guess. I kinda like him though. Really like him.”

“You need to consider a full time security team. That crowd was scary.”

“I need to consider a lot of things. Looks like my life is about to get crazy.”

“We like it that way. I’ll come over in a bit. Need to make some phone calls.” JC swiped his card and went into his room, and Callie went into hers.

‘Oh. WOW. Yeah I like this place much better. We need to stay here every time,’ Callie thought. The room was more spacious and brighter, more welcoming, and there was a bouquet of fresh flowers on the table.  Her suitcase and personal items sat neatly next to the bed and after a quick check, Callie did not appear to be missing any items.

‘It’s time for fuzzy socks and fat pants, Miss Callie. You’ve earned it!’

 …

The heavy, relentless beat of the hip-hop tune sent vibrations from the floor all the way up Callie’s body. She couldn’t help but bounce to the beat, careful to not spill her drink. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, but having too great of a time to really worry about it. All she could concentrate on was keeping JC within range so she didn’t lose him. She’d been fighting pangs of jealousy all evening as hot, young, pretty women made their presence known—pretty much offering themselves up. Callie was mildly disgusted but admitted if she was not who she was, she might done the same thing. JC was respectful but declined most invitations to dance or leave the club. However, he did accept a few and disappeared onto the dance floor a few times.

Not that Callie’s dance card was empty—she’d taken a few spins around the floor but it was so crowded she felt trapped and decided to sit out a few songs. As the song ended, JC came out from the crowd, thanked his dance partner (who Callie could tell was disappointed at getting just a thank you) and made his way over to her.

“You alright?” he yelled into her ear, the only way she could hear him in the loud club.

Callie nodded, draining her drink.

“You want another one?”

Callie shook her head no.

“You wanna dance?”

Shocked, she looked up at JC. His expression was playful and friendly and he held a hand out to her. Callie decided to go for it.

Though she did not dance often, Callie fancied herself a pretty good dancer… someone who could catch the beat and move to it, at the very least. She allowed herself the luxury of getting lost in the music and moved against JC in a way he wasn’t expecting, nor was he ready for. Her hips gyrated close to his, her body swaying to the beat, the scent of her perfume rising from her body. He felt himself becoming aroused but it wasn’t something he could stop, even if he wanted to. Callie bumped against him, and there was no mistake that she felt him. Her eyes popped open, she gave him a sultry smile, and kept dancing. JC grabbed her by the hips and brought her close to him—now her hips were gyrating against him as they moved together to the beat. And it felt good. Dammit, he could give himself this, if nothing else.

JC glanced up, in utter bliss, and found himself staring into the hazel eyes of Curtis Soul, from across the dance floor. He was dancing as well, with the same woman he’d been photographed with, but that was not where his attention was focused. He was quite clearly watching them dance, and more specifically watching Callie move against him. His expression was foul and he cut angry eyes at JC.

Of course. The only reason Callie was dancing like this was because Curtis was there!

'God, I am so stupid,' he thought, and untangled himself from Callie’s arms and abruptly left the dance floor.

Callie stood stunned and alone in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by couples rhythmically moving to the heavy beat.  'What the fuck just happened? We were dancing, and I KNOW he was having a good  time ... ah, FUCK.’  She took off after him, watching him round the corner to the short, dark hallway toward the restrooms.

“Hey! What's with you? What happened out there?”

“You know what happened. Your plan worked.” JC voice was terse and tight. He wasn’t speaking loudly, but he may as well have been yelling at her.

“I don’t know what happened. What plan? To make you--" she gestured toward the obvious bulge in his jeans. "I didn’t plan that. Ok, maybe I was being a little suggestive. I'm SORRY then, ok?”

JC scoffed and turned away from her, walking further down the hall, then walked back, eyes ablaze. "How long were you gonna keeping going? 'Till he came over and knocked me out?’

Callie shook her head, frustrated and confused. “Knocked you out? WHO? What are you talking about?”

“CURTIS, Callie. CURTIS. I don’t appreciate being used.” JC turned to continue down the hallway. Callie grabbed his arm.

“STOP. Wait. You're saying...Curtis is HERE?”

“Plain as day. Watching us dance." Realization hit, suddenly and his eyes grew large.  "You didn’t know he was here.”

“I wouldn't expect to see him here, either. He's allergic to clubs.“

“So… you weren’t trying to make him jealous, dancing with me?”

“JC, I swear to you, I didn't know he was here. Curtis HATES clubs! You… you thought I was trying to make him jealous? By dancing with you?”

JC closed his eyes, as if he could block off any embarassment by just not looking at her.  He'd let his feelings for her cloud his usually good judgement and overreacted. "I'm sorry. I just ... I thought you had to have a good reason for dancing with me like that. That’s totally not... like... you. I mean, I  loved it. I’m just…” He shrugged,  out of words, sure that any sliver of chance he once had with her was pretty much gone.

Callie stepped close to JC, grabbed the back of his head and pulled it down to hers until their lips met in a hard, wet kiss. She opened her mouth and his tongue was waiting there to play with hers. He moaned and pushed her backward until they were against the wall and kissed her like he had been thinking he should, wishing he could, for a long time.

At some point, Callie came to and realized she was KISSING JC. In public. It did not occur to her that he was kissing her back-- only that she'd let herself cross a line she felt she coudn't afford to cross. and promised herself she wouldn't. Callie tore herself from him, ducked under his arm and flew through the club, picking up her purse as she raced by her chair.

‘Oh God, what did I do? Shit shit shit shit shit!’

It was JC’s turn to stand alone, dumbfounded, wondering what happened.

‘What did I do? SHIT!’

 …

Callie heard but ignored the light tapping at her door. Fully dressed, she laid on the bed, in the dark, sobbing quietly.

“Callie. I know you hear me. Open the door, please.”

Taptaptap. “Callie. Open the door. “

With an audible sigh, JC gave up and went to his own room next door. He paced in front of the bed, thinking. ‘What do I do? Is she mad? Or hurt? Should I have not kissed her? But she kissed me first! Dammit, Callie!’

JC picked up his phone and as a last ditch effort, sent her a text.

‘I just want to talk to you. Sorry I accused you of trying to make Curtis jealous. Just tell me you’re alright. Or if you’re not.  Please don’t ignore this.’

Callie’s phone lit up and buzzed. She knew who the text was from, and resisted looking at it for a few minutes. Instead she washed her face, changed out of her dress and heels and pulled back the sheets to get into bed. She sighed, then, eyeing the phone. She couldn’t resist, and read his message then tapped out a short response.  

‘I’m fine. I feel stupid. I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t screwed things up. I’m going to bed, see you tomorrow.’

‘WAIT! There is nothing to be sorry or feel stupid about. Nothing is screwed up. Don’t go to bed, come talk to me.’

‘I’m so so so embarrassed. I can’t.’

‘There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Come over. Please? Wear your fuzzy socks.’

 A small smile flashed across Callie’s face. She picked up the pair of socks where she’d left them on top of her suitcase and put them on, grabbed her keycard, and went next door. JC answered almost immediately, as if he‘d been waiting for her.

“Hey,” she said, trying to appear nonchalant, as if they had not been joined at the tongue a few hours prior.

“Hey, you,” he answered back.

She made herself comfortable in a chair, not daring to look at him. He sat on the edge of the bed, across from her.

‘So,” he said after a long, uncomfortable silence. “You wanna talk about anything?”

Callie shrugged and chewed on her bottom lip, not daring to look at him.

“Ok, I’ll talk," he said, clearing his throught. 

" Like I said, I’m sorry I accused you of something you didn’t do. I looked up and I saw Curtis and he was watching you. With me. And he wasn’t happy.  I was really enjoying dancing with you and I thought you might have been like… getting close to me or whatever. When I saw Curtis, I guess I felt stupid for thinking that you would actually let me get close to you. I thought you had been using me to make him jealous.”

She shook her head, finally raising her eyes to look at JC. “I didn’t know he was there, I swear. I never saw him, even after you told me he was there.  I would NOT do that to you, and I don’t care what Curtis thinks. I haven’t cared what Curtis thinks in a long time. HE broke up with ME, so if he has jealousy issues, maybe he shouldn’t have dumped me. “

“Understood. So… the kiss?”

Callie blushed a deep red and felt her temperature rising. “I… I was feeling good and I’d been drinking—it’s not an excuse, I just didn’t … I dunno, something just made me do it. You said I had to have had a reason for dancing with you like that. I guess that was my way of telling you the reason."

Silence. A long, pregnant pause. They stared at each other, each daring the other to take a step forward.

JC swallowed audibly, then said, “You danced with me because … because you wanted to kiss me?”

Callie laughed quietly. “Among other things.”  

'Holy Shit. There is no going back, now. You just like being hurt, don’t you?’

“Really.”

She nodded slowly, looking at him straight on. There was nothing left to hide.

JC's face broke into a relieved grin. “Callie,” he whispered, sliding off of the bed onto his knees. He maneuvered himself between her legs and wrapped his arms around her waist. Callie’s arms refused to move and she was barely breathing—her entire body was frozen, waiting to see what he would do.

Soft lips touched hers, very lightly and then with more pressure. Callie leaned into him, and their lips met in a deeper, more earnest kiss.   She took his face in her hands, caressing his stubbled cheek with her thumbs while their tongues intertwined and played with one another. JC moaned and smiled while he kissed her. Callie giggled at him as she kissed him.

“Mmmmm… finally,” he whispered when they parted.

“Amen,” she whispered.

“Come here,” he said, standing up and leading her to the bed. “My knees are over thirty. I just want to be more comfortable, I’m not gonna try anything.”

“What if I want you to?” Callie climbed onto the massive bed and JC followed, sitting next to her.

“I’m... not gonna try anything,” he laughed.

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun. I just… we should… not do anything we might regret. We have a lot of work to do, yet and I don't want to screw up what we've done. Make it weird or anything.”

“I haven’t regretted any of this, so far,” Callie said, leaning over to kiss him, long and slow.

“God, you’re good at this,” JC mumbled, and leaned in for another kiss.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Producer Man,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

“That is not my name, Calpernia,” he said, gently pushing her so she was laying down. He laid down next to her, propping himself up on one elbow and held her hand in his.

“Oh, how did I know that was coming?”

“I’m a little bit predictable,” he said, bringing her palm to his lips.

“Your lips are soft.”

“So are yours. So are your hands. So is your skin.”

“I like this, right here,” she said, scratching at his stubble.

“You like when I’m lazy and don’t shave?”

“Yeah. I like a lot of things.”

“Like?”

“Like, when you smile, the corner of your eyes wrinkle up. Like, right before you’re about to say something you think is funny you get this twinkle in your eye. Like, when you laugh at your own jokes like someone else told them. “

“Somebody has to laugh at them. May as well be me,” he said, laughing and blushing. “I like a lot of things about you.”

“Oh?”

“Mmmhmmm. I like this little dimple you get when you’re trying not to laugh at my really funny jokes. Like when you chew your lip when you’re nervous. Like you play a tough bitch but you’re such a pussycat.”

“Don’t tell anyone. That’s a well-kept secret.”

“My lips are sealed,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

“I like the way you kiss,” she mumbled between kisses.

‘Mmm... what do you like about it?”

“You’re good at it!’ she giggled. “And you taste good. Not… like cigarettes.”

“Curtis smokes?”

Callie nodded. “He hides it.”

“Hard to hide.”

“Yeah. Even if you brush your teeth, it’s still like licking an ash tray.”

“Ew. What’s kissing me like licking?”

“I don’t… want to think about it.  Kiss me so I don't have to. Please?”

He obliged and rolled so he was half on, half off of her. Callie’s fingers could not stop running through his hair. She felt a hand on her thigh, making its way up her body, very slowly. It stopped momentarily at her hip and continued upward, stopping at her breast, cupping it and then gently caressing it, feeling for her nipple. It made itself known, rising through the thin fabric of her t shirt. He rubbed it with the pad of his thumb, eliciting a quiet moan from her.

“We have a problem, Callie,” JC murmured.

“I feel it," she said, writhing against the growing bulge pressed into her thigh. "I wouldn’t call it so much a problem as an uhm… symptom? ”

“You have one of those, too, he said, lightly scratching at her raised nipple. "No, not that. I said we shouldn’t do anything we’d regret. I can’t think of one thing I would regret right now.”

“And yet there are things we should probably not do.”

“Yes. Do you see the problem?”

“More clearly than you do.”

“Damn. I was hoping you didn’t see the problem and we could do things we shouldn’t.”

“Mmmm. It’s not going to happen, handsome. As much as I want it to. And I do want it to.”

“Do you?”

“ Bad. But...we wait. Right?”

“Mmm. Because. We have work to do, still.”

“Yes. Working relationship and all. But it’ll be better later and all that jazz.”

“Yeah. That. Damn. Because. I’ve been thinking a lot…”

“About?”

“About that day I saw you in just your t-shirt. At the door.” JC stopped raining kisses on Callie’s neck to look her in the eye. “Yep just as I thought.  That green eye is driving me mad.”

Callie laughed loudly. “Just the green one? Is the brown one a turnoff?”

“It’s not your best feature. You should… you should close that eye and just walk around with the green one. It’s hot.”

“Like this?” Callie closed one eye.

“Yes. YES. That’s hot, right there.”

“Ok but what if I need both my eyes?”

“You’ll get used to it. Have it removed so you won’t revert back to using it.”

“That’s so not funny, you idiot.”

“That’s a really good idea. I can’t believe you’re shooting it down.”

“JC,” Callie started, laughing too hard to keep talking. “I like you. You’re hilarious. So much fun. Except you won’t fight with me.”

“I don’t like to fight. Sorry.”

“Yeah I’ve seen that.”

“You don’t either. That’s why every time you think I’m mad at you, you go crazy trying to find me and make sure I’m not.”

“No, I love to fight. I just hate you being mad at me. It would throw everything off and set us back and I didn’t think I could afford to piss you off.”

“You’ve never pissed me off, Callie.” JC smiled and his hand resumed its journey over her body, stopping between her legs. He hesitated and looked up at her. She smiled and raised one eyebrow. She didn’t object, but he continued upward again, this time traveling under her t-shirt, lifting it so he could see her to reveal a taught, flat stomach.

“Oh my God. ” he mumbled, laying kisses from her belly button up to her ribcage and back down to her panty line. Callie closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his soft lips and hot breath on her skin. She reached down and pulled her t-shirt up over her head, exposing a thin, light almost opaque black bra.

JC growled when he saw it, his eyes dark, moving himself up so he could bury his face between the ample cups. Callie laughed when he mimicked drowning. JC laughed with her, his heart quickening at the sound. He heard it so infrequently and liked it.  He laid his head on the soft, pillow -like orbs and sighed. Callie lightly scratched his scalp with her nails, looking down on his full, thick head of dark brown hair.

“I love your hair. It’s perfect.”

“I'm getting gray hairs,” he said, muffled by a breast.

“Are you going to sleep?”

“No. Just… enjoying this. You. I like these.” She could feel him smile against her.

“Oh. Well they like you, too.”

“I see,” he said rubbing his thumb over an erect nipple. Callie moaned and rolled her hips under him.

“Mmmm… just had a thought,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Do your panties match this bra?” Callie nodded, smiling. “Can I see?”

In a short moment, Callie’s pajama pants were off and JC admired her body, head to toe.

“JC. Can you… will you take your shirt off?” He hesitated, but did as she asked, and pulled his shirt over his head. He started to lay back down but she stopped him, laying a hand on his chest. She sat up, on her knees and reached out to touch him, letting her hands glide slowly from his shoulders, down his muscular arms, and across his chest, her fingers lightly raking the layer of hair.

“Do you shave your chest?”

He grinned and looked down at himself. “Wax. And my arms. Sometimes, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Cause I’m hairy! It bugs me. I’m… I have neurotic tendencies.”

“No kidding. You should stop it. The hair is sexy. Especially on the arms. God, I love your arms. Every time you hug me, I lose my mind.”

“Really,” he said, grinning at her, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He rose up on his knees and brought her to him, holding her tight. She wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her head on his chest and sighed. She smiled, listening to his heartbeat. ‘He’s excited to be here with me. I hope I’m not dreaming.’

“Callie,” JC whispered.

“Hmm?” she answered.

“Why did you run away? After we kissed?” Callie breathed deeply and lifted her head, bringing her arms up around his neck.

“This whole time I’ve been telling myself I’m stupid for having feelings for you, that you didn’t want me. And… yesterday we talked and you said some things that reinforced that, and so ... it wasn’t me running away from you. It was me running away from me. I don’t think it registered that you were kissing me back. I just felt stupid for doing it and then when you moved us up against the wall, I… thought … I thought you were trying to hide so no one would see. Like, embarrassed about me kissing you.”

“So when you ran, and then wouldn’t answer the door, you were embarrassed?”

Callie nodded. “I just felt like ‘shit, what did I do, I just totally screwed up everything, now he’s gonna be uncomfortable around me’. It wasn’t you. Did you think I was mad? ”

 “Or like… hurt that I would think I could make that move on you. Like, after our talk last night about guys that want...something...from you. I didn't want you to think I was like that. Even though you kissed me first.”

She shook her head. “No. It wasn’t you. I promise.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you. That you weren’t like... into me. I decided I wouldn’t say anything because I didn’t want to be rejected. And then I didn’t really want to come behind Curtis. But it was getting hard to hide.”

“Well now you don’t have to,” she said, bringing her open mouth to his. He moaned as they kissed, running his hands up and down her long waist. He gently pushed her back so that she was lying down and laid on top of her. Callie wrapped her legs around his.

“Can you take your jeans off?” Callie whispered.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

She laughed. “You know that’s not gonna satisfy me. Why, JC?”

“Because...I’m not wearing anything under them.”

“Oh. Ohhhhh. You don’t want me to see you?”

“No, I don't care about that.  I’m trying hard not to rip these pretty things off of you and have my way with you, is why.”

“Ohhhh. Yeah. “

“Professional relationship and all.”

“Yeah.  So. How long do you think we have to uhm… maintain our professional relationship?”

“At least till your album is done. It won’t be long. It’ll be worth the wait.”

“I hope so. I can’t wait.”

JC took a deep breath and rolled to the side, laying an arm on her waist and propping himself up on an elbow.

“What’s wrong?” Callie asked.

“Just better that I’m not laying ON you.”

“Aw. I like you laying ON me.”

“I know. I’m trying, here, Callie. Trying hard.”

Callie giggled at his effort, but thought he was sweet. “Can you just put on a pair of underwear? Did you bring any?”

“Oh. I guess I could do that.” He got up from the bed, dug through his suitcase and pulled out a pair of briefs. Before Callie could turn away, he unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, kicking out of them. His erection flopped out of them and bounced with his movement. He slipped on a pair of boxer briefs, laughing at how they barely concealed him, and laid back down next to her. Callie reminded herself to breathe as he smiled down at her and moved in to kiss her, lightly at first but deeper and with more passion after a few minutes.

Callie grasped his arm and pulled him onto her, arching up in to him, sighing and moaning through the kiss. JC’s hips responded and he ground into her, groaning. Callie found a position that nearly sent her into orbit and wrapped her legs around JC, grasping him and pushing him into her as she ground up into him.

“Oh my God, don’t stop, Callie.”

“I'm not. Oh… GOD! You feel good.”

“I feel really good. I’m about to--”

“Me too,” said Callie, practically biting a hole in her lip to stop herself from screaming, grinding harder and faster into him. He responded in kind, thrusting his hips into her, beads of sweat popping up all over his body, his skin turning a light shade of pink, and his breath coming in heavy puffs to match his rhythm.

“Callie,” He whispered.

“Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD,” she whimpered in his ear. Her hips jerked and spasmed against his, she gasped in deep breaths of air and her body convulsed up under him. Feeling her climax sent him over the edge and he joined her, moaning louder than he wanted to, but refused to let it take away from his pleasure.

“Sneaky, Callie,” he panted, grinning down at her in post climax bliss. Her skin was glistening with sweat, her chest rose and fell with every breath, her hair splayed out around her head as if it was a halo. She smiled up at him innocently and shrugged.

“Whaaaaaaaaat? I just asked you to put on some underwear. I didn’t know you were gonna flash me.”

"I'll... be right back,” he said, looking down at his soiled briefs.

“Should I go?”Callie asked, sitting up.

“No. No, no. Please don’t go. I’ll be right back. Get in the bed.”

Callie pulled the covers back and slid between the cool, crisp sheets. She heard water running in the bathroom, and smiled to herself.

‘Feeling proud of yourself?’

Callie shook her head to quiet her thoughts. The bathroom door opened and JC came out in a fresh pair of briefs and crawled into bed beside her, snapping off the lamp next to him. Callie turned so her back was to him and he moved behind her, one arm around her waist.

“Callie.”

“Mmmm…”

”Tonight was fun. All of it. Thank you.”

“Thank you, too. I didn’t do it by myself.”

“I can’t wait till…”

“I know. Me either. ‘Night.”

“ ‘Night.”  

Callie awoke to the sound of loud knocking. Insistent, nearly pounding. JC tightened his arm around her and brushed his stubble against her back.

“They’ll go away,” he whispered.

“Callie! You in there?”

“Fuck! It’s Jason!” she whispered sitting up.

“Shhh…, " he said, a finger to his lips. "Sit here, away from the door. Just… sit here.” JC stumbled to the door, frowning against the bright hallway light.

“Jason? ‘Sup, man? What time is it?”

“Hey, man, sorry to wake you up. I’m looking for Callie. I got a last minute meeting request at Jive and I can’t find her.“

“She left the Club before me last night, man. She sent me a message that she was going to bed at like, 1. Did you call her?”

“Yeah...no answer.” Jason paced the hall, frustrated.

“Maybe she went out, down to the gym, or something? Isn’t she on some kinda workout regimen? Check down there.”

“Good idea. Thanks man. If you see her, tell her to call me.” Jason jogged down the hall toward the elevator and out of sight.

“Ok, coast is clear,” he whispered, closing the door. Callie was already pulling her pajamas back on. “You better get moving; he’ll come back up in a minute. Can you cover yourself from here?”

“Yeah I sleep really heavy sometimes; I’ll just tell him I didn’t hear him. I’ll call you later," she said, reaching for the door.

“Hey hey hey,” JC said with a smile, grabbing her arm before she could walk out. “Kiss me.”

“Oh,” Callie said with a laugh, and tipped her head up to meet his lips. “I had fun.”

“Me too. When are you leaving town?”

“Later today... afternoon. You?”

“Tomorrow. I got some studio time up here and some friends I’m supposed to meet up with today. Any... chance you can stay another night?”

“Maybe. I’ll see what I have going. I don’t even know, right now. I have to go.” She pecked his cheek, checked the hall, and ducked into her room, the door closing silently behind her.

…

“I looked all over for you and pounded on your door for ten minutes. I woke JC up. You slept through all of that?”

“But don’t I look well rested? I didn’t hear a thing. What’s this meeting about?” Callie sipped her coffee and hoped her nonchalant attitude would make him drop his questions. Either that, or shut up so she could relive the evening over and over again in her mind.

“They want to talk video. Need to pick a director, budget, think about concept, all that.”  

“Did they tell you for what song?”

“Let’s Start Over', I think”

“I hate that they don’t ASK me what song I want to release first. Maybe I don’t want to release that one first.”

“I’m sure you can lend an opinion. Just not sure they’ll listen.”

“Or care.”

“Right,” said Jason. The car pulled in front of the glassed in building and Wolfe stepped out of the front seat to open Callie’s door, then escort them into the building. He nodded at them as they walked past him, then closed the door behind them and stepped back into the car. Callie watched him through the glass as they waited for the elevator.

“I like him. He’s very efficient,” Callie said. “Is he through an agency?”

“He’s private,” Jason muttered, absentmindedly scrolling through his PDA.

“Hm. I wonder if he’s interested in a contract. Can you find out?”

Jason glanced over at her, an eyebrow raised. “Like full time security? For events and stuff like this? I’ll find out. Why, is something up?”

“I feel like some stuff is about to happen, like we’re gonna get really big and busy, soon. I think we need to meet, too, you and I. Go over some new stuff I want you to take care of. Ok?”

“We’ll meet after this,” he said with a nod, stepping off the elevator.

…

Callie and Jason sat through a short but lively meeting. The label seemed excited about the single, making sure to tell Callie the song had made the rounds and everyone was behind it. They wanted to talk about future steps and start the promotional ramp up. Before the meeting ended, they had set a budget, chosen a director, set a single release date and scheduled a photo shoot for photos to be used on the single as well as the full album. The video would likely be shot in LA, which made Callie very happy. She suddenly had a very good reason to want to be in LA.

“I think that went well, don’t you? Anything you feel like you compromised on?” Jason adjusted his designer shades as they sat down to a hearty lunch, well deserved after such a productive meeting.

“Nope, but it’s still beginning stages. Remember when we shot ‘My Street’ and that director was such a dick? I'm not in the mood for that again.”

“Yeah, but by the time you finished ripping him another asshole, I don’t think he was too into working with you again, either. So, what’d you want to talk about? What new stuff?”

Callie sat forward and set her menu aside, clasping her hands together. “Jason. Uhm. I… I need to apologize to you. Not that an apology will cover everything I’ve ever said or accused you of, but… I do apologize for how I’ve spoken to you in the past and how I’ve treated you. Like I said, I feel like some shit is about to go down and I need someone in charge of my affairs that I trust. I need to be able to trust you to do your job as it should be done.”

“Okay. Do you feel like you can’t trust me?”

Callie paused for a beat, then continued. “My contract is between me and the label. What you hear, you’re privy to because you’re my manager. It’s confidential. My mom should not be calling me to talk about things only you, I, or the label should know. Every little burp in my career, she knows about. I know you’re the link. I need for those things to stay confidential.  Zip your lip, seal the leak. From here on out, or you’re fired. Got it?”

Jason gulped and bowed his head. He muttered an apology and nodded.

“You were a business major. I know you know how to run a business, create revenue streams, keep things running. I need you to do that for me-- not just book me and order a car- MANAGE my career. Callie Phelps should be an Enterprise. Why don’t I get invitations to events? Why aren’t I pimping a perfume or shoes or a lipstick? Why am I still doing radio remote broadcasts? You say managing me is easy, all you have to do is say my name and you get what you want... then want MORE for me.”

“We need to interview and hire a personal assistant for me and work with them to maintain my schedule and make sure things are taken care of. I’m gonna be spending a lot of time in LA and I need to make sure things get taken care of, as well as someone to accompany me when I travel, that way you don’t have to go everywhere with me. Are you getting this down?”

“Oh! Yeah,” Jason mumbled, pulling out a pen and taking notes. Callie rolled her eyes, then took a breath.

“Don’t forget to ask Wolfe if he’s willing to work on a contract. I don’t just want him to be my security, I want him to be HEAD of security. If he can’t be around, I want him to recommend and hire someone who can, and will do as good a job as he does.”

“Ok.”

Callie paused. Jason wrote until he finished his thought and looked up at her. She cleared her throat and continued in a lower, softer voice.

“The reason I don’t want you on the road as much is because I want you working to book me. And because you’re not my personal assistant, you’re my manager. You’re not beneath me. You work with me, not FOR me. It’s not your job to bring me coffee and donuts when I’ve worked all night. You do it, but it’s not your job. It’s not your job to arrange car services for me, or to make sure I have shoes for an award show. That’s an assistant’s job. You should have someone to direct to take care of that stuff for me. Got it?”

“Yes,” Jason said, nodding.

“And I need you to KNOW that’s not your job and ACT like it’s not your job. Don’t let me run over you, because you know I will, and not think anything of it. All that shows me is that you’re weak and you’ll let yourself be run over for a paycheck.”

“Right. I got it. Thank you for this chance, Cal. I know I don’t deserve it, but I do actually enjoy the job, so… I’m here. I’ll do better.”

“You better. You have to. I don’t have time to train a new manager. And until you hire me an assistant, I have no one to order a salad for me so I have to have a cheeseburger for lunch.” Callie grinned and Jason laughed.

“Hey, if you want to hear Rick bitching, it’s not my problem. You do have a photo shoot coming up. It’s booked, Miss Phelps.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m back on it tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, do I have anything?”

Jason consulted his PDA and shook his head. “No. Clear.”

Callie concealed a smug smile. “I’m gonna stay an extra night. No security. JC got some studio time; he might want to work on some stuff.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Jason made a note, and then looked up at her over his shades. “Callie.”

“What?” she asked, lost in the menu.

“Cal.”

“What?" Callie looked up, and from Jason's expression knew that she was caught.

“Are you sleeping with him?” he asked in low tone.

“No.” It was the truth. So why was she blushing?

Jason chuckled and leaned close to her. “Callie. There’s no way you didn’t hear me banging on your door. And I smelled your perfume when JC opened his door.”

She stared at Jason for a long moment. He stared back. A smile broke and spread across Callie’s face and Jason laughed.

“Keep this QUIET. I’m NOT sleeping with him, like having sex with him. But I was with him last night and I was there, this morning. He sent you downstairs so I could go to my room.”

“I knew you were in there before he even opened the door," he said, lightly laughing.  "There’s no place else you could be. I went downstairs, walked around the fountain for a minute, then came back up and oh! Magically! Callie is wide awake and refreshed! If you really slept through all of that, you’d have looked dead to the world.” Jason was smug and Callie couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ok but still. Mum’s the word.”

“Of course. And deny, deny, deny.”

“All day, baby. All day.”

“And you’re staying an extra day because…”

“I told you.”

“Callie.”

“Jason! I’ve told you all you need to know. Just take care of my reservations, ok?”

“Ok. I’m not staying, though.”

“Good!” Callie said but smiled when she said it. “Keep me in the loop on that stuff we talked about. And don’t say a word to your dad or my mom.”

“Got it.”

…

Callie coveted time alone and put it to good use when she could get it. She shopped for awhile and dropped into a salon for a last minute cut, then toward sundown headed back to the hotel. New York held so much energy—it was a bustling city all hours of the day and Callie soaked it up and let it course through her until it tired her out. She had a text message conversation with JC in a tub of bubbles during which they decided to have dinner and relax in fuzzy socks, watching movies. She couldn’t remember when she looked forward to a boring night of dinner and a movie so much.

Dinner was delivered at 8, but no JC. 8:15, 8:30, 8:45 rolled around and still no JC. Finally, just before 9, there was a rustling in the hall and she heard a beep, then a bang against the wall. Callie giggled, thinking he must have flung the door open. A moment later a hurried knock.

“I am SO. SORRY!" he said rushing into the room. "Time got away from me, I ran for a cab, my phone was dead and the cabbie didn’t have a cell phone, and there was MAD traffic, I’m so sorry--“

Callie silenced him with a kiss, holding his face in her hands. He hugged her close to him and kissed her back. When they parted, she smiled up at him and when he started to speak, she placed a finger over his lips.

“I don’t care. You’re here. I understand. You want some cold food?”

Over lukewarm pasta and cooled garlic bread they caught up and talked about the day. JC was excited about Let’s Start Over being the first single off of the album to be released.

“I really think it sets the tone for people to expect something different this time around. Plus, it’s a hit!” He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes but laughed.

“If this song goes #1 you’re gonna be impossible.”

“It’s gonna be cool, when it does. And it will. They just have to push it.”

“They said they would. How about you? How goes the album?”

 His face fell slightly. “It goes. I’m about tired of looking at the same stuff over and over. It’s like…. I don’t have a label, but I can’t stop working on it. I don't know if it's a waste of time, or not.”

“That’s because you’re a musician. We don’t stop creating just because there’s no outlet. But I wish there was, for you. Just to get it out there. How close are you to picking a label?”

JC groaned and pushed his plate away. “Nothing really strikes me as ‘we believe in you and we want to release your music’. I think I’ve proven myself in this business… I shouldn’t have to sift through the same deals they’re offering debut artists.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Isn’t it weird for them, at Jive, to see you in and out of their offices and they screwed you over so bad?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t really care. If I can hold my head up and walk my skinny ass in there, that’s all that matters.”

“You really are way optimistic.” Callie shook her head but reached over to him and stroked his bare arm.

“It’s one of my best personality traits, honey. What movies are watching?” He pulled on a fresh pair of fuzzy socks, winked at Callie and stretched out on the bed.

“Porky’s 1 through 4. I dunno. We watched all the ones I brought the other day. What do you want to watch? Maybe there’s something on Pay Per View.” Callie reached for the remote and flipped through the menu. “Nothing’s really turning me on, here.”

“Come over here,” he said, his voice taking on a low, seductive tone.

“You don’t get to just order me around, now,” she said, trying not to smile at him.

“Calpernia Joy Phelps," he said, snapping his fingers.  "Get over here.”

“Yes sir,” she giggled, and climbed over him. As soon as she laid down he rolled over and kissed her, wildly, passionately. She threw her arms around his neck and squealed.

“Mmmm...you smell good,” he said, burying his nose in her neck.

“So do you.”

“Did you get a haircut?”

“Yeah, little bit. Was getting shaggy. You like?”

“I love,” he responded, leaning on one arm, looking down at her. “You’re so beautiful, Callie. Even the brown eye.”

Callie burst into laughter. “I’m wearing contacts. They’re both brown. “

“Nuh uh. I can tell which eye isn’t really brown. That’s ok. It’s still hot.”

“I should have never told you that. You’re such a nerd.”

“Rude. See, I know you love me.”

“Maybe. Kiss me some more.”

Later, they laid in the dark, side by side in her bed, holding hands and talking.

“So, Jason knows," she blurted out into the darkness. She felt his head turn toward her.

“What? Really? How?”

“He smelled my perfume when you opened your door. That, and he couldn’t find me and didn’t think there was anyplace else I could be.”

“He’s got loose lips though, doesn’t he? I think we should keep this quiet. If it gets out neither of us will get any peace—“

“I know, I know. I swore him to secrecy. We talked a lot today, about expanding his job and doing it better, hiring more security and an assistant for me. I think he gets that I’m serious. My business is my business or he’s fired.”

“Good for you. And about time.”

“I told him I wasn’t sleeping with you but I was in your room. And that I needed to keep it quiet and he agreed. Deny, deny, deny.”

“If we do this right, no one will know until we want them too. This is gonna take a lot of patience.”

Callie cut her eyes at him. Though he couldn’t see it, he felt her blood pressure start to rise. “You act like I’ve never dated anyone in the business before.”

“Hate to say it, honey but denying you were dating Curtis wasn’t fooling anyone.”

“See, there you go. You're being condescending. STOP IT, I'm not an idiot.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t mean that you’re an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t crawl up my ass, just stop doing that. It bugs the shit out of me.”

“Alright. I said okay.” Callie heaved a sigh but said nothing else.

‘Keep it up. He’ll dump you, too.’

“JC, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I apologize. Okay?”

“Forgiven, ” he said, reaching over to stroke her cheek. She grasped his hand and kissed his palm.

“How do you stay so calm? Are you on downers or something? Don’t you ever get PISSED? Why didn’t you tell me ‘shut the fuck up, that’s not what I meant, you BITCH’?”

JC laughed, long and hard. “First, that’s you, not me. Second,” he laughed again, then continued. “If I talked to you like that you would kick my ass. I’m scared of you!”

“You are NOT.”

JC sighed. “Ok, but I AM scared of my mom, and just let it get back to my mom that I told a woman to ‘shut the fuck up’, and called her a bitch-- she’d beat me. I’m not like that. I wasn’t raised to be that way. Yes, I do get angry. No, it doesn’t last long. And your outbursts are… just Callie. I just deal with it.”

Callie rolled over and snuggled up next to him, nuzzling his neck. “I need whatever it is you’re smoking. I just get so worked up, especially if I think I’m being screwed over or someone’s calling me stupid. I hope I never embarrass you.”

“You’d have to do a lot to embarrass me. Be yourself, Callie. Whatever yourself is, be you. I don’t want a prim and proper Callie that holds her tongue when she gets upset. I like you feisty.”

“You said that once before.”

“Yeah, I let that slip,” he chuckled. “I thought I was caught, then. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t say anything when you caught me staring at you either.”

“What was I gonna say? Don’t stare at me? It’s not like I hate the attention.”

“Uh huh,” he said, his hands roaming her body.

“Mmmhmmm,” she said, her hands roaming his.

“Be careful, sexy,” he whispered as her hands traveled below his waist.

“You be careful,” she whispered as his fingers found a spot that made her shudder and her breath catch.

“Remind me, again, why I can’t fuck you till you pass out?”

Callie writhed as he touched her. “Uhm. When you describe it like that, while you’re making me—“ she shuddered. “—do that… I don’t want to remember. I hope you come up with a reason because if you try, I’m gonna let you.”

“I should be a good boy then, huh?” he panted, her hand stroking him with a strong rhythm. Conversation gave way to hips thrusting and gyrating, mouths moaning and grunting, licking and sucking until they had each reached a powerful climax.

“Yeah, so,” Callie panted, falling back into the mattress. “Can we finish the album tomorrow? I’ve never wanted sex so bad in my life.”

“I know. Me too. Once we cross that line, though, it’s a whole different thing.”

“What we're already doing isn’t a whole different thing?”

“Yeah but… it’s less of a whole different thing. It’ll be worth it. I promise. Are you alright?”

Callie breathed deeply, her breath coming back to her. “Yeah. You?”

“I need a shower.”

“You are all sweaty and… gizzy.”

“Gizzy?" he said, laughing. "That’s a word I’ve never heard before. You want to join me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Patience, Producer Man.”

“I’ll be right back, then. Keep this spot warm for me.” He got out of bed and put his jeans and t-shirt back on.

“Mmhmm…. “ she mumbled, turning the TV back on. “Hurry, don’t dawdle.”

“Where do you come up with these words?” He laughed and stepped out of her room. Callie flipped the TV from one program to another, settling on Jay Leno’s monologue. Before long, he was back, taptaptapping a light beat on the door.

Callie let him in and sniffed deeply, taking in the handsome spicy scent of him. “Yum, you smell good.”

“Thank you. It’s called soap,” he said, sliding between the sheets and pulling her next to him, resting his chin on her shoulder. They drifted off to sleep, the TV flickering through the late night programming.

At some point during the night, JC woke up, reached over Callie and pressed the ‘OFF’ button. With a contented sigh, he pulled Callie closer to him and sank back into sleep.

…

It wasn't long at all, really, until they were done... unless you were counting. Counting the days, the weeks, the MINUTES until the album was done, and the last track was sent to mix, and there were no more songs to touch up, and she was done, done, completely done, FINISHED. Callie was counting, counting the seconds.

JC had stayed true to his word. He wanted their relationship to remain as professional as it could remain until the end and he held up his end of the bargain, despite a lot of teasing and flirting and-- well, begging, really-- from Callie. He was absolutely not giving in, though, and while it drove her out of her mind, she knew it would make the moment that much more worth it.

It was. It was, it was, it was. She had never been cliche, not one to issue platitudes, but it was so much better than she ever thought it would be. They finished the album in LA, and the very second the album was complete, she was in a car and headed up the coast to a grand hotel overlooking the ocean. They wasted no time exploring each other, though Callie was almost timid, now that there was no stopping point.

"Do you want to stop?" he mumbled, holding her close to him, both of them naked, his hands roaming her body, his arousal apparent, caught between them.  She shuddered, not from cold, but from the electric shocks that coursed through her from his touch on her skin. She was hypersenstive, the desire in her rising to a boiling point.

"If you stop, I will throw a major Diva fit. Don't you DARE," she breathed, gasping as his tongue rasped along the length of her neck.

"Oh, well we don't want that, do we?" he whispered, lazily dragging his tongue down the other side of her neck.  Callie whimpered, not sure how much longer she could stand this slow, lazy torture he called foreplay.

"JC?"

"Hmmm?"
 

"Are you trying to seduce me for your benefit, or mine?" He chuckled and pulled back. "What?"

"I'm a sure thing. I'm horny, I'm wet, I'm ready. Can we do this already?"

"Well... let's not rush it."

"We've been not rushing it for a couple of months now. Please, baby, please!"

JC rolled his eyes, but in a playful way, and led her toward the King size bed with the frilly comforter and way-too-many-pillows. He let her climb up and he followed her to the middle of the bed and without words began to rain soft kisses on her from neck down. When she was sufficiently relaxed, he rolled onto her, hooking his hands behind her knees and wrapping her legs around him.

Callie closed her eyes as she felt a hand travel south, and lips on her skin and heard pleasurable moaning, which she wasn't all that sure wasn't coming from her. The gasp, though- she was sure that came from her. The gasp, and the arching of her back and the tossing back of the head as he slid into her-- that was all her. The groans and the moans and the rising sounds of pleasure and happiness because, finally, it was happening!-- all her. The panting and groaning and grunting, 'oh my God, yeah'-- some of that was JC. But mostly, it was her.

Callie felt a little like she'd never had sex before. Curtis had been her first, and her only. He had been greedy about sex, mostly about HIM and making sure he got off, and then rolling off and sometimes leaving her to satisfy herself. If she didn't come to the table ready, and try to hit her climax at the same time, she was out of luck because once Curtis came, he immediately fell asleep. 

This? This was different. This was slow and sensuous, and then fast and hard and then slow again. It was him asking her if she was ok, did she like this, did she feel good, asking her what he could do to help her. It was him making sure she hit the highest point of climax before he let himself take his. It was him not rolling over and falling asleep, but staying inside her, holding her, kissing her, while she came down, while her breathing returned to normal, while she realized how different it was, being with someone who genuinely cared. Callie couldn't help but giggle, the laugh coming from deep down inside her.

"What are you laughing at, Calpernia?"

"Remember when you told me that someday I'd look back on my relationship with... him... and think 'I was a dumbass for missing him'?"

"Are you feeling like a dumbass?" JC started to laugh, a sound she had grown to love tremendously, especially when his eyes disappeared and crinkled up in the corner.

"A big huge giant one. Thank you. For everything. For today, for the past 6 months, for everything."  She ran a hand through his hair as his head dipped to kiss her, long and slow.

"You're welcome. It was my pleasure," he answered, lowering his head to her shoulder. She tightned her arms around him and sighed, and tried to stop herself from smiling like a fool, but she couldn't stop it from coming.

"Mine, too."

The weeks following her pivotal meeting with the label were a whirlwind of activity for Callie. Between finishing tracks for her album, tour rehearsals, a video shoot, the radio release of ‘Let’s Start Over’ and subsequent promotional tour, plus working with Jason to interview and hire her new assistant, Callie felt she might have gone crazy had she not had JC to lean on for support. He had a way of calming her and giving her perspective—just do this one thing, right now. And when you get to the next thing, just do that, until you’re done for the day. And tomorrow, start again. ‘One foot in front of the other, Callie,’ she continually told herself, his words echoing back.

On a rare morning off, Callie was enjoying the quiet solace of the loft. Paula was spending her usual one week a month in New York. Jason had found office space in LA and had spent weeks hanging things and being obsessive over furniture and generally irritating Callie. JC was busy working with another artist, writing and producing and would be busy most of the day. They had loose plans to see each other later but nothing was set in stone—and that was how they liked it. Neither of them had the time nor the will to dedicate to anything serious, but Callie liked that she could call him and he’d make time for her, and vice versa. They had a great friendship and a nice, budding relationship. Rushing things would ruin it, so they were taking it very, very slow.

Callie often thought back to the peace and quiet with him, in that hotel with the ocean view, with nothing around but sand and shore, when she found out what it was like to make love to someone who genuinely cared for her, in a way she’d never experienced before. From time to time, Jason would find her staring into space and smiling to herself and shake his head. Her only regret was listening to the voice that told her she should not feel anything for him and that a relationship with him would be wrong.  For  moment, it was just what she needed and so VERY right.

The shrill electronic beeping of her cell phone interrupted a series of steamy daydreams. Callie hoped it was JC but the display told her Jason was calling.

“What’s up, J-dogg?”

Jason paused, likely rolling his eyes. “You’re just gonna work your way through lame nicknames till one sticks, aren’t you?”   

“I’m out of names after that one. What?”

“Just got call-- good news on the single.” ‘Let’s Start Over’ had debuted in the top 20 and shot up the charts a few steps every week. She’d been flirting with the Top spot for two weeks, but some hot young upstart was keeping her at number 3. Callie had hoped this would be the single to break the ‘peak at 3’ curse that seemed to haunt her.

“So? What’d they say?” Callie asked, almost holding her breath.

“Probably #1. Maybe 2, but more toward 1.”

Callie sucked in a breath. “You’re shittin’ me!  Are you serious? Do you know I’ve never had a number 1 before?”

“I’m totally serious! Yeah, I know that,” Jason said, practically squealing along with her. “This is GREAT news, Callie. A real boost for the album release. So, I’m gonna try to get you on with Ryan tomorrow, it’ll be a great day to pop in and ‘oh by the way, you hit number 1 today’ kinda thing. You can talk about the mini concert coming up, the video debut, the album release, maybe the next single? ”

“Probably premature on the next single,“ Callie mused. “But yeah, that sounds good. I haven’t seen Ryan in awhile. I’m kinda… lightheaded.”

Callie leaned against the arm of the couch and ran her fingers through wild curls. “I can’t even believe it. WAIT! What do you mean, probably? I mean, what if I don’t hit it? Won’t it be stupid to just pop by Ryan’s show and still be sitting at 3?”

“I’m not confirming Seacrest until I am for sure on it. We’ll know in the morning but Soundscan is giving great numbers and the charts from today so far look good. Check R&R after midnight.”

Radio and Records Magazine was one of the industry bibles. Every music artist’s life revolved around Tuesday, when the spins and weekly sales were released. They ranked each artist week by week and noted if they’d dropped, risen, or stayed the same.  If you were obsessive, you could track yourself electronically, but Callie tried to draw the line at hunting down her numbers week after week. She paid people to track that information for her and she didn’t want to get caught up in it.

“Just call me when you know. JC is gonna shit his pants. He hasn’t had a record he produced go number 1 in… God… YEARS.”

“You just remember whose name is on that single, ok? Downplay the JC angle, he’s just the producer.”

Tension crackled over the line. Jason knew he’d said the wrong thing but couldn’t UN-say it, so he braced himself for what was sure to be a screaming fit. He was surprised when it didn’t come, rather a   terse, “You wouldn’t tell me to downplay Timbaland, don’t tell me to downplay JC.”

“Callie—I’m just saying. Just take credit for your work and try not to make it sound like the guy swooped in and saved the day.”

Callie stood, her voice an obvious angry tone, though she was not yelling. “Except, Jason, he kinda DID. Look, I’m not arguing this with you. I get your point but unless you can come up with a good, viable reason I can understand for not mentioning him, he’s getting songwriting and producing credit till I’m blue in the face. I didn’t do this alone and I don’t intend to make it sound like I did. Got it? Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Jason bit out after a long pause.

“Good.” Callie paced, trying to grasp the reality of what was happening. “When does Ginny come in?”

“She’ll be in this afternoon. She had some ends she needed to tie up in Springfield.”

Jason had received an excellent lead on a personal assistant from a friend of his and snatched her away from the clutches of a rookie NFL player. Virginia “Ginny” Thompson had glowing references and her stellar interview had made Callie feel comfortable and like her personal affairs would be taken care of with the utmost in privacy and efficiency.  

“Good, well call me when she’s here, we can meet and talk about things.”

“Cal, if you don’t mind, I sort of had a little orientation planned for her. It’s gonna take a few hours to go through. Can she start with you tomorrow?”

“Orientation?”

“Yeah, basically likes and dislikes, the basic structure of your day, what stuff you’ll want her to take care of and how she should take care of it. You're picky—it’s taken me six years to get you down pat. I’m probably going to have her shadow me for a few days and then let her fly solo.”

“Jason the job isn’t that hard, all of that won’t be necessary—“

“Cal!” Jason interrupted. “You hired me to do a job, told me I sucked at it and asked me to do it better. Get off my lawn, let me handle this. I will call you when she’s ready for you.”

“Whatever, bossy,” she said with a smile, impressed at his take-charge attitude. “Fine. But someone will be here tomorrow, right?”

“Bright and early, ready to kiss your ass.”

“Shut up, Jason. You do so well and then you say something stupid. Is that it?”

“No. Uhm. I… need to tell you something.”

“Uh oh.”

“Uhh….so that mini concert for Macy’s that you’re doing in a couple of weeks? Soul Train is doing one, too.”

“Really.” Callie hadn’t thought about Curtis since the night she’d kissed JC. Honestly, he simply ceased to exist in her mind and she never though of him until someone brought him up.

“Yeah. I have some calls in for details but…  Cal, what do you want? Do you want to be away from him, do you care if you see him, do you want him to keep a wide berth…what?”

“You know what, Jason? I could not give a shit. I don’t care at ALL.  I’ve moved on to someone that answers the fucking phone and wants to see me more than once a month. Speaking of, I gotta go. See you tomorrow.”

Callie pressed ‘end’ on the phone before he could interject another comment and opened her text messaging function.

‘Will not believe the news I have for you. Call me when you have a minute’.

‘Can’t call for awhile. What’s up?’

‘Number 1 hit, Producer Man! Time to triple your rate!’

‘STFU. 1?! What? I’ll call you. Don’t know when but I’ll call you.’

Callie had committed to voicing a cartoon character in an upcoming film and spent her afternoon  closed off in a sound booth, sounding cute and cheery. It was easy work that she didn’t have to get all dolled up for, and she knew her little cousins and Tillie’s grandkids would love it. Plus it gave her a softer touch and chipped away at her reputation for being difficult and surly. 

After a few hours, the engineer called a dinner break, and she dug in her bag for her cell phone. Sure enough, she had just missed a call from JC. Hoping he could still talk, she pressed ‘send’ to return his call and chewed on her bottom lip. Relief washed over her when he picked up.

“Hey cutie,” he said, his tone hushed.

“Hey… you!” Callie answered.

“You’re not alone?”

“No. Should I be?”

“Please.”

“Hold on.” Callie placed her hand over the receiver and asked the engineer if there was a private room to take a call in. He shrugged, but said she could stand in the hall if she wanted. Hardly anyone would be walking by and she could get a little privacy by walking toward the far end. She did so, whispering to JC as she walked.

“Ok. So, Jason called today—“

“What was your name for him today?”

“J-dogg. Lame, I know. So, he called and said the numbers are looking good. Very close possibility I could wake up a Number 1 artist tomorrow. I mean we won’t know for sure till the morning, but oh my GOD! I’ve never had a number 1 before!”

Callie found it hard to contain her excitement and keep her voice down. JC recognized her effort but laughed anyway because she sounded so cute. If people only knew that tough, brazen, outspoken Callie Phelps sometimes morphed into a five year old, they’d never believe it.

“Honey, I am… I’m very proud of you, I really am. You sang your ass off on that record and it’s good. Is this where I say ‘I told you’? Right in here?”

Callie rolled her eyes and grinned into the general vicinity. “Aw shit, I knew you’d be obnoxious when this happened.”

“When what happened, when you went number 1? With a song I picked out of stack of hundreds? And had to BEG you to record, because I knew it was a hit? That part? When that happened?” 

“Fucker,” she said, shaking her head, then lowering her voice and pulling the phone close to her lips. “So you get some of the praise, too. We need to uhm…celebrate.”

“I’m up for celebration. When, tonight or tomorrow?”

“I have to pick?”

“Pick, woman!”

She sighed, dramtically. “Tonight. Cause if I’m not number 1 tomorrow, it’ll suck. At least tonight a girl can dream.”

“Uhm…I’ll have to let you know when I’m about done. You want to come over?”

“I’ll be there, with bells on.”

“Hey now, that’s just more I have to take off,” he said, a low seductive tone to his voice.

“That’s never been a problem before,” she teased.

He groaned into the phone, a sound that shot a bolt of electricity through her. “I have HOURS before I can see you. I better go before I get in trouble. I’ll call you later, ok?”

“Go make some hits!”

***

“Sooooo…” JC rolled over on his side, having finally caught his breath and rested enough to be able to move.

“Sooooo… what?” Callie asked, pushing her disheveled hair out of her face, still breathing heavy.

His hand smoothed her hair, then slid down the length of her body. “You nervous about tomorrow?”

“Not really. Either the numbers are there or they aren’t. I hope they’re there, but if not… I just keep on going…”

“One foot in front of the other. Good girl,” he praised as he leaned down to kiss her.

“Mmm…,” she moaned, then rolled to her side as well so she could face him. “So, what happened when you guys did it? Do you remember being nervous?”

“I don’t remember, honestly. That whole time is kind of a whirlwind. I know when the album came out, ‘No Strings Attached’, we didn’t find out till that DAY that we’d sold a ton. The singles… well we didn’t have too many number 1 singles but I don’t think we found out till the day of and it was always in passing, like people calling all day, saying ‘you guys are number 1’, stuff like that. It was crazy… we just… couldn’t even breathe. It’s a pretty cool experience, but reserve your excitement for the album release.”

“I know, I know. I’m excited about that. I have a really good feeling about it, too.”

After her label meeting, JC reviewed the songs she’d completed before they met and immediately rejected half of them, saying they were too much like songs she had already released. Callie wrote several songs and JC worked with her to rework some from her collection, including a Charlie Phelps original that she modernized and made her own. Just under the wire, the songs were submitted, liner notes completed, and the cover art shot. Despite the hurry, Callie was more confident about this album than her first two. With three weeks until the release date, the promotion schedule was relentless but she was sure it would pay off—and the bonus was that much of her promotion was done in LA.

“When do you find out? Is Jason calling you in the morning? Do you want to look it up, right now?”

“Yeah he’ll call me. I don’t want to look it up. I don’t want to obsess about it, or be disappointed. I want to lay here next to you and enjoy being with you.” Callie felt his arms close and tighten around her as she moved closer to him and laid her head on his chest.

***

The sun wasn’t even up before Callie’s cell phone started ringing. Her first call came not from Jason, but from Paula, who was screaming into the phone.

“Paula! Calm down. What are you screaming about?” Callie glanced over at JC to make sure she hadn’t awakened him. He was still breathing deeply and hadn’t moved. She picked up a light blanket off of the chair near the bed, wrapped herself in it and closed herself off in his master bathroom to continue her conversation.

Paula chattered excitedly in Callie’s ear. “I just heard on the radio, they just talked about the hottest singles of the week and they said yours hit number 1! You did it!”

“Yeah, Jason called me yesterday and told me, we were just waiting on confirm. I guess we got it.” Callie yawned and climbed up onto the spacious counter.  

“Well you don’t sound very excited.”

“I am, I am, it’s just early here. The sun isn’t even up.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry. You know I’m three hours ahead of you. Listen, do me a favor if you can and run downstairs really quick to my office, I need a phone number.”

Shit. “Paula, I’d love to but I can’t, I need to go, hon—“

“No no wait, I really need this number! Please, Callie, it’ll take a second!”

“It’ll take longer than a second, Paula.” Callie paused, questioning whether she should reveal anything to her.  She cleared her throat, then said, “Uhm, I’m not… I’m not at the loft.”

“Oh. Damn! Where are you, Jason’s?”

“No.”

Paula paused for a beat. “Well, you’re not at a hotel are you?”

“Uhm…no?” Callie knew Paula could hear the smile in her voice. Likewise, Callie felt Paula was catching on and grinning like a fool. 

A sharp gasp came over the line. “Oh. My. God. You’re--Are you-- CALPERNIA JOY PHELPS!”

Callie giggled quietly. “What?”

“You’re fucking him!”

“Who?”

“Don’t act stupid with me! You know that pisses me off! How long has this been going on?”

Smug, Callie took a moment to answer. “Awhile.”

“How long is that? Tell me right fucking now!” Paula was pounding on her desk but her voice held an undercurrent of laughter.

“Awhile! Maybe 9 weeks? 10 weeks? Since the label meeting. Well, we haven’t been having sex that long but we uhm… spent some time together in New York. And took it from there and... yeah.”

“Well, well, well. You got what you wanted, then. Without my help, even.” Paula sniffled. “I’m so proud.”

“I love how you take credit for stuff you had not part in. I gotta go, though. Jason will be calling soon.”

“Wait! Who knows?”

“You and Jason. That’s IT. And it needs to stay that way. I don’t care if people threaten to pull out your toenails with a rusty tweezer—you will tell NO ONE and you will DENY DENY DENY that we’re together until we decide we’re ready. Got it?”

“Yes! Of course, I know how it works. I never said a word about you and Curtis.”

“Uh yeah that was the worlds worst kept secret. Ok, ok. I really have to go though.”

“Have fun, today and congrats!”

Callie hung up the phone and sighed. And then yawned. Checking the time, she tried to decide if she should try to go back to bed or head back to the loft before Jason showed up. Before she could make a decision, a taptaptap sounded at the door and a groggy, sleepy naked man stumbled in.

“Aw, I’m sorry did I wake you up?”

“No,” he growled, his voice thick. “I reached over for you and you weren’t there. I came to find you. Heard giggling in here. Scoot over.”

Callie moved a few inches over and watched JC splash his face with water and brush his teeth.

“You alright?” he asked, wiping his mouth with a towel. Callie nodded.

“Paula had to call me and scream. And she figured us out.”

He stopped wiping and looked at her, checking to see if she was serious. “Really. Damn. It won’t be long. How’d she find out?”

“She wanted me to go downstairs to her office and get a number for her, and then couldn’t understand why I couldn’t go get it. So I told her I wasn’t at the loft and she needled me till she figured out where I was. And it went downhill from there.”

“Do we have to worry about her saying anything?”

“No. She’s a vault.” The phone rang in Callie’s hand and Jason’s number popped up in the display.

“Here we go,” she said, picking up the line. “What’s the good word?”

“Numero. Uno. ‘Let’s Start Over’. One. ONE! Woohooooo!” Callie grinned at JC, who could hear him from across the room and chuckled while he shaved.  

“Jason, I think you’re more excited than I am! So what’s the plan? What am I doing?”

“Well, you’re gonna get out from under your producer-“

“JASON WALSH!”

“—and get over to the Loft. Ginny and I will meet you there and go over your schedule. Hurry up, my phone is SCREAMING, your first interview is at 8, by phone, on the way to an in studio at Good Day LA. I gotta go.” The line clicked and went dead.

“I gotta go to WORK,” Callie whined.

“Awww. Me too.” They shared a long, lingering kiss, and then JC helped her off the counter and followed her back to the bedroom.  “Where are you going?”

Callie found her t-shirt and jeans, socks and shoes and put them on. “Uh… first I have to meet with Jason and my new assistant. Then a phone interview, Good Day LA, and then Ryan’s show and then I don’t know what else. Probably a long day.”

“Sounds it. Me too. So we’ll talk later? I want to hear all about what it’s like to be a number 1 artist.” He winked and smiled as he stretched out across the bed. 

“You tell me, Producer Man," she said, kneeling down to kiss him. "If you don’t call me by midnight I’ll call you, k? I gotta go; Jason is on his way.”

 …

 “Welcome back. Our next guest woke up to a nice surprise today, didn’t you? I always wonder how people find out stuff like their movie or their song hit number 1 or broke a record… is that something you find out because your phone starts ringing?”

“Well, it was something we’d been keeping our eye on for awhile, but I was fast asleep this morning when my best friend heard it on the radio—in NEW YORK—so she had to call and wake me up to tell me. That’s how I found out. And then my manager called and was like ‘get out of bed, you have work to do!’ And here I am!”

Callie smiled brightly for the cameras as the Good Day LA anchors chuckled along with her. They all seemed nice in person, not rushed or hurried, like so many other interviews. Most of the time Callie wondered why she’d even bothered to show up—she never felt like people cared one way or the other what she said, they were just looking for good sound bytes.

“Now, I know you’re not dating that cutie Curtis Soul anymore, but are you guys still friends at all? I mean, you’re right next to each other practically, on the charts right now.”

“I haven’t talked to Curtis in… gosh…awhile, but I really haven’t talked to anyone but my manager and my producer in months. This record really took a lot out of me. I mean, I put so much of my own personal self in it; I just really haven’t had much time for socializing or anything. And Soul Train tours nonstop-- it was one of the reasons we stopped dating, so… but I’m happy for them, I’ve known those guys since they were playing high school proms back in Illinois so this is such a good time, for them.”

“I bet, I bet. Curtis is the only celebrity you’ve dated, right? No one new right now?”

“Yeah we’ve known each other awhile, since before we both really… hit it big, I guess you could say. I wasn’t dating a celebrity when I started dating Curtis and we were so off and on… he just wasn’t really a celebrity to me. And no, nothing right now. My work is my boyfriend.” Callie laughed and mentally patted herself on the pack. It wasn’t really a lie.

“When does the album come out? Are you excited about that?”

“Three weeks!” Callie squealed into the camera and laughed at herself. “I could not be more excited. I think I’m more excited about this one than the first two.”

“Really, why is that? What’s different?”

“Well, you should definitely expect to hear something different from me, some stuff you haven’t really heard before. Like I said, I put a lot of myself into this album. My previous albums were very cathartic and I enjoyed making them and they really gave me a voice and established a sound for me and now that I’m here I feel like I want to spread out a little bit, talk about things I never talked about before, in  way I’ve never talked about them before. I’m looking forward to reviews, actually. I want to see, you know, what people think.”

“Of course, yeah. We hope people love it. You named this album ‘Charlie’… any significance to that?”

“Uhm, yeah I dedicated this album to the memory of my father, Charlie Phelps. He was a Jazz Great, in my eyes. He used bring me up on stage with him and let me sing, taught me piano and guitar, and more than anything, showed me the beauty of music. It was his heart and soul, and uhm he’s been gone for 11 years, now, and ever since I signed my record deal I’ve wanted to make some kind of mark on the world and do something I felt my dad would be proud of. I finally feel like I’ve done that, with this album, so really even if it fails critically, it’ll always be something I hold close to me, because of him.”

“I heard an interview you did a few weeks back—didn’t you remake one of his original songs?”

Callie nodded. “Yes. Yes. I sure did. I had some songs I was going to put on this album but at the last minute we nixed about 6 of them so I needed more songs, and uhm, one night I was flipping through his old stuff, just looking for inspiration and I landed on ‘Rag Doll’, which he’d been singing for… gosh 20 years almost. I left the jazz in it and added some rock on top of it, changed a few words around but left the integrity of the song in place. And then my Producer worked with me to spice it up some and it turned out really well. I’m hoping it’s the next single.”

“Looking forward to hearing that. Did you do a video for this song? Oh, there it is. Oh, wow that turned out nice, Callie.” In her earpiece, Callie faintly heard ‘Let’s Start Over’ playing in the background and on the monitor behind her a clip of the video was playing. Callie stared, almost unbelieving that it was her on the screen-- an ultra close-up of, wind blowing her hair around, skintight leather dress hugging every curve, impeccable makeup, surrounded by dramatic lighting inside a warehouse. For the first time, Callie saw herself on TV and didn’t pick out her flaws and mistakes, just enjoyed it.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s out there. If MTV played videos you’d see it!” Callie and the other 3 anchors laughed together. “Uhm, yeah it’s there on MTV and Vh1, I’ve seen it a few times and I think it’s doing ok, top ten at least, or something. I try not to follow things too closely, then I get all wrapped up in the numbers and not the music.”

“Oh, exactly, I’d lose my mind,” said one of the female anchors. “Do you watch yourself a lot? Like if you hear yourself on the radio or see your video, do you watch it, or listen to it?”

“You know, on my first album, I was so… I think I was so in awe that it actually happened that I think I listened to my song every time it came on the radio and I watched every video, if it came on, I watched it. I was obsessed and really into myself,” Callie admitted, laughing so hard she could barely continue.

“But uhm, my second album, I think I made myself have a ‘whatever’ attitude and I didn’t really pay attention to anything. I couldn’t tell you what song was where and didn’t watch any of my videos, I just didn’t really care. This album… I haven’t really heard the song on the radio, mostly because I haven’t been listening. I mean, its obviously being played but I feel like I’ve been SINGING it everyday—morning shows, the Late shows, talk shows, and stuff--but I’m not sick of it yet. I LOVE the song and it’s a lot of fun to perform. I get to yell a lot.”

“Before we let you go, any tour plans? Are you coming to a city near… someone?”

“We, my band and I, are rehearsing for a tour, right now. Just putting together the set list and stuff and uhm, we’ll be putting that together after the album releases so I’ll probably spend a lot of the fall and winter on the road, which I’m really looking forward to. I haven’t been on tour in probably 2 years and those are always so much fun.”

“Overseas, too? Going to Europe or anything?”

“Well I’d LOVE to go back to London, France, Germany—I had a great time on the overseas leg of the My Street tour so after the US leg, I’ll definitely hit overseas if I get a chance, if only for a couple of weeks.”

The interview wrapped up with a few anecdotal stories and reminders of when the album hit record stores, and then before she knew it, her earpiece was being removed and her mic was unclipped from her blouse.

“Thanks so much for coming in on short notice, Callie. That was a great interview.”

“Aw, thanks so much for having me, I enjoyed myself!” Callie shook hands with each of the anchors and stepped off of the platform before they returned from their commercial break.

“What’d you think? I do ok? And I didn’t mention JC, you happy?” Callie took the bottle of water that Ginny offered her with a smile.

“Great, I thought that turned out really well. You sound happy, up… gonna do great for your reputation. Ding dong, the Bitch is Dead!”

“Well, let’s not go that far, I’m hardly a sweetheart. Where are we going now? Can we eat?”

“Ryan is waiting for you, and we’re late. We’ll go pick something up for you while you’re talking with him and you can eat after. Let’s go, we’re late.”

…

“Look who’s here! It’s Callie.” Ryan looked like he’d rolled out of bed, and drove to work- unshaven, hair sticking up in various places, eyes bloodshot.

“You look like hell, Ryan,” Callie teased, slipping on a pair of headphones. “Late night?”

“Very. VERY. You look good, though. All rested up. Did you work last night?”

“No, no. I uhm, I didn’t really have a day off, but I’m the voice of Dottie the Penguin in ‘Happy Feet 2’ so…”

“Oh really! That’s a cute movie.”

“So...yeah. I looked like you, yesterday, ‘cause I didn’t have to get pretty for anyone.”

“Its such an easy gig, isn’t it? Wake up, throw something on, go talk for 4 hours, drink some coffee, go home…”

“It doesn’t suck. Definitely doesn’t suck.”

“So how are you, Miss Callie? You should be doing good today, you got some good news, right?” Ryan took a sip of water and winked at her. Callie rolled her eyes at the obvious opening.

“Uhm, yeah around 6 am my best friend called me, screaming her head off about ‘Let’s Start Over’ being at number 1. So, that’s how I found out, but I didn’t really mind, for news that good.”

“So, this is your first number 1, right?”

“YES! I’m really REALLY happy because I’ve had this curse where I don’t go any higher than 3, so I was really hoping to break that curse with this album. I’m pleased.”

“Good, good. You worked with a friend of mine on this album—tell everyone who—“

“Oh, JC? Yeah we uhm… he co-wrote ‘Let’s Start Over’ and several other songs on the album, and he produced 4 songs and then when I showed those songs to the label, they liked them so much that they wanted him to look at the rest of it. And then he pretty much tore my album apart and put it back together, but I’m SO proud of it. I’m really excited.”

“Is he not the nicest guy you’ve ever met? Seriously, every time we hang out, I’m like ‘GOD, you’re nice’.”

“He is a total sweetheart, really laid back. One of the first times we worked together, we were at his house—at the studio there—and he offered me the BEST cup of coffee I’ve ever had. So I’m like ‘oh, this coffee is excellent’ and he’s like ‘oh here, have some beans.’ He didn’t even KNOW me.”

“He’s totally like that. Have you ever met his mom? She knit me a sweater. I live in LA!”

“Yeah, uhm, we recorded up in Chicago and his folks live out that way so I spent a little time out there. Super nice people.”

“Very. So when is it out, and why is it called ‘Charlie’?”

“It is out in three weeks, and counting. I’m very excited. And it’s called Charlie in honor of my dad, Charlie Phelps. In fact there’s one of his original songs on this album and JC helped me do the remake on it. I think it sounds great, I can’t wait for people who knew my dad to hear it.”

“I heard that--I heard about that, a few weeks ago, in an uhm... an interview you did. So, what’s up with you and Curtis Soul… you guys aren’t dating still, right?”

“Oh, Ryan, you know better,” Callie said, frowning. She shook a finger at him and he shrugged and grinned, unashamed.  “Uhm, I haven’t been with Curtis in awhile. A LONG while.”

“But you don’t hate him or anything, right? What happened, there? I thought you guys were a cute couple. ”

“No, oh no, I don’t hate him at all.  I -- Soul Train works HARD; they’ve been touring for the last year or something. I just never saw Curtis and could never TALK to Curtis, he was always working and I was always working and we just…fell apart. But no, I don’t hate him or anything and I’m really happy they’ve been doing so well.  I heard uhm, yesterday that they’re gonna be at the Macy’s All Star concert in a couple of weeks. It’ll be the first time I’ve seen him in about six months.”

“Good to hear. So, tell us about this album, it’s out in three weeks, the first single hit number 1 today, there’s a huge expectation for it. Are you ready?”

“I think so? I think so. Uhm, yeah. I-we, actually, recorded this album the fastest I’ve EVER done an album but the weird thing is that I feel really good about it, better than I felt about the first two, which took a really long time to hit the market. The songs are really strong, and there’s something very different about this album, and I really can’t say enough good things about JC as a producer, as a songwriter and as my friend.”

Callie glanced over at Jason out of the corner of her eye. If she went by the expression on his face, she was still doing ok on JC mentions.

“Yeah tell all the good stuff, spill some juice about him. Is he a slave driver, or does he let you totally run all over him?”

Callie burst into laughter. “He’s an evil, EVIL slave driver. Uhm…. he… he definitely has a style and I told him he’s a machine. We do this and then we do this and while we’re doing that, this can be done. He doesn’t put up with a lot of whining and if I wasn’t in a creative mood, he was all about taking a break and talking it out, and not forcing something. And thankfully he’s really so laid back that you don’t realize you’re working hard. It just seemed like a lot of fun to me, you know? We got to spend a lot of time together and now we’re pretty good friends and see each other when I come to LA.”

“Now, whose idea was it, to get him? Yours, your manager?”

“The label, actually,” Callie said, eyebrows raised. Ryan looked shocked.

“Which, I kind of took as an insult at first, and I didn’t really want to work with him because I knew nothing about him. And I know, I have something of a reputation, so I’m sure he thought it was gonna be a nightmare to work with me but he rode it out and won me over and really, really helped me bring more of myself into this record. What I really liked was that… he didn’t treat me like ‘I’m the great songwriter, producer, famous guy; you need to listen to me and do as I say’. It was all about ‘what do you want to do, what you want to say, what story do you want to tell, how do you want to tell it, what did you have in mind when you wrote this, what was going on at the time’, stuff like that. He really just… is the best at drawing things out of people that they don’t even know is there. He’s an excellent producer; I hope I get to work with him again soon.”

“Nice things said about a very nice man. I hope he knows what it means to get Callie Phelps to say something nice about you.”

“Heyyyy, I was nice about Soul Train, too! I don’t even talk about that stuff usually, but you know… it’s Ryan Seacrest and all.”

“Yeah but you told ME I look like hell.”

“I’m really rude to people I loike. Ask JC, I’m so rude so him, he just laughs.”

“Well that’s good to hear, I’m among good company. Callie, as always its good to see you, thank you for coming in. You look fabulous, beautiful, very happy and you didn’t throw anything! “

“Aw thanks Ryan. You want me to throw something, just for old time’s sake?”

“Let’s not. Let’s let bygones be bygones. Callie’s new album ‘Charlie’, on sale in 3 weeks. Go get it! Back after this.” Ryan gave a signal that told her they were off air and Callie took off her headphones.

“How was that? Good?”

“Excellent, honey. Come here, gimme a hug before you head out.”

Callie and Ryan shared a bear hug and he patted her on the back as they filed out of the studio. “So tell JC I said hey and gimme a call. I gotta hit the restroom before we come back. Good seeing you!”

Callie waved and then whined, “Jason, can we eat? I thought you were going to get me something.”

“I was, but they wouldn’t let us back out. Yeah, let’s go eat. You have an LA Times interview at one, a Chron interview at 1:30, and then you’re on Jay Leno, they want you down there at 3.”

“Performing?”

“Yeah. Band will be there around 3:30 for a run through.”

“Dammit, Jason. Could I get some notice that I’m gonna be singing?”

“I just set that up during the Good Day thing, forgot to tell you. Do you want to cancel?”

She stopped and turned to him, a hand on her hip. “No, but I would have liked to know before I got on a NATIONAL radio show so I could have said something! THINK, Jason, THINK!” She nodded at Wolfe as he held her door open.

Exasperated, Jason threw his hands in the air and stepped into the car. “I’ll text Ryan and ask him to mention it. Take note, Ginny. This is Callie, 99 percent of the time. BITCHY.” 

The Macy's All Star Celebration was an annual Fall Concert, televised live-- a series of mini concerts from all the hot music artists topping the charts. This would be Callie's first time performing this concert-- every year before, she'd watched it from home, sulking because the label had told her, again, that they couldn't manage to get her booked on the show--sorry, maybe next year. As she sat in her trailer, on the bench in front of the lighted makeup table, having her eyebrows plucked and lips lined and eyelashes shellacked with goop, she couldn't help but smile to herself that she finally made it onto this show!

Paula, who had returned to New York specifically to see her perform, was chattering madly with Ginny, who was listening but busily setting things out for Callie-- water, chapstick, a towel, wet naps, a change of shoes. She had the uncanny knack of being able to hear everything going on but not miss a step. Callie swore that Ginny knew what she needed before she knew she needed it-- in her opinion the sign of an excellent assistant. Life was much easier with Ginny around, and Jason had much more purpose now that he wasn't her personal gopher anymore.

“One hour, Miss Phelps,” a stage hand yelled from outside the door, and banged twice as he walked by. The makeup artist finished and packed up her kit, and her hairstylist, a friend she'd flown in from his salon in Chicago, flat ironed and smoothed and fussed and 'mmmhmm'd over her hair until it was a perfect, shiny, layered mane, flowing down her back and falling attractively over her shoulders with a natural bend that let it frame her face.

“Gorgeous. Yes. I swear, I work magic. You need to trim more often, sweetie,” he said, pinching her forearm.

“I know, I know. I don't like anyone's hands in my hair. It hasn't been trimmed in like, three months. Do you know anyone in LA? I'm out there a lot.”

“I'll send you some recommends. Alright, I'm done, I'm out of your hair, haha! Do good, babe, call me anytime!” He waved at her and Paula and made his way down the narrow steps, holding the door open for Jason.

“Okay, folks. If you are NOT Callie Phelps, it's time to go! Out. She needs a little time before she hits the stage. Out, out,” Jason pointed as Paula gave her a squeeze and grumbled her way down the stairs. Ginny checked to see if she needed anything else before leaving, then followed Paula.

“How you doing, kid?” Jason handed her the set list and she browsed it, then nodded and handed it back.

“I'm good. A little nervous, but good.”

“You're gonna do fine. You need anything, let me know.” She nodded and Jason stepped out, leaving her alone in the trailer.

She let out a deep breath and then began her scales, warming up her voice, pacing the small space. A loud tapping clanged against the metal of the trailer door, interrupting her. There was nothing Callie hated more than being interrupted right before a show. She had to get herself in an element, a mood, a zone. She needed quiet and peace and to be absolutely alone.

“What?!”

The door vibrated and shook as it was violently yanked open, and a familiar head of blond hair popped into the trailer. Curtis. Callie let out an impatient sigh. He was the last thing she needed to deal with, at the moment.

“What do you want? I go on in--” she checked her watch, “--45 minutes and I need some time. What?”

“Hey, babe. I was just coming to wish you luck. I know this is your first time performing at this gig and uh, I just wanted to say good luck.” Curtis looked uncomfortable-- he was almost too big for the trailer. His head nearly hit the ceiling and his frame was so large he seemed to take up the entire room. Callie felt like he was sucking all of the air out of it, too.

“How did you get past Jason and Wolfe? You're not supposed to be in here.”

“Who? Like I care about that wimp Jason.” He shrugged and landed heavily in a chair, looking her up and down.

“You look hot, lately. Real hot. Congrats on your number one. Your album out Tuesday?”

Callie remained standing and crossed her arms. “Thanks. Yeah. Good luck to you guys, too. Curt, you need to go.”

“Just a second. So, that song. It's about me, huh? I had that big of an impact on you.” Curtis smiled and nodded proudly.

“I wrote it years ago and rewrote it so it could on the album. You would think it's about you.”

He smiled half a smile and winked. “I recognized myself. You gave co-writing credit to that lame ass producer? JC?”

Callie bristled, but closed her eyes before she lost her temper. “DON'T talk like that about him. He helped me re-write the song.”

An eyebrow arched. Callie cursed at herself. “Ooooh. Defensive.” He chuckled and leaned back in the chair-- despite the chair's squeaky protest-- crossing one ankle over the other and studying her. A long uncomfortable silence followed and then a blunt, roughly mumbled statement: “You're fucking him.”

Callie was determined to not react, though it was hard, her fingernails digging into her palm. “You need to go.”

“That means yes. And really, I didn't even need to ask. I can tell. I'd know that 'freshly fucked' face anywhere.”

“You can go, or I can call my security to have you removed.”

He cackled an evil laugh. “Right. You won't. You know 'E!' is right outside, here? You won't want that to hit the 7:00 show. Have Ryan talk more about how you 'don't hate me'.” He used the air quotes sarcastically. “Or do you? Is that lame ass turning you into a famewhore? Need to get people talking about you, so you start talking about ME, and how I wasn't a 'celebrity' to you, and 'aw, poor Callie, Curtis never had time for Callie'. Maybe Callie was BITCH and a NAG.”

“Maybe Curtis was an egotistical asshole who used every excuse in the book not to see a woman he BEGGED to not break up with him so he could do it first. I don't have time for this little ego trip. I have to be on stage and I need to relax before I go on. Can you go? Please? You're not even supposed to be in here.”

He sighed, and stood, his long blond hair brushing his shoulders. Callie remembered when she used to love that head of hair, digging her fingers deep into it, grabbing two fistfuls of it in the throes of passion-- he loved to have his hair pulled. The thought of sex with him now made her sick to her stomach. The scent of his cologne, pungent and plentiful, wasn't helping.

Curtis leaned over and kissed her cheek. Callie cringed. He pulled away slightly, then stopped to whisper in her ear.

“He's making you soft, Cal. You're turning lame, just like every other chick out there, who thinks she's hard, but she isn't. He turned you into a pawn for the label. I liked you better when you hated everyone and you were a raging bitch.” He ended the word roughly, his lips so close to her earlobe, she could feel the moisture from his breath. I drove a shiver down her spine. She wondered, now, how she could have ever claimed to love him.

Callie's eyes narrowed. “Of course you did, Curtis. You loved being in control of me as long as I worshiped the ground you walked on. What happened to your little groupie? Does she feel lucky to be with you? Do you make sure to kick her in the self esteem and tell her everyday how very lucky she is to be with you and how you can have anyone you want, so she better just be thankful you chose her? Remember when you used to tell me shit like that? Get the FUCK out. I have moved on.”

He shook his head and scoffed, reaching for the door. “You don't even know, Callie. You don't even know how lame you are right now. Sick. Just sick. Enjoy today. I'm betting this is your last number one. Eventually people will figure out what a fraud you are and get sick of your shit. One day you're the evil queen of mean and today you're sweet and giggly and... voicing penguins and shit. Lame.”

He shook his head, again, and opened the door. “Good luck with your little fuck buddy, too. I'm sure he'll be riding your coattails for the notoriety he wishes he had but gave up to that Timberlake fame whore.”

With that, he stepped out of the trailer, nodding at Jason and Wolfe, who had been having a conversation outside the door. Shocked at seeing Curtis exit the trailer, they both bounded up the steps.

“You okay?”

“How did he get in here?”

“You want me to do anything? I'm so sorry, I did a walk around the trailer and just that quick, he jumped in.”

“You guys, you guys!” Callie yelled, holding up her hands, palms out, to quiet them. “I'm fine. Curtis doesn't scare me. He just came to wish me good luck. Just don't let anyone else in here. I really need some time to myself.”

“You got it, Cal. Sorry, again.”

“Jason, don't crawl up my ass, just get out.”

Callie was unnerved, not only by seeing Curtis for the first time in months, but by what he had to say. Six months ago, they'd have sat together and laughed and she'd have made the same comments about someone like her, and now she WAS someone like her. Fame whore? Lame? Pawn for the label? She didn't feel it, but that didn't stop her from not wanting to BE that.

'And you don't have time to analyze it, because you're getting ready to go ON STAGE before a LIVE audience on a NATIONAL broadcast. Get your head out of your ass and into the game!'

****

“So what kind of stuff was he saying to you? Like bad stuff? Did he threaten you?”

“I don't want to talk about it anymore. What are you doing?”

Callie sat in her hotel room, watching Paula flip through the cable channels and gave JC a rundown on her encounter with Curtis. He was starting to sound angry and concerned, and she didn't want to drag him into it.

“Putting the finishing touches on a track. Vocals tomorrow. I'm on a deadline so I can't talk much longer. I just wanted to see how the show went.”

“It went great, I had a good time. I'm so happy I was able to do it, finally. Made me itch for touring.”

They talked a few minutes longer, and then Callie stretched, suddenly wiped out. “I'm about to pass out and Paula is giving me vertigo from how fast she's flipping through these channels. I need to confiscate the remote.”

Paula stuck out her tongue, tossed a pillow at Callie, and continued flipping. “Can't you just check the guide, and see what's on, Paula? Damn.”

“It's quicker this way. I'll stop if I see something interesting. Shut up and talk to your man, over there.”

“Alright, ladies,” he teased. “Don't make me fly up there. Give you two a spankin'.”

“That's the kind of stuff Paula enjoys,” Callie said with a loud giggle.

“Aw, damn. Missed my chance for a threesome? I should have come out.”

“I don't do those, Producer Man. I'm gonna go before you get yourself in trouble. I'll call you tomorrow before I get on the plane.” She lowered her voice, then, and asked, “Do you have time for me in the next few days?”

“Honey, I will make some,” he said. Callie almost wished Paul wasn't in the room so she could respond. “Fly safe, sleep good. We'll talk tomorrow.”

Callie disconnected the call and stared at the TV, not really seeing it.

“What?” said Paula, crawling onto the bed next to her.

“Hmmm?”

“You're just... staring. You didn't let Curtis get to you, did you?”

Callie pouted. “Paula, you'd tell me if you thought I was lame and sellout and a famewhore and a pawn for the label, right?”

“In a second. And you're not. You're a beautiful, talented person who is happy, and coming into her own. Didn't you say you've finally done something you think Charlie would be proud of? Didn't you just say that?”

“Yeah. But-”

“But nothing,” she said, holding up a hand. “Leave it there. Curtis is pissed he dumped you before hit your stride. This album has brought out some really beautiful things in you. You're glowing and happy and have stretched yourself. He's an egotistical asshole who wanted nothing more than to jar you before your performance so he could gloat if you bit it, and you didn't. You sang the shit out of that song, woman!”

Callie waived her off, blushing and smiling. “Oh, stop. I'm kidding, keep going.”

“I'm serious, you did great, and I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. You know I'm the first person to tell you that you missed a note and where it was and what it should have been.”

“Yes. Much to my dislike, you do enjoy that.” She cut her eyes at Paula, then tossed the pillow back at her. “Alright then. Enough freaking out. Shower time for me.”

“Hey, what did Producer Man say, that you said I enjoyed?” Paula yelled out as Callie walked into the bathroom.

“Oh. He said he was gonna fly up here and give us spankings. I said you would enjoy that.”

“Aw dammit! I missed out on a threesome!”

“You know he said the same thing? I know some weird ass perverted people, I tell you what, man.” Callie laughed and closed the door.

****

“Charlie” was released the following Tuesday, to pleasant reviews from every outlet from Entertainment Weekly to R&R to MTV. The release party was a blast, mostly because since JC produced it, he was expected to attend, so they could hang out and no one would suspect they were dating. Duping the press wasn't hard but it wasn't easy, either. It wasn't like they could just go somewhere together... people would start talking and soon every interview would start or finish with 'so are you dating JC?' Callie wanted the focus on her music just a little while longer, so she endured going to events alone or with Paula or with Jason, and she and JC watched their movies at home and held hands as they pleased and sat as close as they pleased and shared a smooch as they pleased. It was kind of nice, having a secret, having him all to herself.

Time seemed to race by, leaving Callie in a tailspin. She was beginning to remember what she didn't like about promoting a new album-- the non stop travel and talking and performing. Her days were full of interviews or filming or photo shoots, her nights full of performances and events. She loved every minute of it, but the brutal schedule was starting to wear on her. She looked forward to taking a short break before the US leg of her tour began.

“You're coming out to see me, aren't you?” Callie asked JC in a hushed voice, on her way from an interview and to a performance. Ginny sat beside her, flipping through a calendar and making notes. Jason was on a call and tapping through screens on his PDA.

“Nope.” Callie paused to see if he was going to embellish, but he didn't She heard buttons being pressed and papers being moved around in the background.

“Don't be mean to me, Producer Man.”

“Nope. I'm not. I'm busy.”

“I'm hanging up, Fucker.”

“Honey, of COURSE I'm coming out to see you. Wouldn't miss it for the world. I still haven't seen you do the songs live, like with the band and stuff. I definitely want to see you.”

“Two more days, and then I have a week off. A whole week. I've never been so excited about seven whole days.”

“It's worth it, though. Aren't you having a good time?”

“There's that damn optimism, popping up, again.”

“Always.” The studio chair squeaked whenever he leaned back, and she heard the high pitched squeal of the chair just then. It made her miss that little room, and the man in it.

“How are you? Are you sleeping? Eating? Working too much?”

“Working too much. I'm doing alright. Uhm...”

“Yes?”

“Did you... did you want to be alone, on your break, or... I mean, where are you spending it?”

“I'm going home,” Callie said, staring out the blackout windows at the security gate. “LA is turning me into a pop tart. I need cold and wind and... people who aren't pretty. Did you want me to stay?”

“No. Just wondered where you were going.”

'He wants you to ask him to come up! Get on it, don't make him beg!'

“Uhm... Well... why don't you come up, for a few days? You can see your parents?”

“I could,” he answered, as if he wasn't expecting her to ask. “If you want me to. Do you?”

“I asked you to, didn't I? Don't make me beg. Yes, I want you to. Plan on it. I have to go. I'll call you later. Don't answer if you're busy.”

“Have fun.”

Someday, and probably soon, they were going to have to put some parameters around 'them'. She hadn't counted on him wanting to see her so often, and vacation with her, and come visit her. Not that she minded, and she liked being with him, it just changed things.

She'd gone into this 'relationship' without putting any constraints on him or his time, expecting him to be very nonchalant about spending time with her. Lately, he'd been the opposite, wanting to see her whenever she had a free minute and now was spending part of her vacation with him. She didn't think she'd have to clear her return home with him, and he didn't seem upset that she hadn't-- but some part of her felt like she should have consulted him. That WASN'T what she wanted. She needed her freedom, and to not have to 'check in' with anyone.

Days later, however, she was quite happy he'd hinted at coming out to see her.

“Producer Man.” Callie huffed, unable to breathe.

“That's not my name.”

“It is until you get off of me,” she said, poking him in the sides with her fingernails.

With an 'oomph' and a heave he rolled to the side and Callie could breathe again. “Oh my God. We have the kind of sex that reminds me why people have sex. Whew!”

“You're welcome.”

Callie rolled her eyes and pinched him. “I guess we should get off the floor.”

“Yeah. Let's,” he said, sitting up. In the corner of the room, a red LED light caught his eye. “You have messages.”

Callie sat up and followed his gaze. “That's weird. No one has this number.”

“Telemarketers?”

“It's a hotel. And seriously NO ONE has this number.” Callie untangled herself from the twisted pile of clothing that had not yet made it off of her body and crawled over to the table that held the older model corded phone. The LED light blinked incessantly, lighting up her face as she dialed down to the front desk.

“Hi, this is Callie Phelps in suite 1430... yeah I have a message...oh.... okay... okay, thank you.” Callie replaced the phone in its cradle and rolled her eyes. “My mother. She's so damn dramatic. Why would she call the front desk and leave a message for me?”

“Would it be an emergency?” JC called from the kitchen, rooting around for a glass.

“Glasses are next to the stove. I don't know why she'd leave an emergency message for me HERE, when she could call her stepson and leave a message with HIM. They talk EVERYDAY.” Callie punched the numbers into the phone, shaking her head and trying not to laugh at JC dancing naked in her kitchen.

“Hey James. It's Callie..... fine.... I'm FINE, I said. Where is my mother?” She rolled her eyes and tipped her head back, pulling the phone away from her ear as her stepfather yammered. “James. James. JAMES! I don't give a shit, where is my mom? Put her on the PHONE!”

“Callie!” JC whispered, nudging her as he sat next to her. She waived him off as her mother picked up the phone. “Mom?”

“Callie!” came her singsong, 'nowhere near an emergency' voice. “How ARE you? Are you home?”

“I am in Chicago, yes. What's up? I got a message to call you. I just got in, today.”

“Well,” she started, her tone changing from singsong to nag in a split second. “I called because Jason sent copies of your album home and I wanted to tell you I did not appreciate not being consulted on calling it 'Charlie'. I mean, I was married to the man, you know. And secondly you didn't thank me or OR James in your acknowledgements. Do you know how embarrassing it is for me, to be seen in public, with everyone knowing her daughter forgot to thank her? I mean really Callie...”

Callie pulled the phone back and stared at the receiver as her mother continued to rant, then gave JC a look, then put it back to her ear. “Mom? Mom. No, I find I'm not at all concerned with how embarrassing it is for you to be seen in public, considering everything you wear every day I bought. Tell your friends to check your Visa bill, there's my thanks, right there.”

“Every time I want some appreciation for being your mother you throw the money issue in my face. So what, you had to pay the house off? If you'd become a DOCTOR you'd have done the same thing. So what, you had to pay off some credit cards? Poor YOU. I LOST MY HUSBAND! I was a MESS!”

Callie fought every urge to do so, but she began to cry, which made her angry, which made her sob uncontrollably, and scream into the phone. “I lost my DAD! Oh, and don't give me that 'I was a mess ' bullshit! I know where you were when Daddy was dying. Don't you even sully his memory with talking about being a mess. You counted the cash from his life insurance before his body got cold and spent every PENNY on yourself!” She paused for a breath, rocking back and forth.

“You know what, mom?” Callie said, nearly choking and blind from tears. “I can't do this. I can't. I can't do it anymore. I've carried you and carried James for a long time and I-- I'm done. I can't. No more checks, no more funding your lifestyle, no more guilt, no more being angry with you. I love you but I can't. do it. anymore. Please don't call me again. If you have a message for me, leave it with Jason. Bye, Mom.”

She pressed the the button in the cradle to end the call and clutched the handset to her chest, openly sobbing. The handset was being pulled out of her hands, and returned to the cradle, and then a thin throw blanket was over her shoulders, and strong arms closed around her and gently pulled her toward a chest of manly hair.

“I hate my life,” she moaned into the patch of hair, tears still streaming. Warm, large hands rubbed her back, and soft lips kissed her temple until the tears stopped and the sobs ebbed and aside from a few sniffles, she was quiet.

“I'm sorry you had to witness that,” she said with a sniffle. “That was ugly, I'm sure. Your family is pretty much the Cleaver's huh?”

He reached behind her and pulled a few tissues from the box on the side table and handed them to her. “You would be surprised. We can get into it, when we want to.”

“Really? That does surprise me. That makes you so... human.”

“I'm very human. And kind of stubborn. And so are they. So, what happened?”

“Okay, first, I named the album 'Charlie' without consulting her.” Callie rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. “Because I should talk with Mom, who I don't talk to often because she stresses me OUT, about what I'm going to name my next album. Anyway. Then I didn't thank her or James enough in my acknowledgements. She's seriously embarrassed, like her friends are really asking 'why didn't Callie dedicate the moon and stars to you in her liner notes? Fuck her.”

“Callie...”

“No, no, no, JC,” she said, sitting up, shaking her head, eyes wide. “You don't know. You just... you don't know.”

“Then tell me. I'm here, talk to me.” He scooted back on the couch, and leaned back against the cushion, ready to listen. “Tell me. We'll write a song about it.”

“She doesn't know I know this. I don't think. Jason definitely doesn't know I know this. But...” Callie swallowed, unsure if she could even say it. “The day my dad died, I came home from school and he was on the bathroom floor. And my mom was gone. And I knew where she was. She's married to him, now.”

JC's eyes sparked with realization. Callie nodded, her shoulder sagging. “So, I called 911 and they came and got him and then I called my mom. And it was like...” she paused, trying to stop the tears, but the tears came anyway, so she gave up. “It was like she couldn't even be bothered to come to the hospital to see him. He was dying and she was “busy”.

Callie snorted. “Yeah, busy getting fucked by a man who wasn't her husband, who hadn't supported her since she was 19, who hadn't built a house for her, and wanted her to be the mother of his child. She just barely made it before he passed away and when he did, all she cared about was the life insurance. It was the first thing she dug up when we got home.”

Callie sniffled and swiped at her face. “So when she acts all indignant about my dad, it just drives me into a rage, because... because she couldn't give a shit about him. She uses him to get at me, to rile me up, to poke at me and to punish me, because she knows I was his heart, and he was mine, and she was jealous of that. She was gonna leave us, but then my dad was diagnosed with a heart condition. He didn't take care of himself, and she didn't encourage him to. It was like she was just waiting for him to die so she could collect.”

JC looked overwhelmed, and sank further into the couch. “Wow. I couldn't even imagine it that bad.”

“Oh. It's worse," she said. "You know the first bill I paid? My dad's hospital bill. It had gone to collections. She was being SUED for nonpayment. She took his life insurance and spent it." 

Callie continued, her voice ragged, her throat raw and dry from such a violent cry, almost speaking to no one in particular.

"She had a brand new car, but I had to pay for his funeral and I bought his headstone. The house was MONTHS behind, the credit cards were maxed out, I was singing at the club just to make some extra money, and I wasn't even supposed to BE in there. Thank GOD for Paula, back then. She used to have to chaperone me. Can you imagine?” She smiled wistfully at the memory, twisting the cotton in her hands.

“Anyway, when Jive came calling the first few times, I thought it would be complete disrespect to go sing pop when my dad was nothing but classic jazz. But they kept calling and finally... I just didn't think I was gonna get out of there if I didn't take the deal. So I took it. And because I knew my dad would want me to, I helped her. I helped her a lot. And now I'm done.” Callie took a breath, a long one, a deep one, and let it out, slowly.

He rubbed her back and smiled. “You're free. At least for right now. But...so..your mom... she has to know that you know she was cheating.”

She shrugged, and then sniffled, wiping at her nose with the wad of Kleenex. "She probably does but we've never talked about it. I can't talk about it with her. I'm not interested in her excuses, and for... almost letting him die without seeing her, one last time.”

“Yeah. You definitely need a break from her. She's not good for you. I've never heard you sound like that, before.”

“I'm so sorry you had to see that. Thank you for not freaking out, though. And for listening. No one else listens to me.”

“I don't freak out. I'll listen to you. I'll listen as long as you want. Come here,” he said, pulling her close to him. He felt the tension drain from her shoulders, and her excited breathing return to normal.

“You quit shaving your chest,” she mumbled into a patch of hair.

“I never shaved it. I waxed it.”

 “You quit waxing your chest."

 He chuckled into her hair. “Not really quit. Just haven't done it in a while. No need for neurotic tendencies, I guess.”

 “I like it. You should leave it, just for me.” She planted light kisses across his chest, her lips lost in the thin layer of hair.

“I'll do that. Just for you. Should we maybe put my suitcase in the bedroom?”

Callie tilted her head up to grin at him. “Why, you wanna go in there?”

He shrugged one shoulder and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Well. Since we never made it past the living room.”

“Who's fault is that? You attacked me.”

He laughed, then. “Couldn't help it. You're a hot girl.”

“Hmmm. Your proposal of going to the bedroom intrigues me,” she teased, laying back onto the couch, pulling him toward her. “But I say we go one more round in the living room.”

***

“What I got you got to give it to your mama!”

“JC...”

“What I got you to got to give it to your papa!”

“God...”

“What I got you got to give it to your daughter/ you do a little dance and then you drink a little water!”

Callie sighed and giggled, and gave up trying to control the music. She had already relinquished the right to drive him around, since her driving made him pray the rosary, and he wasn't even Catholic. Since JC was driving, he claimed he got to control the music, even though it was her MP3 player plugged into the stereo system.

“You don't have anything like, eclectic on this thing,” he said, scrolling through her play list. “Where's all the good stuff?”

“On YOURS. I haven't updated it in a long time. I haven't bought music in a long time.”

“We need to fix that, honey. Music is our lifeblood!” he said dramatically, and then stared at her. When she didn't react, he went back to trying to drive and scroll the music player.

“What time do we have to be at your parents?”

He shrugged, eyebrows raised. “Timing's loose, so whenever. Why?”

“Detour. Take a right up here at this light.”

JC felt the energy in the car change slightly, and he started to get an idea of where they were going. He turned the music down, switched lanes and took a right turn where she had indicated and drove until she told him to take a left and then pulled into the parking lot of a cemetery.

“You don't have to come, if you don't want to. I just haven't been out here in awhile.”

“No, it's OK. I'll go with you. Lead the way.”

Callie and JC exited the car and she led him across the neatly manicured lawn, past the crosses and headstones standing stately and serenely, in rows and rows and endless rows. Finally, she stopped at a plot, marked by a smooth granite headstone and engraved 'Charles Phelps'. Underneath his name was his date of birth and death and underneath that, an engraved saying 'May the Music Move You'. It was his sign off message, said every night as he stepped off stage.

She busied herself clearing the long dead and wilted flowers that she had brought at her last visit, and wiped leaves and loose grasses off of the headstone. Satisfied, she stepped back, next to JC and reached for his hand, lacing her fingers in his.

“My dad would have liked you, a lot.”

He glanced over at her, and back to the massive structure. “You think?”

“I know. You have the same... I dunno the same kind of dedication, to the sound. The same fire, the same love. And the same smile,” she said, grinning up at him. “It's what I like about you the most.”

“Well, thanks. I'm honored you would say that.”

“I can just imagine the two of you making music together. That would have been awesome, to see. He'd want you to release something though. Soon.” She looked up at him and winked.

“Oh, would he now?” he asked, smiling down at her. “Would he want that or would you?”

“Both of us.” Callie nodded, and then sighed. “Okay. I just wanted to come out here. It had been a while, and we were close.”

“No problem. I wouldn't dream of rushing you so if you want to hang out awhile, I'm cool.”

“I'm good. Thank you,” she said, starting her return to the car, still holding his hand, now wrapping her other hand around his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder. They walked back to the car in silence, ending at her side of the car. Before he opened her door, he turned to her, looked her in the eye and asked, “you okay?”

She nodded, and smiled, a real genuine smile. He leaned down and kissed her, a real genuine kiss. And then, really, genuinely, said, “I love you, Callie.”

Callie's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach and sat there, in a cold lump. It wasn't so much that she was horrified, but-- well she was kind of horrified. She didn't think they were quite on that level and hadn't expected or assumed or even so much wanted that from him. Her mouth opened, but words didn't come, so she closed it.

“It's not like I said I was a serial killer. Why do you look so scared?” He teased her, opening her door. “You'll get used to it. Get in the car.”

Speechless and a little bit dazed, she slid into her seat and fastened her seatbelt. He got in on his side, and pulled out of the parking lot and back the main road that would take him to his parent's home. He seemed cheerful, chattering about... something...even singing along to the low music, maybe relieved that he'd got that off his chest. Callie wasn't sure what she was feeling, but cheerful and happy were far from a description of what was going on inside her head.

Dinner was a blur. She vaguely remembered smiling and laughing and talking and joking but the entire time, all she heard, echoing back to her were those words. Those words she hadn't expected and was kind of trying to avoid, for no particular reason, except that it meant maybe that she would have to make some sort of commitment, and having spent five years following Curtis around like a puppy dog, she was inclined to do no such thing. She had no desire to be known as JC Chasez' girlfriend, so no one would pay any attention to her music or what she was doing, only be concerned about what was happening in her bed.

“So, you're awful quiet. Did I upset you, with what I said?” he asked, after their shower and falling into bed.

“I just wasn't expecting that. I didn't think we were doing that,” she answered quietly.

He laid on his side, propped up on an elbow. A finger did a long, slow drag down her arm.“Doing what, really liking each other?”

She pulled away-- it tickled, which he knew, and she didn't want to laugh. “Really liking each other is very different from loving each other, JC. Don't pretend you meant that in a casual way. That's way beyond what we're doing right now.”

“Well, how long did you think it was gonna be before felt something real for you?”

“I didn't realize you were gonna feel anything that real for me. I mean... I can't... I can't do the love thing. I just, I can't. If you're gonna be asking for a commitment and... more than what we're doing now, then we should just break it off before you get disappointed. I need something way more casual, way less committed than that.”

Silence and tension filled the room. That was certainly not what he had been expecting to hear from her, though he didn't know why he was surprised. This was Callie, after all. Unpredictable, brash, pushy, rude, outspoken, sometimes selfish Callie. Did he think he'd changed her? Obviously not.

“Is this about Curtis? About the stuff he said to you?” he asked.

Callie let out an exasperated breath. “NO. It is not about Curtis. It is about me, and you, and what I need and I thought what you needed, too. What happened to 'just playing it by ear, nothing too deep, let's just have fun?”

He huffed, blowing out a short breath. “Okay, you know what? You wanted me to get pissed sometimes? I'm pissed. Someone says they love you, and you find everything wrong with that, when it should be good news. I am playing by ear and I am having fun and sorry if I happen to love you. I can't help what I feel.” He stared at her, for any kind of reaction, which didn't come.

“I'm sorry I even said anything. I thought you'd want to hear it. You want your way? Fine. If you want to split up,we'll split up. I'll change my ticket and head out in the morning.” He rolled over and yanked the covers up over his shoulder and refused to say more.

When Callie awoke in the morning, he was gone.

***

Ginny ran to pick up a roll of paper towels to mop up the coffee that Callie had unceremoniously tossed to the floor. “Callie, I'm sorry, I thought you'd want some--”

“Well, I don't! Just bring me a bottle of water. You know what, never mind, just leave me alone. Everyone, just get out, and leave me alone!”

It had been three weeks since he disappeared from her life, since he told her he loved her and she was a bitter, evil, brat of a girl, and everyone was paying for it. Callie was wreaking havoc and making headlines and everyone she came into contact with miserable. She was moody and seemed angry all the time and at night she did nothing but alternately rant and throw things, or stare at the TV or the wall or out of the window as the occasional tear slid down her face.

“It's for the best, Paula. I told you I'd hurt him,” she whined into the phone.

“That's the biggest load of bullshit, ever, and you know it. You're the only woman I know that runs away from I love you. What's wrong with him saying that? What's wrong with him feeling it? I thought you wanted him?”

“I did. I do. I did. I had him and I was happy till he said that, and then I felt trapped and I felt like he was gonna try and tie me down and I just couldn't handle that.”

“Okay, and so sitting around being a bitch to everyone you know and don't know is being better off without him? Maybe he should tie you down. I wish you could have seen yourself when you were with him. I hadn't seen you that smiley and happy since your father was alive.”

Callie snorted. “That's because I was having sex. Sex makes people act like that.”

“Stop it. You weren't like that with Curtis. I don't know how to explain it. But you're miserable, now. You don't see that?”

Of course she'd seen it. She felt it. She was living it. She was wrapped up in it, all day everyday, and slept to escape it. Filled her schedule to avoid it. Occupied her mind so she didn't have to think about it.

“Well, are you going to the Grammy's?”

“I'm nominated. So, yeah I guess.”

“You think you'll see him there?”

“I don't know. I don't want to. I haven't seen him since he left.”

“You really don't want to? Or scared to? Scared you might give in and go back to him?”

“No more soap operas, Paula. It doesn't work like that in real life. I doubt he even wants me back, now. I need to go. I'm tired.”

“I'm sure he wants you back. He said the 'L' word. I told you he wanted you, I know these things. Just think about it. There's a better life than what you're living, hon. It would be very easy to fix.”

Callie tossed and turned at night, never really able to sleep much. She dreamt about him at night, and had day dreams about him during the day. A hundred, thousand, million times she reached for the phone to call him, in the end cursing herself and putting it away.

The Grammy Awards show came and went. She attended the show but didn't see him there. Watched for him out of the corner of her eye while talking at a few after parties, but didn't see him. She didn't win for Best Female Artist, but hadn't expected to-- not with Christina and Kelly dominating the female pop chart. It didn't really bug her but she'd have liked to have at LEAST one statue before she was done with music.

The US leg of her tour finished and she set about making loose plans to travel overseas. Happy Feet 2 was released, so she attended the red carpet premiere. Her second and third singles from 'Charlie' topped the charts consecutively and Rag Doll marked her second number one hit from the album. Callie delighted in knowing that Curtis was dead wrong about only having one number one song, but the whole reason that song was a hit was somewhere in LA, without her.

Callie had the world in the palm of her hand, but she was miserable. If she didn't have to get out of bed, she wouldn't. She'd lay there and stare into the air and think and cry and feel sorry for herself-- it was a good thing she had a lot of work to do. She tried to entertain the thought of dating but the thought sickened her. She just couldn't see stepping out there, and she didn't have time, anyway.

When her schedule could afford it, she escaped to the comforts of home. She spent one whole night in her fuzzy socks, re -watching movies she had watched with JC. She looked and felt awful, so when a loud knock came at the door, she had no intention of opening it. But the knock was insistent, and whomever it was wouldn't go away.

Furious, Callie stomped to the front door and threw it open.

“WHAT?!” she screamed, then her breath caught at the top of her throat. It was JC. Her heart sighed, and she fought to not give it away.

“What do you want? I look like shit. WHAT?”

JC looked amused. Her tantrums had never really affected him much. He tilted his head to the left and smiled.

“Hi Callie. Not feeling good?”

She crossed her arms and stood in the door. “I feel fine. What?”

“I just came by to see you. Say hi and stuff. And to take these for a spin!” He grinned and kicked his leg up to show off a pair of bright pink fuzzy socks. It took everything in her to not laugh. “ Can I come in?”

“No. I'm busy.”

“Doing what? Being miserable? Step aside, Miss Callie. I brought you a pair.”

“I don't-- fine. Fucker, ” she fumed as he brushed past her, and closed the door behind them. It irritated her how much her mood lifted, just seeing him. She didn't NEED him. This was ridiculous.

“Thank you!” he said, dropping a bag onto the nearest chair and shrugging out of his jacket.

“So, what are you doing up here?” Callie cleared the couch of her blanket and books and remote and pillows so he could sit.

“I came to see you. Specifically.”

“Right. 'Cause we've talked so much, since we broke up.”

'Do you think you can put the bitch away, for just a second? Give the man a chance.'

“True, we haven't talked much. Or, at all. I've heard about you, though.” He shook a finger at her, then his expression softened. “I've missed you, Callie.”

Callie pouted, then found a loose thread in the blanket to play with. “Why? I'm such a bitch. You tell me you love me and I find everything wrong with that.”

“You're not a bitch. I just hit one of those walls you have up. I was hoping that... well, I was hoping if I just left you alone for awhile that you might come around. How's that going?”

She laughed a short, bitter laugh.

He yanked the blanket out of her hands and tossed it on the chair behind her. “Can we talk about it? Without like, yelling at each other? And getting pissed?”

“Everything with you was different,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I liked that. I liked it a lot. I wasn't ready to hear that, from you, though. I guess I totally missed the signs. And...” she paused, and glanced up at him. “I'm not ready to feel it.”

“But you do? She nodded, after a moment.

“And you don't want to.” She shook her head, slowly, no. “But-- I didn't want to like you either, when I met you. Remember how awful I was?”

“Vividly,” he answered, a little too quickly and she glared. “But...so... you think I could win you over, now?”

“Maybe. I just don't want to be like... tied down, right now. I don't want to have to run everything I do through you and I don't want to be expected to be at your side if I have five free seconds and I'm not... I'm not gonna run after you like a loyal puppy dog. I spent a long time doing that, and I hate that I did it and I won't do it again.”

“Have I ever asked you to? All I ever wanted was to spend time with you. No was always an option. I'm not trying to tie you down. Whatever idea you have in your head, I didn't put it there. We didn't talk about that. I just said I loved you, and your mind went running.”

Callie tried to think of something to say, an argument, something that would make sense of this time she'd been punishing herself. Her thoughts shot back to recording 'Let's Start Over', when she felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, willing herself to just jump off, to something new and something free and something different. This could be her jumping off point, if she'd let herself do it.

'It's not lame to be happy, you twit, to do what you want to do, to love someone. It's lame to toss that away and live in misery, when it's the one thing you want the most. Take it!'

“I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere,” she said suddenly, and ran through her bedroom, to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She stripped, showered quickly, washed and towel dried her hair and opted not to put her contacts in. He did, after all, like the one green eye she had. She slipped on a tee shirt and a comfy pair of lounge pants and went back out to the living room where he was flipping through channels aimlessly.

“I have something to say,” she said, pressing the 'off' button on the remote and sitting next to him. He sat up, blue eyes fixed on her.

“Two things. First, I meant what I said, that my dad would like you. But the one thing he would tell you is to get back to the music, your first love, the sound. It's where you belong. I will not let another year go by without you releasing something, even if we have to do a song together.”

He blinked, unresponsive for a moment. “You're bossy," he finally blurted out. "Second?"

She couldn't help the smile. “Okay, dammit. I love you. But... I feel like I keep making the same mistake over and over, and I was just trying not to do that again. And yeah, Curtis scared me. He made me think I was selling out and losing my edge and I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose myself, I don't want to become warm and sweet, I want to stay me. ”

“Honey, I will throw, like, a serious DIVA fit if you become warm and sweet. I like you feisty.”

Sweeter words were never spoken, and Callie was sure she loved the man that spoke them. “You mentioned that. And yeah, I know. The green eye is hot. Where are my socks you promised me?”

He dug into his jacket pocket and produced an identical pair, which she put on immediately. “So, uhm...congrats on your second #1. We didn't celebrate that, yet. And your Platinum sales. We didn't celebrate that, either.”

“Well, we can't just pick up where we left off. Least I don't think we should.”

“Where should we pick up, then?”

She winked, and leaned close to him, and whispered, “Let's start over.”

He laughed and stuck out his hand. “Sure. Hi, my name is JC. Nice to meet you, Callie.”

Callie grasped his hand and pulled him toward her. “I wasn't thinking we'd go back quite that far,” she said and for the first time in months, leaned in to kiss him.

***