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

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

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

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

“Home. I just popped by to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“Cal? You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Food. No.”

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

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

“No problem. Do you know her?”

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

“That’s gotta be tough to deal with.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ...

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Tell me, it matters!”

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

“Hmmmmmmmmmm.” Paula mused.

“Hmmmm what? What does that mean?”

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

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

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

“You’re making this up.”

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

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

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

“Fuck. It made Page Six?”

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

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

“Really.”

“Yes, really, disbelieving one. Really.”

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And curse like a sailor.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so you don’t curse?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Producer Man! Answer me!”

“My name is JC. Or Josh.”

“Whatever. Answer me. JOSH.”

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyes narrowed. “Creepy, JC.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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