The Macy's All Star Celebration was an annual Fall Concert, televised live-- a series of mini concerts from all the hot music artists topping the charts. This would be Callie's first time performing this concert-- every year before, she'd watched it from home, sulking because the label had told her, again, that they couldn't manage to get her booked on the show--sorry, maybe next year. As she sat in her trailer, on the bench in front of the lighted makeup table, having her eyebrows plucked and lips lined and eyelashes shellacked with goop, she couldn't help but smile to herself that she finally made it onto this show!

Paula, who had returned to New York specifically to see her perform, was chattering madly with Ginny, who was listening but busily setting things out for Callie-- water, chapstick, a towel, wet naps, a change of shoes. She had the uncanny knack of being able to hear everything going on but not miss a step. Callie swore that Ginny knew what she needed before she knew she needed it-- in her opinion the sign of an excellent assistant. Life was much easier with Ginny around, and Jason had much more purpose now that he wasn't her personal gopher anymore.

“One hour, Miss Phelps,” a stage hand yelled from outside the door, and banged twice as he walked by. The makeup artist finished and packed up her kit, and her hairstylist, a friend she'd flown in from his salon in Chicago, flat ironed and smoothed and fussed and 'mmmhmm'd over her hair until it was a perfect, shiny, layered mane, flowing down her back and falling attractively over her shoulders with a natural bend that let it frame her face.

“Gorgeous. Yes. I swear, I work magic. You need to trim more often, sweetie,” he said, pinching her forearm.

“I know, I know. I don't like anyone's hands in my hair. It hasn't been trimmed in like, three months. Do you know anyone in LA? I'm out there a lot.”

“I'll send you some recommends. Alright, I'm done, I'm out of your hair, haha! Do good, babe, call me anytime!” He waved at her and Paula and made his way down the narrow steps, holding the door open for Jason.

“Okay, folks. If you are NOT Callie Phelps, it's time to go! Out. She needs a little time before she hits the stage. Out, out,” Jason pointed as Paula gave her a squeeze and grumbled her way down the stairs. Ginny checked to see if she needed anything else before leaving, then followed Paula.

“How you doing, kid?” Jason handed her the set list and she browsed it, then nodded and handed it back.

“I'm good. A little nervous, but good.”

“You're gonna do fine. You need anything, let me know.” She nodded and Jason stepped out, leaving her alone in the trailer.

She let out a deep breath and then began her scales, warming up her voice, pacing the small space. A loud tapping clanged against the metal of the trailer door, interrupting her. There was nothing Callie hated more than being interrupted right before a show. She had to get herself in an element, a mood, a zone. She needed quiet and peace and to be absolutely alone.

“What?!”

The door vibrated and shook as it was violently yanked open, and a familiar head of blond hair popped into the trailer. Curtis. Callie let out an impatient sigh. He was the last thing she needed to deal with, at the moment.

“What do you want? I go on in--” she checked her watch, “--45 minutes and I need some time. What?”

“Hey, babe. I was just coming to wish you luck. I know this is your first time performing at this gig and uh, I just wanted to say good luck.” Curtis looked uncomfortable-- he was almost too big for the trailer. His head nearly hit the ceiling and his frame was so large he seemed to take up the entire room. Callie felt like he was sucking all of the air out of it, too.

“How did you get past Jason and Wolfe? You're not supposed to be in here.”

“Who? Like I care about that wimp Jason.” He shrugged and landed heavily in a chair, looking her up and down.

“You look hot, lately. Real hot. Congrats on your number one. Your album out Tuesday?”

Callie remained standing and crossed her arms. “Thanks. Yeah. Good luck to you guys, too. Curt, you need to go.”

“Just a second. So, that song. It's about me, huh? I had that big of an impact on you.” Curtis smiled and nodded proudly.

“I wrote it years ago and rewrote it so it could on the album. You would think it's about you.”

He smiled half a smile and winked. “I recognized myself. You gave co-writing credit to that lame ass producer? JC?”

Callie bristled, but closed her eyes before she lost her temper. “DON'T talk like that about him. He helped me re-write the song.”

An eyebrow arched. Callie cursed at herself. “Ooooh. Defensive.” He chuckled and leaned back in the chair-- despite the chair's squeaky protest-- crossing one ankle over the other and studying her. A long uncomfortable silence followed and then a blunt, roughly mumbled statement: “You're fucking him.”

Callie was determined to not react, though it was hard, her fingernails digging into her palm. “You need to go.”

“That means yes. And really, I didn't even need to ask. I can tell. I'd know that 'freshly fucked' face anywhere.”

“You can go, or I can call my security to have you removed.”

He cackled an evil laugh. “Right. You won't. You know 'E!' is right outside, here? You won't want that to hit the 7:00 show. Have Ryan talk more about how you 'don't hate me'.” He used the air quotes sarcastically. “Or do you? Is that lame ass turning you into a famewhore? Need to get people talking about you, so you start talking about ME, and how I wasn't a 'celebrity' to you, and 'aw, poor Callie, Curtis never had time for Callie'. Maybe Callie was BITCH and a NAG.”

“Maybe Curtis was an egotistical asshole who used every excuse in the book not to see a woman he BEGGED to not break up with him so he could do it first. I don't have time for this little ego trip. I have to be on stage and I need to relax before I go on. Can you go? Please? You're not even supposed to be in here.”

He sighed, and stood, his long blond hair brushing his shoulders. Callie remembered when she used to love that head of hair, digging her fingers deep into it, grabbing two fistfuls of it in the throes of passion-- he loved to have his hair pulled. The thought of sex with him now made her sick to her stomach. The scent of his cologne, pungent and plentiful, wasn't helping.

Curtis leaned over and kissed her cheek. Callie cringed. He pulled away slightly, then stopped to whisper in her ear.

“He's making you soft, Cal. You're turning lame, just like every other chick out there, who thinks she's hard, but she isn't. He turned you into a pawn for the label. I liked you better when you hated everyone and you were a raging bitch.” He ended the word roughly, his lips so close to her earlobe, she could feel the moisture from his breath. I drove a shiver down her spine. She wondered, now, how she could have ever claimed to love him.

Callie's eyes narrowed. “Of course you did, Curtis. You loved being in control of me as long as I worshiped the ground you walked on. What happened to your little groupie? Does she feel lucky to be with you? Do you make sure to kick her in the self esteem and tell her everyday how very lucky she is to be with you and how you can have anyone you want, so she better just be thankful you chose her? Remember when you used to tell me shit like that? Get the FUCK out. I have moved on.”

He shook his head and scoffed, reaching for the door. “You don't even know, Callie. You don't even know how lame you are right now. Sick. Just sick. Enjoy today. I'm betting this is your last number one. Eventually people will figure out what a fraud you are and get sick of your shit. One day you're the evil queen of mean and today you're sweet and giggly and... voicing penguins and shit. Lame.”

He shook his head, again, and opened the door. “Good luck with your little fuck buddy, too. I'm sure he'll be riding your coattails for the notoriety he wishes he had but gave up to that Timberlake fame whore.”

With that, he stepped out of the trailer, nodding at Jason and Wolfe, who had been having a conversation outside the door. Shocked at seeing Curtis exit the trailer, they both bounded up the steps.

“You okay?”

“How did he get in here?”

“You want me to do anything? I'm so sorry, I did a walk around the trailer and just that quick, he jumped in.”

“You guys, you guys!” Callie yelled, holding up her hands, palms out, to quiet them. “I'm fine. Curtis doesn't scare me. He just came to wish me good luck. Just don't let anyone else in here. I really need some time to myself.”

“You got it, Cal. Sorry, again.”

“Jason, don't crawl up my ass, just get out.”

Callie was unnerved, not only by seeing Curtis for the first time in months, but by what he had to say. Six months ago, they'd have sat together and laughed and she'd have made the same comments about someone like her, and now she WAS someone like her. Fame whore? Lame? Pawn for the label? She didn't feel it, but that didn't stop her from not wanting to BE that.

'And you don't have time to analyze it, because you're getting ready to go ON STAGE before a LIVE audience on a NATIONAL broadcast. Get your head out of your ass and into the game!'

****

“So what kind of stuff was he saying to you? Like bad stuff? Did he threaten you?”

“I don't want to talk about it anymore. What are you doing?”

Callie sat in her hotel room, watching Paula flip through the cable channels and gave JC a rundown on her encounter with Curtis. He was starting to sound angry and concerned, and she didn't want to drag him into it.

“Putting the finishing touches on a track. Vocals tomorrow. I'm on a deadline so I can't talk much longer. I just wanted to see how the show went.”

“It went great, I had a good time. I'm so happy I was able to do it, finally. Made me itch for touring.”

They talked a few minutes longer, and then Callie stretched, suddenly wiped out. “I'm about to pass out and Paula is giving me vertigo from how fast she's flipping through these channels. I need to confiscate the remote.”

Paula stuck out her tongue, tossed a pillow at Callie, and continued flipping. “Can't you just check the guide, and see what's on, Paula? Damn.”

“It's quicker this way. I'll stop if I see something interesting. Shut up and talk to your man, over there.”

“Alright, ladies,” he teased. “Don't make me fly up there. Give you two a spankin'.”

“That's the kind of stuff Paula enjoys,” Callie said with a loud giggle.

“Aw, damn. Missed my chance for a threesome? I should have come out.”

“I don't do those, Producer Man. I'm gonna go before you get yourself in trouble. I'll call you tomorrow before I get on the plane.” She lowered her voice, then, and asked, “Do you have time for me in the next few days?”

“Honey, I will make some,” he said. Callie almost wished Paul wasn't in the room so she could respond. “Fly safe, sleep good. We'll talk tomorrow.”

Callie disconnected the call and stared at the TV, not really seeing it.

“What?” said Paula, crawling onto the bed next to her.

“Hmmm?”

“You're just... staring. You didn't let Curtis get to you, did you?”

Callie pouted. “Paula, you'd tell me if you thought I was lame and sellout and a famewhore and a pawn for the label, right?”

“In a second. And you're not. You're a beautiful, talented person who is happy, and coming into her own. Didn't you say you've finally done something you think Charlie would be proud of? Didn't you just say that?”

“Yeah. But-”

“But nothing,” she said, holding up a hand. “Leave it there. Curtis is pissed he dumped you before hit your stride. This album has brought out some really beautiful things in you. You're glowing and happy and have stretched yourself. He's an egotistical asshole who wanted nothing more than to jar you before your performance so he could gloat if you bit it, and you didn't. You sang the shit out of that song, woman!”

Callie waived her off, blushing and smiling. “Oh, stop. I'm kidding, keep going.”

“I'm serious, you did great, and I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. You know I'm the first person to tell you that you missed a note and where it was and what it should have been.”

“Yes. Much to my dislike, you do enjoy that.” She cut her eyes at Paula, then tossed the pillow back at her. “Alright then. Enough freaking out. Shower time for me.”

“Hey, what did Producer Man say, that you said I enjoyed?” Paula yelled out as Callie walked into the bathroom.

“Oh. He said he was gonna fly up here and give us spankings. I said you would enjoy that.”

“Aw dammit! I missed out on a threesome!”

“You know he said the same thing? I know some weird ass perverted people, I tell you what, man.” Callie laughed and closed the door.

****

“Charlie” was released the following Tuesday, to pleasant reviews from every outlet from Entertainment Weekly to R&R to MTV. The release party was a blast, mostly because since JC produced it, he was expected to attend, so they could hang out and no one would suspect they were dating. Duping the press wasn't hard but it wasn't easy, either. It wasn't like they could just go somewhere together... people would start talking and soon every interview would start or finish with 'so are you dating JC?' Callie wanted the focus on her music just a little while longer, so she endured going to events alone or with Paula or with Jason, and she and JC watched their movies at home and held hands as they pleased and sat as close as they pleased and shared a smooch as they pleased. It was kind of nice, having a secret, having him all to herself.

Time seemed to race by, leaving Callie in a tailspin. She was beginning to remember what she didn't like about promoting a new album-- the non stop travel and talking and performing. Her days were full of interviews or filming or photo shoots, her nights full of performances and events. She loved every minute of it, but the brutal schedule was starting to wear on her. She looked forward to taking a short break before the US leg of her tour began.

“You're coming out to see me, aren't you?” Callie asked JC in a hushed voice, on her way from an interview and to a performance. Ginny sat beside her, flipping through a calendar and making notes. Jason was on a call and tapping through screens on his PDA.

“Nope.” Callie paused to see if he was going to embellish, but he didn't She heard buttons being pressed and papers being moved around in the background.

“Don't be mean to me, Producer Man.”

“Nope. I'm not. I'm busy.”

“I'm hanging up, Fucker.”

“Honey, of COURSE I'm coming out to see you. Wouldn't miss it for the world. I still haven't seen you do the songs live, like with the band and stuff. I definitely want to see you.”

“Two more days, and then I have a week off. A whole week. I've never been so excited about seven whole days.”

“It's worth it, though. Aren't you having a good time?”

“There's that damn optimism, popping up, again.”

“Always.” The studio chair squeaked whenever he leaned back, and she heard the high pitched squeal of the chair just then. It made her miss that little room, and the man in it.

“How are you? Are you sleeping? Eating? Working too much?”

“Working too much. I'm doing alright. Uhm...”

“Yes?”

“Did you... did you want to be alone, on your break, or... I mean, where are you spending it?”

“I'm going home,” Callie said, staring out the blackout windows at the security gate. “LA is turning me into a pop tart. I need cold and wind and... people who aren't pretty. Did you want me to stay?”

“No. Just wondered where you were going.”

'He wants you to ask him to come up! Get on it, don't make him beg!'

“Uhm... Well... why don't you come up, for a few days? You can see your parents?”

“I could,” he answered, as if he wasn't expecting her to ask. “If you want me to. Do you?”

“I asked you to, didn't I? Don't make me beg. Yes, I want you to. Plan on it. I have to go. I'll call you later. Don't answer if you're busy.”

“Have fun.”

Someday, and probably soon, they were going to have to put some parameters around 'them'. She hadn't counted on him wanting to see her so often, and vacation with her, and come visit her. Not that she minded, and she liked being with him, it just changed things.

She'd gone into this 'relationship' without putting any constraints on him or his time, expecting him to be very nonchalant about spending time with her. Lately, he'd been the opposite, wanting to see her whenever she had a free minute and now was spending part of her vacation with him. She didn't think she'd have to clear her return home with him, and he didn't seem upset that she hadn't-- but some part of her felt like she should have consulted him. That WASN'T what she wanted. She needed her freedom, and to not have to 'check in' with anyone.

Days later, however, she was quite happy he'd hinted at coming out to see her.

“Producer Man.” Callie huffed, unable to breathe.

“That's not my name.”

“It is until you get off of me,” she said, poking him in the sides with her fingernails.

With an 'oomph' and a heave he rolled to the side and Callie could breathe again. “Oh my God. We have the kind of sex that reminds me why people have sex. Whew!”

“You're welcome.”

Callie rolled her eyes and pinched him. “I guess we should get off the floor.”

“Yeah. Let's,” he said, sitting up. In the corner of the room, a red LED light caught his eye. “You have messages.”

Callie sat up and followed his gaze. “That's weird. No one has this number.”

“Telemarketers?”

“It's a hotel. And seriously NO ONE has this number.” Callie untangled herself from the twisted pile of clothing that had not yet made it off of her body and crawled over to the table that held the older model corded phone. The LED light blinked incessantly, lighting up her face as she dialed down to the front desk.

“Hi, this is Callie Phelps in suite 1430... yeah I have a message...oh.... okay... okay, thank you.” Callie replaced the phone in its cradle and rolled her eyes. “My mother. She's so damn dramatic. Why would she call the front desk and leave a message for me?”

“Would it be an emergency?” JC called from the kitchen, rooting around for a glass.

“Glasses are next to the stove. I don't know why she'd leave an emergency message for me HERE, when she could call her stepson and leave a message with HIM. They talk EVERYDAY.” Callie punched the numbers into the phone, shaking her head and trying not to laugh at JC dancing naked in her kitchen.

“Hey James. It's Callie..... fine.... I'm FINE, I said. Where is my mother?” She rolled her eyes and tipped her head back, pulling the phone away from her ear as her stepfather yammered. “James. James. JAMES! I don't give a shit, where is my mom? Put her on the PHONE!”

“Callie!” JC whispered, nudging her as he sat next to her. She waived him off as her mother picked up the phone. “Mom?”

“Callie!” came her singsong, 'nowhere near an emergency' voice. “How ARE you? Are you home?”

“I am in Chicago, yes. What's up? I got a message to call you. I just got in, today.”

“Well,” she started, her tone changing from singsong to nag in a split second. “I called because Jason sent copies of your album home and I wanted to tell you I did not appreciate not being consulted on calling it 'Charlie'. I mean, I was married to the man, you know. And secondly you didn't thank me or OR James in your acknowledgements. Do you know how embarrassing it is for me, to be seen in public, with everyone knowing her daughter forgot to thank her? I mean really Callie...”

Callie pulled the phone back and stared at the receiver as her mother continued to rant, then gave JC a look, then put it back to her ear. “Mom? Mom. No, I find I'm not at all concerned with how embarrassing it is for you to be seen in public, considering everything you wear every day I bought. Tell your friends to check your Visa bill, there's my thanks, right there.”

“Every time I want some appreciation for being your mother you throw the money issue in my face. So what, you had to pay the house off? If you'd become a DOCTOR you'd have done the same thing. So what, you had to pay off some credit cards? Poor YOU. I LOST MY HUSBAND! I was a MESS!”

Callie fought every urge to do so, but she began to cry, which made her angry, which made her sob uncontrollably, and scream into the phone. “I lost my DAD! Oh, and don't give me that 'I was a mess ' bullshit! I know where you were when Daddy was dying. Don't you even sully his memory with talking about being a mess. You counted the cash from his life insurance before his body got cold and spent every PENNY on yourself!” She paused for a breath, rocking back and forth.

“You know what, mom?” Callie said, nearly choking and blind from tears. “I can't do this. I can't. I can't do it anymore. I've carried you and carried James for a long time and I-- I'm done. I can't. No more checks, no more funding your lifestyle, no more guilt, no more being angry with you. I love you but I can't. do it. anymore. Please don't call me again. If you have a message for me, leave it with Jason. Bye, Mom.”

She pressed the the button in the cradle to end the call and clutched the handset to her chest, openly sobbing. The handset was being pulled out of her hands, and returned to the cradle, and then a thin throw blanket was over her shoulders, and strong arms closed around her and gently pulled her toward a chest of manly hair.

“I hate my life,” she moaned into the patch of hair, tears still streaming. Warm, large hands rubbed her back, and soft lips kissed her temple until the tears stopped and the sobs ebbed and aside from a few sniffles, she was quiet.

“I'm sorry you had to witness that,” she said with a sniffle. “That was ugly, I'm sure. Your family is pretty much the Cleaver's huh?”

He reached behind her and pulled a few tissues from the box on the side table and handed them to her. “You would be surprised. We can get into it, when we want to.”

“Really? That does surprise me. That makes you so... human.”

“I'm very human. And kind of stubborn. And so are they. So, what happened?”

“Okay, first, I named the album 'Charlie' without consulting her.” Callie rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. “Because I should talk with Mom, who I don't talk to often because she stresses me OUT, about what I'm going to name my next album. Anyway. Then I didn't thank her or James enough in my acknowledgements. She's seriously embarrassed, like her friends are really asking 'why didn't Callie dedicate the moon and stars to you in her liner notes? Fuck her.”

“Callie...”

“No, no, no, JC,” she said, sitting up, shaking her head, eyes wide. “You don't know. You just... you don't know.”

“Then tell me. I'm here, talk to me.” He scooted back on the couch, and leaned back against the cushion, ready to listen. “Tell me. We'll write a song about it.”

“She doesn't know I know this. I don't think. Jason definitely doesn't know I know this. But...” Callie swallowed, unsure if she could even say it. “The day my dad died, I came home from school and he was on the bathroom floor. And my mom was gone. And I knew where she was. She's married to him, now.”

JC's eyes sparked with realization. Callie nodded, her shoulder sagging. “So, I called 911 and they came and got him and then I called my mom. And it was like...” she paused, trying to stop the tears, but the tears came anyway, so she gave up. “It was like she couldn't even be bothered to come to the hospital to see him. He was dying and she was “busy”.

Callie snorted. “Yeah, busy getting fucked by a man who wasn't her husband, who hadn't supported her since she was 19, who hadn't built a house for her, and wanted her to be the mother of his child. She just barely made it before he passed away and when he did, all she cared about was the life insurance. It was the first thing she dug up when we got home.”

Callie sniffled and swiped at her face. “So when she acts all indignant about my dad, it just drives me into a rage, because... because she couldn't give a shit about him. She uses him to get at me, to rile me up, to poke at me and to punish me, because she knows I was his heart, and he was mine, and she was jealous of that. She was gonna leave us, but then my dad was diagnosed with a heart condition. He didn't take care of himself, and she didn't encourage him to. It was like she was just waiting for him to die so she could collect.”

JC looked overwhelmed, and sank further into the couch. “Wow. I couldn't even imagine it that bad.”

“Oh. It's worse," she said. "You know the first bill I paid? My dad's hospital bill. It had gone to collections. She was being SUED for nonpayment. She took his life insurance and spent it." 

Callie continued, her voice ragged, her throat raw and dry from such a violent cry, almost speaking to no one in particular.

"She had a brand new car, but I had to pay for his funeral and I bought his headstone. The house was MONTHS behind, the credit cards were maxed out, I was singing at the club just to make some extra money, and I wasn't even supposed to BE in there. Thank GOD for Paula, back then. She used to have to chaperone me. Can you imagine?” She smiled wistfully at the memory, twisting the cotton in her hands.

“Anyway, when Jive came calling the first few times, I thought it would be complete disrespect to go sing pop when my dad was nothing but classic jazz. But they kept calling and finally... I just didn't think I was gonna get out of there if I didn't take the deal. So I took it. And because I knew my dad would want me to, I helped her. I helped her a lot. And now I'm done.” Callie took a breath, a long one, a deep one, and let it out, slowly.

He rubbed her back and smiled. “You're free. At least for right now. But...so..your mom... she has to know that you know she was cheating.”

She shrugged, and then sniffled, wiping at her nose with the wad of Kleenex. "She probably does but we've never talked about it. I can't talk about it with her. I'm not interested in her excuses, and for... almost letting him die without seeing her, one last time.”

“Yeah. You definitely need a break from her. She's not good for you. I've never heard you sound like that, before.”

“I'm so sorry you had to see that. Thank you for not freaking out, though. And for listening. No one else listens to me.”

“I don't freak out. I'll listen to you. I'll listen as long as you want. Come here,” he said, pulling her close to him. He felt the tension drain from her shoulders, and her excited breathing return to normal.

“You quit shaving your chest,” she mumbled into a patch of hair.

“I never shaved it. I waxed it.”

 “You quit waxing your chest."

 He chuckled into her hair. “Not really quit. Just haven't done it in a while. No need for neurotic tendencies, I guess.”

 “I like it. You should leave it, just for me.” She planted light kisses across his chest, her lips lost in the thin layer of hair.

“I'll do that. Just for you. Should we maybe put my suitcase in the bedroom?”

Callie tilted her head up to grin at him. “Why, you wanna go in there?”

He shrugged one shoulder and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Well. Since we never made it past the living room.”

“Who's fault is that? You attacked me.”

He laughed, then. “Couldn't help it. You're a hot girl.”

“Hmmm. Your proposal of going to the bedroom intrigues me,” she teased, laying back onto the couch, pulling him toward her. “But I say we go one more round in the living room.”

***