If someone had told Callie that she would one morning wake up and take stock of her life and actually like what was happening in it, she'd have summarily dismissed them and called them crazy. Still, Callie woke up one morning and realized that she was happy.

Not perfect. No, not by any stretch of the imagination, perfect. She was still dealing with the emotional aftermath and expected fallout from her last (and final, she hoped) conversation with her mother. She hadn't meant to pit Jason against them and trap him in the middle, but he was strained, trying to balance his professional obligation to Callie and his familial obligation to his father and the first woman to at least pretend to care about him since his own mother had left and moved on. Callie offered Jason the option of bowing out, if he desired. She would find a new manager and life would go on, but she would not, and could not return to life as it were. Callie thanked every lucky star that Jason decided it was too much of a gamble to give up what was an exciting career for him, doing something he loved, simply for the affection of people who had proven to want nothing more than a monthly check and to be able to say they knew Callie Phelps.

Without Callie's monthly support, their quality of life began to drag, as they had to count on James' salary alone. They could not afford the upkeep of expensive cars, could not manage the high balances on the credit cards, could not sustain their position in society. When they began to falter, and their lifestyles were forced to change, they reached out to Callie several times, to no avail. When their pleas fell on deaf ears, they used every tactic in every book to get her to respond. Callie did not take joy in knocking them down, but she was determined to live her life for herself in a way that her father would be proud to see her living. That did not include financing a life of opulence and luxury for Julia and James, so as much as she hated to, she ignored the nagging guilt and stayed busy so that she didn't have to think about it.

Part of staying busy was spending time in LA with Jason, who had relocated not only his home but his office; with Paula, who continued to cheer her on and be her staunchest supporter; and with JC, who was continuing to amaze her daily, weekly, monthly, with how he cared for her, took care of her, supported her. Callie had been in a world of dysfunction since she was a child-- she had never known a real relationship. She had never known what it was like to care for someone so much it was scary, to love someone so much it hurt, to be loved by someone so generous, when she felt so completely undeserving. Though she had admitted that she loved him, she also admitted that it scared her to feel it and to admit it and to live it. Yet everyday she was living it and though she was cautious, she was also optimistic and let herself enjoy it a little more every day.

It was, of course, no fairy tale. JC could be as stubborn as she could, and their only saving grace was that he was amused by her tantrums and her bullish nature, and gently reminded her when she was being selfish and bratty. He was laid back where she was high strung, relaxed where she fidgeted out of nervousness, and positive where she looked for the problems and the issues. The old adage that opposites attract one another was working in their favor, though just barely.

Over the weeks and months of their relationship, and especially when it dealt with her professional life, JC could either be a fountain of information, or he would clam up and not offer advice or anecdotes or a rambling, senseless story or diatribe. Callie noticed that he cut her off the most when she asked about his career-- his hopes and dreams and what he planned to do with the rest of his life. He was a competent producer, and a skilled songwriter, but Callie saw more in his eyes, in his heart, could almost see the wheels turning on the memory machine-- being out in front of a large crowd, the deafening screams, the band kicking up behind you, the absolute heat in a packed arena.

He missed it. She knew he missed it. He refused to acknowledge it, and when she pressed him and insisted that lightening could strike twice for him, he shut down and shut her out, and it took days to get him back to normal. Callie tired of this cycle, but it killed her inside to see him so tormented and afflicted by what he wanted, but refused to go after. She was a fighter, though-- she wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't at least try to push him, and she couldn't let him live vicariously through her. The pressure to do it her way was enough, let alone to try to do it louder, bigger, better for his benefit.

Things began to change, the more she pressed, albeit slowly. Where he would normally cut her off, he would suddenly talk about the old days and his old life and being a star and maybe getting back to it. Maybe. But, no, he couldn't. Then he would retreat into himself and go about his daily tasks, his routines and schedules. He would sell his ideas and his words and his thoughts and feelings to other artists who were no match for his caliber. Things he could express himself, if he had will and opportunity, and carry them off in a completely more polished fashion. He was content to come out of his cave when necessary, lend a hand, lend an ear, create a hit and a storm, and the slink back to his cave once his part was complete. This was the cycle that was slowly driving her mad.

On a sunny Thursday in Los Angeles, Callie decided she'd had enough of him sitting on the sidelines, watching the game in play, wanting to be on the field, but scared to go out there, all the while insisting he was ‘fine’. He wasn’t fine. 

“Are you listening to me? You're not listening to me.”

Callie reached across the table and stole a fry from JC’s plate. “Shit, that’s hot!” JC laughed as she fanned her mouth and chewed the piping hot, fresh from the oil, french fry.

“That’s what you get. Keep your fingers on your own plate,” he said, reaching across the table to steal her pickle. Callie hated pickles, didn’t know why every sandwich came with a pickle, but JC was willing to take it, so she never asked to have them removed.

“If you order fries, I’m having one. Are you ignoring me? I won't be ignored, Dan!”

He smirked at the Fatal Attraction reference, a movie they'd watched together the night before. Almost without thinking, he methodically disassembled his sandwich and put it back together the way he wanted it. “Honey, you're right here. Can‘t ignore Callie Phelps. ”

“Fucker. You know what I mean. Your album. Talk to me. Why can't you do one?”

JC stalled for time, taking a large bite of his sandwich. He was growing tired of this same conversation. It went the same way, every time, every few months. After the fight they’d had the last time she brought it up, he thought she had given up asking.

“There’s no album, Callie,” he said, around the sandwich in his mouth. “It’s just… I’m done. I don’t even have a label.”

Callie rolled her eyes at the standard excuse, as if that could even be an excuse, these days. Lots of artists went Independent, when they couldn't get major label deals. That wasn't JC's problem, though. He was getting offers. Tons of them. One a week at least. He just wouldn't sign any of them. “That’s an easily solvable problem, JC. Just open one of those thick envelopes-- you know, with the record label logo on it?”

He swallowed, then wiped his mouth, his elbows on the table. “Callie,” he started, his eyes boring into hers. “I don’t like fighting with you and I don't like having this same fight with you. Honey, I get that you want me to put something out there, and I appreciate that you believe in me, it’s just not going to happen. I’d like to enjoy a nice lunch with my girlfriend, and not fight with her and not piss her off today, because I’d like to have sex, later. Okay?” He reached for his glass but she snatched it and slid it to her side of the table.

“What if I say, no sex until you agree to do a record? Hm?” Callie gave him a sideways glance, with her eyebrows raised.

His eyes sparkled as he laughed. “I’d say that’s dirty warfare. I'd say let’s not do that, and I would remind you how you begged me to sleep with you before your album was done, so you’ll never stick to it. Gimme that.”

She slid the glass back to him and watched him take long gulps before setting it back down and picking up his sandwich. Sighing, she dropped the subject and picked up her own sandwich. She had figured she could ask him every few weeks and maybe, eventually, she would hear a different answer, but the same answer always came-- he didn’t want to, he didn’t have a label, it wasn’t going to happen.

They had only met for lunch, so after they stepped out of the busy café, JC and Callie went their separate ways-- JC back to the studio and Callie to Jason’s office. Callie held several phone interviews, mostly about her album, her new single, the movie that had been out for months and would be released on DVD soon. After a long but productive planning meeting with Jason and her assistant and an indulgent few quiet hours of Internet surfing, Callie and JC met some of his friends for dinner.

She was starting to like LA, a little. Just a little. Since Jason had relocated, she found herself there more than at home, so she had been able to explore more, see more, do more. JC’s friends left a bit to be desired at times, but she enjoyed the company of a few of them, and his brother was always entertaining. LA wasn’t always about pop tarts engaging in antics to stay on the front page of the tabloids. Most often it was about quiet, out-of-the-way places with good food, good drinks, good music, and lots of laughter. Callie liked that part of LA. She liked it a lot.

After dinner they saw a movie, an independent film that had been produced by a friend. By the time the movie let out Callie was ready for some peace and quiet and some personal time with JC. He had made it clear on the drive home that he was looking forward to the same.

Yet, there she laid, in bed, waiting for JC to come out of the shower. He was the world’s most neurotic person, what with his rituals. ‘Let’s take a shower’ meant more than just showering and she often finished her pre-bed checklist long before he had completed his. Callie checked the clock-- twenty minutes in. By this point the was flossing- again. Next he would clean his ears, then obsessively stare at himself smiling in the mirror. He said he was checking to make sure his teeth were clean. She really thought he was trying to smile without his teeth looking weird. He was self conscious about his teeth.

Frustrated, Callie threw the covers back and rolled out of the bed, stomped to the bathroom and tapped twice on the door.

“You need in here?” he called, from behind the door.

“I came to ask you the same question. What are you DOING? For a man that cut off a fight because he wanted to have sex, you’re taking an awful long ti--”

The door swung open in her face, warm air billowing out above her head. JC stood in the doorway, bare chested and wrapped in a towel, holding a length of floss. “Horny, honey?”

“Are you? The way you rushed out of the theater and ran a couple of lights getting back here made me think you were ready. I’ve been in bed for fifteen minutes!”

“Well, I have to get all sexy for you,” he said, flashing a smile at her, then tossing the floss into the trashcan under the sink and opening the medicine cabinet.

“Joshua Chasez! If you reach for Q-tips, I’m going to sleep!” He chuckled and didn’t hesitate to pick up the box of cotton swabs. Callie groaned and turned around and stomped back toward the bed, flung herself into it and threw the covers over herself. Huffing, she rolled to her side, away from him. JC laughed during her tantrum, and swabbed his ears.

“You just can’t stand to not get your way, can you? Spoiled girl. I spoil you.” He snapped off the light in the bathroom and shed his towel, dropping it into a basket in the closet, then slid into bed next to her.

“You don’t spoil me. You don’t do anything I tell you to do.”

“That doesn’t stop you from telling me what to do. Roll over. Let’s get this party started, baby.” She didn’t move, so he tried to ply her with kisses, soft slow ones across her shoulder, down her arm, along her back and back up. “Callie... You mad at me?”

“Mmm..” she murmured, eyes closed, unmoving.

“I love you. Do you love me? Hmmm?”

“Mmmm…”

“Callie, come on. I’m sorry. You know I can’t relax unless I know everything’s in order. Can you turn around, please?”

She turned, finally, and snaked her arms around his neck, welcoming a warm, deep kiss as a hand wandered her body, very gently caressing the skin beneath his fingers.

“What took you so long? You were sexy before you went in there.”

###

She'd drifted to sleep, momentarily-- sex was incredibly relaxing to her and not to insult him, but it was the best sleeping pill, ever. She awoke again when she felt him tossing and turning next to her, the hairs of his day old beard growth scratching against her skin as he pulled her close to him and laid his head next to hers. She wriggled backward toward him, to get as close to him as possible, enveloped in the scent of his shower gel mixed with sweat.

“Can't sleep,” he whispered.

Callie laid awake, listening to him breathe, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He could tell she wasn't asleep either, and after a few minutes she felt a finger draw small curlicues down her arm. It tickled, and he knew it. She giggled quietly. She almost heard him smile behind her.

“JC.”

“Hm?”

“I just hate to see you so... you know. You won’t even think about it? Please?”

“I have thought about, babe,” he said, softly. “Believe me, I have. I can't go through…I can't. Why do you keep bringing this up, Callie? You do like to fight, don’t you?”

“J, it’s not that I like to fight,” she said, turning over to lie on her back.

“It’s just that it practically hurts my feelings that you pushed me so hard, especially to record Let’s Start Over, and gave me this big giant speech about not being afraid, and about doing shit just for the money and knowing that I have talent and pushing myself to bring the best to the recording session. And then, when it comes to you, suddenly it’s okay to sit in your house and not open envelopes that could be good news for you, not even try to negotiate, if the deal isn’t exactly what you like. All of a sudden, it’s okay to write and produce for artists that you don’t necessarily believe in, as long as they can sign a check. It just feels like you gave up. And that hurts my feelings.”

JC sat up, scratched his head and rubbed his eyes. Callie sat up as well, sitting cross legged on her side of the bed. No matter how many times he said he didn‘t want to talk about it, and gently steered the conversation to another topic, Callie, like a bulldog, sank her teeth in and wouldn‘t let it go.

“Honey, what do you want me to do? Run out to every label in the industry and beg them to sign me, give me what I really want?”

“Why would you have to do that, J? You. Have. Fucking. Offers,” she seethed, punctuating her words with a fist into the firm mattress. “In your office. Right Now! What’s stopping you from taking one of those suckers to the bargaining table? You waste your time writing for mediocre artists and dumb down your talent and your abilities and put up with so much shit, for songs that Jive won’t release-- and you know they won’t release them! Did you just feed me some lines to get me to do what you wanted me to do, shit out a hit, and then go back to living whatever life this is, that you've built for yourself? This cave? It can't have been that you believed in me or my talent. Because if you really believed the words you said to me, then you have not one excuse to be sitting here with no recording contract and no album being sent to press. Goddammit, JC! I I know you want it. Get off your ass!”

JC huffed, tossed the covers back and swung his feet off of the bed and onto the floor, yanked his robe from the post in his closet and stormed out of the room. Callie turned on the lamp next to the bed and rubbed her neck. A tension headache was building, and she wished she’d never brought it up again. The bedroom door swung open again and he stomped in, face set in a frown, arms loaded with folders and envelopes and papers and dumped them on the bed.

“You want to talk about my offers? Let’s talk about my offers.”

“J, you know what, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this. Stop.”

“Oh, no. You started this. You like to fight, so come on. Fight with me. Okay. So, my Uncle goes through every contract I get and tells me what sucks about it, right?” He tore open the envelope and tossed the stack into her lap. She flipped through the pages and pages of familiar typewritten verbiage.

“That first one? One album deal, non-negotiable on points, which are shitty. I’m offended by how shitty the points are. They pick my producer, I get no choice. No advance unless I want to give up a percentage of overall earnings. I mean, I don’t need an advance but if they’ll do this to me, imagine what they’ll do to a new artist who's not likely to sell enough to pay the advance back and earn anything on top of it. This label has a historically low cap on promo unless you‘re already huge. No publishing-- are they serious? I have no power, no freedom at all. I do what they say, they pay me in peanuts and I’m supposed to be happy with that. I'm supposed to feel lucky to have a recording contract.”

“This one, this one, this one,” he ranted, picking up random envelopes, “all identical. Run of the mill, low paying, low man on the totem pole, debut artist offerings. Babe, this is what the industry offers when they don’t know what to expect. When your name isn’t ‘Callie Phelps’ and you can’t guarantee them a  hit. No one wants to take a chance on an artist that isn‘t mainstream, that doesn‘t fit in their box, that might be slightly quirky and maybe writes songs about things that you don‘t regularly hear on the Top 40 chart.”

He sifted through a second pile, a plentiful stack, grabbed them up and shoved them in her face. “These are all the requests I get, everyday, to write songs, to produce songs, which I love to do and you know that. They meet my quote and they don’t give me push back. I get to choose who I work with, but I don’t work for free, so yeah, the check has to clear. I don’t have to fight red tape... and I don’t have to sit in some meeting with four suits who hold my career in their hands, telling me an album that I have poured my life into is shit and they have no intention of pushing it.”

That-- he'd never said that before. He'd never explained it that way, put it in those words before. Those words that slammed against her heart so hard it broke, for him. “Okay,” Callie whispered, tearing up. “I get it. I get it.”

“Do you, Callie? Do you get that I have already been on top, and how I had to humble myself and practically beg to get these offers, and you see how shitty they are. I won't get anywhere with…” he picked up the remaining envelopes and tossed them onto the floor, “that shit right there. I wipe my ass with better deals than that.”

“Yes, I get it. I get that. I’m sorry, J, I didn’t know. I didn't know it was like that.” She reached out to him, grasped his hand, held it in both of hers, kissed his fingertips, her tears dripping onto them.

His gaze softened, thick lashes framing his blue eyes. “Now you do. Now you get why I can’t just ‘get off my ass’. I’m not ON my ass. I work, you know I do. It's just easier this way. It's awesome to be here with you and go through it with you. I had my fun, years ago, and I get that you want what's happening for you to happen for me, too… just… maybe I don’t want that for me. Maybe I’m happy just being next to you while it’s happening for you?”

Callie held her tongue, because she thought it was best, but she didn’t believe that for one second. Not when she could see subtle signs in the expression on his face when she kissed him before she went on stage –he would love nothing more than to rush out there with her and return to performing on a stage in front of an adoring crowd. She couldn’t make him be honest with himself, so it made no sense for her to make him be honest with her.

She gathered the stacks of paper and folders and set them on the night stand, then tugged at the sleeve of his robe. “C’mon, take this off. Come back to bed. I’m sorry. You’re right.” She laid down, he took off his robe and crawled back into the bed and laid his head on her chest. She rubbed his back, on occasion lightly scratching and she listened to his heart beat a fast rhythm.

“It’s not that I don’t want it, Callie. It’s that I can’t have it.”

“Shhhh… let’s not talk about it anymore, okay? Just relax. Relax.”

At breakfast the following morning, JC was quiet. As was normal after a 'what are you doing with your career' fight, he had retreated into his own mind. He wasn't talking or laughing or reading the paper and laughing at the local stories, offering up any of the usual banter that she had come to love. He barely lifted his eyes from his plate of toast and eggs and his mug of coffee and he seemed to be dragging himself just to eat. Callie sat across the table from him, hardly able to stand the tension in the air, the only sound being the coffee percolator bubbling and his fork scraping against his plate.

“You’re not eating,” he said in a flat, dull tone.

“I’m not that hungry after all,” she answered. More silence. Callie tapped the side of her mug with her nail. “How do the eggs taste?”

“Good. It’s good. Thank you. You cook better than you drive.” He offered a brief smile and went back to his eggs.

“Will Ty eat the eggs and toast if I leave them?”

“Probably. Just leave him a note up there.” His eyes lifted toward the cork board that hung in the kitchen, their communication center of sorts. It was where all mail and messages lived, so they didn’t get lost amongst the many people that came and went.

Callie couldn’t stand to keep avoiding the subject. She had to say it.

“J. I’m sorry. I’ll just say that, because I’m not bringing the subject up again. Just, I’m sorry. I love you and I know you want support, and I want to be supportive, so whatever you decide, I‘m behind you. I'll just leave it alone, now. You talk to me when you're ready.”

JC paused, then set his fork down on the plate. He stared into space for a few minutes and then his eyes fixed on Callie. A weak smile crossed his lips. “Thanks for your support,” he said.

He finished his coffee and pushed his plate away, then stood and raked the remnants of his breakfast into the garbage compactor and set his plate and fork into the sink. He busied himself dumping the rest of the eggs and the two pieces of toast that Callie didn’t eat onto a plate, then set the skillet into the sink and the plate into the microwave. He plugged the sink, turned on the faucet, squirted some dish soap and waited for the hot, soapy water to fill the sink before he turned off the faucet and picked up the sponge.

“Callie,” he said, wiping his plate and fork and the skillet.

“Yeah,” she said watching him.

“Don’t stop pushing. Okay?” He didn’t look up. His words weren’t full of emotion. He could have just as easily been talking about…well, anything, but he had matter-of-factly asked her to not give up on him, to not stop pushing him to move his career forward. To go for what he wanted. Her heart sang a loud, obnoxious song with a heavy beat.

The words had barely escaped his mouth before she was standing behind him, arms wrapped around him. She laid her head on his back, dropping the occasional kiss on the skin there. “I won’t,“ she whispered. “I promise.”

“I mean it. Stay on my ass. I know you know how to not let things go,” he lobbed over his shoulder.

“You got it. On your ass like white on rice, like flies on shit, like a cheap suit, like…” She blinked, then laughed.

“Uh huh. Trying to be funny,” he snickered. The sound echoed through his chest, to his back, against her ear. She loved that sound.

“Shut up. I was trying to demonstrate how supportive I’ll be.”

“Rude. You love me.”

“I do.”

He pulled the plug in the sink and rinsed the suds down the drain.

“Can I push you on something, now?”

“Oh, sure, I guess,” she said, releasing him and leaning against the counter. “What could you possibly need to push me on? I'm not ready to even start thinking about a new album.”

“Not that. You're just spending a lot of time out here. Don't you think it's time you got a place?” He dared a brief look at her before going back to wiping down the sink.

She shrugged. “I've been thinking about it.”

“Really?” he asked, glancing back at her, eyebrows raised.

“Well... yeah. I am spending a lot of time, here and thanks to you and Paula I don't have to stay in hotels but it would be nice to come here and go, like, home. Tired of dragging a bag between here and downtown.”

“Are you thinking of actually getting a real place, or doing the hotel thing?”

“I don't know,” she said. “Part of me wants to buy something. Part of me is scared of that because what if something happens and I don't need to be here so much?”

“Then you sell it. Or rent it out. Stop being scared. Do what you want.”

“Maybe,” she said, thinking deeply, chewing her lip. “Maybe.”

He dried his hands on a towel, sighing, then took her hands in his and brought them around him. She closed the circle and tightened her arms around his waist. His arms fell around her and he leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. He closed his eyes.

“You were right, last night. And like, right now I'm telling you to not be scared and I'm... such a fucking hypocrite.”

“About...the album?” she asked.

He nodded, rolling his forehead on hers.

“Babe, can I ask you something?” She stared up at him, and waited. He nodded.

“What do you want? I mean, really. If you had a dream that could come true, right now, right fucking now, what would it be?”

He sighed and his shoulders sagged. He pulled away and leaned on the counter opposite her. He crossed his arms, a hand reaching up rub his chin.

“I would do my music. My way. The way I wrote it. The way I want it released, with no notes and no changes and no 'gosh, JC that's not very radio friendly, maybe you should'...” He stared into the distance, chewing his lip. Then, like he'd received a jolt of static electricity, his eyes shot back to hers.

“But I can't have it, because the deal I need, or want, doesn't exist, and the industry sucks so bad that no one wants to take that chance. I'm just stuck where I am, and lucky they want me to even write songs and produce. I'm lucky they even let me work with you, Callie. You were never in danger of being dropped. They love the shit out of you-- you make them money. They wanted something softer, something catchy and mainstream, something radio friendly to sell the album, and when I offered to help, they let me do that.”

Callie had long suspected that, but never said anything to him. There was no sense in insulting his talent, and he had orchestrated a rise that she hadn't been able to achieve on her own. The remainder of the album was classic Callie flavor, so if the singles that topped the charts were a little mainstream, she could stomach that.

“Eric had a meeting set up,” he said, suddenly, chewing his thumbnail. It was a nervous habit.“I canceled it.”

“A meeting for what?”

“With Virgin.”

Callie sucked in a breath. “You canceled it?” she asked.

He nodded, again and a deep crimson crawled up his neck and flushed his face to his hairline. “I can't... Callie I cannot hear 'no' again. I can't. I could go the rest of my life, the way I am, now. I seriously could. I save, I'm great with my money, I don't have to do anything. I don't have to go for this. I don't have to sit in another meeting and see the 'what the fuck' look cross their faces when I play my stuff, and defend myself and prove I know what I’m doing and I wasn’t just hiding behind Justin.”

She pushed herself off of the counter and wrapped her arms around him. “So, you're scared. And nervous. And there’s a chance it could go to shit. Okay. So. Good. That means that you're not cocky and full of yourself. I know you, JC. You will not rest until you take this to the end, until you try to make this happen. So...you're rescheduling, right? Push, push,” she said, patting his back.

He tried not to smile but it broke through. He bobbed his head from side to side and shrugged.

“In the great words of one Mister Joshua Chasez, better known as Producer Man, what are you scared of? You already have the worst of the worst, upstairs on the floor in your bedroom, still. You do not know what will happen, at that meeting. Reschedule. Please? For me?” She smiled up at him.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. “I guess,” he mumbled against them, “if you're telling me to, and you'll throw a fit if you don't get your way, that I have to, don't I?”

“Hmmmm....” she hummed, sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck. “I will have, like, a serious DIVA fit if you don't.”

“We can't have that,” he said, lifting her up onto the counter and stepping between her legs, stroking her long waist, up and down. He kissed her softly, which slowly gave way to a hard, passionate, moan filled exchange of wet tongues and hot breath and restless hands.

“Is anyone home?” Callie asked, breathless.

“Not right now.”

Elated, Callie nearly ripped the buttons off of her blouse to get it open. JC fell into her ample cleavage, licking little flames of fire around the edge of each cup and sucking lightly, then lifting his lips back to hers to kiss her more.

“You know what I want?” Callie asked, when she could get her lips free to take a breath.

“I have an idea. Tell me anyway,” he said, between flicks of his tongue down her neck.

“I want you to take me upstairs so we can have make-up sex.”

JC laughed, but tightened his arms around her and lifted her up off of the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck and held on tight as he carried her up all three flights of stairs to his bedroom. He slowly knelt onto the bed and let her slide away from him, onto her back, and then removed his t-shirt. She wiggled out of her blouse and reached behind her to unclasp her bra, tossing them both to the floor. He unzipped his jeans and kicked out of them, then unzipped hers, pulling them and her panties off and dumping them onto the floor.

“I want this so bad,” he moaned, landing on top of her. She wrapped her legs around him as he took a nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Callie found it hard to breath, what with the shockwaves coursing through her. She felt nimble, thick fingers between her legs, pressing, slowly rotating, her hips undulating to match the speed.

“J,” she gasped. “Now. Please!” He chuckled and opened the drawer next to the bed and dug out a small square package.

“Want to do the honors?”

###

Callie awoke slowly, aware of a quiet conversation being carried on behind her. The room was dark but she could see bright sun shining behind the heavy blackout curtains that JC often pulled so he could sleep during the day.

“Yeah, whenever they want, I'll clear my schedule,” she heard, his voice hushed. She felt a hand resting casually on her thigh, as if he just needed to touch her even though she was sleeping. She smiled to herself. Sometimes she found him so endearing. He found comfort in things like being able to touch her. Some part of his body was always touching her. Even at breakfast, while the tension in the air was thick, his feet were touching hers.

She lifted an arm, stretched and yawned. He poked her in her side and she grabbed his hand and kissed his palm. His conversation didn't miss a beat as she sat up, brushed his cheek with her lips and mouthed 'love you'. He simply raised and lowered an eyebrow and patted her on the backside as she crawled out of the bed.

“Meeting is back on.”

“Good,” she said, stepping into the bathroom. “Because I didn't want to have that damn fight one more time. You know I'm stubborn, I always win.”

“You don't always win. I let you win.”

“Whatever,” she said, returning to the bed, sitting cross legged on what had become 'her' side, and gathered the sheet around her. “So, now what?”

“Now, I have to get my ass in the studio and get something ready for them to hear. And hope for the best. And try not to freak out, or ruin this for myself.”

“What can I do? To help. Let me help.”

“Just keep pushing, honey. Keep pushing.”

 

Callie crouched in the corner of a booth, in the back of the bustling restaurant, attempting to enjoy a quick lunch and some time alone. She had offered to stay with Paula or to go home while JC worked on his samples for the meeting, but he wanted her there, for some reason, so she stayed. Watching him work was both fascinating and frustrating, as he pored and worried over a note here, a chord there, a lyric here, a word there. He wanted perfection, but it wouldn't come. Callie tried to get away for a few hours a day, to give him time and space to work and think in peace.

She hadn't reviewed her songs in a long while, so she savored the opportunity, and the wide table, to spread out with a cup of coffee and allow the changes in her life to breathe new meaning to old lyrics. Head down, ear buds in, Callie was oblivious to the world around her and was quite surprised to look up and find a familiar face sitting across from her.

“Curtis,” she mumbled, startled, yanking the ear buds from her ear, gathering her pages spread about the table.

“Callie,” he said with a nod, perusing the mess she was cleaning up. “Doing some writing?”

“A little,” she said, eyeing him. His very presence made her a little insecure—what was he here for, this time? “What do you want?”

He shrugged one shoulder. Callie noted how tired he looked. He hadn't shaven in days, his eyes were red from lack of sleep and had dark heavy bags underneath them. His hair, which he took great pride in, was stringy and unkempt. Curtis did not look good. “Just saw you over here,” he said. “Thought I'd say hi. I'm not... I'm not here to harass you.”

“I'm not in the mood for anything you have to say, Curt. We aren't friends.”

“I know. I know,” he raised both hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. “And I'm cool with that. I was an asshole and I know it.” He paused and motioned to the waitress for a glass of water. She brought it, and a straw, setting them in front of him. He played with the straw, his fingers shaking, and took long gulps of the ice water.

“What's wrong? You don't look good. Are you sick or something?”

“No,” he said, his eyes downcast. Then he looked up at her, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Mikey is, though.”

Callie gasped. Mikey was the bass player for Soul Train, a completely lovable man with a heart of gold. Mike and Curtis had been friends since they were children. No one knew Curtis like Mike did, and vice versa.

“What's wrong with Mikey?”

“Some kind of infection. It's pretty serious. He's at Cedars. I just came down here to grab a quick bite. Cafeteria sucks up there.” His voice was gruff, gravelly, low. She considered that he could be lying, but he looked too haggard to be lying.

Callie's expression softened, and she reached across the table and grasped his hand. “I'm sorry to hear that, Curtis. Give my best to him, okay?”

He nodded, squeezed her hand briefly, and then let go. “Would mean a lot to him if you stopped by. You know, if you get the chance. I know you're... busy and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Callie said. “I'll definitely stop by. Thanks for letting me know. So... the tour?”

“Had to cut it short. Truthfully the nonstop touring probably did it to him. Sucks.” Curtis cursed under his breath and sat back against the plush backing of the seat. “How are things with you and... what's his name?”

“JC. You know his name is JC. Don't start, Curtis.”

“JC. Yeah. Sorry. I haven't slept in a couple days, I just... I couldn't think. I'm really not trying to...” His voice trailed off as he stared out the window at nothing, tapping the side of his empty glass. “I think about you, a lot. You know? Like, I see pictures of you and... JC... here and there. Seeing a movie. Walking the park. Going to a club, hanging out, whatever. And I see him laughing. And you laughing. And I remember what it was like, when it was good. Remember?”

Callie nodded. “Yeah. I do.” And she did. She remembered when it was very good, when her world was Curtis, and she was his and they stayed up late at night talking and laughing and relating and getting along. Those days had been long since over.

“And I mean. I don't know,” he was saying. “I guess I let a lot of stuff go to my head, and the money, and everything... I started to believe the hype people wrote about me.”

“Me too. Actually. Maybe we're both better off, now that we're not together.”

“I'm not,” Curtis said, his voice cracking with sadness. “I miss you. A lot. I miss when we were friends and we had fun. You're a lot of fun, Cal. I miss that. I was gonna say... when I see pictures of you and JC, I'm jealous. When I saw you in New York, you looked good. Real good. Like, the best I've seen you in a long time, almost like when we met. And I was a dick, because I was jealous. Like that would make you come back to me.”

“I wish I could say the same, Curt,” Callie said, shaking her head. “But... it wasn't good for so long. I was miserable and we stayed together much longer than we should have.”

“I know. That's my fault.”

“Not just your fault. My fault, too,” she insisted, pointing at herself. “I wasn't blameless at all. I just should have had the strength to know that I was killing us, too.”

“I loved you, Cal. I did. You can believe me or not, but I did. I still do. And, I know you've moved on, and I think JC is great for you, if he can bring out that fun side of you again. I just wanted to say that.”

“Thanks. I’m surprised to hear that, but thanks.” Callie began to gather the rest of her songs and file them away while Curtis looked on.

“Write anything new lately? You always were a good songwriter. I liked your album. Picked it up the day it came out.”

Surprised, she froze, her eyes wide. “Really. Wow. I guess I'm flattered. No, I haven't written anything in awhile. I guess my brain is on vacation, or something. I toured and then took a break and JC might be getting back to music, so...” she shrugged.

“You writing for him? You should, if you're not.”

Callie chuckled to herself. “He's a pretty good songwriter, himself. I'm sure he doesn't need my help.”

“You were sure you didn't need his.” Curtis raised an eyebrow and drained his glass of ice. Crunching, he slipped out of the booth, bent over to her and touched his cheek to hers. “I want to get back to Mikey. Visiting hours are 'till seven. Stop by, okay? Good seeing you.”

And then he was gone.

Callie blinked, motionless for a few minutes. She'd had the first civil conversation with Curtis in over a year. He said he missed her, loved her, was jealous. In no way did she want him back, but part of her felt sorry for him, made her heart break a little. He seemed so very unhappy.

A stop into the loft and a visit with her friend and mentor was long overdue, so Callie dropped in to visit with Paula for a few minutes. She was riveted by the story of the surprise visit from Curtis. A lover of drama, she sucked every drop out of the chance meeting.

“Oh my God. So he looked really bad? Like really bad?” Paula set a tall glass of iced tea in front of Callie and sipped her own, settling into the couch.

“Yeah, but not like 'yay he looks horrible, and I won cause I'm doing better'. I mean, he looks really bad.”

“Wow. And so, what did he say was up with Mikey?”

Callie sipped and shrugged. “Infection, or something? I might stop by tomorrow. If he's lying, I will kick myself, but I don't think he is. He wouldn't lie about Mikey.”

“You'd better tell JC you saw him. You don't want him to hear from anyone else that you were canoodling with your ex.” Paula winked, teasing her.

“Oh, he doesn't care. He knows I don't want Curtis.”

“Ah,” she said, lifting a finger. “But he knows that Curtis wants you. If he didn't want you, he'd have never said those things to you in New York, trying to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, I guess. He admitted as much, anyway. So... Curtis said I should write for JC.”

“You should. You're not?”

“Well, no. Why would I write for a songwriter? Won't he be offended?”

“Just because you took it personally doesn't mean he will. And he doesn't have to use the song if he doesn't like it. I can't see him recording a song just because you wrote it.”

“No. He's just barely recording songs he wrote.” Callie said, rolling her eyes and leaning back on the couch, head propped on her elbow. She shook her head as she thought about the slow progress he was making, methodically trying to perfect every piece instead of just letting the piece be imperfect and have character.

“I don't know. I could write something. I guess. And he wouldn't have to use it,” she mused, thinking.

“Well, yeah, and he might hate it, you never know.” Paula attempted to hold a straight face, but a smile burst though, followed by a loud giggle. Callie picked up a large, soft cushion from the couch and lobbed it at her.

“He's required to love everything I write. If he hates it, I'm dumping him.”

###

The next few days, Callie hardly saw JC. He was either in the studio at home or in the city, or he was home and doing nothing, and she was working, doing interviews, guest spots, photo shoots or in meetings. Jive was hinting toward not wanting to wait too long for a new album to hit the stands, and while Callie was usually inclined to agree, she wasn't in a very big hurry to get back to the process. She was being selfish, but she wanted JC free and clear to work with her so she was dragging her feet until he was available, no matter how long it took. Unless they forced her to release earlier than that, she had no intention of moving on without him.

To pass the time, and because he was willing, Tyler offered to spend a day with Callie and she took him up on the offer. The day was sunny and warm, not too hot, not very smoggy, and the sky was a clear and pretty blue. Callie finally had to admit to herself that she did enjoy the weather, and when LA was good, it was really, really good. Tyler showed her a great time and she saw places that she would enjoy visiting, not that JC necessarily wanted to show her.

They got along famously, laughing easily and talking loud and long. Tyler was gregarious, outgoing, and a little lovesick, when it came to Callie. He blushed at the slightest touch and stumbled over his words when they talked. Other tell tale signs made Callie laugh and she played off of it well. She thought it was cute and he didn't seem to mind a little good-natured ribbing over it.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Callie?” Tyler veered off of the path they were walking and took a seat on the park bench, chipping mindlessly at the worn green paint.

“You'll have to 'off'' Josh before I'll marry you. I won't leave him for you.” Callie smirked and stole a glance at Tyler from behind her sunglasses.

He blushed, and looked away briefly, then back to her. “Not that. But sort of that. You love him, right?”

“Right.”

“I mean, really.” He was serious, his eyes told her.

“Yeah, Tyler,” she said softly. “Really. He's—he's everything I never knew I needed and never thought I wanted and I've never, ever had. I love him more than anything.”

“Good. Because he's a cool guy. I mean, you know that. Just. You know. You know.” He shrugged.

“Yeah,” Callie nodded, smiled over at him. “I know.”

 “Be good to him. I don’t think you have any idea what you mean to him. Okay?”

“I intend to, Tyler. I promise.”

The day passed too quickly, and the pair headed back to the house. JC was awake and not in the studio, enjoying having the place to himself.

“Hey, there you guys are,” he said with a wave from the couch where he was lounging. Callie leaned to give him a quick peck. “You have fun? Where'd you go?”

Tyler piped up. “I took her to lunch. Walked around UCLA a little bit, she wanted to see the campus. Hung out, took a walk through the Japanese gardens. I think she’s tired of looking at me now so I’m leaving. I'm leading a study group tonight.”

“Tyler, I loved spending time with you. Thanks for keeping me company.” Callie sent him a sweet smile that made him blush, and he shyly ambled down the stairs and out to his car.

“You're so mean.” JC said, pinching her.

“Ow! What?” Callie whined, pinching him back.

“He has a crush on you. You know that. Why do you encourage the kid?”

“Oh, was the smile too much? Or are you jealous?” She winked at him. “I remember a time when I could flirt with your brother and you wouldn’t say a word. My, how people change.”

“You flirt with each other in front of me.”

“So, now what? You have to work, or can you spoil me tonight? You've been working so hard. I'm neglected,” she whined.

“I don't spoil you. What do you want to do? Watch a movie? We could go hang out. Or uh...” He wiggled his eyebrows and wrapped both arms around her. “We could go upstairs.”

“Subtle, JC. Very subtle,” she said, unwrapping herself from him his arms and reaching for the folded newspaper that sat on the coffee table. “What’s showing? I’ll pick the movie, you suck at it. We'll end up seeing something that's not even in English.”

###

“Shit. Hang on a sec, honey.” JC stepped in front of Callie and she followed him out of the theater, illuminated by explosions of bright light-- flashbulbs-- and shouts from photographers trying to get a closeup photo.

'JC! What's going on? JC over here! What did you see? Did you enjoy the show? Is that Callie Phelps? Are you guys an item? How long have you two been together?'

JC ignored the questions but pushed through politely. “Hey, guys you mind? That flash is bright. Can we get through here? Appreciate that, thanks, man.” The gaggle of press followed them a few steps down the block toward the parking structure before they found another, more interesting face.

Callie blinked through the spots in her vision until it returned. “Shit. That so doesn't happen at home. I can't get used to that.” JC put an arm around her as they walked to his car.

“You okay? Can you see? Sorry about that.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, rubbing her eyes and blinking. “I guess we're not a secret anymore.”

“Nope, I guess not.” He seemed unfazed as he backed out of the space and pulled out onto the street. “ Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

JC found a quiet, out of the way restaurant and asked for a booth in the back. They sat in a cozy corner of the family style establishment and talked and laughed and sang along to the old school music.

“What do you know about Kriss Kross, my cute little rocker chick?” JC was amused as Callie rapped along with the popular 90's tune.

“I know it's wiggety whack, that's what I know,” she said, laughing her eyes sparkling. “This was every eighth grade dance, like every third song. This, and 'Motownphilly', and like, I don't know, 'Jump Around', and 'Bust a Move'. I was quite down in my youth.”

JC threw his head back and laughed, a loud, full, warm sound. “Yeah,” he said, when he could catch a breath. “You dance pretty well for a rock chick. You should do a hip hop crossover on your next album.”

“I'm not that down, babe. Besides, I'm not talking about my album until you have one,” she shot back.

“Touche`,” he responded and sipped his drink, watching her bounce to the beat of the song that crackled out of the speakers above them.

A tall, lanky, dark haired man with a goatee and wearing a beret stopped at the table on his way out. “JC? Long time no see, man!” He extended a hand and he and they exchanged greetings. “Good to see you, you’ve been gone awhile.”

“I've been around, you know I live in the studio, man. How are things with you?”

“Good, man. Real good, working on an album. I would love if we could get together and write some stuff, maybe work on some music together?”

“That sounds good. I’m up for that, anytime.”

“You're Callie Phelps.” He pointed at her, and smiled in her direction.

“Oh,” JC said, remembering that he wasn't alone. “I’m sorry, excuse me, yeah this Callie. Callie, you have no clue who this is, do you?”

Callie shook her head. “He looks familiar. I’m sure this handsome gentleman won’t mind introducing himself,” she said, extending her hand. He took it and kissed the back of it, his lips brushing her hand lightly. Callie blushed and JC rolled his eyes.

“AJ McLean. Backstreet Boy for many years. ‘Nsync and Backstreet started on the same label, with the same management, and then we switched to Jive. And then they switched to Jive. Always a step behind,” he joked, winking at JC.

“Oh! Well, it’s nice to meet you. I knew the groups, but faces, they all run together.”

AJ laughed and bobbed his head. “Understood. Sometimes it's nice to work with someone who has no clue who you used to be. Am I right, JC?”

JC glanced at Callie and winked. “Absolutely.” He looked back up at AJ. “Well, you have my number, man. Gimme a call, I’ll write, produce, whatever you need, okay?” They shook hands again and AJ left the table.

Callie grinned as the next song started, and sang while she finished her entrée, dancing in her seat. ' I can't sleep at night/ I toss and turn/ listenin' for the telephone/ 'When I get your call/ I'm all choked up/ can't believe you called my home..'

JC continued, 'As a matter of fact/ it blows my mind/ that you would even talk to me/Cause a girl like you/ is like a dream come true/ a real life fantasy'

Together, they finished, 'No matter what your friends try to tell ya/ we were made to fall in love/and we will be together, any kinda weather/ it's like that, it's like that/ Every little step I take...'

Callie snorted and JC laughed at her. “I bet I can still do the dance to this song,” she said, giggling.

“Oh, I have to see this,” he said. “When we get home. You'll put on your bike shorts and suspenders and do the Bobby Brown dance.”

“And red socks. Oh God. For all I know that's some kind of sexual fantasy you have.”

An eyebrow rose slowly and he shrugged. “I'm not saying it won't be sexy, honey.”

“You’re not nice. You’re mean. Picking on me.” Callie pretended to pout and pushed her plate away. “I’m so full. I have some calories to work off, later. You have to be nice to me, though.”

“When am I ever not nice to you?”

Callie reached across the table to pat his hand. “You are the nicest man I know. I love you.”

Surprised at her sudden, and increasingly frequent, show of emotion, he laid a hand on top of hers. “I love you, too. Are you really done? Can we go?”

“I am really done, we can go. You might have to carry me out.”

“Almost gave myself a hernia doing that last week,” he said, ducking in time to miss her swat at him.

“Are you saying I'm heavy? Fucker.”

“I’m just playing with you.”

They reached the car, and he opened her door and held it for her. She stood in the opening before getting in. “Are you lying to make me feel better?”

“Nope. I do not lie to you. Haven’t. Won’t. Ever.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “Get in the car. Hurry up, woman.”

She obeyed and he closed the door, making sure the seatbelt automatically secured her inside. He got in and turned the ignition and the radio came on, playing softly. The familiar strains of *Nsync’s ‘Girlfriend’ came through the speakers.

“Hey, it’s us.” He reached to turn the station but Callie stopped him.

“Leave it. I like this song.”

He stared at her for a few seconds and she shrugged one shoulder. “At least you have good taste.”

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the main road that would take them to the house. He found himself humming along to the tune.

“Do you miss it, JC?” Callie thought maybe he couldn't hear her. He didn't say anything for a long while, until well after the song went off.

“You know, I used to miss it, a lot,” he said out of the blue, minutes later. “But now, not so much being with the group but those guys were my best friends, companions for ten years. It was all I knew, for a long time. And then all of a sudden it was… gone. It took some adjusting. We’re still friends, you know. We still see each other. I think I am who I am on my own because of what working with those guys taught me, but I was ready to grow and do some other things. When I was there, I was there. Once I was gone, I wanted the chance to do the music I really wanted to do.”

“Do any of the others miss it?”

“I think it was a rough transition for all of us. Justin, too. Joey and Lance had a hard time with it. They put a lot on hold, with the hope that we were coming back together, you know? I think Joey just threw himself into whatever he could do. He HAS to work. He has too much energy to sit around the pool the rest of his life. And his wife would kill him if he was around a lot anyway. Chris though…” A pained expression crossed his face as he stared out into the night.

“Chris needs people. He couldn't deal with being alone and uh... he’s a good guy but it took its toll on him. He started drinking a lot. Got into some stuff, he wasn’t doing too well for awhile but he’s got some great friends that smacked him around and was like ‘man, what the fuck are you doing to yourself? ”

“It's nice to have people around like that when you're sinking.”

“Or people to tell you not to be scared, do what you want,” he said, glancing over at her, wearing a slight grin.

“Oh yeah, I was a mess, “Callie said sarcastically. “And then you came along. My Producer Man.”

He laughed, reached over to her seat and squeezed her hand. “You’re sexy when you’re humble.”

“We must be close to the house – you’re flirting. I’m a sure thing, baby. Don’t suck up.”

“I’m not flirting,” he said, grinning and glancing over at her, her face illuminated in the passing streetlights. “I'm naturally this charming. I wondered if I was gettin’ some.”

Callie scoffed, incredulous. “In the history of dating me, have I ever turned you down?” She squeezed his hand in return. “Hurry up, I’m horny.”

“Well there was that one time, in New York. It sounds like I’m in trouble tonight, though. Good thing I’ve been workin’ out.”

The massive garage door slowly opened as he pulled into the driveway. Tyler’s car sat in its spot.

“Uh, oh,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Looks like someone has to practice her inside voice tonight.”

Callie walked inside the house and up the stairs, JC on her heels. Tyler was in the living room, asleep and stretched out on the couch, remote resting on his belly. She winked at JC and leaned over him, leaving a light kiss on his forehead. His eyes fluttered open at the touch and he looked up at her and smiled. Callie smiled back. “Hey, Tyler,” she said, moving around to sit next to him.

“Hey,” he yawned, sitting up. “Where'd you guys go?’

“Movie, and then we ate at Rose's,” JC answered. “If I knew you were home we would have called you. Hey, Callie met AJ tonight.”

“Really? Be careful, you're turning into a pop tart.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Callie said, glaring at one, and then the other. “Are you home for the night?”

“Yeah, B had a date. So I came home after study group. You need me to vacate?”

“No, no no,” Callie protested, embarrassed. “You live here. You don’t have to keep leaving. I'm going upstairs, though. JC, I'll see you up there?”

“Yeah, few minutes honey.”

 

A few minutes later, JC climbed the stairs, unbuttoning as he went. He closed the bedroom door behind him and was pleasantly surprised to find Callie already in panties and bra, sitting on the bed, waiting. “Well,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Hi there, sexy. I guess I won't shower first.”

She blushed and smoothed down her flyaway hair, then put a finger to her lips. She rose to her knees and reached out to him as he unbuttoned his shirt. He stopped and stood in front of her and let her finish, pushing it off of his shoulders, and dropping it to the floor. She gestured toward his t-shirt and he pulled it up and over his head while she worked at the button fly of his jeans. He was already aroused, straining against the buttons, and they gave easily. She pushed them down his hips and he stepped out of them. Callie moved over so he could join her on the bed, then motioned him to lay down, straddling him. He grinned and happily complied.

Her hands wandered his body-- from his broad shoulders to his rock hard abdominals to his slight waist., tracing the thin path of hair from his belly into his briefs. She took a hand in each of hers and placed one on each breast, still encased within the thin lace bra. His thumbs rubbed at erect nipples as they rose and poked through the fabric. Callie's eyes closed and her mouth fell open as her hips began to roll and gently grind into him. He let out a ragged breath and his hips arched up to meet her.

She increased the speed at which she ground into him and braced herself with her hands on his chest. She caught his eye, and smiled, her bottom lip wedged between her teeth and moved her hips against him. He smiled back and moved his hips up into her. Callie felt a climax on the horizon and closed her eyes, trying not moan. He gripped her hips tightly and moved her against him, thrusting up into her. He breathed in hard gasps, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, in deep concentration. ‘Come’, he mouthed.

Callie gasped as her orgasm overtook her. A bead of sweat rolled down her back as hips continued to roll, eeking out every second of absolute pleasure. She nearly bit a hole in her lip, trying not to scream as she reached the highest point of climax, hips jerking violently, head tossed back, nails digging into skin. She slowed, then stopped, out of breath and caressing the skin on his chest where she had scratched him. He barely noticed.

JC rolled her over and slipped off his briefs, then her panties and positioned himself above her. Her legs wrapped around him and she felt him push into her and then build to a pleasurable, steady rhythm. She raised her eyes to his face, smiled and silently giggled. He mouthed ‘shhhh’ and bit his lip as his thrusts sped up. Callie nearly squealed but managed to stay quiet.

With a sparkle in his eye, he turned her over, onto her knees. Callie thought he might knock her over with the force of his thrusts but thankfully he was holding onto her. She had a feeling she wouldn't last much longer and sure enough, the wave originated in her belly and radiated outward. She gasped loudly and he bent over her, cupping each breast and tweaking a nipple. She violently pushed back against him as the wave crashed, whimpering at the sheer force of energy. Clinching and pulsing and squeezing him, she wanted him to finish with her. She heard him almost cry out and looked at him over her shoulder. He gripped her hips, gave one last thrust and then collapsed on top of her, forcing them down on the bed.

They panted and gulped air and laid motionless for a long while. Eventually JC rolled over. Callie lay in the same spot, on her stomach, willing her limbs to move. Soft but dry, chapped lips left light kisses on her arm, then shoulder, then he pushed her hair aside and kissed her neck, then her cheek. She smiled and lifted a hand. He took it and laced his fingers between hers.

“That was the hottest sex we have ever had. Sexy little rocker chick.” More kisses traveled down her back, and then up to her shoulder.

“Mmmmmph.”

“Uh, oh. I think I wore you out. ‘Hurry up, I’m horny’,“ he mimicked.

“Oh please. I totally owned you the first time.”

“Okay, I'll give you round one. I won round two though. And you didn't dance for me.”

“Shit. I can’t move, let alone dance.”

“Come on, come over here.” He rolled away from her and laid on his back, extending his arm for her to find her usual spot. With much effort, Callie rolled over and found it.

“So, uhm.” JC breathed in, and out again.  “Were you ever going to tell me you saw Curtis?”

Callie's heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“You know I have spies, right? You saw Curtis.”

A brown eye opened and focused on his face, then blinked. “Yeah. I saw Curtis. I didn't think it was that big of a deal.”

“It's not. Just, when people mention to me, 'hey I saw your girlfriend holding hands with her ex the other day'--”

Callie shot up, sat bolt upright, fuming. “Who said I was holding hands with him? I wasn't. I was not holding his hand.”

“What did you do?” he asked, calmly.

“He was there, getting something to eat because he had been up for two days sitting with Mikey, the bassist for Soul Train. He's in the hospital with an infection, Mikey is his best friend. He saw me, he sat down, he looked like shit, he looked like he felt like shit, he told me about Mikey, I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. That's all.”

The soft tic tic tic of the clock on the bedside table seemed loud to Callie, against the silence in the room. JC lay unmoving, simply staring at her.

“So, someone said I was holding hands with him?”

He nodded, once. “And that he kissed you.”

She shook her head, scratched it in frustration. “He didn't. He got up to leave, he touched his cheek to mine, he walked out. JC, I mean it. I wouldn't lie to you, and I wouldn't do that to you. That restaurant was full of people.”

“I know. I trust you. That's why I asked.”

“You don't sound like you trust me. You sound like you're accusing me.”

“I'm not. I swear. I'm not. I was just asking. Come here,” he said, offering her favorite spot to her once again. After a short hesitation, she laid back down and tried to relax.

“I hope you believe me, J. I wouldn't do that to you.”

“I know. I believe you. And I'm not trying to make you like, check in or anything. I just don't want to be surprised with that shit. Can we agree that if you see him that you let me know? I don't like him, and I don't trust him.”

Callie breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Yeah. We can agree to that.”

He planted a kiss on her forehead and yawned. She giggled. “Oh, you’re not tired are you? I thought you said you’d been working out.”

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

“I’m ready.”

“I need a minute.”

She laughed and laid an arm across his waist. “Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Do you want to go out tomorrow? Like, dress and red carpet, out?”

“I guess. Where are we going?”

“New club opening. Joey will be here, and his wife Kelly. You can meet him. You would like Joey. He's your kinda guy.”

“Really?”

“Oh, totally. Burps a lot. Rude as hell.”

“Great. Looking forward to that.”

“I’ve got something else you can look forward to,” he teased, a wide grin on his face, rolling her on top of him.

Callie stepped out of the bathroom where she had been dressing and preparing her hair and makeup. If she had to say so herself, she was looking good in a sleek, sleeveless black dress that fell to mid-thigh. She'd had a hair appointment that day and splurged on a manicure. A light dusting of powder to her face and a spritz of perfume was all she needed to finish her look.

“Okay, tell me what you think. Be honest.”

“Wow,” he said, watching her walk across his bedroom.

“Wow, good?”

“Wow, really good,” he turned her around and nodded. “You look hot. Very sexy. Come here.” He stepped close to her and gave her lips a soft touch. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

Callie smiled up at him. “You're making me soft, Producer Man. Looking pretty sexy yourself.” She growled and bit at his ear, then stepped back as he turned in his dark jeans and long sleeved black sweater.

“Thank you. You like my hair?” He pointed at his hair, freshly done and perfect except for a few flyaways. She reached up to smooth down a few hairs around his temple.

“There. You are getting gray hairs.”

“My mom says I look distinguished.”

“Honey, your mom loves you. Moms say that stuff to their kids.”

“Let’s go set something on fire with our hotness. We can go?”

“Ready if you are.”

He let Callie go down first, and followed after her. Tyler and a few friends were in the kitchen having drinks and talking. Tyler glanced up at her, and then did a double take, eyes wide, mouth open. “Where the hell have you been all my life?”

Callie brushed her cheek against his and gave his shoulder a squeeze.  

“You look great. Have fun.”

“Will do. Ready, rocker chick?”

“Ready, Producer Man. ‘Night Tyler. Night you guys.”

 

“Try to relax,” he said, guiding the car into a tight parking space.  “I know it’s weird.”

“I’m alright,” she said, checking her makeup in her compact, then dropping it into her bag.

“Ready? Actually, stay there, I’ll come around.” JC came around to Callie's door, helped her out and immediately took her hand. “Stay with me, you can step behind me if it gets to be too much.”

“Let’s go already.”

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay.”

“I'm fine. I'm not helpless. Let’s go.”

They made their way down the line, stopping every few seconds to glance or smile for a photo, answering an odd question here and there. As they approached the door, he gave his name and they were allowed inside.

Compared to the near daylight brightness the flashbulbs provided outside, the interior of the club seemed dark. Callie's eyes adjusted to find a lively, young crowd had already packed in and were spread out from the bar to the dance floor to the Mezzanine. A waitress asked if they wanted to check their coats, then directed them to a set of stairs off of the bar toward a section marked VIP.

They climbed the short flight of stairs and stepped into a classy, glassed in room. The carpet was plush, the wood furniture gleaming, the lights of the dance floor bouncing off of the brass. The sounds of the club were muffled and conversations could be had much easier.

“FATONE!” JC yelled out, startling Callie.

“FUCKER! Get over here!” A burly man bounded across the small room, his smile huge and his brown eyes sparkling. He had a handsomely shaved goatee and a t shirt that read ‘You’re Hot’. Over that he wore a black jacket and black jeans. He gave JC a giant bear hug and pounded him on the back.

“Careful, man. You don’t know your own strength!” JC coughed and laughed and Joey cackled with an evil grin. “Wait, hold up, calm down I want to introduce you to someone.”

“Calllie Phelps doesn't need an introduction. Joey Fatone.” He extended his hand for a shake but when he took her hand he brought it to his lips and kissed it.

“Pleasure to meet you, Joey. I’ve heard nothing good about you at all.” She shook her head and he reared back in laughter.

“Yeah, it’s all true, too. Come meet my wife Kelly. Kel, come here honey.” He smiled as a short curly haired woman with big brown eyes cut off her conversation and made her way over.

She wrapped her arms around his torso and said, ‘what’s going on over here? Hi, JC! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“It has been awhile. You guys know Callie Phelps, of course. Honey this is Kelly, Joey’s wife, mother of one of the cutest kids ever.” She winked at JC and gave Callie a hug, nearly bowling her over.

“We're huggy, not handshakey. Come on over you guys, we got a table. Guess who surprised us?” Kelly headed back to the table, Joey in tow.

A curly head popped up, mid conversation, and a bright smile crawled across his face. “C!”

The young man stood at well over six feet and nearly towered over JC as they exchanged a handshake that turned into a hug. He pulled back and smacked JC on the arm. “Man, where have you been, I’ve been calling. Did you get a new number?”

“Aw, you loser. I have called you from my new number. I’ll send it to you again. I want you to meet somebody.”

Callie had moved behind JC, suddenly very shy. A man that she once cursed and teased and called a famewhore and Father of Pop Drivel was standing in front of her and she didn’t know what to say to him. Despite her previous negative opinion he was still entirely more famous than she was, and a good friend of JC, which necessitated that she be nice to him. She felt small in comparison and almost didn't know how to react to meeting him.

JC grabbed her hand and brought her around. “Come on around here. Since when are you shy? He doesn’t bite. J, this is Callie. We worked together last year on her album. Callie, this guy-- I have known him for like, 20 yrs. He was what, 11 or so when I met him, this short little dude, and look him now.”

JC grinned and Justin blushed at the introduction and took her hand, shaking it vigorously. “I’m a huge fan of your music, your dad's too. We should do something together some time. I'd love to do a little rock, soul, jazz thing, what do you think?”

Callie was overwhelmed-- the famewhore knew her music? And not only knew who her dad was, but was a fan?

“That would be great, if we could. That would sound awesome. It has to go through my producer, you know,” she nodded her head toward JC. Justin led the group to the tables they had commandeered.

“Anybody heard from Lance, lately?” Justin asked, folding and unfolding a napkin.

“We saw him what… 3 weeks ago?” JC looked at Callie and she nodded, recalling meeting him outside of some club that JC insisted they go to. “Joey, you’ve talked to him since, right?”

“Yeah we talk all the time, why?”

“No reason,” Justin answered, nonchalant. “I haven’t seen him in awhile How is he?”

“Really good. You could uh... you could call him. He'll pick up,” Joey said. Justin shrugged and dropped the subject. Joey's glare lingered too long on Justin before he looked away.

Callie realized she was staring, trying to figure out what the tension represented, and averted her eyes. Justin reached across the table and tapped her hand. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft, she could hardly hear him. “How are you?”

“Great, thanks,” she said, giving him a polite smile.

“So, you met JC when he worked on your album? How was that?”

“Well, we had a bit of a rocky start,” Callie said, smirking at JC. “But he won me over. I had a good time, and the album turned out really well. I'm very proud of it, it's probably my best, so far.”

“As it should be, I think. I heard it did pretty well. I had Let's Start Over on repeat in the car for a few weeks. Are you pushing him to do something for himself? You know he should, have you ever heard him sing?”

“We're uh... working on it,. She’s been pushing it hard,” JC answered, laying his arm on the back of her chair. Callie nodded and turned to look at him and since his lips were right there, kissed him.

“Whoa, are you guys, like, together?” yelled Joey from the end of the table.

“What gave it away, Joe?” JC laughed and made room in front of him for the plate of hot, steaming appetizers.

“I heard you ate at Southern Hospitality. Did you like it?” Justin was asking.

“Like it? I gained 5 pounds. I think I ate everything on the menu. And then went back to the hotel and took a nap. Are you opening anymore? Like in Chicago?” She grinned at him and raised a hopeful eyebrow.

He pointed at her, with a long finger. “Good idea. Gotta look into it. It’s a good little venture though. Learned a lot about running a business. Like, I’m tired all the time. It’s not as easy as people make it look.”

“I bet, especially not on that scale. New York is a great spot, anyway. I really like it there.”

“How do you feel about LA? I mean, JC lives here, that’s a benefit.”

Callie shrugged. “It is, I guess. I'm not really a huge fan of LA but I find myself out here a lot. JC and I were just talking about maybe needing to find me a place, here.”

“I'm sure you'll find something nice. If you need some help, let me know. I've got friends.” Callie slowly smiled as she looked into his friendly eyes. He tipped his glass at her and took a sip.

 “…so I look up and I’m like, by myself,” Justin was saying, through hysterical laughter. “Hanging from the rafters. And I look back and everyone else is back at the stage. And I’m like, 'well fuck. I’m gonna be up here the rest of my life. I’m stuck here. I’m gonna grow old and die here, above this crowd, in this Arena’.” Justin shook his head.

“I mean, they got it fixed and everything but it was like every tour, something happened to one of us. We almost had to double our insurance after Pop Odyssey, remember, with my leg?” Joey started to lift his leg up on the table but Kelly pushed it down.

“Everyone remembers your leg. No one wants to see that right now, Joey. That was scary though. I mean a few inches and he would have lost his leg.”

“Wait, wait. I’m not familiar with this story,” Callie said, “but apparently I have to hear it. Pop stars almost losing legs? What happened? Dance too hard?”

Joey told the horrifying story about how he got his leg caught in a trap door and had to have stitches. This kept him from being in parts of the video for the first single off of their final album.

“Ok, no, wait, so who was you? You guys danced, right?”

“Our choreographer stepped in. We kinda faked him up to look like Joey. It almost worked.” Justin laughed.

“When we get home, I’ll show you,” JC told her, patting her shoulder. “It’s comical how much Wade does not look like Joey.”

Conversations regarding tours and accidents and stand ins broke off and Callie found herself talking to Justin again.

“So, what are you doing, right now? You stay pretty busy.”

“I am getting ready to take a long break,” he said, suddenly sounding very tired. “Like, sit in my house and do nothing. For a long time. And then go sit in my backyard and do nothing. For a long time. Reconnect with my family and my friends. And I have some artists that I’m… mentoring … and putting them on my label.”

“You have a label?” Callie's head whipped around to JC. “He has a label, J?”

“Yeah I have a label,” he nodded. “It’s small. Nothing like... gigantic, just a home for some small time artists to cut their teeth and a way for me to help someone else. There’s nothing worse than sitting in a place you know is good and not helping anyone else sit there with you. Right, C?”

“Exactly.”

Justin pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket, pulled out a bill and set it on the table. “I don’t know whose tab all this stuff is on, so I’m leaving this. I have to get going, guys. It was fun, nice to see everyone. Callie,” he said, a hand on her shoulder. “It was great to meet you, finally. I mean it, let’s do some stuff together. I like your sound. C, send me your number again. We’ll hang out, I’m about to become a major bum.”

JC picked up the cash and handed it back to him. “Dude, I got you covered. Take this-- your money is worthless here.” JC stood and walked over to the entrance of the room with Justin. They talked for a few minutes, hugged, and Justin walked out.

“JC have you seen Chris on his new show?”

“Chris has a new show? No one tells me anything. What is it?”

“Don't know, him and Rich Cronin, from LFO, remember them?” Joey pointed at Callie. She shook her head, clueless. “Also on TransCon records, but Lou stole all of their money. Anyway, yeah after that other show he did, he and Rich got some reality show. It’s just them acting stupid. For a hundred grand, you could pay me to be stupid for 8 weeks.”

“Joey, you’re stupid for free all the time.”

“That’s what I’m saying, though! They’re just paying him to be Chris.”

JC turned to Callie, noting her tired, bloodshot eyes. “You okay? Ready soon?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Hey, we're heading out, too,” he announced, handing a few bills to Joey. “Good seeing you guys.” JC made the rounds with his goodbyes, and they left the club, headed toward the car. They picked their way across the street and to the parking lot, no sounds but the fading noise of the club, the passing traffic, and their shoes clicking against the pavement.

“So Justin has a label.”

She heard him blow out a short breath and winced. “Don't even think about it, honey. It's so not me and I don't need his help. I don’t mean that in mean way. Just… I can’t hide behind him. Trust me on this, okay?”

“Okay. Dropping it.” She stepped into the car as he held her door open.

“Mmmmm,” Callie hummed, enjoying the feeling of being relaxed and happy. ”It was nice meeting everyone. I had fun. And I totally expected Justin to be different.”

“They loved you.” He reached for her hand and held it as they crept through the busy traffic.

She leaned her head back against the head rest. “J.”

“What?”

“You should sing to me, more. You don't sing to me enough.”

“You want me to sing to you? What do you want me to sing?”

“Hmmm,” she mused. “I think…’Sailing’.”

“Sailing?” He glanced at her, then back to the road, then back to her. “Of all the songs I could sing to you, you want Sailing.”

“It's one of my favorite songs, ever.”

“Did your dad ever sing it to you?”

“No. I just like the song. Stop stalling!”

He sighed. “Sailing, for my rocker chick.” A sweet, melodious voice filled the interior of the car and Callie smiled, feeling as if she was attending the most private of concerts.

'It's not far down to paradise
At least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find tranquility
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me

It's not far to never never land
No reason to pretend
And if the wind is right you can find the joy
Of innocence again
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me

Sailing
Takes me away
To where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free

Fantasy
It gets the best of me
When I'm sailing
All caught up in the reverie
Every word is a symphony
Won't you believe me

It's not far back to sanity
At least it's not for me
And when the wind is right you can sail away
And find serenity
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me'

'Just a dream and a wind to carry me/Soon I will be free,' she sang. “That's my favorite part. I used to dream about that part. Wish on a star and hope it would come true.”

“Yeah, that's a nice line right there. And look, it’s coming true.”

“I cannot wait until your voice has a home and everyone can hear it, again.”

“Me either, honey. It means a lot to me to hear you say that. Thanks for believing in me.” Soft lips lingered on the back of her hand as the gentle movement of the car and the cool night air put Callie to sleep.

“So, Callie,” JC said, rolling to his side, a hand slowly dancing down her body. She marked the page of the book she was reading with her thumb, and swatted his hand away.

“I'm sore, stop it.”

“I was just going to ask what you were doing for the holiday? You're not going home. Right?”

“Hell, no.”

Callie hadn't spoken to her mother or stepfather since the day she cut them off. She had never felt so light, so free. She was increasingly happy, and the anger that had built up for so many years had dissipated, which was having a very desirable effect on her relationship. She was far from warm and sweet, but Callie liked that she was more sassy and spunky than spoiled and bratty. Sometimes.

“So, do you want to go to Florida when we go? My parents want you to come. And my sister wants to meet you.”

“I'll think about it,” she said, returning to her book.

“Calpernia.”

“Joshua.”

“What? Am I tying you down again?”

“Will you stop it with that? I just-- I don't know if I'm working or anything. Do you mind if I don't answer you right away? You're so demanding.” She poked his shoulder and pushed him so he laid back. She set her book down on the side table and climbed atop him, straddling his waist.

“I'm demanding? I'm demanding.”

“Yes, you're demanding, Producer Man. How's the music coming? Push, push.”

JC laughed, almost regretting asking her to not let him give in. “It's coming. It's coming along nicely. I'm just taking my time.”

“So when is your meeting?”

“Two weeks and counting.”

“I can't wait. You're gonna knock 'em dead,” she said, dipping her head to capture his lips in a kiss.

“Cal,” he said, when she sat up again.

“Hmmm,” she mumbled, smoothing down the hair on his chest.

“I'm happy,” he said, very simply, without a lot of emotion or fanfare, but with so much sincerity that she had to stop and take a breath. “I’m happy,” he repeated. “With you.”

He stared up at her. Callie sat motionless, then gulped, her eyes closed. When she opened them again, she whispered, “Me, too. I'm scared of how happy I am. I mean, the bottom has to drop out eventually, right? Something… has to happen. This can’t be like, it ‘till the end of time.”

“Don't be scared. Do what you want,” he whispered back, stroking her cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with being happy.”

“Had you not been happy, before me?”

“Sort of,” he said, running his hands up and down her waist. “I was okay. I'm just much happier right now.”  

“Uhm. So,” Callie started, nervously etching a random design in the skin on his chest. “Let's say, not saying I did, but let's say I was to write a song for you. How would you, uh, feel, about that?”

His eyes brightened and he smiled, though he tried to be casual, nonchalant about it. “How would I feel about rocker chick, prolific songwriter, number one artist, Callie Phelps writing a song for me? I think I'd be honored and flattered, if she did. Not saying she did.”

“Right. Not saying I did. But if I did, maybe we could go over it, tomorrow?” She smiled shyly, her bottom lip wedged between her teeth, and slid her hands up his arms, around his shoulders and clasped them behind his neck.

He wrapped both arms around her, holding her close to him. “Sure, if you did write me a song, I’d love to go over it tomorrow.”

“Okay. I think I'm less sore, now,” she said, the green eye giving him a wink before she leaned down to kiss him.

###

Hands shaking, Callie slid onto the bench in front of the Baby Grand piano. JC sat in a chair behind her -- she insisted she couldn't play and sing if he was next to her, so she made him move. Instinctively, her fingers danced over the keys and played a sweet, lilting melody. Callie's voice was haunting and driven as she sang the lyrics that had come to her days before, lyrics that told a story about a second chance, another try, one more time, a song she had entitled ‘Again’.  The song slowed toward the end, almost sad as the chorus repeated and, then it was over.

She laid her hands in her lap and didn't dare breathe, waiting for him to say something. For a few seconds, there was nothing, and then she heard him rise from the chair. Silently, he sat on the bench next to her.

“So. It's okay,” he said, with a shrug, nodding. He picked up the worn, tattered page of notes and lyrics and read it over.

'He’d better be joking. I put my heart into that thing!' she thought to herself. She let her head turn slowly toward him, and lifted her eyes to his. “Okay? What's wrong with it?”

“Well first of all, it's a duet. Obviously.”

She blinked. “Is it, now?”

“Mmhmm,” he nodded. “And, uh, the notes on your second verse are too low, too flat, for the strength of the lyrics. You should bring it up like, half a step; the music should follow the emotion.”

“Okay.” She blinked, several times, thinking a compliment had better be coming soon, or she was leaving. He just sat there, though, reading the lyrics through again, frowning at the page, and then looked over at her.

Suddenly, a wide grin burst across his face and he laughed. “You were supposed to freak out, babe!”

Callie wilted, almost ready to cry. “Oh. You’re an ass.”

He laughed, a long loud laugh from his belly, until a smile broke across her face and she laughed, too.

“It's beautiful, Callie,” he said, finally, laying an arm around her shoulder. “I like it a lot. I do. Really.”

She leaned forward, resting her head against the shiny wood surface. “You are not funny. I thought you hated it. I was about to cry.”

“I know. I was just messing with you. I love it. But it's a ballad. You hate ballads.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “It just wouldn't leave me alone, though.” She played the second verse, a half step higher as he suggested. He nodded, and gave her thumbs up.

“That's because you're turning into a pop tart.”

“I’m tired of you. Go away.” She pushed him off of the bench, laughing, and picked up the sheet music and a pencil to make the edit.

“So, do you want me to work with you on it, so you can sing it with me?” He stretched out on the floor where he landed, a hand behind his head, one ankle crossed over the other.

She turned to look at him, lounging on the floor as if he'd meant to be doing so. “Are you sure you want that? I mean, what if... I mean, this song will live forever somewhere and ten years from now you'll hear it and it will remind you of me.”

“And the problem with that would be what?”

“Well... what if... I mean...” What if she got scared, again and they split up? What if, in ten years, he didn't still know her?

“Callie, don't worry about ten years from now. For all we know, in ten years you'll still be calling me a fucker.”

“And you’ll still be messing with me. I'll think about it,” she said, getting up from the piano bench and filing the song away.

“Calpernia.”

“What!? You always call me that when I don't do what you want. Get up from there, I'm hungry.”

###

JC glanced above him toward the vaulted ceilings of the empty condo that Callie was touring. He noted dust and cracks in the ceiling, and peeling paint near the fan. “So, I guess this means you're not staying with me?”

“We talked about this. I'm just looking, J. I appreciate the offer, I just, you know, I like to be able to go home when I want. I need a place for all my stuff to live.”

JC opened and closed cabinets, peered under each sink at the plumbing, kicked at the scuffs in the wood floors. Altogether, he wasn't impressed.

“You don't like it,” she said, reading his face as they stepped back into the car.

“You don't, either,” he said, reading hers.

“Complete dump. Next.”

A few more tours through a few more substandard units was making JC cranky. They parked in front of a new development that the Real Estate Agent insisted that Callie had to see. “This is the last one, Calpernia. Then I need to get back.”

“I know, I know. Let's just look through it really quick, if we don't like anything in the first five minutes, we're out. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed and they piled out of the car.

“These residences are brand new, just opened for sale. You're one of the first to look at one,” the Agent bragged. “The floors are genuine hardwood and stone, floor to ceiling windows give you a lot of light. It's very open and comfortable, kind of chic. It's also very eco- friendly, using natural light when possible.”

Callie glanced through the freshly built living space, impressed with the design. It was a little preppy, but it was the best she'd seen, so far. JC didn't look impressed but the look of disgust was gone.

“There is a patio and pool upstairs, private elevator, gathering rooms if you like. Private storage, secured parking, and the building has round-the-clock security on staff. Anything else you'd like to know?”

“What's the price range? And the clientele?” Callie blushed. “I mean. Obviously I want to make sure I have privacy and not have nosy neighbors. And what about a piano, would I be able to have one?”

The Agent didn't miss a beat. “Price range is eight hundred thousand to one point five million, depending on the unit. Each owner is hand interviewed and approved. These aren't your neighborhood condos, miss. Baby Grand is probably fine; a Grand piano would be tricky. You would need approval for it, I imagine, but the construction is sturdy.”

Callie took another turn about the unit, taking it all in, standing at the floor to ceiling windows and viewing bustling Wilshire Boulevard below. JC followed her, quiet, hands in his pockets, leaning against the door jamb. The Agent stepped into the hallway to take a phone call.

“What do you think, rocker chick?”

“Price is nice. I think it's austere, but maybe if I decorate it right--” she turned to look at him, and didn't like the expression on his face. “J, don't. I’m not moving to LA to live with you. I know you want me to but I wasn't planning on it. You know I'll be there a lot.”

“Yeah. I just thought, you know, you'd take your time and stay with me awhile before you started looking. That's all.” He paced in front of the window.

“Well,” she said, compromising. “I'm not in a hurry. No one says I have to buy a place today. Eventually, though, you'll have an album out, and you'll be touring and I'm supposed to hang out at your house with your brother?”

He smiled at her newfound optimism, which wasn’t really so newfound, since she’d been so pushy about him getting back to music. “I hadn't thought that far ahead, but it's not like he would mind.”

He stood next to her, admiring the view, and a grin spread across his face. “Sex in front of these windows would be amazing.”

“Well, then I'm sold. Because that's what's important.”

The Agent came back from her phone call and chattered on and on about the view and the neighborhood. Callie decided that she liked the place but would wait to buy anything. She wasn't in a hurry and he was pouting. And lately, she was all about him being happy.

###

Callie sat in an LA studio, one she'd never been in before, with a heavy set of headphones on her head, eyes closed, listening. She felt lucky enough that he was letting her sit in on his recording session, but he hadn't let anyone hear any of his new music, so was savoring every note. JC dropped into the seat next to her and tapped her on the arm. She took the headphones off and handed them to him.

“What do you think? Too 'out there'? Give me your notes.”

“No, no. Not at all. It's kind of europop meets pop tart meets--I don't know-- like, Freddie Mercury? It works. I like it.”

He gave her a half grin and shyly ducked his head. “You're just saying that. You don't have to like it.”

“I don't lie,” she said, tapping his thigh. “You know I tell you what I don't like.”

“You want to work on our song?” He swiveled back and forth in the chair. “Since you're here? We could knock it out.”

Callie turned around to look at the small crowd of people milling around. “With all these people here? Are you crazy?”

“You can sing in front of a sold out concert crowd but you won't sing in front of six people?”

“Six people that you know, that know you, that I don't know, on a song I’ve never sung with you.” She glanced back at the group and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” JC said, swinging his chair around and raising his voice. “I need everyone out, except the engineer. I need to work on something important. Sorry guys. Have a good day,” he called after them, as they filed out of the door.

He swiveled back around to her and motioned his head at the piano.

“You didn’t have to do that. We could have done the song another time.”

“Come on, Calpernia,” he said, pulling her toward the piano.

“One of these days I'm not going to give in to you.”

“That day is not today. Let's go through it once.”

Callie found she loved singing with him. The mix of her sultry, earthy tone and his silky, rich one made for a beautiful sound. The first time they had sung together, back when she was doing her album, she thought they made a great mix. Now, singing together, on purpose, achieving a common goal—the sound gave her goosebumps and the feeling was amazing.

 JC had broken up the arrangement into several parts and they floated from part to part seamlessly. He let her play piano for the recording -- he didn't feel right playing it and didn't want to give it away to some piano player who charged by the hour. It was her baby, so he let her carry it.

Later that evening, they listened to the playback, the fruits of their labor. It hadn't been mixed or mastered, so it wasn't perfected, but Callie liked it, even if it was a ballad.  And even if she did think ballads were cliché and too emotionally charged, it sounded exactly as she heard it in her head. She couldn't help but be excited when the song ended and she hung the headphones back on their stand.

“You did a good job with it. I like it,” he said, flipping switches and shutting down panels. “If the meeting goes well, I want to put it on the album.”

“Thanks. I had fun with it. I think we made a great team. I like singing with you. You sound so different than I expected.”

“Now you see why I said it was a duet. We sound good together; I could totally hear us in my head. We should do that more often.”

“But JC…what if people don't like it?”

“What?” He shot her a look that said he thought she was crazy. “Why would people not like it? They like everything else you write. And why do you care? You like it, right?”

“Yes,” she said, standing up, pacing the small, dark room. “But. This isn't my album, to not care about. It's been years since you released something, and people are waiting, with baited breath, I'm sure. They’re waiting to hear you, not me.  And I'm sure people already don't like that we're dating, and won't like that I wrote a song for you, much less a ballad, and that I'm singing on it, with you. I just mean, that maybe it shouldn't go on the album. Or maybe your should record a solo version, just in case.”

JC didn't answer, just flipped more switches, and turned off the computer. The studio was eerily silent, and the engineer had long since gone home.

“You know what amazes me, Callie,” he said into the quiet, his face shadowed by the dim light from the hallway. “You have... perfect musical instincts. You have an incredible sound, and a great personality, and an extreme amount of talent, and you're an entirely wonderful person to be around. Most of the time. But I get so frustrated with you when… you try so hard to have this tough exterior and hard shell and ice princess thing going on, when really you just care way too much about what people think. My brother has this saying, you know? He says it all the time. It's 'Fuck People'.”

“That's catchy. Did he write that himself?”

“Do you like the song, Cal?” he asked, leaning his head back against the chair.

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. Shyly, she nodded. “Yeah. Yes, I love the song.”

“Are you proud of it, at all?”

“Very much so.”

He stood then, crossed the room, pushed her up against the wall, and kissed her. “Then fuck people,” he said, taking her hand and dragging her out of the studio. “Let's go home.”

 

###

Callie was fussy, which was usually fine, he just ignored her until she calmed down. But when Callie was fussy in his office, JC straddled the line between annoyed and amused. He had a system, and she was messing with it, rifling through things and setting things all out of order.

“Do you have everything you need? Your sunglasses, your songs, your notebook, pens, you have your bag? Do you need your bag?” She glanced around, in a tizzy, looking for his brown leather bag that he took everywhere he went.

“Oh my God,” he muttered, grabbing a notebook from her and setting it back onto the stack she dug it from. “I’m not taking that one. It’s full. I should have sent you to Paula's. Leave me alone,” he said, laughing, swatting her away from his desk.

“I'm just trying to help. I'm nervous, sue me!”

“Go be nervous outside of here, you're freaking me out.” He turned back to his monitor, where he was checking, reading, deleting emails.

“Fine,” she said, and stomped out, her sandals slapping against her feet.

“Nice ass, though, honey.” he called after her. He laughed when she didn't answer.

An hour later he leaned over the couch and kissed her forehead. “I'm leaving. Wish me luck.”

“Luck, nothing. You got this, baby.” She stood and walked him to the door of the garage. “Hey,” she said, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt.

He stopped, and turned around. “What? I forget something?”

She rose up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. His free arm circled and squeezed her. “I love you. And no matter what happens, I'm proud of you for doing this. Just... I just want you to know that.”

“Thanks, honey. I’ll be back in a bit.” He smiled at her, one of those smiles that made her wish he'd hurry back, made her realize she loved him, deeply. She tipped her head up to meet his lips, and then he was gone, his worn brown leather bag on his shoulder, a happy bounce to his step. He waved to her as he pulled out of the garage and disappeared down the street.

Callie and Tyler waited, and waited, watching the clock. The hours passed very slowly, and by the time the sound of the garage door sliding open wafted up to the living room, they were on pins and needles and very impatient-- but didn't want to jump him as soon as he came in. JC took his time coming into the house, whistling and singing, and smiled at them both as he hit the main landing.

“You guys have been sitting here since I left?” He dropped his bag next to the couch and checked for mail and messages, of which there were none.

“Yes! What happened?” Callie asked, patting the seat cushion next to her.

“Well...” he stalled, grinning. “They liked it. A lot. And uh...we hope to hear something in a couple of days... so. Yeah.” He nodded and looked from Tyler to Callie and back again.

Callie blinked. “So.. yeah, what? What does that mean?”

“Yeah, what?” Tyler parroted.

He tossed up his hands, and then let them fall. “Well, you know. They could come back with the same shit I've been getting-- limited control and shit for points, no publishing, what not-- or they could come back with something really good. We, Eric and I, laid it out as to what we would be looking for, and they didn't seem to object.” He shrugged. “So, we'll see.”

“Well good. So it wasn't bad, then. How do you feel? How was the atmosphere? Why do I have to drag this out of you, dammit?!”

“Callie-- relax, honey. Relax.” He ran a hand down the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. “I feel good. I feel really good about it. The best I've ever felt.” He tapped her on the arm, lightly. “They liked your song.”

Her eyes lit up and she squealed. “They did?”

“Yeah. They liked it a lot. A little worried about the cross label promotion but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, right?”

“Right. YES! I'm so excited for you!”

“Well, don't be excited yet. Now we wait. I should hear something in a few days. In the meantime, I want to sleep. I want to eat. I want to hang out with my girlfriend.”

Tyler coughed.

“Geez,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “And, my brother!”

 

The answer came when they least expected it. Callie was in New York with Paula, sure that she would return before he heard back from them. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she ignored the call. She knew it was him, but planned to call him back. When it buzzed again, she considered picking it up, since he rarely called twice in a row, but missed the call. Then a text message came: 'Pick up the damn phone, woman!'

Paula leaned over her shoulder, glancing at the message. “Uh oh. Better call Producer Man. You don't like him mad at you.”

“Whatever,” Callie mumbled, and navigated the menu to dial him back. “Why are you blowing up my phone, Producer Man?” she demanded when he picked up.

“To tell you to get your ass back here. We got come celebrating to do!”

Callie gasped, and smacked Paula on the arm, her eyes wide. “We do? We do!? Tell me! Hang on, let me put you on speaker. Okay. Tell me.”

“I don't want to be on speaker.”

“J!”

“Okay. Damn. So.” He paused, and then began to sing. “I got a de-al! I got a de-al! I got a de-al!”

Paula screamed and Callie screamed and hugged Paula, then kissed the phone. “Hear that? I just kissed my damn phone. I wish I was there with you!”

“I wish you were here, too! You better take me off speaker or I'm…I’ll embarrass you silly.”

“Okay,” she said, phone to her ear. “Say some embarrassing things to me, now.”

“I need you,” he said, in that voice that made her melt, “to get your cute little rocker chick ass back here, pronto. We have some serious celebrating to do. The things I'm gonna do to you... I can't even say. There aren't words for them yet.”

Callie fanned herself and grinned. “Oh God. I can't tell you how sexy that sounds. I have no idea what it means, but I can't wait for it. We fly out tomorrow, though so you'll have to wait.”

“I. will be. waiting. on you. Don't dawdle.”

“Dawdle!” she laughed. “You totally just used my word!”

“You're rubbing off on me. And on me. Can't wait for tomorrow.”

“Well, sIo, tell me. Did you get everything you asked for?”

“ ‘Course not. Doesn’t hurt to ask, though and they came close enough. I can work with it and I'm not insulted by it. I'm excited.”

“I can tell! I'm so happy for you, J. I can't even tell you how big my smile is.”

“I'll find out tomorrow about an hour after you get here.”

She shook her head and wished she was home already. He hadn’t been this jovial in a long time and she hated to miss a good mood. “So, did you sign it?”

“I sign it Tuesday. You'll be here, right?”

“I can be. If you want me to be.”

“Please be. So, I'll let you get back to Paula. I just wanted to call and tell you the news.  And thank you for pushing. I wouldn’t be here, without you. Love you, have a good time, and see you tomorrow.”

“I knew you could do it. I’m bossy for a reason. I love you, too. I'll see you tomorrow!”

Callie hung up and smiled at  the phone for a minute, then sighed.

“He excited?” Callie didn't even notice Paula was chewing and talking.

“In more ways than one,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I did not need that. You know I think he's hot. Stop helping. Let's go,” she said, grabbing up her bag and swinging it onto her shoulder.  

 

###

The plane could not land fast enough, they could not gather their baggage quickly enough, Paula could not speed enough for Callie.

The car had barely pulled into the driveway before Callie was out and at the trunk, waiting for Paula to pop it so she could retrieve her suitcase. She knew better than to pick on Callie about it, but Paula found it amusing how cute and happy her little friend was, lately. JC was so good for her, in every way, and she seemed to be good for him, too. Paula watched from the driveway as he met her at the door, enveloped her in a bear hug, and took the suitcase from her, rolling it into the house. He waved to her from the door, and she pulled away.

“So, how was your trip?” he asked, closing the door behind them. “Did you have fun?”

“Ugh, so amazing,” she beamed. “I'm happy I went. But I'm sorry I wasn't here for your news. I thought I would be here when they called.”

“It’s okay,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. “You're here, now. Let's go unpack you and not come back down stairs.” He hauled her suitcase up the steps and dropped it next to the closet.

“Well, in honor of your very good news, I have a present for you, Producer Man, soon to be recording artist… again.” Callie dropped her shoulder bag next to the bed and kicked off her shoes.

“Yeah? Where? You need your bag?” He reached for it, but she stopped him.

“No, no. It’s something you’ve had me thinking about it since yesterday. Come sit down, over here.” She pulled him toward a leather chair in the corner of the room, a seductive, wry grin on her face.

He clapped, his face filled with glee. “Is my present what I think it is?”

“Yes,” she said, pushing him into the chair. “Sit back. Enjoy it.”

She leaned down to kiss him, slowly, teasing him with her tongue, then pushed him so he was leaning back in the chair. Methodically, she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling them off. He watched with half open eyes while she took her time rubbing, touching, feeling him through his briefs.

In a low, soft voice, she said, “Do you know this is my favorite part of giving? Well. One of my favorite parts.”

“I did not know that,” he answered. “Tell me why.”

“Because,” she said, softly, lightly gently massaging.. “I know it’s there, but I can’t see it. I can feel it, though. I feel how solid you are… I can feel the veins. And I can feel the heat. It’s like a sneak peek, that lets me paint a picture, in my mind.”

She kept her voice low, suggestive while she caressed him through the fabric. Callie looked up at him—his eyes were closed, his brows knit together in concentration, his breathing quickened. He liked to go as long as he could without grabbing her head and pushing it down onto him. She liked teasing him to that point. It was a funny, sexy little game they played and as much as he complained, he loved every minute of it.

“Driving me crazy…your hands feel so good on me… can we take these off?” His hand clutched at his briefs but she took over and pulled them down. He moaned as he leaned back again. Callie laid a hand on each thigh and slid her hands up, slowly, past his hips, his waist, up to his chest and back down again.

“Take your top off… and your bra. Please.” JC mumbled his request and watched, eye lids drooping, as she lifted her shirt and bra up and over her head and then removed her bra. Released from captivity, her breasts moved freely, the skin flushed red with arousal and nipples taut and standing at attention. Callie resumed her slow massage, leaning into him so that he rubbed up and down her chest, flanked on each side by a full, bouncy breast. He was hot… so hot… and rock hard. Every movement caused a few drops to seep out of the head, which excited her.

“Mmmmmm…baby, please. Please.” He reached out and took both of her hands in his and squeezed. Obliging, she opened her mouth and brought it down over the head, running her tongue around the rim and slowly sliding down and back up, applying an increasing amount of suction. A low moan, a hip roll and a half smile told her all she needed to know. Callie teased and licked and sucked and caressed until his moans reached a fever pitch and he lifted his body up off of the chair, shaking furiously, holding his breath and flushed crimson red.

He let out a long, loud moan and she took him further into her mouth and looked up at him, their cue for him to let go if he was ready. Seconds later he jerked and she felt the pulse of his orgasm and warm splash against the back of her throat. She waited for more—there was always more… another few pulses, another splash and then he relaxed, collapsing against the chair. She pulled off and let him sink to rest on his thigh.

He was panting so hard he could hardly get a breath. Callie dug two bottles of water from the bin he kept in the closet, opened one and handed it to him. He sucked it down in under a minute, regaining control over his breathing, a satisfied smile on his lips.

He sat up, then, and invited her to sit with him in the chair. Callie removed her jeans, leaving her panties and settled on his lap, feeling him under her leg, coming back to life. He wrapped both arms around her, pulling her so she leaned back with him, against his chest. His lips found a bare shoulder, neck, ears. His breath was still hot, the moisture tickling her skin.  

Warm hands found a breast each to play with, nipples to flick and twist and rub, to Callie's delight. She freely moaned and gasped with pleasure, hips rolling in response to his lips and hands. JC moaned in chorus, rising again. Every hip roll brought her into contact with him. When she could no longer resist, Callie reached for his hand and put it where she wanted it, guiding him into a firm slow rub. Her eyes slid closed and she cried out, hips bucking, her climax crashing down on her without warning. She held her hand over his and told him not to stop-- he rubbed her through another wave of painful pleasure before finally collapsing, sated and exhausted. She watched as he stroked himself, stopping just short of another orgasm.

“Take your panties off. I want to finish inside you.” Callie complied and moved into a comfortable position for him to enter. He began slow, teasing her, then sped up, holding her close to him and moaning in her ear. She savored the sound of his thighs slapping against the back of hers, him pumping into her with strength, so much passion. She started a slow climax, her muscles clenching and spasming, breath catching in her throat, clutching at anything to hold onto while she writhed against him, which sent him over the edge and they finished together, a loud chorus of moans and groans.

For the second time, Callie fell slack against him and laid while she waited to catch her breath. His breathing slowed from a rapid pant to steady, calm breaths. Callie's hair stuck to her face, caught in beads of sweat. He reached up and tucked a few strands behind her ear. She turned her head and met his lips in a long, slow kiss.

“Thank you, for my present. It fit perfectly.”

“Mmm...” she hummed, smiling ear to ear. “You’re welcome. Congratulations honey. I knew just what to get you.”

Callie attempted to sit up, and he pushed her to standing. She offered a hand and helped him up and they stumbled toward the shower.

“I’m like… stiff.  I don’t think I’ve ever had sex in that chair.”

“You have now. I’ll give you a massage after our shower. Then you can floss and swab and smile all relaxed.”

Later, in post shower bliss, arms and legs intertwined and the faint glow of the beginning sunrise creeping across the room, they laid side by side, facing each other. Saying nothing, but saying everything. He reached over to run his fingers through her hair, moving it back from her face. A look of contentment crossed his face as he closed his eyes. He would sleep well, for the first time in a long time.

 

So many things fell into place, all at once.  Except that when things fall into place all at once, it brings a lot of stress and makes for a very busy schedule.

JC began feverishly perfecting songs to go on his album. A second quarter release meant that he was a little behind on producing, so Callie tried to stay out of his hair and let him work. Amid promotion and writing and producing, he was busy and tired but the happiest she’d ever seen him. She mentally patted herself on the back for being a part of what it took to get him back to his first love. She couldn’t wait to see him perform some of his songs, live.

As for her own career, Jive was becoming more impatient with Callie. According to Jason, they were looking for something from her in the coming year, and to placate them, she started writing, but dragged her feet. It hadn’t been that long since ‘Charlie’ was released, and she felt she had more time than they were giving her. She absolutely did not want to work with another producer on a full album, and with JC breaking his back to get his own music out, she finally sent a message through Jason that it would be ‘awhile’, so she would start writing but she would refuse to work with anyone until JC was available. It could be a year, it could be more, but they made a great team and she wasn’t ready to switch gears. They would get some revenue for the duet that she wrote and was going on his album—she felt that was enough for the time being.

To say JC was nervous about releasing music again after so long out of the spotlight was an understatement. He was frequently worried about not fitting into the musical landscape of the time- what if he was just too ‘out there’, what if people didn’t get it, what if people didn’t buy it? What if the new label played the same old game and he found himself out in the tundra, promoting himself until he was sick of himself, with no backing from the industry at all?

He was fine during the day, when he was busy and working and moving. When he slowed to sleep and to rest, his fears came pouring out. Callie found herself repeating words that comforted her. “At the end of the day,” she would say, “what matters is that you have something you’re proud of and that you love it. Even if everyone hates it, you have something to be proud of.”

He took a short break over the holiday to visit with his family and took her with him. She hadn’t been a part of a close, happy family in a long time, and they made her feel right at home. Heather slapped an apron on her within five minutes of hitting the door and before she knew it she was whipping milk and butter into mashed potatoes, setting rows of rolls onto baking sheets to slide into the oven, and helping to set the table. Tyler and JC got into a towel slapping fight, which Callie watched from the corner, laughing so hard she cried. She didn’t have siblings, except for Jason, so watching the three of them interact was fun, and it made her wistful, wishing she could have had the same experience. It was loud, and hilarious, and comforting and special. She was happy she’d made the trip, and JC was happy to have shared a part of himself that people rarely got to see. It was because of them that he was who he was—he wanted her to know that real, happy families existed and to let her be a part of that, if she wanted to be.

Upon return to LA, the stopwatch on the release began. JC was gone more than he was home and Callie found she didn’t really mind hanging out with Tyler but she just felt more comfortable with Paula, so when he was gone, she enjoyed a lot of time with her friend.

“Okay, just so you know, I’m totally expecting an advance copy and front row seats and VIP, the whole thing. Just so you know. Tell him.” Paula adjusted her wireframe glasses, searching the table for a puzzle piece.

Callie slid a corner piece over to her, adding to her small stack of corner pieces. “He knows. Trust me, he knows.”

“Is he nervous?”

“Yes. And grumpy.”

“Aww. He’ll do fine. A ha!” she cried out, snapping the pieces together.

“You and your puzzles,” Callie sighed, swiveling in her chair and stepping down from the bar stool. She made a new home on the plush sofa and flipped through the TV Guide.

“So are you ready for this? I mean, you pushed for it, but are you ready for him to be like, really really famous again?”

Callie shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. I just know I couldn’t go through another day of him pretending he didn’t want to be here, you know? This is where he’s supposed to be, this is what he loves to do. He should be doing it.”

“And so should you. How long do you think Jive will wait on your new album?”

“I don’t know. It’s the last album on my contract and they’re not talking renewal yet. Maybe I’ll hold out.”

Paula turned to stare at her, eyes wide. “Are you thinking of not renewing?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Callie slouched, sliding down on the couch until she was laying on her back. “I was thinking I might start writing, like, for other people. What do you think?” Callie sat up, resting her head on the back of the couch. Paula didn’t look up from her puzzle, but she shrugged.

“I think you’re a great songwriter with a lot of talent. Just, you know… don’t do the same thing JC did. I mean it; you belong on a stage, too.”

“I know. I just… you know…”

“What?” she asked, turning around. “You don’t want to compete with him, do you?”

Callie smiled, knowing Paula could read her mind. She shook her head, very slightly.

“Cal. Honey. There are, literally, hundreds, millions of artists out there. You’re competing with all of them. You don’t seriously think he’ll be angry if you release at the same time.”

“I don’t think he’d care. I think he would be amused by it, actually. I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to steal his shine. And I want the time to support him and be here for him. Listen to me… when did I stop being selfish?”

“When you met him,” she said plainly, matter of factly.

“He’s ruined me. Dammit.” Her phone buzzed on the table. The display made her wonder if he knew she was talking about him.

“Hello,” she said, smiling into the phone. 

“Hello,” he said, back. She could feel his smile over the airwaves. She missed him.”What are you doing?”

“Watching Paula put together this puzzle, and talking about you. Are your ears burning? “

“Tell her she’s already on the VIP list, quit asking.”

“See, I told her. You already knew she would ask. What are you doing?”

“Taking a dinner break. Dallas had to go pick up his son, I stayed behind so I could talk to you.” She heard buttons being pressed in the background, echoing against the quiet of the room.

“And obsess over some more songs? How’s it coming?”

“You know me too well. It’s coming. Pretty good. We should finish in a couple of days and then it’s off to press.”

“And then?”

“Photoshoot. I’ve been sucking down water and eating, like, salad and healthy shit. Trying to get rid of my bloat.”

“Oh, honey,’ she said, laughing at his weight worries. “That’s what Photoshop is for. They’ll make you look hot. Not that you don’t look hot already. Just more hot. And not puffy.”

“Whatever. I don’t want them to have to edit me too much.” He yawned, and then sighed. In her minds she could see his usual mannerisms, like raising a hand up to scratch the back of his head and his neck, the way he slouched in a studio chair. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. When are you back in LA?”

“Couple days. Three, maybe, if we’re lucky--“  He was interrupted by loud commotion in the background. “He’s back, so I’m back to work. I’ll call you later.”

They said their goodbyes and the call disconnected with a click.

“You’re such a sucker, for him.”

“Shut up, Paula. You wouldn’t rest until I was back with him. Don’t think I don’t know you sent him up to see me, to get me back.”

“Oh, I’m well aware that you know that. We had lunch. Did he tell you?”

Callie shook her head. They hadn’t talked much about the span of time that they were apart. Callie would really rather not relive that whole ugly, miserable time and JC wasn’t about rehashing the past.

She climbed down from her barstool and picked up the glass of wine she had been sipping. “Yeah, so I ran into him one day at the Grove and I just said, ‘when are you going up there to talk to her?’ He said,  ‘you know, Paula, I don’t know if she wants to see me’, to which I wanted to slap him and say ‘have you seen all the shit she’s pulling lately, she miserable, go see her’. I think it took him about five seconds to ask if you were home and how long you’d be there. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thank you, Paula. Really. From the bottom of my heart.”

She smiled and gave Callie a loving pat. “So how is our little recording artist?”

“He sounds tired. He’s doing okay. Hoping to finish in a few days. Worried about his photoshoot.”

“Why? Photoshop, baby.”

“Right? That’s what I said. He’s just worried about looking bloated.”

“Like someone else I know. I don’t miss that, about the industry. The other day I actually had a studio ask me to ask one of my clients to drop 10 pounds. I said, from where, her head? Are you nuts?”  She shook her head, incredulous.

“Sex sells. And pudge isn’t sexy.”

 ###

Time ticked away, so fast now. The album was finished, mixed, sent to press, photoshoot done, first single released and not doing too badly—better than anything had done on Jive. It was a wonder what a little support from your label could do. JC focused on live versions of the song, with a band and not a recorded soundtrack. If he was going to do it, it was going to be done right.

Callie could hardly wait until the album was released—he was so nervous and nitpicky he was almost unbearable. He spent day and night reworking the material, becoming frustrated that it wasn’t coming together as he heard it in his head. Added to that was the pressure of family and friends in town for the listening and release parties—JC said he felt like the whole world was staring at him, and he’d forgot to put his pants on. His discomfort was palpable and it seemed Callie could do nothing to console him. She tried as best she could to stay out of his way and offer comfort from afar. She knew she could be a bear during this process, and promised herself to be nicer to him, the next time around.

A very old friend, an old high school friend had made contact with Callie, and though she was nervous about it, Callie decided she’d see where this went, and ventured into the first friendship she’d formed since meeting JC. Renae was living and working in LA as a makeup artist and heard Callie had been in town for awhile. They spent a long time reminiscing about the old days—riding around in the back of an El Camino, singing dirty songs and drinking beer someone had bought for them. Renae remembered when Callie met Curtis, and how they were so drawn to each other. She was surprised to hear how badly the relationship deteriorated before it ended. She admitted she thought they would be together for life. “People change, especially in this business,” Callie told her. “You can let it turn you into a wimp, or an asshole, but it happens before you know it,  in the blink of an eye.”

It was nice, to have someone her age to talk with, have fun with, pal around with. JC frequently became annoyed at the inability to shop without cameras following him, bloggers and photogs asking ridiculous questions and forcing himself to be nice to them. Callie simply ignored them, refusing to be held hostage by a camera lens and an idiot. She and Renae spent a lot of time together, especially walking Melrose, checking out the fashions, laughing at the price tags and talking silly pictures.

It was the final week before the listening party, the release party, and JC’s first live show in years. She and Renae decided to shop for something to wear, since so many people were coming to town and so many things were happening at one time.

They browsed the latest fashions at an ultra chic, ultra hip boutique, frowning at the selection and the prices that seemed unreasonable for such—well, really—hideous options. Callie felt a finger poke her side and whipped around, alert and on edge. She found herself glaring into warm brown eyes and an animated face almost split in half by a happy grin.

She fell into a giant bear hug, laughing with relief. “You were about to get beat down, Joey. What are you doing here?” Callie waved a hello to Kelly, who was talking on her cell phone and slowly catching up.

“I’m in town for your man, woman. Wouldn’t miss this for the world. What are you doing in Beverly Hills, is the question?”

“Oh this is my friend Renae,” Callie said, an arm around her. Joey hugged her, saying any friend of Callie’s gets a hug. “We’re looking for something cute to wear to the release party. You guys are going to the show, right?”

“We will all be there. Chris comes in Tuesday, everyone else is here already. I got a meeting tomorrow so I’ll miss the listening party. But I’ll be at the release party and the show Friday. What’s C doing today, can I call him?” Joey pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Rehearsals-- and he’s grumpy. Call at your own risk. I’ll see you guys Tuesday,”   Callie hugged them both goodbye and headed down the street, to the car.

Renae slung an arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “I totally just met Joey Fatone.” She let out a little squeal and Callie laughed at her. She forgot what it was like to meet someone famous for the first time.

 

“So, you guys have a good day, while I was slaving away?” asked JC, shoving a slice of cold garlic bread in his mouth. Long after dinner, he came home from rehearsal, starving and looking for food.

“I’m warming something up for you. We had an awesome day. Did rehearsal go any better?”

“A little,” he said, mouth full of bread. “Well, a lot. We finally made it over the hump. I’m just nervous that we aren’t ready.” He sat at the small table in the kitchen and she set a salad, a plate of steaming pasta and cheese and warm toasted garlic bread in front of him.

“Well, you guys have been working hard. It’ll pay off.”

Callie set a glass of water next to his plate and sat down. She watched half the food had disappear in  seconds—watching him eat was a spectator sport. He caught her eye and reached for her hand across the table.

“I’ve been… not nice the last couple of days. I’m sorry. I’m just...”

“I know. God, I know. I’m not holding it against you. I might have been kind of a bitch while I was recording. I remember someone constantly complaining about how rude I was.”  She shrugged and grinned. Tired, he could only manage half a smile.

He finished his dinner in deep thought. Pushing the plate away from him, he belched and proclaimed, “That was good. Hit the spot, thank you honey.”

“Sure,” she said, taking his plate and glass, rinsing them, and placing it in the dishwasher. “So, do you think you’re ready for tomo-“

Sitting up, mouth open, head leaning up against the wall, he was asleep, just like that. Callie shook her head and watched him, then gently laid a hand on his cheek, stroking the stubble. His eyes cracked open, he blinked a few times, and then gave her a sheepish grin.

“I guess I’m tired,” he rumbled, his voice low and heavy, sprinkled with the dust of sleep.

“Well, it’s no wonder; you’ve been working like you’re some kind of machine. Come on, off to bed with you,” she said softly, offering a hand to help him stand, and then leading him from the kitchen to the bedroom.

“I don’t even feel like undressing. I just want to sleep. Tired as shit,” he mumbled, collapsing onto the bed.

She untied and removed his shoes, then socks. Unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off and miraculously was able to pull his shirt over his head without waking him up again. She picked up a quilt from the chair next to the bed, and laid it over him, then climbed in next to him.

The bright glow from the lit patio downstairs provided just enough light to see his face while he slept. Callie must have stared at his silhouette for over an hour. Listened to him breathe. Traced the outline of his classically handsome face from his forehead, down his nose, to his lips and chin. Prayed he was resting well and rejuvenating and would be fresh and confident for the week—it mattered more than any other week of the year. Sometime around dawn she finally nodded off, her head on his chest. A hand had found its way into her hair and she felt herself being snuggled close to him as she drifted off to sleep.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Callie woke up next to JC, in his arms. He’d either been coming to bed as she was getting up, or was up before her, or was out of town. They hadn’t slept next to each other, all night, and awakened together in months. It felt comfortable, normal. Callie craved this kind of quiet time with him, especially in the whirlwind that had been the last six months. Fully awake but not moving, she listened to him breathe, riding the rise and fall of his chest. 

“You’re awake, I can tell,” he said, his voice gravelly and groggy.

“Yeah. So?” she said, smiling into his chest.

He ran a veined hand along the soft fabric. “Where’d this come from?”

“The chair over there,” she said, pointing at the wing backed chair in the corner of his bedroom.

“Oh. Forgot my mom sent that.” He yawned and stretched his arms out, then dropped them, circling her in a tight hug. “What time do they get here?”

“Tyler and I are taking care of all of that. You don’t need to be worried about it.”

“I know, I just was wondering.”

“One o’ clock. Happy?”

“Very. Come up here,” he said, pulling her up so he could see her face.

“Are you ready for today?”she asked. He nodded.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Nah. Just playing the tunes for the fans. It’ll be fun. Kind of crazy. Are you coming?”

“Yeah. I’ll be with your family.”

The phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced over at it but didn’t pick it up. “That’s Eric. I should get up, I have to be there early.” He rubbed his eyes and yawned, then sat up. “You want to shower?”

“With you? Sure.”

###

“Callie, are you coming to dinner Friday, after the show? We’re making reservations.” Karen ducked her head out of the kitchen. Callie nodded, and then went back to her conversation with Roy.

“Van is here, time to go,” called Tyler. Roy and Karen, Tyler and Callie and a few of JC’s friends climbed into the small van and idly chatted, rolling the neighborhood and out to the highway.

“Oh my God,” muttered Tyler, staring out the window. Callie leaned over him and glanced out and gasped. There was a large crowd spilling out of the front doors and around the outside of the music store. The driver had to honk several times and show his pass to get through. Finally, he pulled up to the front door and got out to open the doors. The crowd began to close in on the van. She heard the driver say, “JC’s not in here, he’s already in the store, back up back up, these folks need to get in.”

Several security personnel made their way out of the building and created a path to the front door. The van doors opened and Roy and Karen and the others stepped out, followed by Tyler and Callie. Callie was surprised—and a little unnerved--  by high pitched screams and grabby hands and pens and paper being shoved everywhere. Anything anyone said was incomprehensible—she couldn’t hear over the roar. She felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulder and propel her toward the open door of the store. She looked up into the smiling face of the van driver who had her on one side and Tyler on the other. He pushed through the crowd and escorted them inside and to the back of the store. A seating area had been marked for family, where they finally relaxed and took their seats.   

“Holy… Fuck!” Callie said, catching her breath, smoothing down her hair, mussed from the crowd. Tyler dropped an arm around her and squeezed her shoulders.

“You made it through, sweetie. You’re ok.”

She nodded and looked around, taking in the scene. The large music store was packed from front to back with people. It was standing room only up and down every aisle. A stage with two comfortable chairs had been set up at the front of the large gathering room. A sound system and a microphone stood ready and waiting, as well as a table and a chair where JC would sign autographs. There was excitement in the air as she browsed the faces of girls—some young, some older. A few smiled and waved at her, likely surprised to see her there. Callie waived back. More, however, were calling out Tyler’s name. He smiled and wiggled a few fingers at them, and they squealed in delight. Callie snorted at the thought of Tyler having fans.

“Is your girlfriend coming, or working?” she asked him. Tyler had finally found someone to replace Callie—a young law clerk that seemed glued to his hip since he met her.

“Working,” he said. “Don’t get any ideas. The last thing I need is for her to hear I was flirting with my brother’s fans.”

Callie felt the energy level in the room rise and looked toward the stage. JC was milling around, talking to Eric and his publicist, nodding and pointing, giving and receiving instruction. They both walked away and he climbed the steps to the man-made platform and took a seat in one of the chairs. The crowd seemed to breathe, almost surging toward him, making Callie was thankful for the barrier and the large, burly men standing between him and them.

JC looked up and out over the crowd, his eyes searching for his family. His eyebrows rose at the sight of his parents, who both waived to him. He smiled and waved back, his eyes make his way down the line of seats. He nodded at his friends, settled on Callie. He stared, unmoving, for a few seconds, sending a message. She heard it, loud and clear. He kissed two fingers and pointed them at her. She did the same, beaming with pride and didn’t care who saw it. He nodded at Tyler, and then pointed and wiggled his finger around. Tyler grunted and removed his arm from around her shoulder. He nodded and gave the thumbs up sign, to which Tyler and the crowd laughed. As soon as JC turned away he put his arm back, laying it on the back of her chair.

“He’s not the boss of me. I can put my arm where I want,” he whispered.  

A hush fell over the crowd as a tall, gangly man with bushy blonde hair and a goatee made his way up the short flight of stairs and onto the makeshift stage. He tapped the microphone a few times to make sure it was working and motioned to the sound manager to turn it up. When the volume was sufficient, he made a brief announcement that they would begin in a few minutes.

Callie sat back and crossed and uncrossed her legs, tried to relax—she  just couldn’t. She was nervous for him, because she knew he was nervous. He was playing it cool, but she saw how his eyes darted around the room, the way his forehead creased with worry, the way he chewed the inside of his lip that he was shaking inside.   A moment he’d been waiting for years to come had arrived—now it was time to bare his soul and show his audience what he was made of, what had been lingering inside of him.

Thankfully the manager made his way back to the microphone stand and began his introduction. He and JC had been friends for years and had shared many a philosophical music conversation, so his store was the perfect place to hold the listening party and he was the perfect person to introduce him. After a few sweet words of support and admiration, he invited JC to present a sneak peek at the new album.

The applause was heartening as JC stood and stepped to the microphone. He smiled and laughed as the applause continued and then raised his hands to quiet them. “This’ll take all night if ya’ll don’t stop, now,” he said, to which they laughed and applauded again.

“Uhm. I want to start by first of all thanking everybody for coming out today. This really means a lot to me and uh, I hope you like the album. And I also need to tell you that this store will close at 10 tonight but will reopen at midnight, so you can come back and buy it. You can stand in the line at midnight or you can spend a couple bucks and get a wristband. The wristband will just get you right in the door, so whichever works for you, go for it. You can get your wristbands on the way out or up until closing tonight.” He paused and took a swig of water from his bottle and set it down on the floor.

“Second, I want to thank my family, back there,” he said pointing at the small group at the back of the room. The entire building shifted in their direction. Callie looked down at Roy and Karen as they waved and smiled at everyone. Tyler stood and took a bow, and the room erupted in laughter, including JC. “Tyler is kind of shy,” he said, laughing.

“So, let’s get started!” He rubbed his hands together, turned around and took a seat in one of the oversized chairs on the stage. “I hope enough people can see me. My ass is tired, man. I’ve been working on my show, this Friday. Hope everyone got their ticket already, it’s almost sold out, I heard.” Cheers and applause filled the room as he slid an unlabeled cd into the player. 

He talked through a few songs, took some questions from the audience, did a drawing for a raffle and then talked about the rest of the album. Except for the single that was already in rotation, Callie hadn’t heard much of the new album – no one had. He’d kept it under lock and key and not let anyone hear any of it. He said he wanted actual, real reactions when they heard it for the first time. Callie was already in love with it, and the crowd in attendance seemed to agree, bobbing their heads along with the music, smiling, dancing, singing along.

JC wrapped up the album preview with a heartfelt thanks to the crowd, smiling and bowing when they applauded once again. The store manager returned to the microphone and directed people to line up at a register to purchase a wristband if they planned to return later to buy the CD. He then announced that after a short break, JC would sign autographs and take pictures. 

Callie watched him snake his way through the crowd to the back of the room.  He made a beeline for his parents, a bright smile on his face, and hugged them both tight. Karen kissed his cheek and gripped his face, nearly in tears. He talked to them for a few minutes and then hugged them again. The van was outside, ready to take everyone back to the house, so Karen and Roy made their way to the door, smiling and waving at fans who said hello.    

JC and Tyler had a mini play fight that ended in a loose hug. Red faced, eyes glassy, Tyler slapped JC on the back and said, “Proud of you. You did it. It’s good. Love you, man.” JC nodded and slapped him back, not trusting himself to speak. Tyler followed everyone else out to the van, but not before stopping to take a few photos and sign a few autographs. Callie laughed, so she wouldn’t cry.

“Who knew Tyler had fans,” she said, shrugging.

“Yeah, that’s uhm. Yeah I don’t know what’s up with that. So, what did you think?” He searched her face for a sign, any sign.

“So. I’m in love with it,” she gushed. “I love it so much, I’m getting get two copies.”   

The smile that broke across his face warmed her heart. “You really like it? Or are you just saying that?”

Callie laughed. “Do I lie to you, ever? I really like it, it’s good. You know it’s good. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, well… yeah of course,”  he said, nodding. “I’m excited about it. I want you to like it, though.”

“I do. I love it. And so did they, so all that worrying about people not liking your music can go away now, right?”

“I guess. It still has to chart.”

“It will. Stop worrying. I need to let you get back to your job. I’ll see you at the house.”  She stepped close to him and gave him a discrete hug.  

He turned around to look at the crowd. “I don’t think I’ll get out of here for awhile. I’ll see you when I see you. Love you, though.” He winked and blew a kiss to her.

“Love you, too. See you later,” she whispered, then headed toward the door.

A few girls giggled as she walked past them. Callie smiled and pushed past a few groups of people. “Excuse me,” she heard behind her, and felt a tap on her arm. A young girl, not older than ten, stood smiling up at her.

“Hi,” Callie said, a bright smile on her face. She loved tiny fans. “Were you talking to me?”

She nodded. “Are you JC’s girlfriend?” she asked. Her voice was so sweet and small and she was so young.

“Uhm…will you be mad if I say yes?” Callie asked.

She giggled and turned red. “No, silly.  Can you sign this for me?” She held out a heart shaped notepad and a pen. “I’m gonna ask JC to sign next to your name.”

“Ohhhh. Well, ok. And tell JC I said ‘hi’ when you get up there for me okay?”

Callie took the notepad, signed her name, and handed it back to her. The little girl gave her the sweetest, cutest smile, then opened her arms wide and hugged her, and skipped away.  She smiled, watching the little girl babble happily to what must have been her mother, or sister, someone older, then headed out of the door and climbed into the van, which then pulled away from the curb and pointed toward home.

The evening had been lovely… exciting… exhausting. Well into the morning, the car carrying JC and Callie from the release party turned into the driveway. Everyone else in the house had made their escape before midnight. JC felt compelled to stay and mingle with the guests who had come to celebrate his first album release in years. Callie stayed to keep him company.

“My feet are killing me,” she said, limping up the driveway to the sidewalk.

“Want to hop on my back?” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me, I’ll hop on that back so fast—“   JC turned around and picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder.

“Oh my God! Put me down!” Callie pounded on his back and laughed hysterically.

“Quiet, you’ll wake everyone up.” He unlocked the door, stepped inside, closed the door and carried her up the stairs, finally dumping her onto the bed.

“You are crazy. Insane!”

He snapped on the lamp next to the bed, then laughed and laid next to her. Callie rolled to face him; he rolled onto his side so he could face her. Their hands met between them and for a few minutes they laid there, smiling and staring at one another.

“So, are you happy with how it turned out?” Callie stroked his cheek, he loosened his tie.

“Very, very happy,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m even happier that you’re here with me. It’s been pretty cool to share it with you.”

“Yeah, it is pretty cool. I like that you want me here. This can be a really stressful time.”

“It can be, yeah.” He yawned.

“I told you not to wear yourself out.”

“I didn’t,” he said, yawning again. “I’m not tired, mama.”

“I am,” she said, letting out a short little laugh.

“Say it ain’t so.”

“It’s so. I’m exhausted. You’ve been going, going, going for days, and it’s not even over, yet. You still have a show in two days!”

JC pouted, and fluttered his eyelashes at her. “Are you saying no to me?”

“No, whiny. Just, let’s not take all night.”

He laughed, and leaned forward, brushing his lips against her forehead. “Callie, if you’re tired, honey, we don’t have to any—“

“Oh my God, if you don’t get over here.”

Callie yanked him by the tie until his lips met hers in a hot, wet, sultry kiss. He moaned and whimpered, rolled on top of her, opening her legs with his and grinding himself into her. She moaned, hips rolling. He shuddered, feeling her writhe beneath him.  He tore his lips away from her and began to undress, tossing clothes left and right. She followed his lead and shimmied out of her dress,  her shoes, jewelry, bra, panties, everything else adding to a small pile next to the bed.

JC turned the covers back and they climbed in under them, at once finding each other’s arms, lips, tongues, limbs intertwining. Chests heaving, voices moaning, squealing, hands roaming, a defining moment when two became one and then a perfect climax. Panting, they collapsed against each other, sweating—and grinning ear to ear.

“How was that for you? Quick enough?” he managed to say between gasps for air.

Callie sighed, content and satisfied. “Hell yeah. If I smoked, I’d be burning one right now.”

“I don’t smoke, and I kinda need a cigarette,” he said, laughing.

Callie’s head felt heavy, like she couldn’t even lift it to sit up. Instead she rolled it to the side so she could see him. “Have I told you, in the last five minutes, how proud I am of you?”

“Not in the last five minutes. Get on that.”

She giggled. “Fucker. See, I try to be nice to you…”

“I never asked you to be nice to me. I like you feisty. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“I can’t help it,” she said, turning to face him. “You’re so good to me. I know I don’t always show it but I appreciate you. You’ve been the nicest man, ever, since I met you. You should have got up from that first meeting and walked right out, but you didn’t. And now my life is so different and I’m really thankful for it.”

“Aww. You’re cute when you’re serious.”

She rolled her eyes and then closed them, shaking her head. “Why do I even try? Just… why?”

He leaned over her and sang in her ear. “Because you loooove me, you want to kiiiiiiiiss me, you want to huuuuuuuuuug me.”

“Oh my God,” she groaned, and rolled over.

“Perfect. I wanted to spoon anyway. Scoot back.”

She did, and he pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her, smiling into her hair.

“Thank you, Callie. For the things you said to me. It was sweet, and I didn’t mean to discount your feelings. I didn’t walk out of that meeting because I really wanted to work with you and if didn’t fire me, I wasn’t leaving. We’re both living different lives than we’d live if we’d never met. I have you to thank for the life I’m living now, the life I got back. I’d be so disappointed if I couldn’t share this with you. I love you, and I’m happy you’re here.”

She didn’t want him to see the two tears that fell from her eyes and rolled down the side of her face, so she simply reached down to the hand that laid heavily across her body and held it, lacing her fingers between his.

###

Energy and excitement surged through the air as the caravan of cars lined up outside the local Anaheim theater. Taking no chances, everyone planned to arrive very early for the show—no one wanted to get stuck in traffic or in a line—and there were already people lining up outside.

JC had been on site since early that morning, assisting with setup and now going through a sound check.  Finding nothing to occupy her time, Callie sunk into a couch in the ‘Play Room’ JC had set up backstage.   A Quiet Room was set up across the hall for just him to get prepped in peace. An old friend flew in to do him a special favor and work security.  Lonnie smiled politely when necessary but mostly stood stone-faced at the dressing room door. Besides wardrobe, hair and makeup, and Eric, Callie was the only other person on the list for admittance.

People milled about the Play room, talking, laughing, sitting, waiting. The rooms around them seemed to come to life as the band came off stage and began preparing their wardrobe for the show, talking to friends and relatives, grabbing a bite to eat from catering. JC poked his head in once or twice to say hi, but other than that he was consumed with interview after interview, then meet and greet with a room full of fans.

Callie’s calm outward appearance hid inner nervousness. She was literally shaking, a twitching foot the tell-tale sign. JC hadn’t been on a stage in years, performing new material with a new band. He was calm—she was the one wracked with nerves, hoping it would go off without a hitch-- that The Show Room would be full to overflowing and that he would have a good time and the audience would love the music.

One hour to show time, and the backstage area was controlled chaos. Dancers, musicians, security, agents, press, Grove staff all wandered about purposefully, weaving in and out of each other’s paths. Callie stood outside JC’s dressing room and watched the organized dance. More than a few people had tried to get past Lonnie into JC’s room. She found it amusing that they backed down so quickly when Lonnie gave them a stern glare and stepped in front of the door.

“Stop laughing, I don’t look mean when I’m smiling,” he said to Callie, trying to look stern.

“Sorry. I can’t help it!” she said, still laughing at the last photographer who tried to get past him.

“I’m gonna have to send you back to the Play Room. Interfering with my job, ma’am.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be good.”

A commotion was stirring down the hallway. Callie’s face broke into a grin as she saw the four members of JC’s old group sauntering down the hall. ‘God Bless Joey’, she thought. ‘He got them all here.’ She nodded at them as they made their way to the Play room. Chris shoved himself up against a wall as soon as he saw Lonnie was standing guard.

“I know the drill, Lonnie. Don’t have to frisk me, or anything,” Chris teased.

“Don’t tempt me, Kirkpatrick. How you been, man?” They shook hands and grinned at each other.

“Real good. Nice to see you found work.”

“Well, let’s just say I’m always available for my boys. Now get away from this door before I have to hurt you.”

“Dude, man, I’m goin’, I’m goin’.  Chris jogged down the hall to the Play room where everyone was waiting before they took their seats. Eric walked out of the room, followed by JC’s hair, makeup and wardrobe people.

“The only person he wants to see right now is Callie.”

Lonnie stepped aside as she walked into the cool, darkened room. JC, dressed in stylish black suit and crisp white shirt sat waiting on a large plush couch on one side of the room. The other side held a vanity table, lit by tiny bulbs, and a makeup chair. On a small table in front of the couch were two full champagne glasses. He extended a hand to her, inviting her to sit next to him.

“Hey. What’s all this?”

“This,” he said, lifting a glass and handing it to her, “is me and you making a toast. To tonight, to the show, to us. I mean it, when I say that I wouldn’t be right here, right now, if it wasn’t for you. I really needed the kick in the ass you gave me, and I’ll love you forever for it. I love that you believed in me. You had faith in me. You were never satisfied to let me give up and once I was going, you let me just go and do it. I’m very happy, right now. This show is for you. I hope you like it.”

He tapped his glass against hers and they each took a long gulp. Callie wasn’t much of a champagne drinker and the fizz tickled on the way down.

“Oooh. That’s bubbly,” she sputtered, blinking and coughing.

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “Uhm. Well thank you… for the toast. It’s awfully sweet of you to attribute all your hard work, late nights, bleeding fingers, and aching bones, to me. I’m glad I was here to go through it with you, but… you did all the work. I could not be more proud of you, Producer Man. I’ll let you get into your zone and relax,” she said, standing up. “Just go out there and have a good time?”

He nodded, and pumped his fists in the air. “Excited about it. Can I get a kiss for good luck?”

He opened his arms and she stepped into them, feeling strength wrapped around her, and tipped her head up to meet his lips. He moaned against her mouth, his tongue running along her bottom lip. He finally pulled away and sighed, resting his forehead on hers.

“I’m nervous,” he whispered.

“Good. That means you’re not too cocky,” she whispered back.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m scared. What if I screw this up?”

“Not possible. You’ve worked too hard to make it perfect. There’s a goof-up on every show but no one will know the difference. Just have fun, ok?”

She started to pull away, to leave, but he held her next to him. “Will you stay here with me, till I go on? I don’t want to be alone. Please?”

“Yeah. I will. Come on, let’s sit.” Callie sat back down on the couch and pulled him back, next to her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Do you want to see anyone else?”

“No. Just you. I feel sick.”

Her arms tightened around him and she kissed his temple. “J. Honey. Relax. You love this. You’re ok. Talk to me. About anything. Here’s your chance to talk without me telling you to shut up.”

He talked about everything and nothing. None of it made any sense, she just let him talk, occasionally laughing at a comment, or dropping a kiss on his forehead. He talked through his opening act and as they came off stage, the stage manager came to collect him.

JC took a deep breath and sat up, then took her hand in his and stood, dragging Callie up with him.

“Come on. I’ll drop you off at VIP.”

The sounds of the band warming up and the crowd chanting ‘JC! JC! JC!’ got louder the closer they got to the stage. At the end of the hallway, they could either turn right or left. The Stage Manager was rushing ahead of JC and turned to the right, toward the stage. VIP seating was to the left. Callie’s hand lingered in his as she looked back at him. He gave her the slightest wink, and let go. “I love you,” she said. “Go have fun.”

###

The show could not have gone better if he had tried to plan it that way. From beginning to end, the crowd was lively and energetic and JC seemed to have a great time, talking to them, belting out his songs, dancing, working through the crowd.  After the first few songs, he removed his jacket, sat on a stool, and just talked to the crowd. Talked about what he’d been doing in the years he’d been offstage, and how badly he’d wanted to be right back there. He thanked his family, who were all in attendance—even Heather, who had flown in earlier that day and would normally watch the show from backstage, was front row center with the rest of his family. Lastly, he paid a special tribute to the four men who came to show their support to him, and asked them to come out onto the stage.

This, of course, brought madness.

For a full ten minutes nothing JC said could be heard. As the five stood together on stage for the first time in nearly a decade, the entire auditorium, from the cheap seats to the front row were on their feet, absolutely screaming, cheering, stomping, whistling—the noise was deafening, and eventually gave way to chants of ‘Nsync!  ‘Nsync!  ‘Nsync!

“If ya’ll will calm down, we might sing something for you,” JC said, to which the crowd went wild again. The men laughed to each other, and huddled on stage for a few minutes, then each picked up a microphone.

“So, there’s a special someone out there,” JC said, when he could get a word in. “And she’s got a favorite song. It’s an oldie, but a goodie. And I just want to take this time to do something for her, since the guys are here. Now, we only practiced this once, by phone, so I hope it doesn’t sound like ass.” The crowd laughed, and JC turned around to count down the start of the song. “One, two, three.”

Callie knew what the song would be, before they even began to sing, but that did not stop the rush of emotion that coursed through her as she stood between Tyler and Paula, listening to the blend of voices, the harmonious sound she had once considered pop drivel. She swayed with the crowd, arms lifted, and sang along to the words, especially moved that ‘Just a dream and wind to carry me/ soon I will be free’ had finally come true. Her dream had carried her to this time, this place, and she was finally ‘out from under everything over her’. She felt free, and invincible, and happy.

The House was packed, since the show had nearly sold out. Every time JC paused or moved or sang or danced, the applause and screams rose to the rafters. Callie loved hearing the sound from the stage, but it was much different sitting in the audience and being a part of it, especially for someone she knew and loved, who deserved every last ounce of it.

He did a few familiar songs from his first album, and a few songs that had never been released from his Jive album, but the bulk of the show was new music, new songs from the heart and soul of him. While onstage he announced plans for a tour and the entire auditorium went wild. The show was over before she knew it, much too quickly, she thought. He must have agreed, because he came back out for two encores before saying his thank you’s, introducing the band, and his good nights. He spent one last moment on stage, looking out over the crowd, grinning ear to ear. He was back.

As soon as the House lights went up, people began to disperse, milling about. Callie felt a tug on her elbow, and Lonnie was next to her. “I was told to find you and bring you to him. Let’s go.”

As soon as she reached the dressing room door, Eric came out of it. “He’s asking for you. The van will be here in 20 minutes, so don’t keep him.”

Callie stepped into the dressing room, rolling her eyes and laughing.

“Eric is a little high strung. Forgive him,” he said, fresh out of a quick shower, water still dripping from his hair and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Here, J. Let me help you.” She took the towel from him and turned him around, blotting the water from his back, and then his chest and arms.

“So,” he said, with a shy smile. “Uhm. What did you think?”

“Hmmm, what do I think,” she mused, blotting and wiping until he was dry. “Well. I think that I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone since the beginning of time. I think that the show turned out incredibly better than I ever thought it would be. I think you had a better time than you thought you would, once you relaxed. And I think that if you dance with anyone else the way you danced with me during ‘All Day Long’, I will hurt you. And you know I can. Are we clear?”

He let out a loud belly laugh and turned to get dressed. “That was just for you, honey.”

“Thank you, for the song. I loved it. I was totally surprised. You mean the world to me. You know that, right?”

“I do now,” he said, smiling over at her.

“JC, sometimes I actually say nice, serious things. Can you just follow my lead, here?”

“Yes, yes I know. Thank you.”

“Any other reason you wanted to see me, than for me to ogle you while you dress?” Callie sank into a low chair, watching him pull on a t-shirt.

“Not really. I just wanted to see you. See what you thought. Make sure you had a good time.”

“Well. I thought it went perfectly. I had an excellent time.”

“Good,” he whispered, bending over her and lightly brushing her lips with his.

Callie gripped his shirt and didn’t let go. “Hey. That wasn’t a kiss, you tease.”

“Oh. You want a kiss, kiss?”

“Mmmhmm…”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead and dug through his duffel bag for socks and shoes.

“That wasn’t a kiss, kiss either. Stop stalling!”

“I know. I am evil.”

“I’m so glad you find this funny. Wait till you find out how long it will be till we have sex.”

His head popped up, eyes large as saucers. She nodded. “Uh huh. Didn’t think of that, did you?”

“You can’t resist me. I’m not worried.”

“Really? You think so? You want to take that bet? Over a kiss? Really?”

He pondered for a moment, then said, “No.” He bent over her, his lips landing softly on hers. She held his face in her hands. He moaned, leaning into her, playing with her tongue. She moaned in chorus, her arms circling his neck. 

A sharp knock at the door startled them. JC disappeared into the bathroom and Callie checked the door. Lonnie was standing outside, blocking the view of nosy onlookers walking by.

“Van’s here. Is he about ready?”

“Yeah he’s just putting his things in his bag.”

“One minute.”

She closed the door and picked up JC’s discarded suit and towel and shoved them inside the duffel bag. He reappeared with his shower gel and razor, brush and aftershave and dumped them into the bag.

“Do you have everything? Eric is probably frothing at the mouth. Lonnie said the van is here.”

“I think so. Can you tell him to clear the hallway? I’m tired, I don’t feel like dealing with people right now.”

Callie opened the door to find Lonnie still standing outside. “Is the hallway clear?”

“Just about. Working on a quiet exit. We started diverting people at the hallway up there so these should be the last people. I’ll knock when it’s clear.”

A few minutes later a knock at the door said it was time to go. Gerald, another member of security, walked in front of them, and Lonnie walked behind as they navigated the now empty hallway, out of the back door and down the steps to the waiting van. They climbed into the warm, running vehicle and fell into the two seats in the second row.

“All in,” said Gerald, closing the van doors and tapping the side. The driver pulled away from the curb and out onto the side street, leaving the Theater behind. 

“Great show, honey. I enjoyed it. It was nice to see the new stuff live.” Karen reached up and tapped JC on the shoulder.

“Thanks mom,” he said, yawning. “I’m glad you guys could come. Especially Heather. You have a good time?” He turned to look at her. She was smiling and playing with a curl.

“Yeah, it was nice,” she said, nodding.” I enjoyed myself. Thanks.”

 The van filled with chatter from various people as it rolled toward the restaurant where they would have dinner, relax, and celebrate a successful show.

“You know what, honey,” JC said, dropping an arm around Callie’s shoulder. “I think when I come off tour, I’ll do a movie. I think I have an acting bug.”

Callie laughed hysterically. JC stared down at her. “Oh my God, you’re serious. Oh okay,” she said, composing herself. “Well you know Paula is an agent, she can give you lots of advice. And uhm. Maybe hook you up with a coach.”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun. Not for awhile, it’s just something else I wanted to get back to, if I could.”

“Have I created a monster?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Will you come to my first movie premiere, too?”

“Try to stop me,” she answered.

“So, I have an album. You need to start thinking about yours.”

“You don’t get to just order me around, now.”

“Yes I do. I have some time, before the tour starts. Let’s start banging some stuff out. I know you’ve been writing.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, winking up at him.

“Calpernia,” he said, laughing, shaking his head.

 ###

JC rolled two large suitcases toward the bus and parked them in front of the driver so they could be loaded. Callie shivered next to him. It was early, and it was cold.

“I have something for you, Producer Man.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,”she said, handing him a small box. “Just a little something to remind you of me.”

“Oh. You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, grinning as he removed the red bow she had tied around the small white box. He lifted the lid, and gasped as he pulled the delicate tissue paper back. Nestled inside the box was a pewter cross, adorned with multi colored gem stones. The stones gleamed in the moonlight as he picked it up, moved it around.

“You sweet girl. This is… wow. I have never seen one like this. Thank you.”

“I had it made for you. Do you like it?”

She stared up at him, eyes wide and hopeful. He smiled down at her, then leaned down to kiss her, sincerely, softly. He pulled back, slightly and whispered “I love it. I really, really love it. I love you, thank you. I’ll wear it every night.”

The driver honked twice and waved. JC looked back at him, then back at Callie and grinned. “This is gonna be fun.”

“Yeah. So. I’ll see you at the first stop,” she said, backing away toward her own bus.

“Explain to me, again, why we have two buses?”

“None of my people want to ride with you!” she called back to him.

“Well, you’re gonna ride with me sometimes, aren’t you?” he yelled at her, across the parking lot.

“I’ll think about it!” she yelled, climbing onto her bus.

“Calpernia!” he yelled at the bus. Laughing, he shook his head, and climbed the steps, the door sliding closed behind him.

A few minutes later, the sun rising and casting a bright glow across the landscape, the two buses pulled out of the parking lot and rolled toward the freeway.